Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods

The thing that wore a girl's skin smiled.

"Too cold. Or too hot. Doesn't that get boring?"

Her voice was soft and whimsical, but wrong like a music box echoing from the bottom of a grave.

She twirled slowly. Her dress painted blood over the ash like a child's brushstroke on torn paper. Her feet moved in silence, too perfect, too rehearsed, like a memory playing itself out on a loop.

Airi stiffened. Her breath caught in her throat.

"That voice..."

Crest stepped beside her, face pale, his jaw clenched. He didn't blink. His breath was shallow and uneven. Something in him broke.

"I know that voice..." he said hoarsely.

Bel didn't look at her face. He watched the way her head tilted. The elegant stillness of her spine. The precise, inhuman posture. There was nothing childlike in how she stood.

Instead, it was something his instinct could recognize, even without sensing her energy.

Then Crest whispered the name like it was dragging itself from his throat.

"Elysia."

The illusion shattered.

The girl's form didn't age. It molted. Shed. The childlike innocence burned away, revealing the creature, the real shape beneath the lie.

Mid-long black hair fell like curtains of oil. Her dress bloomed into layered obsidian lace that folded with impossible symmetry. Her eyes, too deep, too smooth.

Called Elysia by habit, better known as the Crimson Bloom.

Airi stepped forward instinctively, shielding Crest.

But Crest didn't move. He stood there, trembling, every nerve coiled. He wasn't just angry. He was unraveling.

The fury inside him was no longer something hot or wild; it had calcified, curdled into something heavier. He didn't see Elysia as she was now. He saw the pieces she had broken, the lives she had ruined.

The way Dusteria was reduced to a bloody corpse, barely alive. The fate of the real Elysia, dying alone, without anyone to mourn or bury her. He remembered the disbelief, the rage, the helplessness in Will's voice.

The first crack in their friendship, the day everything began to go wrong with him and his friends. And it all led back to her. The Crimson Bloom.

"Elysia..." he murmured again.

There was no trembling. No falter. Just the flat sound of a man reaching his breaking point. Elysia tilted her head. Her face stayed still, but something behind her eyes smiled.

"Oh? Did I leave such an impression? My, you're still clinging to those little heartaches. Dusteria, was it? Or was it the sister with the sweet cries? I get confused sometimes."

Crest took a step forward, his hand twitching toward his sword. Airi moved instantly, grabbing his wrist.

"No, you idiot," she hissed. "You can't do shit here."

The heat in Crest's stare could've burned holes through steel. But he froze.

Elysia's lips parted in something like delight. Her eyes, however, turned elsewhere, to Bel.

"You should be more like Bel," she cooed. "He never cries, nor complains. He just accepts things. Do you think he even cared when he learned that the real Elysia died?"

The words struck like a stone to the chest.

Both Airi and Crest froze momentarily.

Crest blinked, his eyes widening slowly in disbelief. Airi forgot how to breathe for a moment. Then, slowly, her gaze turned to Bel, who stood still as stone.

They were ready for anything, but not for that.

Elysia giggled lightly, spinning a half step toward them, her hands folded behind her back like a schoolgirl sharing a secret.

"Really? You didn't know?" she said. "That he knew about me? About what I did to your sweet friend? About Dusteria? About the real Elysia?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Her smile curved wider, eyes glinting.

"Airi," she cooed, "do you remember the demon in the capital? The pretty one who helped me to turn you into a pin cushion?"

Airi flinched. Her lips parted. Her hand moved to her stomach, to a wound long healed, but still remembered.

Elysia leaned closer, almost whispering.

"She was his friend. A close one."

Crest's eyes shifted sharply to Bel. His disbelief was turning into something worse.

"You know her too, Crest," Elysia added, tilting her head toward him. "That dungeon, remember? The demon Bel supposedly killed?" She laughed. A sound that didn't belong here. "He never did. He just let you think so."

Each word fell like a stone into a still pond, ripples of betrayal spreading.

"Bel and I," she said with a sing-song lilt, "we had quite the connection. I was the one who told him to come to the castle, you know. As any proper Demon Lord, he was curious about our nemesis, the Hero. Think about it, he knew a Demon Lord would enter the castle and still let me go. And thanks to that, I was able to find a breach in your defense."

She clapped slowly.

"That astral mage, Lloyd, wasn't it? What a shame. If Bel had stopped me, maybe he'd still be breathing. But who's to blame, really? Me, for suggesting it? Or Bel, for letting me go?"

She looked delighted, eyes glowing with perverse satisfaction.

"The capital's attack, Mammon's multiple sacrifice, the genocide all around the kingdom... So many consequences... for such a little favor."

Crest's breath hitched. Airi looked like the floor had dropped beneath her feet. The world spun, too slow to stop it. The quiet was heavier than any scream.

Crest's breathing grew shallow. His hands were clenched. His world was cracking under the weight of those quiet truths.

Airi's face was blank, her posture too calm, like the first seconds after a gut punch when your mind hasn't caught up to the pain. But her eyes... they flicked to Bel.

And stayed there.

Elysia's eyes glittered.

"And now he plays god. You've started it, haven't you? Your army. The monsters born from your blood."

Airi flinched.

Bel stood still. Not even blinking.

Crest turned again, searching Bel's face. Looking for a lie. Finding none.

Elysia's voice softened.

"You're doing the same as us. You make monsters. They kill. And you call it logical?"

The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was crushing.

Bel finally moved. Just a step.

"Tell me," he asked. "Who is the favorite to take the throne?"

Elysia's smile faltered for the first time. A deep silence followed.

She hadn't expected that.

Bel had ignored every taunt, every twisting of truth. But now, his voice, calm and controlled, cut through the lingering haze.

"Tell me," he said. "There are eight Demon Lords. But only one throne. So what happens to the rest when a King rises?"

The question wasn't loud, but it spread like oil in water, coloring everything around it.

Elysia tilted her head. For a second, the delight in her eyes dimmed, replaced with something harder to name. Not fear. Not confusion. Just... awareness.

Bel continued.

"If you were all truly allies, you would have chosen a king already. But you're not. You're rivals. Players in a game you pretend doesn't exist. So don't act surprised that I moved first. I just started what you'll do someday."

The silence thickened. Even the city seemed to pause.

Then Elysia laughed, but softer now. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"I see... So you've made your decision," she said. "You're aiming for the throne."

Crest stiffened. Airi's hand gripped her sword tightly. Her glare drilled into Bel's back.

But Bel couldn't consider any of them as any form of threat, and they knew it.

"No," he said. "I'm not interested. Not in the throne. Not in ruling. But I have seen what your kind will do if left unchecked. I've seen the future you'd build. And I can't be blind to it anymore."

His gaze darkened.

"Lust turns birth into a catastrophe. Sloth turns thought into silence. Greed turns truth into chains. If one of you becomes king... the world will be worthy of being erased."

He looked at her directly now.

"I don't seek the throne. I seek a future I can live with, with the rise of my people and people I can tolerate. And to make that happen, I'll erase whoever stands in the way."

Elysia smiled slowly.

"So destruction, then," she whispered. "You're not aiming for the throne, but you want to keep that from us too? My, what a tyrant."

Bel didn't answer.

But in that moment, the air shifted. Everyone felt it. The game hadn't just changed, it had started playing by a new set of rules.

Elysia took a step forward. Her skin peeled illusion from flesh, and the mask of innocence dropped. No longer a child, no longer a mockery of a knight, she returned to her truest shape.

The one that smiled while killing. The woman who had walked into their lives and created this mess.

Crest's muscles tensed, hand gripping the hilt of his sword. But Bel's voice cut through the tension.

"Don't."

He looked Elysia in the eye.

"There are many things I hate. But loyalty isn't one of them. You helped make me what I am. You never betrayed me. I looked away from your nature once. I won't again."

Elysia stepped closer, her daggers held like extensions of her madness.

"So? You want to kill me now, Bel? Finally?"

"No. Not yet. Not if you don't force your reign."

Airi's breath caught in her throat, eyes fixed on Bel as if she couldn't trust they were seeing the same man.

"What the... You're sparing her? Are you crazy?!"

Bel turned his head slightly.

"I never said I stood with humanity. This world is divided by lines people pretend matter. I chose my own. That doesn't mean I need to erase the others."

He looked at Elysia who remained still.

"Kill her if you want," he said. "That's on you. But remember, every act comes with a price. You have to pay for what you choose."

Crest stood frozen. Airi didn't move either.

Then Elysia's voice drifted up, light and curious.

"You don't plan to kill the others, either?"

Bel stopped.

"Except for the ugly one who's already a corpse. We're all candidates for the throne. Eventually, we'll clash. I'm just picking who I'd rather lose to."

Elysia's lips curved.

"You're strange. You hate me. But you won't kill me. What kind of fractured soul does that?"

Bel looked over his shoulder.

"The selfish kind. One who is, but refuses to be a hypocrite."

Her eyes glittered with amusement. Her voice softened to a whisper.

"So this is a warning, then?"

"Whether it becomes one... is up to you."

Elysia tilted her head. Then she raised a single finger to her lips.

"But I like you too much to behave. Maybe we should kill each other after all. Like old lovers."

Crest hesitated for a moment. Something in bel's speech had reached him, but he couldn't ignore the monster facing them.

"Bel... Please. She isn't something you can deal with words."

"She's too dangerous to be left alive!" Airi snapped. "What are you thinking?!"

Bel's gaze landed on them. Calm but heavy, silencing them. Then he turned to the woman.

"I understand you more now," he said calmly. "And I'm the same. I don't need to be perfect. I've made peace with that." I don't need to kill everyone who fails my standard. I used to think that it was better. But now... I see clearer. People like Novaria, Crest, Selith, even you, Airi… you helped me see another way."

They fell quiet.

Bel's eyes turned back to Elysia.

"You love your kind the way I love mine. You fight for your version of a future, like I do. I won't be a hypocrite and destroy yours unless you cross the line. So don't aim for the throne. And we'll never have to fight."

Crest clenched his fists. Airi opened her mouth to protest, but Bel was unreachable.

"This world is made of different truths. No one is a slave to a cause. If my people are hunted, I'll retaliate. But I won't start a war. I see Sacreds and Demon Lords the same. Just different creatures with their own laws. My perfect world isn't one where I win, it's one where no one completely wins."

A heavy silence fell.

Elysia watched him, eyes wide. Then she chuckled softly.

"You really are fascinating," she said. "But mercy... isn't easy for me to accept."

She touched her lips with one finger, her smile turning thinner, sharper.

"I'll make it easier for you, Bel. I'll be your enemy. Not for a throne. Not for survival. It's just what I am. My joy is in the drill. And if your dream is a world where no one wins... mine is a world where you're strangling me while I'm tearing your flesh apart."

Bel didn't blink. His voice was flat.

"If that's truly the death you want, then go ahead. Start the war."

A beat passed. A breath of silence.

Then Elysia smiled. Softly. Sweetly.

"Another time, maybe," she whispered. "I'd rather savor your companions' reactions a bit longer."

She winked.

"But before that, I'll give you two gifts," she said, her voice soft but strange, like a lullaby whispered into a storm. "One you want. One you need."

The world held its breath.

A ripple moved through the air, something more felt than seen on their skin.

"First… Mammon's location."

Bel didn't react at first. Then his pupils sharpened, the faintest shift in expression breaking his usual calm.

"Northeast sector," she said, her tone almost gentle. "Inside the city's library."

Crest's breath caught. He couldn't speak. Airi's body tensed, her lips parting, but no sound came.

They all knew what this meant.

Mammon. The reason behind Bel's rage, the shadow that had caused his change.

Airi turned her head toward him, but Bel was frozen in thought, or in fury.

Then Elysia's voice came again, quieter.

"Second... the path to the Slumbering King."

The silence grew heavier.

"You'll find it below the Glass Garden."

Each word pulled the air tighter. Bel stared at her, his face blank, but behind that still mask, a hundred thoughts burned.

She stepped back, her form already beginning to break apart. Purple fire devoured her feet and climbed her body like smoke from a funeral pyre.

"One of these will be a demise," she said, voice fading into something less than real. "The other, an eternal dream."

Her outline flickered. Her smile remained like a wound.

"You choose which is which."

Then she was gone, eaten by fire and mist, leaving only silence and the scent of burnt flowers.