One day, in the peaceful kingdom of Sphragidón Nekropolis, demons attacked without warning. The kingdom fought back, but the battle was merciless, stained with blood.
Three days passed. The military was pushed to the brink of annihilation.
With the capital on the verge of collapse, the king and his ministers gathered in desperation. They debated what to do.
A minister spoke nervously, voice trembling:
"Should we… call upon that monster?"
The king's face went pale. Sweat beaded on his brow.
"No! Never. Nothing about that," he said sharply, refusing the thought outright.
Beneath the palace, sealed deep in the basement, lay a being imprisoned centuries ago—the one humanity had feared more than demons themselves.
The question was no longer whether to break the seal.
The question was whether the kingdom even deserved to survive if freeing him meant unleashing an even greater horror.
In the end, the king and his ministers chose not to break the seal.
Freeing him would not save the kingdom.
It would doom the world.
The records were clear: once released, the sealed man would bring destruction to all living beings on the planet.
The decision was final.
But the princess had overheard everything.
The words stirred a memory from her childhood—a memory she had buried for years.
When she was young, her toy had rolled near the basement beneath the palace. She reached for it, but the heavy door slammed shut behind her, sealing her inside.
The basement was dark. Damp and rotting. The air smelled of decay, thick and choking. Fear should have driven her back, but curiosity pulled her forward.
She walked deeper, toward the sealed chamber.
Before she could reach it, her mother—the queen—found her and dragged her away in panic.
As they left, the princess turned her head one last time.
Through the darkness, she saw him.
Long hair shrouded the chamber like shadows.
And beneath it, a single eye stared back.
Deep. Endless.
Like an abyss gazing into her soul.
Outside, the demons poured through the kingdom.
They burned streets. Slaughtered the people. Fed on the dead. Screams tore through the air.
By the time they reached the palace gates, there was nowhere left to run.
Soldiers trembled, weapons raised—not with hope, but with grim resolve.
Ready to fight.
Ready to die.
The king ordered several knights to escort the queen and the princess through a secret passage beneath the palace.
"I will not leave," the queen said, her voice steady.
"If this kingdom falls, then I fall with it."
The king's gaze met hers. Sadness. Anger. Despair. Love—all colliding behind his eyes.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then, a small, broken smile touched his lips.
"Take the princess," he ordered quietly.
The knights turned to obey. Panic spread across their faces.
But the princess was gone.
As chaos erupted and soldiers searched the palace, the princess stood alone before the basement door.
The screams of her kingdom echoed above. And from below, she swore she heard breathing.