The Damned Demon

Arthur stood frozen, heart seized by a painful vice of disbelief, eyes fixed helplessly upon the dark figure standing before him. Her dark yellow eyes glowed with cold, mechanical emptiness beneath the shadowy mask, their piercing gaze devoid of even the faintest trace of recognition or humanity.

“Anna…?” Arthur breathed, voice trembling with raw anguish, fingers gripping his white staff until his knuckles turned pale.

There was no way she would come out and stand against him unless she was being forced or blackmailed again.

His heart thundered in his chest, each beat echoing with aching desperation. “Anna, it’s me—Arthur! What are you doing?”

Anna merely tilted her head slightly, lightning-like mana flickering ominously around her slender form, sparks hissing viciously from her mechanized legs. No response came from her; she stood unmoving, a silent sentinel cloaked in darkness and malice, the silence painfully louder than words.

No…she wasn’t being forced or blackmailed…she was being mind controlled! He could feel how dead her gaze was…This wasn’t Anna but Derek or his people controlling her.

“Anna!” Arthur called again, his voice cracking, louder, pleading. “Remember me! Remember yourself! This isn’t who you are!”

But his desperate pleas were suddenly cut short as Anna surged forward, vanishing in a blur of crackling yellow lightning, faster than thought, faster than hope. Arthur barely managed to react, instinctively raising his staff, forming a barrier of radiant white mana. She collided violently against it, shattering it effortlessly, forcing him to stagger backwards from the sheer force.

“Protect yourselves!” Arthur cried urgently, voice torn with anguish. Yet his words came too late. Anna moved mercilessly, swiftly cutting through his forces, tearing them apart like shadows caught in a hurricane. Her lightning-infused hand carved lethal arcs through armor, flesh, and bone. Each strike resonated with brutal finality, a dance of death that Arthur didn’t know how to stop.

“No!” Arthur screamed, watching his comrades fall one by one, each death gouging deeper into his heart, guilt and horror twisting within him. His breath hitched, vision blurred with tears, as he turned desperately to confront her. “Anna, stop! Please, this isn’t you!”

She didn’t pause, didn’t even flinch at his words. Arthur clenched his jaw, desperation fueling his power as he unleashed torrents of radiant frost fire, ice-white flames surging toward her, hoping to restrain rather than harm. But Anna effortlessly evaded his strikes, maneuvering impossibly fast, weaving gracefully between bursts of fire, appearing again at his side, striking him viciously across his chest.

Arthur gasped, blood spilling from his lips, pain radiating from broken ribs rapidly healing due to his regenerative powers. He staggered back, grief gripping him even tighter as he realized the brutal truth—there was no way to stop her without hurting her. Derek’s twisted control had hollowed her, transformed her into this unrecognizable entity, the infamous Thundering Reaper.

His Hunters screamed desperately, fighting bravely yet falling helplessly before her lightning speed. Arthur’s heart shattered with every life lost, each one etched bitterly into his soul.

Yet even amidst the relentless violence, Arthur could not bring himself to unleash his full strength. Each strike he aimed toward Anna faltered, restrained by memories, crippled by his own breaking heart. He saw only her face, her warm smile replaced by cold indifference, laughter replaced by silence, her soul trapped beneath this ruthless, armored shell.

He knew he should fight her without holding back and that he might have to kill her lest she kills more.

But Arthur hesitated, his strength wavering, choking back grief. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt her. He had the strength to take her down but not the heart.

In that fleeting hesitation, Anna struck. Her mana-powered leg crashed viciously into Arthur’s side, hurling him violently across the battlefield. He landed heavily, the ground splintering beneath him, pain blazing through his body. Despite his powerful regenerative abilities, he could feel his body weakening rapidly under her relentless assault.

“Anna… please…” he gasped weakly, struggling to rise once more. He looked toward her desperately, voice thick with sorrow and desperations, “I know you are still in there…”

But Anna advanced silently, her lightning-wrapped figure blurring ominously forward again, hands gleaming lethally. Arthur’s heart seized, grief overwhelming his senses, knowing she would never recognize him—not here, not now.

Still, he tried once more, reaching out a trembling hand towards her, voice breaking helplessly. “Anna, wake up—you’re stronger than this!”

“Urgh! Argh!…”

She ignored his plea, striking him again and again, relentlessly, mercilessly. Arthur’s defense crumbled beneath her inhuman speed and devastating power. Her blows crushed his armor, her hands cutting deeply, spilling blood freely onto the scorched ground. His healing powers struggled desperately against the relentless injuries.

Finally, Arthur collapsed, gasping and broken, vision blurring in agony and heartbreak. He looked up weakly, meeting those haunting, empty yellow eyes one last time. “Anna…” he whispered faintly, consciousness slipping from him. “I’m sorry…I failed you…”

Her lightning-infused figure stood above him, silent and unmoving, watching him fade into unconsciousness without a single trace of hesitation or emotion. Without a word, she reached down mechanically, gripping Arthur’s limp form and hoisting him effortlessly onto her shoulder.

Silence filled the battlefield as she turned, walking calmly back toward the towering gates of the Infinity Tower. The remaining Hunters scattered or fell back, terrified and broken by the brutal demonstration of power.

The gathered crowd watched in horror as they saw one of the most terrifying demons who was supposed to be in prison only to suddenly appear here and capture Arthur—their hero, the Star Prince himself.

None of this was making sense and they couldn’t help but wonder why their President would use a demon to capture one of theirs.

Not far away, the Judge, Hiroto, was watching everything from his hideout, through a projection. An old woman in neat, tailored clothes was standing beside him as she worriedly asked, “His heart is not ready yet for the darkness that lingers among us.”

Hiroto hummed with a solemn look, “His heart is too pure. He was practically tricked into loving her more than anything. I knew he doesn’t have the strength yet to do what needs to be done. But this is how it has to be. Remember what Aira told us.”

“How could I forget? But I fear that not everything might happen as she had told us. Already few things have been different from what she said. What if a simple difference could change everything? The butterfly effect can ruin everything,” Evelyn said with a worried look.

Hiroto slowly got up and narrowed his eyes as he said, “Let’s not worry about what hasn’t happened yet but what we have to do now. So let’s leave and do that before Derek sends his people here.”

—

High within the Infinity Tower, Derek’s cold blue eye followed the scene through screens, a satisfied glint flashing across it.

Albert leaned back leisurely into the plush cushions of the sofa, his gaze fixed upon the screens that showed Anna silently carrying Arthur’s limp body back into the Infinity Tower. A faint smile crossed his lips, tinged with mild amusement and genuine admiration.

“It was very smart of you to plant such a weakness in Arthur’s life,” he remarked calmly, casting an appreciative glance toward Derek. Yet his smile faded subtly into a thoughtful frown. “But this does complicate matters somewhat. People will undoubtedly start asking difficult questions—why exactly we’re using a captured demon to neutralize someone who was once one of our own.”

Derek turned from the glowing projection, his expression unperturbed, hands clasped calmly behind his back as he walked toward Albert. “Then we give them the explanation they crave. Send a few of our spokespersons to hold a press conference immediately. Let them say that we deliberately chose to use evil against evil. Tell the world that sending our own loyal Hunters to fight Arthur—someone corrupted by demons—would have needlessly risked their lives. This way, our people see strength, pragmatism, and determination.”

Albert’s eyes widened subtly with impressed appreciation, a slow smile returning. “A clever strategy indeed, Derek. Framing it as using evil to defeat a greater evil—people always rally behind pragmatic solutions, especially in wartime.”

Derek nodded curtly, his voice chillingly composed. “Precisely. And now,” he continued, turning toward the massive window overlooking the Martian landscape, his gaze distant and calculating, “it’s time we step through ourselves. Time to personally see if the dead truly have returned to try and destroy everything we worked for.”

Meanwhile, far across the dimensional rift, upon the scarred battlefield of Zalthor, smoke and ash filled the air, mixing with the bitter scent of blood and scorched earth. The demons stood triumphantly among the scattered ruins of Derek’s defeated forces, their battle cries echoing victoriously.

At their heart stood Asher, his imposing form ablaze with lingering dark-green flames, his fierce presence both a terrifying sight and a beacon of hope. Beside him towered Drogor, the mighty dragon, eyes smoldering with satisfaction at their decisive victory.

The demonic warriors around them began chanting Asher’s name, their voices rising into a powerful crescendo.

“Hail King Asher! Savior of Zalthor!”

“Long Live the Immortal King! The Hellbringer!”

Yet Asher stood silently, expression hardened, eyes fixed grimly upon the still-pulsing radiant portal torn open in the sky. His instincts screamed warning, the victory hollow in his gut as he sensed something darker looming.

And suddenly, as if responding to his fears, figures emerged from the portal above. The chanting abruptly ceased, replaced swiftly by tense silence. Warriors gripped their weapons tighter, hearts pounding anxiously.

Asher’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening in cold anger as he recognized the familiar silhouette stepping through the portal. Derek himself descended calmly onto the battlefield, expression cold and unyielding, eyes meeting Asher’s with dark recognition.

Behind Derek followed Albert, wearing a composed smile that hid malicious intent, and Max, eyes wary and cautious. Dozens of Elite Hunters landed behind them, their radiant mana crackling fiercely, expressions hardened and battle-ready.

He was finally here…the man he wanted to bury deep into the earth more than anyone else.