Fade in…
Awakening and Vengeance
Hakuna stirred, a groan escaping his lips as he regained consciousness. He was lying beside the ancient tree that had saved his life, which was now slowly burning, engulfed in flames from the proximity of the explosion. His senses returned with shocking speed, overriding the trauma.
"Sheesh, you sure take longer naps than usual, even after being hit by the demon-equivalent of a hydrogen bomb," Psycha's voice commented dryly in his mind, immediately establishing her presence.
Hakuna strained, pushing himself off the burning ground. "Eaah, where… where am I? What happened to the tower?"
Psycha replied, her tone surprisingly clinical. "Well, you're about a few hundred meters away from the point of detonation, currently on fire, but otherwise intact. Even when it seems impossible, your internal failsafe, the Titanus Skeleta, still made sure you took the brunt of the kinetic and thermal explosion in a way that doesn't cause any truly notable, permanent damage. Your brothers designed that thing well."
"Forget me. Do you think the Royal Squadron made it out? They were still inside the blast radius," he asked worriedly, the image of his new, brave warriors flashing through his mind.
Psycha voiced the grim truth. "They're exceptionally skilled, yes, the best of the best. But that was akin to a tactical nuclear bomb, Hakuna. It was almost as if everything in the whole area was deliberately built from the ground up using sophisticated demonic explosives."
"Let's go and find them. Now," Hakuna said, ignoring his own battered state, and walking immediately towards the smoking crater of the bombed area.
As he drew near the edge of the immense chasm, a familiar, malevolent voice echoed around him, not in his mind, but physically in the air.
"So, you survived the final message, Prince. Predictable, but annoying."
Hakuna froze. The energy of Sparta was palpable. His eyes immediately turned a fierce, dangerous red, but it wasn't his usual purple Divine power. It was pure demonic energy, the eyes of Psycha herself, finally taking physical control.
She now spoke through Hakuna's mouth, the voice low, ancient, and filled with generations of resentment. "You've got a knack for taking things that people love and admire, don't you, Sparta? A habit of theft and destruction."
Sparta appeared, materializing suddenly, sitting ominously on a large piece of smoke-blackened rubble, his posture relaxed but radiating overwhelming power.
He attempted to speak, surprised by her emergence. "Psycha, you… you have finally revealed yourself. I thought that pathetic human body would never let you take the reins."
Psycha interjected, her voice thundering from Hakuna's small frame. "Enough of your demon politics. I should just end you now, for everything you have taken, and everything you have destroyed."
Sparta then scoffed, a deep, rumbling sound of contempt. "I'd like to see you try, sister. After 5000 years, your rage is still just a blunt weapon."
They both launched themselves simultaneously, rocketing toward each other with incredible, warping speed. As they clashed—two ancient, massive entities, one fighting through the body of a mere teenager—an explosive, purple-red energy dissipated around them, shaking the ground even further.
Psycha then roared, locking Hakuna's fist against Sparta's open palm. "Sparta, I will never, ever forgive you for what you have done! For your ultimate betrayal!"
Psycha's Ascent
Ohh yeah. You were probably wondering how Psycha, a powerful demon, became the source of immense, latent power for the entire Letebele Clan royal bloodline and why Sparta refers to her as "sister."
Backstory time!
5000 Years Ago
Psycha, in her true demonic form, strode across a desolate, war-torn battlefield. Her appearance was that of a tall, imposing Amazonian warrior, with menacing demon horns curving from her temples. She was muscular, every part of her body honed for combat, yet there was a striking, strange femininity to her—a terrifying beauty akin to a dark rose. She was surrounded by the bodies of countless defeated enemies, wielding a large, customized sword that was almost 70% of her height, specifically designed for her unique, momentum-based fighting style.
Psycha wasn't like any other high-ranking demon. She was inherently a Succubus, a class of demon typically associated with temptation and manipulation. However, her unprecedented physical strength and raw combat prowess led to her joining the elite Demon Army, making her the only Succubus ever to hold a combat rank. Many in the established hierarchy initially thought she was weak, a novelty. But her fighting prowess and strategic mind quickly exceeded even Arkhagos's expectations, allowing her to rapidly rise in the ranks, eventually leading to her commanding her own specialized battalion and achieving the rank of Demon General.
As she prepared to fight her last remaining enemies, she took a menacing, controlled fighting stance, the ground cracking under her focused energy.
Every demon possesses a unique, intrinsic word that they use to call forth and stabilize their power—a kind of spiritual anchor. Some theorize that the peculiar nature of said word stems from their chaotic infancy, a remnant of their original formation. The source of this concept is truly unknown, yet every known demon, from the lowest imp to the highest archdemon, has one. And in the case of Psycha, that unique word was...
"KIHIMURRAA!"
As she uttered the word, she unleashed an instantaneous, devastating horizontal slash with her massive sword. The attack didn't just decapitate all her surrounding enemies; the sheer force of the energy blast and pressure wave caused everything else within a hundred-meter radius to be blown away and disintegrated. No enemies were left standing or alive.
Arkhagos, the tyrannical ruler of the Underworld, was seen sitting on a throne crafted from solidified souls, watching Psycha's performance from a scrying pool. Sparta stood patiently beside him.
Sparta then spoke, impressed despite his rank. "My Lord, I am truly impressed. At first, I didn't think Psycha could fight to save herself, given her classification, yet she continues to prove every single one of my assumptions wrong."
Arkhagos replied, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, the true King of the Underworld. "She seems to be getting stronger with every engagement, Sparta. Her growth rate is unprecedented."
"Indeed, my lord. She is a valuable asset," Sparta voiced with professional pride.
Arkhagos then spoke, the command chilling and final. "I want you to end her. Immediately."
Sparta stammered, shocked by the sudden execution order. "Eaah, my lord, but—"
Arkhagos continued, explaining the political calculus of hell. "Her power seems to be increasing at an alarming rate. She could pose a threat to your own position, and, more importantly, to the stability of the hierarchy I have built. I do not tolerate unforeseen elements."
Sparta argued, a flicker of genuine emotional distress crossing his features. "But, my lord, she's become… akin to a sister in my eyes. She is loyal to the cause."
Arkhagos glared at Sparta, subjecting him to an insurmountable psychic pressure that forced the demon to his knees.
He then spoke, his voice dripping with cynical amusement. "It greatly amuses me to think that demons are capable of such bonds. All of you were sourced directly from the inhumane traits of humanity—greed, hatred, lust, rage. You have no compassion, you do not qualify to build a bond, and you certainly do not qualify to feel love. You are, all of you, merely my tools. Now, it's time I discard the one I have use for no longer, before she becomes dangerous. Do you truly wish for me to handle the execution my way, Sparta? Because I assure you, it will be far more painful."
Sparta bowed, defeated by the absolute authority of the situation. "Your will is my duty, Lord Satan. I will take care of the disposal."
…Later that day…
Psycha was seen taking off her extensive, heavy armor in the demon barracks, her mind still replaying the battle.
Sparta appeared silently behind her.
"I could've sworn it just looked like you were getting sloppy, Sparta. Are my eyes deceiving me?" she said, sensing his presence immediately, her intuition razor-sharp.
Sparta retorted, masking his true mission. "You are merely catching up to greatness, Psycha. Enjoy this while it lasts."
Psycha then said, shaking her head. "Hmm, I might've thought I was showboating back there. I need to be more efficient," doubting her recent performance.
"No, you were excellent, Psycha. Our Lord is thoroughly impressed with your progress, and so am I," Sparta said, forcing a genuine-sounding compliment.
Psycha then murmured, her vigilance still high. "Yeah, I still get the feeling that there are some demons who don't… approve of my place in the army. The old guard."
"Does their petty envy bother you?" he asked.
"Not in the slightest. I know they're no match for me. It's because of this strength that they envy me, not the other way around," She said, her pride justified.
Sparta then concluded, giving his final, painful line. "Very well, then. I'm proud of you, Psycha. I really am. You deserved a higher future than this."
Psycha responded with a rare, bright smile, accepting the validation from her 'brother.'
Betrayal
…The next day…
Psycha was seen walking alone through a silent, dead zone—a final check to see if truly no enemies were left alive, a detail that always worried her.
Psycha thought to herself, reviewing her strategy. "I'll really have to get stronger. Those few remaining humans were able to surround me for a moment; they shouldn't be able to do that."
She stopped abruptly. "Huh…?"
She sensed a powerful, non-demonic energy signature nearby.
"Okay, come on out to die, human. Don't hide your cowardice," she said, raising her sword.
A man appeared. He looked severely injured, but his sheer presence exuded immense strength. He looked familiar to future events.
Psycha then spoke, observing his lack of weapons. "You have no weapon. Do you truly expect to defeat a commanding archdemon with mere fists and bravado?"
The man, Edward, who would one day become the father of Hakuna, responded, coughing blood. "Sadly, no. My ancestral sword broke trying to block your final attack. You managed to kill everyone, I found no survivors. As for what I'm going to do, I've been told that I have abnormal, natural strength. So I guess, in this scenario, it's worth a shot at survival."
Oh, that's why he looks familiar.
Psycha unsheathed her sword from her back and deliberately shoved it into the ground, a challenge and a sign of respect.
"Ohh?" Edward raised his eyebrow, surprised by the gesture.
Psycha then spoke, preparing for a true test of strength. "There's no point bringing a sword to a fist fight, is there, human? Let's make this a fair match of raw strength."
Edward flared his unique, powerful energy and entered a proper, fluid battle stance.
"No, none at all. Let's begin," he replied, accepting the challenge.
Psycha launched her attack, flying in for the strike with such tremendous speed and force. But Edward, using his innate physical power, was able to barely dodge the primary impact.
"So, your ability to block my final, full-power attack wasn't a fluke after all?" She said, impressed and slightly frustrated.
Edward replied, maintaining his defense. "No, although, my sword certainly didn't survive the encounter."
Psycha landed a surprise punch, a devastating blow, but Edward miraculously managed to block it at the last second.
"Woah, that almost broke my arm, incredible density," he said, shaking his limb in pain.
She quickly tripped him, only for Edward to leap backwards using his hands, instantly regaining his footing.
Psycha questioned within herself, her mind racing. "Is he even truly human? His strength defies the laws of nature."
Edward attacked, now the aggressor. He was faster than Psycha expected and landed a clean punch to her face.
He did no notable damage, but the surprise of being hit by a mortal left her star-struck, frozen long enough for him to land a second, equally surprising blow. But as he attempted his third punch, Psycha caught it, her grip iron.
"That's enough now, human. Lesson time is over," she said, her voice dangerously low.
She began her furious, focused assault, landing devastating punch after devastating punch, each blow she landed shaking the ground beneath them. Yet, still, impossibly, Edward stood his ground.
Psycha questioned, her amazement genuine. "You still stand? After all that? I'm genuinely impressed."
Edward responded, his energy flaring even more. "What can I say? I'm abnormally strong. It's a family curse."
Psycha thought to herself, recognizing the threat. "What is this? How is a mere human this strong? I'll have to end this quickly, or I might actually lose."
She raised her arm, enveloping her fist with pure, focused energy—a precursor to the technique Hakuna would later use, the "Fist of Inferno."
As they prepared to deliver the final, deciding blows, someone came from behind Psycha, moving silently in the speed of darkness. The attacker grabbed her massive sword from the ground and instantly cut Psycha into two halves through her abdomen, a clean, swift slice. The same movement, inadvertently, only cut Edward halfway through his torso.
"Hmm. You managed to move quickly to avoid being sliced in two. However, you're only human. Your death is inevitable," the attacker said, his voice cold.
Psycha strained, looking at her attacker in horror. "Ugh, Sparta? How… could… you?"
Sparta then voiced, confirming her fears. "Yes, how could I indeed? As impressive as you are, Psycha, your potential was simply too great. You directly threaten my position as Arkhagos's second-in-command. I'm open to a bit of competition, but a succubus should never be a commanding figure in the demon army, no matter how strong you are."
Psycha spoke, her voice still straining, broken by the ultimate betrayal. "You… were… like a brother… to me…"
Sparta retorted, without pity. "Yes, dear Psycha, I do sincerely apologize. However, the Underworld is no place for compassion. We are all tools, and I merely removed a faulty one."
He faded away, leaving them both for dead.
Edward grunted, collapsing onto the ground, holding his bleeding wound. "Argh. I really was hoping to finish our fight. You were incredible."
Psycha snapped back, still straining from the mortal wound. "Don't… flatter yourself… human. You were about to lose."
Edward crawled painfully toward her severed body.
Psycha then asked, observing his incredible calm. "You seem to be content, despite your current, fatal state. Do you truly not fear death?"
"I don't really know. Many spoke of the afterlife as a place of relinquishment, but none have proof," Edward said simply, his warrior's acceptance complete.
"And why do you draw closer to a demon who intends on killing you once she regains her strength?" She questioned, confused by his bizarre human behavior.
Edward replied, his gaze warm and honest. "Well, I tend to have a thing for women who are stronger than I am."
Psycha blushed, a genuine human reaction caused by the compliment, an emotion she hadn't realized she was capable of.
Edward then said, resigning himself to his fate. "Although, my death draws near. We might've been quite the couple, had we survived this."
As he came to grips with his fate, Psycha reached out and grabbed his hand, her bloody fingers intertwining with his.
"Hmm?" He mumbled, surprised by the touch.
Psycha then spoke, her resolve hardening, seeing a path to both survival and revenge. "There could be a way that guarantees survival, for the both of us. It is a forbidden technique, but necessary now."
"I am intrigued. Tell me," Edward responded, his hope reignited.
"Just promise me, truly, that you consent to becoming my host. It is an eternal bond," she beckoned, needing his free will.
"I don't think I am in possession of any other choice, my dear demon. Yes, I do consent. Save us," Edward said.
Psycha performed the ritual for Positive Possession, a deep spiritual fusing of their life forces. This powerful technique, in turn, instantly healed Edward's massive wound and gave him eternal youth, also increasing his innate human power dramatically, creating the first Letebele King and the basis for the clan's strength.
The Clash of Archdemons
Present Day
Psycha roared, yelling from Hakuna's body, her voice filled with 5000 years of hatred and grief. "KIHIMURRAA!"
An explosive purple light, the fused energy of a succubus and a prince, enveloped the area around them. Sparta instantly jumped back and prepared his own devastating attack.
"You killed the man I love! You betrayed and murdered your own sister!" She shouted, the accusation sharp and true.
Sparta responded, his tone cold and devoid of empathy, maintaining his clinical dissociation. "In the first instance, the attack on your human Edward, I missed. And in the second instance, I was not there. The attack was performed by my subordinate, Merca."
Psycha retorted, furious at the semantic games. "You lie! You know Merca is incapable of his own thoughts! He is your pet, your loyal, obedient extension!"
Sparta also retorted, his composure unnerving. "The intention of the attack was always to kill you, Psycha, the ultimate threat. The involvement of these inconsequential humans is merely collateral damage, your own doing for making an eternal bond."
While they spoke, the influx of raw emotion from Psycha's rampage caused some of her most potent memories—the betrayal, Edward's love, the forbidden ritual—to instantly seep into Hakuna's own mind, giving him full context.
And then, with a loud, sonic bang, a pillar of pure purple light surrounded Psycha—Hakuna's body—as the boy fought for and regained control.
The pillar disappeared, and Hakuna was in control, his eyes burning with controlled fury. He had fully activated the ancestral fighting spirit: Celesti.
Sparta then spoke, a slight fear mixing with his professional admiration. "If it isn't the perfect vessel, finally ready to face me in the flesh. Oouuf!"
Hakuna had already landed a thunderous punch, the speed imperceptible, sending Sparta flying back a considerable distance.
"I DO NOT TAKE KINDLY TO BETRAYAL, SPARTA! AND I WILL AVENGE BOTH THE PRINCESS AND MY FATHER!" he said, the power of Edward's memory fueling his rage.
He entered a battle stance identical to Psycha's—the warrior's stance—his movements seamless.
Sparta thought to himself, watching the Prince. "That stance, the raw power in that voice… This should be interesting. He is channeling her essence."
Hakuna landed a relentless, dizzying barrage of blows on Sparta. His movements seemed to be identical to Psycha's fight with Edward 5000 years ago—a devastating echo of their original confrontation.
Sparta continued, still thinking frantically within his mind. "This is it. He has done it. All in a matter of two short years. This boy has mastered the power of Psycha! The perfect confluence of Human and Demonic power."
He jumped back, narrowly avoiding a near fatal blow that would have ended the fight instantly.
Sparta declared out loud, accepting the challenge of prophecy. "Now comes the moment of prophecy! Show me, boy! Show me the full, fused Power of Psycha!"
Hakuna raised his right arm, a concentrated purple fire enveloping his fist—the true Fist of Inferno.
Sparta released his power, calling forth his destructive word.
"Khaaluthaam!"
The influx of their opposing energies formed violent hurricanes around them, tearing at the remains of the landscape.
As the whistling winds became louder and louder, everything became silent in the eye of the storm. And then, in a split second of absolute convergence…
With a loud bang, akin to a massive lightning strike, their charged fists collided. The resulting explosion blew everything around them away as a blinding, apocalyptic light covered everything.
As a deafening, continuous ring echoed through the now-destroyed valley, it seemed as though the very fabric of tranquility had crumbled in the resounding aftermath of the archdemons' eternal conflict, waged through the bodies of royalty.
Fade out…
End of Episode 44.