Almost the second after that figure was pushed out of the barrier, the spatial confinement closed again.
Hun Yao fell to his knees in the snow.
Before his eyes was nothing but the empty snowstorm, Langmuir was gone, leaving only a bronze curved knife and a broken horn.
Hun Yao, enduring the pain, stretched out his arm covered in scars, and firmly grasped the blood-stained horn, a part of himself once.
Did he make the right choice?
Could Langmuir survive alone in the human world?
He didn’t know. He didn’t even get a good look at Langmuir’s face in the end, only leaving a memory of a face marred by bloody tears.
“My King!!”
The cries of his subjects came from behind. Hun Yao turned his head and saw the demons like Tianpo rushing over in panic.
At that moment, a thunderous noise like daylight thunder came from the sky, echoing throughout the Gasuo Abyss.
The magic array shattered. The light was no longer fragmented, and the sunlight poured down like a flood, washing over this barren land, blessing every rock and every shrub.
The beasts accustomed to the darkness were startled by the strong light, their roars echoing in the Frost Horn Mountains; birds left their branches and cried, their wings flapping higher and higher.
The little demons who had never seen daylight before cried out in fear, trying hard to burrow into their parents’ arms. The elders called out the names of their departed loved ones, kneeling on the ground with tears streaming down their faces.
“Daybreak…”
“The sun! The sun is hot!”
The demons cried and laughed, laughed and cried. Countless rough, scaly hands were raised, they felt the warmth of the sunlight with their palms.
“The wind is rising!” Another voice exclaimed, “The miasma! The miasma is starting to rise…”
Daybreak, rising wind.
The wind grew stronger.
The miasma that had taken root in the abyss for two hundred years gradually transformed into a rising storm.
In the cries of the demons, this gust of wind even swept up the accumulated snow, forming a shocking and magnificent spectacle—
Countless snowflakes rose from the ground to the sky.
It was as if millions of wandering souls in this place were rushing towards the sky that connected to their homeland.
On the barrier cliff, the demons of the royal court all rushed over. They each opened their own Mana, protecting Hun Yao, whose horns were both broken, in the center.
And the Demon King knelt there, calmly looking up at the direction of the flying snowflakes.
The gale messed up his hair. The two broken horns appeared and disappeared intermittently, the edges glowing a beautiful golden brown under the brilliant sunlight.
He murmured to himself: …Grandfather, have you gone home too?
Gradually, the wind stopped, and the snow also ceased.
The sky presented a clear blue color, with rolling clouds floating high like cotton, vast and magnificent, a sight the demons had never seen before.
“My King!!”
Tianpo pressed Hun Yao’s shoulder in grief, her eyes red, “Your horn…your horn…”
She didn’t know what had happened, but it seemed like she had guessed everything.
“Why cry.” Hun Yao patted Tianpo’s shoulder. He relaxed his eyebrows and hoarsely said, “It’s time to ascend to the throne, young king.”
“No!” Tianpo shouted, “The royal court will always have only one Demon King.” She suddenly knelt down, tearfully kissing the burnt cracks on Hun Yao’s scale tail.
Moduo and Asayin also knelt down, and the demon soldiers behind them followed suit. They all cut their scaly tails with their scaly claws, smearing the fresh blood on their foreheads.
“My King!!!”
They roared like drums, “My King!!!”
“…”
Hun Yao was silent for a while, and then laughed and scolded. “A bunch of fools, it’s only been seven years, have you all been turned into idiots by your Lord Langmuir? There is no king in the abyss who has lost his demonic breath…”
As he spoke, he looked up at the blue sky and white clouds.
“Langmuir…” Moduo was looking around anxiously, her face anxious, as if she wanted to ask but dared not.
“Don’t look.” Hun Yao said in a deep voice, “The sun god of the Abyss has gone home, we will not see him again.”
When Langmuir woke up on the barrier cliff, a butterfly just flew away from his nose.
The midwinter sun was very bright, warmly baking the surroundings, very comfortable.
There was a thin layer of snow on the cliff, and many places still showed grass color, and there were also sporadic wildflowers.
He woke up in the human world.
Langmuir blinked slowly, not knowing how long he had slept.
His memory still lingered on that crisp sound in the snowstorm, he personally cut off Hun Yao’s left horn, and then he knew nothing.
The Holy Monarch struggled to turn half of his body, looking up at the sky.
A corner of the blue sky was dyed gold, and the dark miasma was being eaten away bit by bit.
He knew that it was the purification miasma spell that he had protected each city with seven years ago.
When the black cloud formed by the miasma attacked, all the townspeople stopped their work, stretched their necks, and were tormented by the fear of the end of the world. The guards ran and shouted not to panic, but they were so scared that they couldn’t even draw their swords.
But immediately after, they saw a vast golden light, and Mana formed a solid barrier between the cities, just like stars forming constellations.
Was it the manifestation of the Goddess?
But that was clearly the spell left by the Holy Monarch…
On the barrier cliff, Langmuir looked at the sky from afar, imagining what each city looked like. Occasionally, a sweet and fishy heat would well up in his throat, and he would turn his head to spit out blood.
The cool breeze blew his silver-gray broken hair, and he gradually felt very tired and sleepy. The fragrance of the earth was beneath him, and he unknowingly fell asleep again.
A voice spoke to him in a lullaby-like tone: It’s all over, your path of atonement has finally come to an end, sleep, sleep.
No, Langmuir said softly, I still have to learn to “want to live.”
When he woke up again, the sky was already clear blue.
All the miasma had disappeared.
Langmuir was in a daze for a long time, as if waking up from a nightmare that had lasted for many years.
His vision was foggy, he tried, and felt like he could stand up again. So, leaning on the trees along the way, he moved forward step by step.
In his blurred consciousness, Langmuir didn’t notice the abnormality of his body.
He didn’t realize that he had grown a pair of graceful horns on his head, and a new scaly tail had unknowingly hung down behind him.
Near the barrier cliff, there was a watchtower, and soldiers were stationed on the watchtower.
Seven years ago, there were priests here responsible for guarding the Gasuo barrier. Since the fall of the Brett Temple, the guard had become ordinary military duty.
When the miasma attacked, hundreds of soldiers closed their eyes and waited for death. But that purification spell also took care of this place, and the soldiers were holding their suicide note and pens, taking a big sigh of relief.
After the golden light dissipated, a figure of a demon appeared at the end of the horizon.
Looking from a distance, this demon had elegant horns, sharp scaly claws, and a long scaly tail. It was half-blooded, with silver-gray hair scattered behind it, surrounded by a demonic breath so strong it was terrifying, like a ghost crawling out of hell.
“…The Demon King, it’s the Demon King!”
A middle-aged soldier stumbled back in fear, his back hitting the brick wall.
He opened his throat and shouted, “Alert, alert!! The Gasuo barrier is open—it’s the Demon King!!!”
Another soldier grabbed him, “Calm down, Abel! Something’s not right, there’s only one person on the other side…”
“Human, you call that thing a human!?” The middle-aged soldier shouted, “Okay, I knew it, you believed it too!”
“In my opinion, you’re all crazy, just a few years, and you all believe that kind of nonsense. I’ve said it before, His Majesty Aiden must have been deceived by the demons! And he brought in a group of people possessed by demons, saying every day that humans will become demons, who has seen it with their own eyes? Where is the evidence!?”
Abel ranted and raved, suddenly grabbed a bow and arrow, and rushed to the top of the tower.
“Hey, Abel, don’t mess around!”
“Demon, stop!!” Abel opened his throat and shouted down.
“Get any closer, and we’ll shoot!!”
“Damn it, it’s not responding! Look, is this what you call a human!?”
“Abel, calm down, calm down.” His colleagues pressed down this agitated soldier one after another. They knew Abel—this poor man, his ancestors were brave soldiers who resisted the demons, and he himself was proud of it. How could he accept the cruel reality that demons and humans were of the same origin?
It’s been four years since His Majesty Aiden personally pronounced the crimes committed by the temple and the monarch two hundred years ago. At first, the kingdom was in chaos, and there were not a few people who collapsed like Abel.
“See this damn ghost!” Abel roared, he was dragged back by people, “Look, look at that terrifying demonic breath! It can kill all of us in an instant!”
“I don’t care what the demons were before, they are demons now! How many humans have the demons killed, have you forgotten! The Holy Monarch is still suffering in the abyss, his life and death unknown, have you forgotten that too!”
By the time he roared the last sentence, the air suddenly became quiet.
As if touching some taboo.
All the soldiers’ faces turned pale.
“Stop arguing!” Fortunately, the captain rushed over at this time, “General Gernard and the National Knights are already on their way!”
In the distance on the ground, there appeared a tide of black dots. It quickly turned into fluttering banners and running horses. Those were the cavalry of the human kingdom.
A steed ran to the side of the general, and the messenger soldier saluted.
“General! His Majesty Aiden is on his way, he will be at the barrier cliff immediately, please receive him!”
“Hmm.” Gernard nodded heavily. Seven years had passed, and this general, who had once been defeated by the Demon King, had white hair at his temples and more wrinkles on his forehead.
“Did His Majesty have any orders?”
“His Majesty said, try to avoid conflict, if there is a possibility of communication, be sure to ask,” the messenger’s voice suddenly trembled a bit, “…the news of the Holy Monarch.”
“Understood.”
General Gernard closed his eyes—
So it’s been seven years, he thought.
After His Majesty Aiden ascended the throne, he did not call himself the Holy Monarch, but the National Monarch. Langmuir became the last Holy Monarch and the Son Of God of this kingdom, and also became a scar that the entire kingdom could not face directly.
Seven years without news, life or death uncertain. It could be almost certain that at the end of the war of the demon invasion, the Holy Monarch exchanged himself for countless human captives and followed the Demon King down into the abyss.
People say that the Holy Monarch protected a city with his own power, and all he got was the curses and hatred of his subjects.
People say that the Holy Monarch voluntarily went into hell, taking only his scarred body with him.
People also say that before the Holy Monarch left, he knelt in front of the burnt temple for three days, reciting the confession text for three days and nights, until he fainted in the cold rain—that was the last impression of this gentle monarch on his homeland, there would never be a more ridiculous, more cruel story in the world.
What was the Holy Monarch’s mood when he left his homeland? What was his fate after he entered the abyss? Is he still alive now, and if he is alive, what kind of miserable condition is he in?
—People dared not think, they did not dare to.
If we could get news of the Holy Monarch this time…
In the blink of an eye, General Gernard’s steed arrived under the watchtower, and he also saw the terrifying Demon King who was full of demonic breath.
“Don’t act rashly!” The old general raised his arm to order.
He squinted his eyes, always feeling that this demon was a bit strange.
It didn’t move much, just stood in front of the watchtower looking up, not knowing if it was because of the soldiers threatening with bows and arrows above.
It looked very weak, as if it was about to fall, and its figure seemed much thinner than the demons he remembered, not like a Demon King at all.
Gernard shouted a few words across, but there was still no response. The general’s cold sweat fell, facing such a strange and terrifyingly powerful creature, his heart seemed to be squeezed by that pressure.
Gernard slowly drew his sword, and drove his horse a little closer.
“Demon King!” he shouted, “If you have something to say, our His Majesty will listen to your plea!”
The demon seemed to finally notice him, very slowly, very slowly…turning its face a little.
Suddenly, Gernard’s chest felt like it had been hit hard.
The old general dared not even breathe, his mouth agape—he saw that the strange Demon King had a pair of beautiful violet eyes.
Thump, thump, thump…
For a moment, Gernard was dizzy, only able to hear the sound of his own heart pounding.
He flapped his lips, his throat hoarse, but because the guess in his heart was too shocking, he dared not shout out that title.
Gernard stiffly rolled off the saddle, his knees trembling, step by step, he approached the figure that was becoming more and more familiar.
Your Majesty… Your Majesty…
What I see, is it a resentful ghost, or a dream. Your Majesty the Holy Monarch…Your Majesty, is it you?
Suddenly, that “Demon King” trembled slightly, as if he finally recognized the comer with difficulty.
He swayed forward two steps, a hint of joy seemed to appear in his eyes, and he reached out his hand—
Even though it was no longer a human hand, but a sharp claw covered with scales, it brought up a flame-like demonic breath.
Finally, with a sob, Gernard shouted, “Your Ma…”
But a streak of cold light swept across the old general’s cheek.
Gernard’s face suddenly changed, as if he had seen something more terrifying than death.
He roared, his face twisted, and he lunged forward, at the same time recklessly spreading his five fingers, trying to block that streak of cold light.
Thud.
General Gernard fell to the ground.
His five fingers were stiff and empty, he couldn’t catch the arrow shot from the watchtower.
……
When standing under the watchtower, Langmuir was actually worrying about how to get the soldiers above to let him in.
He actually felt like he was about to die, but he wanted to live, at least until next spring, to see his own royal city, and then to see the new flowers planted by Hun Yao on the barrier cliff.
So, what should he say?
How should he repent, so that the subjects he once deceived can accept him again?
When Gernard came to him, Langmuir saw some hope.
Perhaps it wasn’t hope, just the simple joy of reuniting with an old friend.
In any case, he tried to take a step forward, and when he reached out his hand, he suddenly noticed the terrifying demonic breath at his fingertips. He tried his best to gather these energies, making himself harmless.
But a cold light flashed before his eyes.
Langmuir felt a force hit his chest.
Pain.
The Holy Monarch looked down blankly, seeing the arrow shaft deeply embedded in his left chest.
He slowly leaned back, his eyes lost, his body light as a fallen leaf.
The sky, which he hadn’t seen for seven years, was exceptionally clear blue, and the slowly moving white clouds were still as soft as he remembered.
…Ah, how could this happen.
Langmuir stared at the blue sky and white clouds with a bit of sadness.
But then again, was the little Demon King like this back then?
When he was full of expectations for the future, only to be greeted with a sudden and cruel arrow.
The original inhabitants of Gasuo, the soldiers and mages who were deceived into it, the innocent victims who died in the war between the two races…were they like this?
Thinking about it this way, Langmuir felt that his ending, although regrettable, was not too unjust after all.
The Holy Monarch fell between the cliffs, an arrow stuck in his chest, quietly seeping a bit of crimson.
The winter wind blew over with the brilliant sunlight. All the sorrows of the past two hundred years seemed to sink into this dyed red color.
