Demon Kings Last Level

The weight of my throne felt heavier than ever, though it had been crafted from the bones and souls of creatures that had long ceased to matter. Their deaths—once significant, now forgotten—were nothing more than whispers in the wind. As I sat atop the pinnacle of strength, I had come to realize the bitter truth: power had stripped life of its meaning. I had long since ceased to feel joy or sorrow, love or hate. Only in battle did faint flickers of emotion stir within me, and even then, it was fleeting—a mere reminder of what once was.

I rose from the throne, my armor clinking softly in the stillness of the room. The helmet fell from my hand and clattered to the floor, but I didn’t care. It no longer mattered. The cold stone beneath my feet echoed with each step as I left the grand chamber, its vastness swallowing the sound into silence. In the hallways, guards and servants passed by without daring to look up. They feared me. I hadn’t sought this fear—it had been thrust upon me after centuries of war and conquest—but fear was the only thing they had left to give.

I stopped for a moment, staring at the cold stone floor beneath me. A flicker of regret? No. I couldn’t afford such a thing. Not anymore.

Without realizing it, I had wandered into the garden, the one place I often avoided. I had my reasons. I knew them, but I would never admit them aloud. The beauty of the place felt foreign to me, like a relic of a world I no longer belonged to.

A light touch on my shoulder snapped me back to the present. I turned slightly and saw her—Calyndra, her silver hair flowing like water, her eyes wide and mischievous.

“Master,” she said, her voice a sultry purr, “what brings you to my garden? Or… do you require my *other* services?” Her lips curved into a teasing smile.

I sighed, a tired, worn sound that seemed to resonate deeper than I intended. “How many times must I tell you—” I raised my hand, gently but firmly tapping the top of her head, a little harder than usual. She winced and rubbed her scalp, feigning hurt.

“Ouch. Why must you always be so mean, Master?” she asked, her lower lip quivering.

“Because I’ve told you,” I replied, shaking my head. “Don’t offer that.” I turned away, letting my gaze wander over the pristine flowers that filled the garden, their delicate petals untouched by the wars that had ravaged the rest of the realms. It was as if this place existed in another world, one far removed from my reality.

“But seriously,” Calyndra continued, her mood flipping back to playful in an instant, “why *are* you here? It’s not like you to leave the throne room. You usually just brood up there, staring at that sword of yours.”

I sighed again. Why had I let her get so comfortable around me? “I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice distant. “I just felt like… being here.” The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, but they were true.

Calyndra tilted her head, studying me as if I were some unsolvable riddle. “Why don’t you do something fun? Though, knowing you, your idea of fun is probably brooding or… murder.”

I looked at her, my expression blank. “Murder is not fun. It was never about that.”

She shrugged, clearly unbothered by my correction. “Well, I need to go check on my new recruits anyway. They’re unruly, and if I leave them alone for too long, they’ll start killing each other.”

She walked off, leaving me alone once again. I stared after her, a strange feeling settling in my chest. Regret? No, it couldn’t be. I was the Demon King—emotionless, invincible. I was the savior of the demon race, the ruler of the realms, the breaker of worlds. I could not afford to feel. Yet, something gnawed at me, like a shadow lurking at the edge of my mind, whispering that there was something I had missed, something I should have done differently.

I returned to my throne room, the vast chamber now feeling even more oppressive than before. Eldran knelt before the throne, his armored form rigid and disciplined. He had been with me since the beginning, through every battle, every victory, and even those few defeats. He had saved my life once—perhaps more times than I cared to admit. The other generals had proven themselves in battle, but Eldran… Eldran was different. He was loyal in a way I could never fully comprehend.

“Do you need something, Eldran?” I asked, my voice cutting through the silence.

He remained still, waiting for my next words. “You may stand and speak.”

Eldran rose to his full height, his eyes never meeting mine. “I request permission to access the other realms, my lord.”

I shook my head. “It would break the treaty.”

He sighed but didn’t argue. “Then may I take on missions outside the palace? The other generals are handling the training, and I—”

“Permission granted,” I interrupted. He bowed and left without another word.

I sat back down, the weight of my body sinking into the throne. My thoughts wandered. What was the point of all this? What was the purpose of an army, of generals, when the war was over? Seven thousand years—time felt like nothing now. I ruled over a world that no longer needed me.

Slowly, I reached for the sword that rested in the center of my throne, its black blade shimmering faintly in the dim light. It was made from the souls of the fallen, a weapon of unimaginable power, capable of destroying even me. I studied it for a long moment, feeling the coldness seep from the metal into my bones.

This is how it ends, I thought.

Without hesitation, I plunged the sword into my chest. A sharp, blinding pain erupted through me, but I didn’t scream. I had lived too long for that. My life force began to fade, my vision growing darker by the second. There was no legacy I wished to leave behind. My name was already etched into the history of the demons, my power already immortalized in legend.

As the darkness closed in, I heard the sound of footsteps—seven pairs, rushing toward me. My generals. They would try to save me, of course. But I had left no instructions, no orders to follow. Just a piece of paper explaining my choice. I hoped they would understand.

With my last breath, I was gone.

---

### **The Soul Stream**

I opened my eyes—or what remained of them—in the Soul World, a place I had long heard of but never truly believed in. The flow of souls was slow, almost lethargic. Some were shattered beyond recognition, others glowed faintly in the dark.

Then I felt it—the pull. Something was drawing me toward a distant place, a desert that stretched far beyond sight. The sand beneath my feet was cold and dry, and in the distance, I saw it—the River Styx, or something like it. The humans had always believed in a river of souls, and here it was, flowing sluggishly through the barren landscape.

A screech pierced the silence, the sound of something ancient and monstrous. I felt its presence settle over me like a weight, crushing and suffocating. But before it could reach me, I was yanked back, pulled once again toward the stream of souls.

My reincarnation had begun.