The Demon King Returns (Part 1)

"Fergus! No!" Accompanied by a sharp, piercing birdcall, Lanlos forced his chocobo to charge into the blazing village. He gathered a Fireball in his hand with the greatest speed of his life, the violently flickering flames reflecting either his fury or his agony.

Thud!

The Felhound, intoxicated by the tearing of flesh, never expected a sneak attack. The fireball exploded viciously against its hide, exposing even the creature's ribs to the air.

"No! Fergus, wake up!" Almost tumbling directly off the bird's back, Lanlos ignored the mud and blood staining his body. He clutched Fergus's broken corpse tightly to his chest, his pupils trembling and dilating uncontrollably...

His body shook violently, his pleading voice filled with despair and sorrow: "Please... wake up..."

The flames reflected in his azure eyes, burning and tearing apart every memory of the past.

Pain—ineffable pain. He could not imagine how a person could live while enduring such an intense level of agony. Even back in the Shattered Abyss, it hadn't been a ten-thousandth of this. It felt as if he were the one being torn apart by the hounds, tooth marks covering his entire body, piercing straight to his marrow.

Lanlos held the old man's cooling body, scalding tears that felt like they were burning him sliding slowly from the corners of his eyes, mixing with blood and dust before falling onto the muddy, crimson earth.

The land where he had lived for so long...

Impulse is a devil. Lanlos had saved a corpse, but in doing so, he had delivered himself into the encirclement of trolls and demons.

In that situation, retreating would have been the correct choice. But he could not watch Fergus, who had treated him like family, be treated in such a way. The intense visual shock and his crumbling psychological defenses had caused him to lose his reason...

Pain, anger, or hatred? Perhaps it was just the cowardly desire to seek death? Is death terrifying? To him, death was a release, just like the last time.

Yet, once again yielding to suffering, he overlooked one thing: in this life, he possessed something different from before...

Lanlos held the remains tightly and closed his eyes, burying deep the gaze filled with extreme hatred, anger, and grief.

What if he changed worlds? There was still no place for him here. Perhaps he should never have set foot in Azeroth. Shattered Abyss—what a fitting name for me...

Why? Why run? Why lead the disaster to others? What was I expecting...

'Fate is unjust!'

Deep within his mind, a slow yet powerful voice recited, word by word, the resentment that overlapped across his two lives. There was no time for confusion; Lanlos only felt his chest suddenly grow stifled. A monstrous fire surged and expanded within, yet it could never break through the constraints of his ribcage.

'Accept my power... and take revenge!'

As if a thunderclap had erupted in his mind, Lanlos let out a low, pained growl. Under the impact that reached his very soul, he subconsciously grabbed the green crystal floating alone in the corner.

It was the Sargerite Keystone!

"Damn it! Lanlos, where are you?!" A familiar shout from behind interrupted his actions. The latter sobered up instantly, and looking at the salivating monsters surrounding him, he froze.

Why weren't these demons attacking?

However, the question flashed through his mind only for a fleeting moment before Ilana's wail and Sores's roar caused his heart to stop.

Turning his head, he saw the innocent elven girl shielding Sores's back, a spear piercing straight through her chest.

"No!" Watching the girl collapse to the ground, the desperate, hoarse roar from Sores made Lanlos's eyes split with rage. Yet, caught in the enemy's pincer attack, the two of them couldn't even afford a second glance!

"Beast, I'm going to slaughter you." Kicking away an Amani troll blocking his path, Sores took advantage of the creature's stagger to swipe his scimitar across its throat. With the jarring sound of tearing throat and vertebrae, an ugly head was sent flying into the sky by a jet of blood.

If it were one-on-one, Lanlos had every reason to believe this ranger had the strength to defeat the enemy, but this was war, not a gladiatorial match.

The pitch-black stream of light was visible even in the dark night. Lanlos wanted to warn him, but it was destined to be too late.

Sores was raising his scimitar to strike down the spear-wielding troll when the black light touched his back and instantly sank into it. Almost simultaneously, the scimitar in his hand suddenly became as heavy as a mountain. Sores's veins bulged, but he could not bear the weight; caught off guard, he was pinned to the ground by his own weapon.

A Curse of Weakness. These Darkpine Troll witch doctors didn't just deal with demons.

Seeing the enemy fall, the nearby Amani trolls roared and swung their spears, intending to nail him to the ground just like the woman before...

Snap!

Contrary to expectations, a pitch-black whip slammed into the troll. Shadow energy tore through flesh, and the soul-deep pain forced the troll to howl and retreat.

"Brainless savage, this elf is useful to me alive." Alisa looked with disdain at the Amani warrior trembling under her lash, then gave a charming smile to the despair-stricken Sores. "Can't let go of your companion? You mortals are always so ignorant."

"Want to save him?" She pointed her impossibly slender finger at the dazed Lanlos, emphasizing the pronoun heavily as if to express surprise. A glimmer of light finally surfaced in Sores's bloodshot eyes. What kind of light? Was it telling Lanlos to run? Was it a call to fight back? Or was it anger at the latter's recklessness?

Perhaps it was all of these, but only he knew the truth...

"Yes, that's it. Giggle! This expression is truly intoxicating." Covering her mouth with a laugh, she enjoyed the sight of him suffering inner torment while the succubus flicked her whip to coil around his neck, dragging him forward without a shred of mercy until he was closer to Lanlos.

"Do you know? The soul hidden in this shell is a demon just like me." Pointing at Lanlos, Alisa's smile grew increasingly hideous. "Defying the master's will, betraying the Burning Legion, and now, bringing destruction to your home."

"Look at all this." Pointing at the raging, scorching flames surrounding them, the succubus's voice gradually took on a weeping tone, as if she were truly grieving for Lanlos's 'crimes'. "It was him! All of this was caused by this demon!"

With a forceful flick of her whip, Sores's body was tossed like a rag doll beside Lanlos. The skin on his neck had been torn into large and small scarlet scars, making his already depleted strength grow weaker by the second.

"Is... is this... true?" Despite the agonizing pain throughout his body, Sores struggled to rise, grabbing Lanlos by the collar. "Is it?"

What else could he say? Nod in admission? Or struggle to explain? No, this wasn't what he wanted. He wanted Lanlos to deny it righteously; he wanted this close companion to be the final hope that would sustain him in such a desperate situation.

But his hope...

Without a word, Lanlos simply stared blankly at Ilana's corpse and the fading Sores. The jarring laughter of trolls and demons rose and fell. His impulses, his cowardice, his self-importance—all vanished into thin air amidst this undisguised mockery.

He had still achieved nothing; he was once again left with nothing.

Sores knew he would never get the answer he wanted, because those eyes—which had once shone with a brilliance he couldn't understand, eyes so beautiful they had made him jealous—had now lost all their luster, like a shell without a soul. The elf who had his own unique insights into Quel'Thalas and the world, the elf who could chat and laugh while leaning on a cane, the youth whose eyes lit up when he picked up a book—they were all gone.

It wasn't a concealment; it was exactly the same as the Lanlos who had been declared dead before. No vitality, just a corpse. Fate had long since assigned a destination to this body and this soul. He hadn't escaped it in his last life, and in this one, he had thought he could resist, but the price had nearly crushed him. He had yielded; he had accepted his fate.

"Ha, haha..." Sores laughed maniacally, his bloodshot eyes nearly dripping blood.

"Lanlos!" The ranger gripped his wrist tightly, shouting his name with every ounce of his remaining strength. "You aren't qualified to be a demon, and you are even less worthy of being a Quel'dorei!"

Tears mixed with blood flew wildly across the face of the retired ranger. Pain? Sorrow? Or regret? None of these; Lanlos faintly sensed something else, something he once possessed but eventually surrendered in the face of fate...

Squelch!

While the youth stood dazed, Sores drove his scimitar into his own chest, swift and lethal.

"Quel'dorei, death before dishonor! Lanlos..." Crimson blood gushed from his mouth like a fountain. It took Lanlos a long time to make out his blurred words, "Anar'alah... belore... (In the name of the sun)"

In the youth's eyes, nothing remained but a blinding, stinging red. The blood, which should have been repulsive, acted like gasoline igniting a spark in his vision.

Almost simultaneously, that thunderous roar echoed in his mind once more.

'Destruction...'

'Or rebirth...'

Revenge?

Revenge!

Whoosh!

A hurricane suddenly surged around them. The surrounding air seemed to fear something at the center; it was fleeing! Fleeing this area!

Like the biting, frigid winds of Northrend scraping against everyone's souls, the Amani trolls led by Tregra could not help but shiver, turning their gazes toward the center of the group of warlocks and demonic minions. There, Kergash and his succubus wore identical smiles—smiles of triumph.

Indifferent to the changes in the outside world, Lanlos reached out to cover Sores' wide-open eyes, whispering in a trance-like state: "Death before dishonor? Death before dishonor? Death before dishonor!"

Haha! Since there is no escaping this, then come, demons!

Ding!

Deep within his soul, the long-dormant Keystone erupted with a resonant chime, whether out of joy or empathetic rage, it was unclear.

Green Fel flames devoured the blood and scorched the flesh. Chaotic energy, like a beast waiting to devour, gnawed wantonly at this unfamiliar body. Having been famished for so long, it finally broke free from its cage, instinctively treating everything as fuel. It craved chaos; it was ravenous; it burned fiercely, determined to melt the shackles of fate and leave behind a patch of blackened, scorched earth in this ridiculous world.

Compared to his soul, the insignificant pain in his body drove Lanlos into a frenzied, manic laughter. The palm covering the ranger's eyes suddenly bloomed with a stream of green light, which darted into the latter's skin like tiny snakes.

'Havoc, sacrifice, the final burning...'

The grating, savage laughter grew increasingly hoarse, sounding in a short span like the low growl of some fierce beast, mixed with the chilling wails of vengeful ghosts. At the same time, Sores' body began to wither and decay at a speed visible to the naked eye, before turning to ash in a cluster of ominous Fel fire, leaving behind only his clothes, stripped even of bloodstains.

Using soul and flesh as nourishment, the increasingly dazzling chaotic energy cheered as it surged into Lanlos. His flesh roared, his soul bellowed, and power erupted from his very core.

Emerald flames ignited in his eyes, his wild, unbridled soul seemingly ready to leap out. The youth's once handsome face was now distorted into a grotesque mask by a wild, ear-to-ear grin. He scanned the trolls, who were stunned by this power, imprinting every one of those ugly, crude faces into his burning eyes.

A blood debt must be paid in blood!

BOOM--

A scorching current of air rose around Lanlos. Vast Fel energy gathered and churned upon him, like a bonfire in a gale, clawing, expanding, and howling, as if it could not wait to burn everything to ash and destruction.

"What are you doing?!" Tregra, broken out in a cold sweat by the sight, was about to seek counsel from others, but when he turned his head, he saw Kergash quietly slipping away toward the outskirts of the village with his demonic minions. He shouted immediately, but his voice only served to attract the attention of the burning elf.

Meeting those eyes scorched by Fel fire, the instincts honed by years of battle caused his pores to open in an instant, as if his entire body were desperately urging him.

Run, run away!

"What... is this?"