Kind Demon King

The air was thick with mana and anticipation just like many times before. The council chamber built several hundred years ago was no stranger to suspense as it had seen many meetings and housed many great warriors and commanders ever since it was first built. Of course, it didn’t only serve figures greater than life. Some people who walked, spoke, and gave orders were cruel and incompetent. Under their rule, countless lives were unjustly lost, and even more suffered in pestilence and poverty.

However, today was special, distinct from other days when tribe leaders were gathered. They weren’t here to discuss how much taxes should be gathered or make a decision about whether they should wage war No, today they stood on the precipice of a new era, their purpose grander than mundane politics. They were here to receive the Champion of Aliera, chosen by their patron Goddess.

The long-awaited expeditions had borne fruit at last. Skilled warriors, seasoned mages, and wise priestesses had scoured the far reaches of the realm, searching for any sign of the Champion. Now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, they were approaching Quipax, heralding the arrival of a figure who could alter the course of fate itself.

The council chamber stood as a monument to both grandeur and solemnity. Its walls were lined with intricate tapestries, each woven with threads of gold and silver, depicting the previous queens who led the Amazons. The air was imbued with a sacred aura, a blessing from Aliera herself to strengthen her followers.

Beneath the majestic vaulted ceiling, an array of flickering lambs powered by magic itself cast warm, dancing shadows, illuminating the faces of the leaders seated at the heart of the room. At the center, a colossal table crafted from the heartwood of ancient trees commanded attention. Its surface was polished to a reflective sheen, adorned with elaborate carvings that spiraled and intertwined, telling tales of unity and conflict.

Around the table sat the leaders, each one different and unique to themselves. They represented their clans, schools, or business. Some were young geniuses while others were experienced veterans. Some had eyes and faces hardened by training and conflict while some had skin fair and pale as a newborn. They were the nobles, leaders, mages, priestesses, and merchants of Quipax and each single one of them waited for the arrival of their Champion with anxiety.

The reasons for their anxiety were as varied as themselves. They didn’t know a thing about the Champion. What they looked like? How old were they? What power did they hold? The last Champion, Rodrick was killed hundreds of years ago. No one alive in the council knew him personally.

Many of the council members hoped that the new Champion was female just like the Second Champion who founded their city. They were in Quipax after all, Amazon city was founded so that woman could live their lives as they wanted to. The idea that they would have to accept a male to lead them made them grit their teeth.

As the council members exchanged anxious glances, the weight of uncertainty pressed down upon them like a gathering storm. Whispers filled the chamber, laced with speculation and hope, as each leader pondered the identity of the Champion.

The tapestry of emotions woven among the council members reflected their diverse backgrounds and aspirations. Young geniuses, fresh from the arcane academies, fidgeted in their seats, their minds racing with the potential of magic yet untamed. Weathered veterans, scarred by the trials of battle, sat with arms crossed, their gazes fixed on the door as if willing the Champion to appear.

The Queen wasn’t like her subjects. Seated regally upon her throne, she faced the door with an air of quiet authority, her eyes closed, a serene expression gracing her features. Her presence radiated a calmness that contrasted sharply with the palpable tension in the chamber.

“Commander of the first army Artemeni, Head Priestess Thalia, and Archmage Aurora arrived with the Champion!”

The proclamation rang out like a thunderclap, slicing through the tension that had gripped the council chamber. A hush fell over the leaders, their anxious murmurs silenced by the weight of the moment. Every gaze shifted toward the imposing doors, where shadows danced in the flickering light, heralding the arrival of a new destiny. The Queen slowly opened her eyes and mouthed.

“They may come in.”

With her permission the doors creaked open slowly, revealing a sight that made hearts quicken and breaths hitch. Commander Artemeni, a figure of steel and valor, strode forward, her armor glinting with the light of the enchanted lamps. Beside her, Head Priestess Thalia moved with an ethereal grace, her robes flowing like water around her, a serene smile gracing her lips as if she were a bridge between the mortal realm and the divine. And then, the Archmage Aurora, draped in robes of midnight blue adorned with constellations, followed, her presence commanding respect and awe.

Each one of them greeted the council with respect and formality. The council members answered back the same way as all three held authority and respect even though not all of them were sincere with their feelings.

Artemeni took a step back, presenting the Champion with a gesture of respect. “Noble leaders of Quipax,” she began, her voice strong yet laced with reverence, “I present to you the Champion of Aliera, chosen by the Goddess herself. Myself, Lady Thalia, and Aurora all confirmed his strength, character, and the divine blessing he received.”

The Champion came forward with silent steps. His messy, brown hair moved with each step, sometimes covering his common brown eyes. He was young, even younger than the youngest and most talented council member. He couldn’t be older than 17 and only thin and white hairs spread across his face. He could be called tall for his age but the shape of his body was hidden under loose garbs he wore.

The Council Members tore holes in his face with their intense gazes yet despite his common appearance the Champion didn’t shrink. He inched closer to the table, meeting the intense gazes of members with empty, almost tired eyes.

“Hello, I am Poyraz Karabulut and the Champion of Aliera. I greet members of Council.”

There was a second of silence. It was heavy like ocean water. Many of the council couldn’t tear their eyes off Poyraz. However, their fascination wasn’t fueled by awe or respect; it simmered with skepticism and disbelief. A murmur rippled through the chamber, whispering doubts and uncertainties that hung thick in the air like the scent of rain before a storm.

Poyraz stood at the table’s edge, the weight of their scrutiny pressing down upon him. He felt their gazes dissect him, searching for signs of greatness, expecting the kind of majesty they had envisioned for their savior. Yet, what they saw was an unassuming youth—his attire plain, his bearing modest, and his demeanor devoid of the grandeur one might expect from a Champion. Yet, heavy as their gazes were, Poyraz was used to it. This wasn’t the first time he received eyes like this.

Instead of shying away, he locked eyes with the Queen. She was young, barely in her thirties but that wasn’t what he focused on. He focused on her long red hair and calm green eyes. His gaze was curious at first but after a second he closed his eyes and smiled as if he understood something.

The Queen herself was also surprised. She was used to gazes of other people. She was strong and beautiful. Receiving admiring, envious, or even lust-filled gazes was something she had to put up with daily. Yet, someone locking gazes with her was unusual. People avoided that, avoided getting the attention of someone so powerful but he was different. And that knowing smile. What did it mean?

“Alright, I had enough. Let’s end this show, shall we?”

One of the council members rose from her chair as she ignored the member sitting on her right trying to stop her. She was a large, burly woman. Her presence was commanding, and the air around her seemed to shift as she stood, muscles rippling beneath the massive wolf pelt she wore over her shoulders which were big as cannons. Her bare arms were covered with scars and burnt under the sun, signs of the battles she survived. The moment she rose, the chamber felt charged, as if the very walls held their breath, awaiting the storm she was about to unleash.

“If you couldn’t find the champion you should have just admitted it! Instead, you found a boy from the local brothel and say that he is the Champion.”

She boomed, her voice echoing against the chamber walls. Gasps rippled through the council, a mix of disbelief and indignation painting their faces. Poyraz, for his part, remained calm, his expression unfaltering as he faced the onslaught of scrutiny.

She walked towards Poyraz but Artemeni and Thalia quickly cut her path.

“Be careful how you talk, Ilaria. You are speaking to a hero.”

Thalia interjected with a harshness unexpected from her status. Poyraz raised his hand.

“It is okay. We expected this.”

He walked between the two of them to stand face-to-face with Ilaria. She was a giant of a woman, forcing Poyraz to look up to see eye to eye-with her.

“Looking close you don’t look so bad. You could fit well with my boys if you took care of yourself. They must have paid good coin for you.”

With those insulting words, she reached down for his crotch, giving it a tight squeeze. The sudden assault caused Poyraz to jump back, clearly not expecting this kind of behavior. Thalia’s hands shone brightly with light as she rushed to his side while Artemeni pointed her spear towards her, hazel eyes burning with killing intent. Ilaria made the motion of grasping something while laughing.

“He has some size too. Where did you find him? I should go there.”

Some of the council members laughed with her while others scowled with disapproval. Artemeni got ready to open her mouth but Poyraz gently grabbed her shoulder as he moved forward.

“Excuse me. Where I am from, even touching someone without their consent can caught as assault, let alone touching inappropriate places. I require an apology.”

Poyraz demanded with a soft voice. Ilaria’s smile widened as she searched for something in her belt. After a short search, she pulled a piece of coin and flicked it to Poyraz. He made no effort to catch it, the coin bouncing off his forehead.

“Here. Your payment.”

A charged silence fell over the council chamber. Thalia tried to charge towards her but was stopped by Aurora stopped her with an understanding nod. This was something Poyraz had to deal with if he wanted the Council’s respect.

“I am still willing to forgive you if you apologize.”

Poyraz declared as softly as before yet traces of restrained anger could be heard in his voice.

“What will you do if I don’t?”

Poyraz took a deep breath, his chest filling with air as if a frog was getting ready to make the loudest croak the world ever heard.

“Very well then.”

With those words, a loud snapping voice filled the council chamber. It was so quick and sudden that some of the council members jumped in their seats. Ilaria stumbled back while holding her left cheek. She glared at Poyraz with a mix of shock, anger, and pain. She touched her cheek several times as if not believing what happened but the searing pain was there.

Council members gasped when she removed her hand from her cheek. A solid print of Poyraz’s backhand was carved into her cheek.

The imprint of his hand burned vividly against her tanned skin, a stark contrast to the calm, almost serene demeanor Poyraz maintained. The silence that followed was heavy, a collective intake of breath as the council grappled with the gravity of what had just transpired.

Ilaria’s eyes blazed with a mixture of disbelief and fury. Her fingers lingered on the mark left by Poyraz’s backhand, her chest heaving with anger. She looked around the room, seeking support or perhaps a sign that she was still in control of the situation.

“Your insolence will not go unpunished,” Ilaria growled, her voice low and dangerous. Her hand grasped the greatsword on her back.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Poyraz walked forward towards her, his hair greying.

“You think you can insult me like this! I’ll kill you!”

She gripped her sword tightly and swung it. A wave of blood washed the council chamber and Poyraz who looked unbothered with the scarlet liquid covering him. Something fell to the ground and Ilaria looked down, not believing her eyes.

It was her hand. Her hand which was just gripping her sword a second ago. She raised her arm and saw the stump where her hand was just a second ago. Blood poured out of the wound, painting the ground red.

“You are the rulers of this city.”

Poyraz slowly stepped towards her. She looked at his eyes and saw purple, animalistic eyes staring back. They were no longer empty or weary.

She walked backward in fear as she doubled over, holding her arm to slow down the bleeding.

“People live and die with your orders.”

The air suddenly grew cold enough to turn breath into mist.

“You are meant to be a paragon of honor, justice, and valor.”

With every backward step she took Ilaria felt her body shrink. She felt as if she was leaving her strength, vitality, and skill with every retreating step. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself. The man in front of him woke up things she had forgotten. Things she buried deep inside as she rose through the ranks and gained power most envied.

Fear.

Weakness.

Death.

Her back hit the table. She had nowhere to go. The hand of death reached for her. Cold spread all around her, covering every inch of her being like a cruel blanket. She let out a scream as ice covered most of her body.

Poyraz pulled her, causing her to fall. He then sat down on her back like a chair and crossed his legs.

“Now that you are taking me seriously, shall we talk?”