Chapter 29: Demon king of salvation (part 4)

As Sylas and Livia entered the fifth trial, they were met with an overwhelming sense of foreboding. The air around them was thick with a heavy, oppressive weight, and the world around them felt different—alien, even. The landscape stretched out before them, a vast, barren wasteland, and looming on the horizon, an ancient, crumbling throne sat at the center of the emptiness, an unsettling presence emanating from it.

Sylas couldn't help but reflect on his battle with Uhtem, the guardian of the Great Tree. Even now, the memories of their battle echoed in his mind. Uhtem had held back, far more than Sylas had initially realized. The strength that Uhtem had displayed was beyond anything Sylas had faced before, and it was clear that the guardian was toying with them, testing their resolve rather than trying to kill them outright. Uhtem could have erased both him and Livia in an instant, but instead, he had allowed them to surrender, respecting their decision as part of the trial. Sylas wondered what the fifth trial would require of them.

Their musings were interrupted as they suddenly encountered the Demon King of Salvation—an armored demon sitting upon the throne, completely still, its faceless visage hidden beneath layers of armor. The figure was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, exuding an aura of power and malice, but it did not move, speak, or even acknowledge their presence.

Sylas and Livia, ever ready for battle, immediately went on the offensive. Without a moment's hesitation, Livia summoned a barrage of light beams, her movements swift and practiced. The beams rained down upon the Demon King of Salvation, but the figure remained unmoving, unaffected. The light from the beams bounced harmlessly off the demon king's impenetrable armor as though it were nothing more than a nuisance.

Sylas, seeing this, decided to escalate the battle. With the Crown of the Fallen still resting upon his head, he summoned an army of necromantic soldiers, their twisted forms rising from the earth as if obeying some ancient command. The soldiers, drawn from the vast legions of the dead, bore the will of their fallen kings—to destroy the demons, to rid the world of their unholy presence. With a snap of his fingers, Sylas sent them forward, directing them toward the Demon King.

However, just as the undead soldiers approached, a strange, void-like creature emerged from the shadows. It had no face, only a pair of human eyes floating in the middle of its featureless form. The creature's very presence seemed to distort the air around it, bending reality itself. It was an eerie thing, terrifying in its simplicity. With a single snap of its fingers, the army of necromantic soldiers disintegrated before Sylas and Livia's eyes. The soldiers crumbled into nothingness as if they had never existed.

To Sylas's horror, the creature revealed its true nature—it was the avatar of the Demon King of Salvation, an extension of the being's will. As the void creature merged back into the Demon King, the faceless armor of the king began to shift and stir. The being's immense power and dominance were now clear.

With the full weight of its presence now clear before them, the Demon King of Salvation spoke. His voice was ancient, colder than ice, and filled with a deep, malevolent wisdom.

"Greetings, mortal. Thou walks upon a path of death. Surrender and I shall spare your universe."

Sylas frowned, not understanding the demon king's cryptic words. What did it mean to spare their universe? But there was no time for questions. The Demon King was an enemy, and he had to be stopped.

"I don't care about your terms," Sylas muttered, a steely determination in his eyes. He attacked. His body moved with the deadly precision granted to him by the Crown of the Fallen, and his magic flared as he threw everything he had at the Demon King.

But the Demon King of Salvation was unfazed. In a blink, Sylas and Livia found themselves teleported away—no, not to a different realm but back to Earth, their bodies suddenly no longer in the desert wasteland of the trial.

The gate to the fifth trial vanished behind them, sealing them off from whatever came next. They were left standing in the familiar, quiet world they had once known. The shift from the chaotic battleground to the calm Earth left them disoriented for a moment.

Sylas and Livia stood there for a while, both catching their breath. Silence filled the space between them, the weight of the failed battle settling on their shoulders. Livia, ever resilient, was the first to speak.

"That… was unexpected," she said, her voice tired but tinged with a bit of humor. "I didn't think the fifth trial would be so… different."

Sylas gave a short nod, still processing everything that had happened. The Demon King of Salvation was unlike any foe they had faced. His power was unimaginable, his presence suffocating. There had been no winning that fight, not now, not with their current strength. But what did the trial even mean? Was this all part of the plan? Had they failed? Or was this surrender their victory?

"We're alive," Sylas said simply. "That's something."

Livia laughed softly, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the sky. "Yeah. That's something. You're right."

They walked toward their base of operations in silence, the weight of the trial still heavy on their minds. They'd need time to recover, to process what had just happened. The fifth trial was not like the others. There was something different about it, something Sylas couldn't quite put his finger on.

They both needed rest. The fight had taken its toll. They had been pushed to their limits, and it was clear that their journey was far from over. As Sylas headed to clean himself up, he couldn't shake the thought that this was not just about power. The trials, the crown—it wasn't just about winning battles. It was about understanding. And right now, he felt like he understood nothing at all.

Livia followed him, still muttering to herself about the events that had transpired. Sylas didn't interrupt her. There was no need for words yet.

Later, they would talk. Later, they would try to piece together the mysteries of what had just occurred. But for now, all they could do was rest and prepare for whatever came next. The trial wasn't over—it was only just beginning.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and violet, Sylas and Livia found themselves in the Forest of Wynn, a secluded and tranquil place where the academy's students often went to unwind. The towering trees, ancient and wise, rustled softly as the wind passed through their dense canopy, creating a gentle, whispering melody that filled the night air. Fireflies flitted around them, casting faint golden glows that made the forest feel almost ethereal, as if they had stepped into another world entirely.

The events of the fifth trial weighed heavily on their minds. They had cleaned up, settled their nerves, and now, away from the eyes of the academy, they finally had time to talk.

Livia leaned against the trunk of a massive oak tree, arms crossed, her sharp red eyes reflecting the soft glow of the fireflies. "Alright," she sighed, breaking the silence first. "Let's start with the obvious. Uhtem."

Sylas sat on a fallen log nearby, elbows resting on his knees, his expression contemplative. He had been mulling over their battle with Uhtem ever since they left the fourth trial.

"Uhtem was… something else," he admitted, tilting his head up to the sky. "That wasn't a fight. That was a lesson."

Livia scoffed. "A lesson in humility."

Sylas gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, that too." He shook his head, still awed by the sheer power Uhtem had displayed. "He wasn't just strong. He was overwhelming. I couldn't even land a meaningful hit, and even with your help, we were nothing to him."

Livia nodded, her mind replaying every move Uhtem made. "And that wasn't even him going all out. The moment I tried using something on a catastrophic level—a nuke capable of erasing a kingdom—he erased it like it was a mere spark. He could've done the same to us at any moment."

There was a pause, both of them processing just how utterly outclassed they had been.

"And yet, he let us go," Sylas murmured. "He could've killed us, but he didn't. Because that wasn't the point of the trial."

Livia tapped her fingers against her arm, her brows furrowed in thought. "Yeah, surrender was the trial. But you know what bothers me?" She turned to face him fully. "Uhtem never told us his real name."

Sylas raised an eyebrow. "You think that means something?"

Livia exhaled slowly. "I don't know. But something about it… it doesn't sit right with me. Who is he really? He called himself the guardian of the Great Tree, but why? What exactly is his connection to it?"

That brought them to their next topic.

Sylas leaned forward, his eyes dark with thought. "The Great Tree." He ran a hand through his hair. "Crown told us to 'seek the knowledge of the Great Tree,' but we never even got to speak to it. We fought Uhtem, passed the trial… and then we were just sent to the fifth."

Livia narrowed her eyes, kicking a small rock near her feet. "Right. Which means either Uhtem was the Great Tree's voice or…"

"…we weren't ready to receive its knowledge," Sylas finished.

Silence fell between them again, the weight of that realization settling over them like a cold mist.

Livia exhaled sharply. "And that brings us to the Demon King of Salvation."

Sylas stiffened slightly. Unlike Uhtem, the Demon King had been something else entirely—not a trial of combat, nor a test of surrender. It was something more.

"That thing… that thing was on another level," Livia muttered. "No matter what we threw at him, it didn't work. The light beams, the army of the dead, the nuke. Nothing. And when he finally spoke—"

Sylas clenched his fists. "'Thou walks upon a path of death. Surrender, and I shall spare your universe.'" He repeated the words carefully, his tone dark. "He wasn't talking about just us. He was talking about the entire universe."

Livia frowned. "That's what's terrifying. He spoke like he had the power to end it all."

Sylas met her gaze. "What do you think he meant?"

Livia crossed her arms, deep in thought. "I don't know… but I think it wasn't a threat. It was a warning."

Sylas nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place. "Then that means… the Demon King of Salvation doesn't just destroy. He 'saves' in his own way." He rubbed his chin. "And maybe, to him, that means erasing something before it can become a threat."

Livia tensed. "Before what can become a threat?"

Sylas exhaled. "Us?"

Livia went quiet.

The implications were horrifying.

If the Demon King of Salvation saw them as something that needed to be erased, then that meant…

"We're missing something," Livia finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sylas nodded. "Something huge. And I have a feeling it has something to do with the Great Tree."

A gust of wind rustled the leaves, and for a brief moment, the forest seemed to breathe around them, as if it, too, was listening.

Sylas stood up, dusting himself off. "One thing's clear. We need to learn more. About Uhtem. About the Great Tree. About the Demon King of Salvation."

Livia sighed and cracked her neck. "Yeah. But first? We need sleep. Because if I think about this any harder, my brain is going to explode."

Sylas chuckled. "Fair enough."

As they turned back toward the academy, their minds were far from at ease.

They had passed the trials. But for what purpose?

And more importantly…

What came next?

The air in the Great Tree's domain was heavy with an ancient power, as if the land itself held memories older than time. The colossal tree towered above all, its bark marked with runes glowing with an ethereal light, its branches stretching into the endless void of the sky. It was more than just a tree—it was a pillar of existence itself, the heart of knowledge, the silent witness of eons. And before it stood Uhtem, the Guardian of the Great Tree.

Gone was the demonic form he had worn in battle against Sylas and Livia. This was his true self—tall, imposing, clad in ornate armor of silver and obsidian, a royal mantle flowing behind him. His eyes, deep as the abyss, held neither hatred nor fear. Only duty.

A presence approached, its weight heavy upon the world itself.

The Demon King of Salvation walked toward him, each step deliberate, measured, yet light as if he floated just beyond the grasp of reality. His form was encased in an armor that seemed less like metal and more like a shifting void, swallowing the light around it, a crown resting atop his helm like a silent declaration of dominion. He stopped precisely ten meters away from Uhtem.

"Greetings," the Demon King spoke, his voice even, steady—calm, yet absolute.

"Now, I shall ask again. Hand my treasure over, Guardian of the Great Tree."

Uhtem did not move. His posture remained firm, a warrior who had long since accepted his burden.

"Kings who hang their own people do not deserve treasures." His voice was like iron tempered in fire, neither rising in anger nor wavering in fear.

"You have destroyed your honor, just as you have destroyed your people."

The Demon King of Salvation stood silent for a moment, as if weighing those words. Then, he let out a soft exhale—a sound almost akin to amusement, yet devoid of joy.

"I expected such words from you," he said. "Honor. Loyalty. Duty. You still cling to these dying embers."

Uhtem's eyes narrowed slightly, but his tone remained resolute.

"Honor does not die. It is abandoned. And you abandoned yours the moment you forsook your own kingdom."

The Demon King took a slow step forward. The ground beneath his feet did not stir, as if existence itself refused to acknowledge his presence.

"My kingdom was already dead the moment I inherited it," he said, still eerily calm. "A kingdom of weakness. Of stagnation. Of rot. It was a mercy to erase it."

Uhtem's grip tightened around the hilt of his blade. "Mercy?" He let the word linger in the air, filled with quiet condemnation. "There is no mercy in killing what you swore to protect. You were entrusted with your people. And you—their king—became their executioner."

A pause. The wind whispered through the leaves of the Great Tree.

The Demon King of Salvation did not flinch, did not show even the faintest trace of regret. "A king must do what is necessary," he said. "Sentimentality is the death of empires. Love breeds hesitation. Hesitation leads to ruin. I have no time for either."

Uhtem stepped forward, his armor glinting under the light of the Great Tree.

"Then you are no king," he said simply.

Another silence.

The Demon King of Salvation remained still, unreadable beneath his helm. Then, after a moment, he turned slightly, glancing up at the Great Tree behind Uhtem.

"…You will not give it to me," he said, his voice devoid of disappointment, as if he had already foreseen this outcome.

"I will not." Uhtem's tone did not waver.

The Demon King stared at him for a long moment. The weight of his gaze felt like an inevitable storm, one that would one day return, no matter how distant the horizon.

Finally, he took a step back, turning away.

"We shall meet again, Guardian of the Great Tree."

With those final words, the void around him shimmered, and in the blink of an eye—he was gone.

Uhtem stood unmoving for a long time, staring at the empty space where the Demon King had stood. He exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.

The wind passed through the branches of the Great Tree once more.

The world was silent. For now.