Welcome to hell
The Inquisition thinks it has me cornered.
They have no idea who they're dealing with.
I was playing nice before.
Sealed.
Weakened.
Chained.
Now, I am free.
And they are about to learn why I was called the Demon King.
The moment I step out of the ruined church, I feel them.
The Inquisition's elite hunters.
They've been hiding in the shadows, watching, waiting, hoping I'd be stupid enough to run into their little ambush.
A glowing spear hurtles toward me, faster than a blink.
I barely tilt my head—
SHUNK.
The spear impales the ground where my skull was a second ago, glowing with purifying light.
A voice echoes through the night.
"DEMON KING, YOUR REIGN ENDS TONIGHT!"
Oh, for hell's sake.
I look up.
On the rooftops, in the alleyways, emerging from the darkness—dozens of holy warriors, priests, and exorcists now surround me.
All armed.
All ready.
All utterly convinced they're about to take me down.
Idiots.
I sigh and raise a hand.
Black mist coils around my fingers.
"No grand speech?" one of them mocks. "No last words?"
I smile. "You're already dead."
Then I snap my fingers.
Immediately, the world turns into a nightmare.
The street beneath them melts into black sludge, dragging them down like sinking sand.
Holy swords and shields crumble into rusted scraps.
A priest tries to chant a purification spell—but his tongue is suddenly gone.
Another hunter swings at me—but his own shadow catches his wrist, twisting it backward with a sickening snap.
Panic spreads through them like wildfire.
Good.
They came here expecting a monster.
I might as well deliver.
The leader, a silver-haired warrior in blessed armor, stomps forward.
He's different from the others.
Calm. Composed.
He's been waiting for this fight.
He draws a massive greatsword, glowing with runes.
"I knew you'd come back," he says, eyes burning with divine energy.
I raise an eyebrow. "You sound happy about it."
"I am."
Then he lunges.
His blade erupts with holy fire, swinging down with the force of a meteor.
I don't move.
At the last second, I raise one finger.
TING.
The sword stops.
The entire street goes silent.
Everyone watches, stunned, as this man's legendary blade—**the holy artifact blessed by the gods—**gets blocked by my single, bare finger.
I sigh. "Disappointing."
Then I snap my fingers again.
His blade shatters into dust.
The remaining warriors scream in terror.
Some run.
Some pray.
One tries to summon a divine miracle.
I don't let him.
I raise my hand to the sky.
Darkness swirls above like a storm of shadows.
I bring it down.
The entire street is engulfed in black flames.
Everything burns.
Everything screams.
But there's no smoke.
No ashes.
The fire only consumes their existence.
By the time it fades, there is nothing left.
No bodies.
No weapons.
No proof the Inquisition was ever here.
I walk away from the ruined battlefield, stepping over the last remaining embers.
Time to get back to the game.
I find a secluded alley.
With a whisper, I activate my return spell.
Reality shifts.
The mortal world fades—
And the game world returns.
The moment my boots touch the obsidian floor of my throne room, a familiar voice echoes in my head.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: THE FINAL BOSS HAS RETURNED.]
I smirk.
"Miss me?"