Legend of the Misfit

Killian slowly backed off from the room; his body trembled with each step. He felt like crying, but for some reason, not a single tear dropped.

Something within just told him, 'You aren't needed anymore.' And with a heavy heart, he stepped out of the mansion. 

Though he left, a part of him wished Raiden would at least come out and kick the hell out of him—anything to stop him from leaving Raiden behind.

Killian stood in front of the mansion, taking one last look at its grandeur and beauty.

[Goodbye, Raid.]

He turned and walked away.

After hours of walking, he found himself back at the entrance, gazing calmly at the mansion once more.

[Am I doing the right thing?] 

The guilt of leaving Raiden ate him alive. He kept returning to the entrance, but no matter how many times he did, he just couldn't bring himself to go back.

[I should have done more than just give up. What if he kills Raid?]

His mind was blank throughout his journey, and his heart grew heavy with each passing minute. 

Despite knowing full well that his chapter with Raiden was closed, he wandered through the mountains, still holding onto the possibility that Raiden would come looking for him.

[I must get stronger on my own.]

Growing frustrated with Raiden lingering in his mind, he began hunting snarlers, unleashing all his rage upon them.

After taking one down, he felt something watching him. He scanned his surroundings, and suddenly, it bolted—it was a kobold. 

He remembered the pain all too well; one had brutally injured him when he was younger.

He dashed after it, knowing it wanted to lure him into its territory—but he followed anyway.

Their land was riddled with traps—fire traps, falling rocks, poison dart traps, and nets.

When he was younger, he studied them all, driven by a single desire: revenge.

Years of plotting his revenge had taught him that kobolds were too foolish to change their traps. Carefully, he followed the kobold's footsteps, mimicking its every movement.

It unknowingly led Killian straight to their land, and he grinned. Their huts, made of wood and dry leaves, stood in clusters, while the kobolds gathered at the center of their territory.

He began by slaughtering a dozen of them, yet not even a single one attacked—they just fled in terror.

A sudden wave of uneasiness shot through his chest.

[What is the point of being here if they won't fight back?]

"I will be back."

He said to the few left on the land and left off.

[How pathetic.]

The kobolds reminded him of Old Demon—how he used to tease him about it.

With no time to waste, he finally decided to make his way to the entrance of the circuit.

As he neared, he had an eye for just a demon, Old Demon. The place looked as lifeless as ever, lower crawling on the ground and looking pitiful as usual. He strolled through the lower demon—heading for the Old Demon's hut.

"Run, Killian. Run." Old Demon yelled as he gestured at Killian to run away.

Instinct took over—he turned and ran. 

Curious, he glanced back; dread sank into his bones. A single slice and Old Demon's head was already bouncing across the ground.

Killian froze—his eyes widened, and his hands trembled. He wanted to rush over to at least hold Old Demon's hand.

But no.

He didn't want to die—he turned and ran.

Flashbacks of the old demon's final expression replayed endlessly in his mind. He clenched his eyes shut as he ran.

His body felt weightless with each step. His mind swirled with countless thoughts, and his heart pounded furiously within his chest.

Though he barely knew Old Demon and rarely gave him attention, Old Demon was always the pillar he ran to since his parents left for the circuit.

"You are mine now, Killian. Let's conquer the world together." Those were the first words he said to him as they watched his parents walk away, their footsteps echoing with excitement at each step.

For ten years, he always gave Killian the reward his master granted him—pancakes and fresh water. 

He patched Killian up whenever Upper Demons beat him to a pulp. And now, he was gone. It felt like his whole world was collapsing around him.

[No, I must give him a proper burial.]

Killian spun around and dashed toward the lifeless body. The upper demon who had slain him stood idly, smiling as the lower demons swarmed over the corpse.

Killian clutched his dagger tightly as he sprinted toward him, leaped into the air, and drove it straight into his chest.

The moment he landed, he wiped out the lower demons and dragged the corpse away.

Old Demon was heavy, and he could see the upper demons rushing in after witnessing their comrade's death. But this time, Killian wasn't leaving him behind. He pulled the corpse with all his strength—but he got nowhere.

"I think you will be owing me again." Morningstar said with a grin.

With his help, they escaped just before the upper demons arrived.

Killian took the corpse to the mountaintop and sat beside it. Killian knew he had every right to cry—he wanted to—but not a single tear escaped his eyes.

[I will conquer this world for you, Old Demon. We are doing it together just like you wanted.]

While mourning, Morningstar tapped on the shoulder.

"Can you hurry this up? The upper demons might arrive soon."

Killian took a brief moment to clear his mind. "Yeah, you are right."

He gave the Old Demon a proper burial and said his goodbyes.

Killian would have sat by the corpse until it decayed, but he knew Old Demon wouldn't have wanted that.

[He would prefer I fight with everything I had, and that's what I would do.]

"Let me take you to my place; it will take us a day or two, but better than nothing, right?"

"What brought you here anyway?"

"I came on a mission; I will let you in once we get home."

Killian had his suspicions, but he had nowhere to go, so he followed suit. 

As they walked, Morningstar mumbled about random things. His mannerisms were slightly different from Raiden's. 

Killian found himself comparing every inch of him to Raiden—seeking the comfort he once felt around Raiden.

After hours of walking, they came across an area with a thicker and darker atmosphere.

Killian tilted his head and saw thousands of lower demons packed into one place, their voices rising in unison as they demanded blood.

[These demons again.] He let out a sigh.

He gazed at them in disgust—they looked lifeless and seemed to have lost all sense of reason.

"Faded red ink, they will be dying soon."

Killian tilted his head to Morningstar in confusion. "Faded red?"

"Yeah, you are a red demon, and you have no idea of what lies below?"

Morningstar slapped his forehead.

Faded red ink demons are demons who couldn't feed their devil mana cores for a long period. 

At this stage, demons felt physically drained and could hardly move or talk. Their vision blurred, movement became sluggish, and panic attacks occurred frequently. 

Some experienced hallucinations or intrusive thoughts, and the core forced them toward violence to regain stability.

Once a demon turned faded red, they were taken to a specific place—making it easier for them to end their lives.

Though their situation was terrifying, it brought a smile to Killian's face. It reminded him of Old Demon's life—he never awakened and never had to worry about anything like this.

[That old tyrant was somehow lucky after all.]

After a long, careful observation, they continued our journey.

They strode deep into the Wildlands. The atmosphere was thick and quiet, and their steps echoed through the forest. 

"Can you feel that?"

"Yes."

A powerful aura emerged from the shadows; it was a shadow—a figureless humanoid, similar to the shadows he had seen earlier.

It posed no threat, and yet, Killian had his doubts.

[This might be Lucid's doing.]

They backed off slowly with steady steps and held their stance for a possible attack.

The shadow outstretched its hand toward Killian and began speaking. Its voice was distorted with glitches, yet somehow, it sounded familiar.

"Raiden?"

"Did Lucid do this to you?"

Its hand remained outstretched as it continued speaking. But the more it spoke, the clearer it became.

From the tone of its voice, he could tell that it wasn't Raiden, yet it was still someone he knew.

He felt a sudden urge to draw closer and listen to it carefully.

"Where are you going?"

Killian ignored. 

After a few steps, his leg got tangled in something—a rope. Suddenly, a bell rang out loudly. Confused, they tilted their heads, searching for the source of the sound—and so did the humanoid.

For a brief moment, it felt as if the humanoid was working with them.

A few demons emerged from the shadows, armed with katanas. In no time, they surrendered Killian and Morningstar.

The shadow began shielding them.

"Do you know that thing?"

"I don't think I do."

The demons charged at them, their katanas raised midair as they attempted to strike. 

Killian braced himself to fight, but before he could react, the humanoid dashed toward the demons.

It shattered their skulls, slammed them into the ground, and tore them in half.

Killian was confused.

"Why help me?"

It stood a short distance away from Killian and began speaking.

His urge to hear it speak grew stronger. He stepped forward, reaching out—but before he could get close, it vanished.

"You really have a lot of allies, don't you?"

His mind wandered, fixating more on who the shadow was rather than why it had helped him.

[The feeling when it spoke, do I know it?]

Killian shook his head.

"Let's leave before we are attacked again."

"Sure thing."