I Failed to Be a Hero, So I Became the God of Three Realms

The Demons' Realm basked in the soft glow of the sun, its gentle warmth falling over bustling towns and serene forests. Birds sang, rivers flowed with crystal clarity, and children played in the streets. It was a world that, at a glance, seemed no different from the Humans' Realm. But here, beneath the surface of normalcy, purpose and discipline thrived.

In the heart of a sprawling blackstone fortress, Veldora, Commander of the 7th Demonic Troops, stood with his arms crossed, eyes locked on the crimson horizon. His obsidian armor glinted under the midday sun, his silver hair swaying slightly in the breeze. The day was one of significance—a day of orders.

A knock echoed against the steel door behind him. He turned, his crimson eyes sharp and unwavering.

"Enter."

A courier stepped in, bowing briefly before handing Veldora a scroll stamped with the unmistakable seal of Luca Umbrosia, the Great General of the Demonic Troops.

Veldora broke the seal, unfurling the parchment with precise fingers. He read the contents, absorbing each word with the seriousness it warranted.

"Commander Veldora, The humans have grown complacent. Their edge dulls, their resolve fades. This is dangerous—for them and for us. We must stir them from their slumber. Your orders are clear: devastate their front lines. But remember this above all: Do not die. We cannot afford unnecessary losses. Engage them, awaken their vigilance, and when they begin to rally with true spirit, you are to retreat immediately. Do this, and we will ensure balance remains. Luca Umbrosia."

The clarity of the command struck like a blade, sharp and undeniable. There was no ambiguity, no hidden agenda. Demons didn't play games with their orders. And Veldora respected that.

He rolled up the scroll, his lips curving into a grim smile. The weight of the task settled over him—not as a burden, but as a duty. His troops would know what needed to be done, and they would do it without hesitation.

He stepped out of the chamber and onto the balcony overlooking the barracks. Below, hundreds of soldiers trained, their movements crisp, their eyes alight with focus. These were not creatures of chaos. These were warriors of purpose.

Veldora's voice rang out, commanding the attention of every soldier present.

"Prepare for war! We march to awaken the humans from their decay. But remember—your lives are not to be wasted. We fight to remind them of strength, not to throw away our own. Train hard, fight harder, and return alive."

A unified roar of determination surged through the troops. Weapons clanged, armor shifted, and the air buzzed with the anticipation of purpose.

The storm was coming. And Veldora would ensure they rode its winds with precision.

The Humans' Realm bustled with the ordinary rhythms of life—marketplaces alive with chatter, smithies ringing with hammer blows, and children's laughter filling the air. But today, beneath that everyday facade, a ripple of tension flowed through the Kingdom of Eldoria. News had spread like wildfire: the demons had declared war.

In the royal palace of Solan Eldoria, the king sat upon a throne of polished silver, his gaze calm yet resolute. King Solan was a man of wisdom and empathy—a stark contrast to his predecessor. The scars of past mistakes were etched into the kingdom's history, but Solan intended to forge a new path, one paved with honor and preservation of life.

In the grand hall, bathed in hues of gold and sapphire, George, Commander of the Fifth Eldorian Troops, knelt before the king. His steel-gray hair and scarred face bore testament to decades of service, yet his eyes shone with unwavering determination.

King Solan spoke, his voice firm but compassionate.

"Commander George, the demons have called for war, but we shall not meet them with blind fury. Our goal is clear: defend our lands and ensure that every soldier returns alive. I do not desire conquest—I desire preservation. Fight to protect, not to destroy."

George rose, his hand pressed to his chest in salute. "Your Majesty, your will is my command."

The king nodded, the weight of his crown pressing more heavily than ever. "Go now. Prepare your troops, and let them know that they fight not for glory, but for peace and survival."

Outside the palace walls, the Fifth Eldorian Troops gathered in the vast courtyard. Sunlight glinted off their polished armor and steady hands gripped spears and swords. These were not fresh recruits; these were seasoned warriors who had tasted the bitterness of battle and the sweetness of peace.

George stood atop a raised platform, his voice carrying across the assembly.

"Soldiers of Eldoria! The demons have declared war, but we shall not falter. Our mission is to protect our homeland and, above all, to survive. We do not seek to spill needless blood. We do not seek mindless revenge. We seek to hold our ground and remind the demons that Eldoria stands strong."

A murmur of agreement rolled through the troops, steady and resolute.

George raised his hand for silence. "Know this—we will not fight alone. The Heroes of the realm will stand with us. Their strength will be our shield; their power, our spear. Together, we will face this storm and return to our families alive and victorious."

A cheer erupted from the ranks, shaking the ground with its intensity. The promise of survival and the knowledge that the Heroes would fight alongside them filled their hearts with renewed purpose.

George's eyes swept across the sea of determined faces. He knew that war was never predictable, but with discipline, strategy, and hope, they could withstand what was coming.

"To the training fields! Sharpen your blades, steady your hearts. The demons will come—but we will be ready."

As the soldiers dispersed, the courtyard became a whirl of activity. The clash of steel against steel, the shouts of commands, and the focused determination of hundreds of warriors filled the air.

The storm clouds of war gathered on the horizon, but George and his troops would meet it head-on. Eldoria would not fall. Not today.

The sun burned high in the sky, casting a relentless glare over the sprawling training grounds. The air crackled with determination as the Heroes pushed their bodies and minds to the limit. This wasn't like any training they'd experienced before; it wasn't just preparation—it was survival. They knew that beyond these drills, a war unlike any they had ever imagined awaited them.

Someday, they would confront the Demon Empress, Lilith Umbrosia, a being of immense power and terrifying authority. But right now? They weren't ready. They needed to become stronger or risk being swept aside like leaves in a storm.

Tatsuya wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes fixed on the training dummy before him. He gripped his sword tightly, his muscles aching from hours of practice.

"Focus. Speed. Precision," he muttered under his breath.

With a swift motion, he charged forward, slashing in a blur of steel, his blade crackling with fire and wind magic. The air hissed as the enchanted steel cleaved through the dummy, leaving a trail of scorched splinters.

He pivoted, feeling the flow of magic course through his limbs.

I need to master this blend of magic and swordsmanship. The demons won't give me a second chance.

Not far away, Hanae knelt beside a soldier with a simulated wound, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her hands glowed with a soft, golden light as she murmured the incantation for healing magic.

"Mend and restore, life's thread be woven."

The glow intensified, and the fake gash sealed itself, the "blood" disappearing like smoke. She let out a shaky breath. This was nothing compared to what lay ahead.

She clenched her fists. I need to be able to heal fatal wounds, not just cuts and bruises. Lives will depend on me.

Beside her, Usagi was also immersed in healing, but her training extended further. She stood with a group of Earth Mage Soldiers, her hands pressed to the ground.

"Terra Spire!" she shouted.

A column of solid rock erupted beneath a dummy, shattering it into pieces. She exhaled slowly, sweat beading on her forehead.

Healing and Earth Magic together. I'll protect them all, one way or another.

Riko's fists slammed into a wooden post, splinters flying as her strength-enhanced blows cracked it in half. Her breathing was ragged, but her eyes were fierce.

She straightened up, rolling her shoulders. The ground beneath her feet felt solid, Earth Magic humming at her command. With a sharp yell, she punched the air, a wave of stone spikes erupting in front of her.

Fire and water surged through her fingertips as well. She could feel her body growing stronger, her control sharpening.

If brute strength and magic are what it takes to crush our enemies, then so be it.

In the shadows of the library, Reiji's eyes darted over ancient tomes. Pages filled with diagrams and incantations for Dark and Lightning Magic spread across the table.

He raised his hand, murmuring softly. A small orb of dark energy formed, flickering like a dying flame.

"Control it… understand it… master it," he whispered.

Lightning crackled between his fingertips, illuminating his determined face. There were no teachers to guide him. He had to rely on the words of long-dead mages. But that was enough.

When the time comes, they'll see the power of darkness and lightning.

Their training continued, each Hero lost in their own world of sweat, magic, and resolve. The clash of steel, the hum of spells, and the thud of fists against targets filled the air.

They weren't just training to win; they were training to survive. To ensure that when the storm of war descended, they wouldn't break.

The demons were coming. The war was coming.

But the Heroes would be ready.

The Umbrosian Palace stood like a monument of elegance and power. Gleaming spires pierced the sky, reflecting the ethereal glow of the Realm's twin suns. Inside the grand hall, a crimson carpet stretched endlessly, flanked by pillars engraved with ancient demonic runes. The atmosphere was serene—eerily so, given the looming threat of war.

At the heart of the hall, seated atop a throne of black obsidian, was Nyx Umbrosia, the Demon Empress. Her presence exuded a quiet authority, her violet eyes glinting with intelligence and restraint. A faint smile played on her lips as she considered the coming storm.

Standing beside her, clad in dark armor with streaks of silver, was Luca Umbrosia, the Great General of the Demonic Troops. His silver hair flowed past his shoulders, his crimson eyes steady, his demeanor the embodiment of calm control.

Nyx spoke, her voice smooth and measured.

"The war is drawing closer and closer. If the time comes, the forces will depend on you." She paused, her gaze softening. "Just remember, hold back. Remember Father's orders—don't go too far. Only interfere when it's absolutely necessary for either side, Brother."

Luca gave a respectful nod, his expression unwavering. "I understand. Our goal is not devastation but balance. I'll make sure the line isn't crossed."

A brief silence settled between them, heavy with the weight of unspoken understanding. But then, as if on cue, the tension dissipated like mist in the morning sun.

Nyx's lips curled into a smirk. "So, what do you think about a vacation after the war ends? It's been a long time since we went there."

Luca's eyes twinkled with rare amusement. "A vacation does sound good. The last one felt like centuries ago." He leaned back slightly, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his features. "Marc is visiting there soon enough, isn't he?"

Nyx nodded, her gaze softening at the mention of their family. "That's right. He always did like the place."

Their conversation, strangely casual given the weight of their responsibilities, painted a picture of normalcy—a reminder that beyond titles and power, they were still a family bound by more than duty.

Nyx's gaze wandered for a moment, a hint of wistfulness in her eyes. "It's been a long time since we met with Mother. We're always in touch with Father, obviously, but it's still been a while since we met him in person."

Luca's eyes darkened just a touch, but he nodded. "Yeah, it has. We should change that soon."

They shared a brief silence, one filled with mutual understanding. The war might be imminent, but life beyond the battlefield still called to them—connections that anchored them amidst chaos.

The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the grand hall, but within those shadows lay more than just the preparations for war. There lay the enduring bonds of family, untouched by the looming conflict.