Return of the Demon Sovereign (Book 1) [MxM]

1. The Fall

Another crack splintered in the space in front of him. His view resembled a splintered window that distorted the outside world. Should he feel sorrow or relief that his death was imminent? Should he fear his life's end? 

Fate had been cruel to him, so perhaps he should rejoice that his suffering would be completed. The deities have deemed his torment over.

Once again, he will embrace death. Seemingly, this was his only consistent companion in life.

••••••••••••

The ancient legends claimed that the Primordials created the worlds. During their pilgrimage through the realms of the universe, they found an empty pocket of space imbued with power. 

Deciding it was a place fitting for a new life, they created the known realms with their divine blessings. The land throughout the realms was bountiful, and the magic was rich, becoming the source of light and beauty. Within the Halrland realm, humanity evolved to become powerful beings, emulating the teachings and wisdom of the Primordials. Sects were established to govern their power; thus, the prodigious First Dragon sect rose above the others. They ruled over Halrland and guided their people to salvation. 

However, with the light came the shadows, outliers who rejected the teachings of the merciful Primordials and dared to rebel. Thus rose the Shadowbane sect, the ruthless murderers of the devout.

Erebus, Commander of the Fire Dragon sect, had cursed them many times. However, he and his brothers had been shackled behind the Fire Dragon sect walls, restrained by their leader. 

How many times did he beg to fight back against the blasphemers? How many times did his forehead press on the ground until it bled? 

Let me kill.

His wrath was overwhelming, and he yearned to fight. He had desired nothing more than to present the heads of the Shadowbane sect to the Primordials. He wanted to bless the land with their spilled blood. They were a plague, a blemish upon the earth. Evil. Dark. Demonic. They had no place amongst those who walked in the light. They only deserved to be dragged back to the dark deities and rot in the coldest of the hells.

As of late, the Fire Dragon sect master urged them to wait and be patient. But it was nearly impossible when they lusted for blood.

How many sects had fallen by their treacherous hands? How many brethren did they steal? How many people trembled in fear from their wicked ways? The world was restless like his soul. He could feel their cries in his very bones. He felt every perished life within his heart.

The Shadowbane sect deserved death. They deserved suffering, and Erebus was determined to deliver it. He wanted to be the scythe that sentenced them.

And yet, he had to stand still. He had clenched his hands until his nails pierced his palms. He had cracked his teeth while straining to keep his mouth closed. He had watched the land fall into dark despair as Shadowbane ravaged it.

But finally... he heard the words he needed. Prepare for battle.

Erebus was not the only one who felt profound jubilation from the order. The devout population also celebrated. Every soldier, young and old, joined the procession when the horns blared through the city. 

The long march led them to an open field, and now the two armies met—the Fire Dragon's light contrasting against Shadowbane's dark army.

Erebus stood with his brothers, facing the shadow army. His anger was nearly palpable. Too long have they watched the shadow demons, the Shadowbane sect, taint the world.