Vow

+++

Oz and Lilith flew towards the Demon Lord’s Citadel.

She muttered anxiously, face etched with unease.

“I wonder if the Demon Lord truly made final arrangements…”

Tap tap tap tap…

“Surely… they must have… Our Lord is perfect… They wouldn’t have held Satan back… from the all-out war for no reason…”

Typically rambling like a senile elder, Oz demonstrated sober analysis and judgment when needed.

Regardless of what others said, he was the sole being to surpass dragons in elemental magic, an ageless demigod transcending death itself.

“For now… hurrying to regroup at the rear line… is crucial… Hmm?”

His jaw-chattering speech halted abruptly.

Lilith and Oz looked ahead.

“That’s…!”

“Oho!”

There lay a veritable sea of Imp forces sprawled across the ground, and amidst them, some gargantuan entity.

An inky black demonic form bristling with jagged spikes, exuding a dense miasma of curses even from this distance.

They immediately recognized its identity.

“Satan!”

Their faces lighting up, Lilith and Oz flew towards the dark mass crouched in that ebony ocean.

“Ohohoho…! What overwhelming darkness is this! Oho!!”

“Heavens above…”

They exclaimed in awe at Satan’s transformed state.

Satan – no longer a mere Vanguard Commander, but an existence of far greater might.

Grrrruuumble…

As the ponderous form stirred, its sheer presence made the ground tremble. The two Vanguard Commanders craned their necks up at the over 10-meter giant.

‘So this is the Demon Lord’s final arrangement…!’

Indeed, the work of the Most Exalted. Comparing this Satan to the Războlnic they had just battled, they were certain of victory.

“Satan, let’s go! The Alliance and Războlnic are exhausted! Now is the perfect opportunity to strike them down!”

[…]

Satan remained silent.

Tap.

“…Lilith, a moment.”

Oz’s typically rambling jaw stilled as he addressed her in an uncharacteristically lucid tone.

“Hm? Why, what’s wrong? Need time to recharge?”

“…”

Without a word, Oz gazed up at Satan.

[…]

Meeting Satan’s swirling, maelstrom-like eyes filled with every negative emotion, he intuited his own future.

“Ah…”

A final gasp left his maw.

The spikes protruding from Satan’s chest rippled, then transformed into inky black hands that lashed out, seizing Lilith and Oz to drag them towards the gaping maw.

“Eh, eh?”

“…”

As Lilith reacted in confusion, Oz accepted his fate stoically. The two were dragged into Satan’s chest.

“W-Wait, what is this…”

Gluurp—!

They had no chance to question or utter final words, swallowed whole into the distended maw gaping in Satan’s chest.

Crunchcrunch, squelchsquelch… glurp!

Sounds of crunching bones and ripping flesh echoed out.

Satan trembled in ecstasy at the power being absorbed into him. Hunched over, he drooled as he opened his regular mouth, clawing at the mouth on his chest devouring Oz and Lilith, bringing it to his lips to gnash anew.

Crunchcrunch, squelchsquelch… rrgharghargh…

He hunkered down, gorging himself on that power, digesting it. The torn chest rapidly regenerated.

Beyond his hunched back loomed the Demon Lord’s Citadel. From the topmost chamber window, the Demon Lord gazed down upon Satan.

[Magnificent.]

She murmured in soft admiration.

Beyond all expectations. To endure such an infusion of power. Nay, to continue growing stronger even as he consumed them.

An unfathomable result, wrought by the intensity of his will unleashing a miracle.

His body would soon fail, yet for a brief window, he could fully wield that might.

The power imbued within him far exceeded mortal limits. Enough to perhaps contend against Războlnic at his peak…

Yes, equivalent to the might of the ‘Demon Lord Războlnic had faced’ in times past.

[…!]

The Demon Lord watching his feasting trembled slightly. Her small, delicate hand gripped the terrace railing, quivering faintly.

[…]

When she straightened, her expression was even colder than before, golden eyes darkened to pitch-black. In this moment, she was not the current Demon Lord, but another existence entirely.

Those ebon eyes gazed down at her mana-wreathed hands.

[…Around two-tenths, I’d estimate.]

The portion of her full power she had bestowed upon Satan. It would simply return upon his demise.

The entity dwelling within the current Demon Lord’s diminutive form raised her head, recalling the past.

Back then, she had expended around two-tenths of her might against the Hero.

The Primordial Demon Lord. A century ago, she had witnessed the repeating timelines and what lay beyond.

An existence she could instantly obliterate with a mere gesture, for now. But beyond the distorted timestream, she had foreseen it ultimately attaining absolute power to slay her.

Thus, she had expended the vast majority of her power and lifeforce to banish that existence from this dimension, delegating the Demon Lord’s duties to later eras instead.

Eight-tenths of her strength had gone into that monumental dimensional banishment miracle. Which meant the might she had wielded against the Hero – the same she had bestowed upon Satan now – amounted to around two-tenths.

And presently, the Hero was depleted. That level of power should suffice.

The Primordial Demon Lord dwelling in her daughter’s body observed Satan.

Rghargharghargh, crunchcrunchcrunch…

Hunched over, he methodically devoured the two Vanguard Commanders, squirm squelch squelch, reliving old memories.

[Războlnic…]

Memories of being tormented by that fiend, his blade piercing the Demon Lord’s heart, returning to gouge out her eyes, raising his sword against the current Demon Lord anew. He churned through those memories fueling his rage.

Hatred, killing intent, mana – all sorts of negative energies swirled like miasma from his ponderous form. Countless Imps howled in resonance with their liege’s emotions.

[Războlnic… I’ll kill you…!]

Satan’s eyes blazed with willpower.

+++

The Alliance prepared to regroup at their fortress. They intended to refit in their homeland before marching on the Demon Lord’s Citadel.

Doyun headed for Vyuskr’s assigned quarters.

Now publicly revealed, Vyuskr was an honored guest of the Alliance. They had provided him the finest accommodations available – a spare Hero’s quarters conveniently vacant.

Initially, they had hesitated over that location. The vacant quarters had belonged to the late Hero Brudhild, essentially housing the father where the son had dwelled.

But Vyuskr had entered those quarters first without a word, his faltering steps leaving no room for objection.

“…”

Doyun paused briefly before the entrance. The two guarding soldiers stood at rigid attention, aware of the overnight turn of events.

After regarding the tent flap, Doyun pulled it aside to enter.

Within the unlit, darkened quarters, a lone skeletal figure knelt with his back to the entrance.

Before him lay the Sixth Sword of his collection – Brudhild’s former sword.

Wordlessly, Doyun leaned against a support pillar beside the entrance, waiting for his friend.

A while later.

“…I’m sorry.”

The rasping, bone-grating voice spoke softly.

“I… lost my mind there.”

“…”

Doyun did not react with surprise.

Brudhild’s death was the most horrific tragedy that could befall his friend’s life. But Doyun trusted him – a man who might waver, but never break.

He silently let his friend’s rambling continue.

“Enoch. That vow from yesterday… let me reaffirm it.”

“Which vow?”

“Vengeance.”

Fwoosh. Azure flames flickered to life in the skeletal sockets, the blazing will giving off an eerie glow.

The slender bones quaked faintly.

“I will have vengeance.”

His rasping voice, like nails scratching bone, resonated with bitter hatred.

“I will kill the Demon Lord, without fail.”

“I will have vengeance, without fail.”

“On my son’s behalf… on behalf of the countless who perished in this war… I will have vengeance.”

“I will avenge Brudhild’s soul…”

“I beg of you…”

“…”

Arms folded, leaning against the pillar, Doyun declared to his friend’s back, still facing the sword:

“I vow it.”

“…”

“I, Războlnic, will sever the Demon Lord’s head. I will deliver this land.”

He pushed off from the pillar, pulling aside the tent flap.

“I will avenge Brudhild on your behalf.”

“…I’ll hold you to it.”

Fwoosh. The twin azure flames winked out.

Doyun exited the quarters, his eyes shining golden.

+++

Night fell.

The regroup preparations proceeded swiftly. Come morning, the Alliance forces would depart for their homeland.

Within the Supreme Commander’s quarters, Doyun studied the maps. This was once a sovereign nation’s territory, now overrun by the Demonic forces.

He noted the ruins of a former major city nearby.

Doyun stepped outside, seeking out Doggomu-yeong.

“Let us take a brief walk.”

“Yes, sir.”

He respectfully bowed his head.

Though Doyun was the Alliance’s strongest, he still held the Supreme Commander’s position. Propriety demanded an escort, if nothing else.

The two formidable warriors raced swiftly, soon arriving at the ruined metropolis.

Doyun trudged towards the ruins of a temple. Doggomu-yeong silently watched Lord Enoch’s back, understanding his need for solitude before the final battle.

Clack, clack.

Iron-shod boots struck the marble temple floor.

Like elsewhere, the temple lay in decrepit condition – the roof gone to expose the night sky, only a handful of pillars still intact, the shattered floor tiles strewn haphazardly.

The statues fared no better.

Clack, clack.

Halting his footsteps, Doyun raised his head.

‘…’

He quietly gazed up at the shattered goddess statue.

“Hey, deity.”