Chapter 9

The air in the chamber crackled, heavy with anticipation. The Demon Queen, Yelena, a towering figure whose shadow seemed to swallow the room's corners, stepped forward. Her voice, a low rumble that vibrated through the floor, echoed, "We are at war with humanity." Her crimson eyes, like twin coals, swept over our faces. "Accuracy and precision are our demands. We are planning an ambush, a final push, our firm push to victory. And I want you to join us." The last words hung in the silence, a challenge and an invitation.

A question burned behind my teeth, refusing to be swallowed. My gaze flickered to Kyuro, then back to the Queen. My fingers twitched, and I clasped my hands together, forcing them still. "Your honour," I began, my voice a little rougher than intended, "may I ask what we will be going up against?"

A faint, almost imperceptible curl touched the Queen's lips. "Humanity has a hero on their side. Luckily," she added, a note of triumph in her tone, "the saints have vanished, cutting off their manpower."

Beside me, Suzie's eyes darted to mine, a swift, almost imperceptible flicker of concern that spoke volumes. It was a silent warning, a shared understanding of the precarious position we were in.

I straightened my spine, meeting the Queen's gaze. "I wish to serve Your Majesty in this war."

"Good." Yelena's single word was sharp, definitive.

Kyuro shifted, his patience clearly wearing thin. He folded his arms across his chest. "And the rest of you?" His voice was a whip-crack, cutting through the remaining silence.

Kira gnawed on her bottom lip, her brow furrowed in deep thought. Elizabeth chewed on the inside of her cheek, her eyes fixed on some distant point. Suzie's gaze remained steady, though a faint tension in her shoulders hinted at her inner debate. Henri's face was unreadable, his silence stretching. Eventually, one by one, their shoulders relaxed, their gazes met Kyuro's, and they offered slow, deliberate nods.

"Excellent," the Demon Queen purred, a predatory satisfaction in her tone. "Our attack launches in two months. I will personally oversee Zero's training, alongside the generals. The rest of you will assist Kyuro in preparing our foot soldiers for this war. Do you understand?"

"Yes, your honour," our voices blended, a unified murmur of assent.

"You are all dismissed," she announced, her gaze locking onto mine, "except for Zero. Your training begins now."

***

The click of the door echoing behind my companions amplified the sudden silence. The vast chamber felt even larger, the air thick with unspoken expectation. It was just me and the Queen's general's now, their faces grim, their presence a silent weight. I stood perfectly still, waiting.

"Remove your mask," Yelena commanded, her voice devoid of inflection.

I gave a curt nod, my fingers finding the edge of the ornate mask. With a practiced motion, I unfastened it, letting it rest against the side of my head, one strap still looped over my ear. Her eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, fixated on my bare face.

"You are quite pretty, aren't you?" The words, a peculiar observation, hung in the air. I simply stared back, a lump forming in my throat, my mind a blank. No response came.

"You are of the dragon specie, aren't you?" Her voice held a knowing cadence.

"I am," I managed, the two words thin in the sudden quiet.

"Follow me." She turned, her movements fluid and regal. "You will go through what young dragons in my family did when they unleashed their bloodline."

I trailed behind her, the soft scuff of my boots the only sound in the dimness. She led me through a labyrinth of poorly-lit passages, the air growing colder, heavier. Shadows clung to the corners, distorting familiar shapes into grotesque forms. We finally emerged into a bare, circular room. A single, ominous-looking seat stood bolted to the exact center of the floor.

"Go, sit there." Her head dipped in a sharp, almost imperceptible nod towards the chair.

My heart gave a nervous flutter, but I obeyed, lowering myself onto the cold metal. The seat felt unnaturally sturdy. I had barely settled when a jolt ran through the chair. With a series of clicks and whirs, thick metal bands shot out from the armrests and leg supports. They clamped down, cold and unyielding, around my wrists and ankles, binding me securely. The sound of their locking echoed in the confined space.

A subtle, knowing smirk touched the Queen's lips, and a glint of cruel amusement flickered in her eyes. "Us dragons are noble creatures," she began, her voice a low purr. "We pride ourselves in being all-knowing and all-powerful, but to do that, we must be immune to vulnerabilities. For the rest of this month, you will remain in this room for hours on end. You will be exposed to all kinds of dangers, each designed to task your body."

She strode towards a low, unadorned table I hadn't noticed before, its surface gleaming faintly in the gloom. "We will start with fire, then lava, then extreme heat. I trust you will meet my expectations." Her finger pressed a single, unmarked button on the table's surface. With a final, chilling glance, she turned and left, the heavy door hissing shut behind her, sealing me in.

The moment the last echo of the door faded, a shudder ran through the floor beneath me. The metal beneath my feet groaned, twisting, and the entire section of the floor around the chair began to collapse inwards. With a stomach-lurching plunge, I dropped into a swirling inferno. Searing heat enveloped me instantly, stealing the air from my lungs. I thrashed against the restraints, my muscles screaming, but the metal held firm. My eyes darted wildly, but there was nothing to see but an angry, swirling haze of smoke, dancing orange and red flames, and the terrifying glow of molten rock. The smell of sulfur and burning permeated everything.

Sweat, hot and stinging, immediately coated my skin, running in rivulets down my face. It felt as though I was being slowly, agonizingly cooked alive. My skin prickled, then burned. Just as a faint numbness, a desperate coping mechanism, began to set in, a sudden, searing intensification shocked me back to full awareness. Balls of pure fire, incandescent and terrifying, began to erupt around me, their heat like physical blows. The air grew thick, shimmering with unbearable warmth. I gasped, a raw, desperate sound, my throat closing up. Every instinct screamed to move, to escape the unimaginable pain, but my bound limbs rendered me utterly helpless, a fish out of water, flopping uselessly in its final throes.

Soon, the sweat dried on my skin, baked away by the unceasing heat. The torment shifted, changing in its quality and intensity with disorienting frequency. Time became a meaningless concept. Was it hours? Days? Weeks? My mind, a hazy fog of pain, couldn't tell. Eventually, a strange quiet descended upon the inferno. The heat, though still present, no longer felt like a torturous vise. It was as if my body had adapted, or perhaps simply gone numb. I wondered, in a detached corner of my mind, if the trial had ended, if I had somehow passed.

A sliver of hope, illogical and faint, whispered that the Demon Queen might appear, her face softening in congratulation. But as if my thoughts were being mocked, a new horror began. The oppressive heat began to recede, replaced by a chilling coolness that spread rapidly through the chamber. The temperature plummeted, a relentless descent until it became impossibly, unbearably cold. My teeth began to chatter uncontrollably, a violent rattling that echoed in the quiet room. My skin prickled with goosebumps that soon vanished as my flesh went numb. I shivered uncontrollably, my muscles spasming, my body trying to curl in on itself, but the straps held me rigidly in place. My legs, though present, felt like heavy, unfeeling blocks of ice. My head, a leaden weight, lolled against the cold metal headrest.

"It's so cold," I rasped, the words thick and clumsy, my lips feeling like numb, swollen things. "Please stop this." The plea was barely audible, a desperate whisper swallowed by the frigid air. The cold deepened, seeping into my very bones, until I felt an eerie detachment, as if my consciousness had floated free, an observer to the agonizing decay of my own body.

Then, just as suddenly, the cold began to recede. The ice dissolved, the biting chill retreated, and the room slowly returned to the ambient temperature it had held before the plunge. My senses, dulled and battered, began to reawaken, feeling as though I had just come back from a very long, very deep dive.

"Is it done?" I whispered, my voice cracked and dry.

A profound stillness settled upon the room, a silence that felt heavier, more unsettling than any sound. It bothered me deeply. Then, from beneath the seat, a swirling column of shimmering purple mist began to rise. It pulsed with an unearthly glow, coiling around me. Before I could process the sudden, strange development, a wave of dizziness washed over me, and the world went black.

***

Muffled voices, like sounds heard underwater, seeped into my fading consciousness. I drifted, a forgotten boat on a turbulent sea, in and out of awareness. I strained, desperate to make sense of the cacophony, but it was just a chaotic swirl of shouts and screams, an angry mob whose words refused to coalesce into meaning.

When consciousness finally clamped down, clear and sharp, it hit with a dizzying force. The world spun, threatening to send me back into the dark. I fought it, clenching my jaw, and the screaming became horrifyingly distinct:

"Burn the witch! Kill her! User of black magic!"

I couldn't see them, yet I felt the prickling heat of a thousand burning gazes fixed on my body. Suddenly, something akin to a veil was ripped from my mind's eye. The world snapped into terrifying focus. Faces, a sea of them, materialized before me—the faces of those I had helped, their expressions twisted into masks of rage and fear. Then, through the furious crowd, I saw him: the hero. He stood there, a chilling smile on his face, his lips moving, whispering something I couldn't quite grasp before a wave of searing fire engulfed me.

The vision replayed, over and over, the agony a constant companion. Each time, the hero's whispered words became clearer, until finally, they pierced through the roaring flames: "Demons will always win."

The next time I returned, the screaming was gone. The crowds had vanished. Everywhere was quiet, eerily empty. Standing before me was a woman with hair like spun moonlight, eyes like chips of ruby, and elegant dragon horns curling from her temples, a long, scaled tail swishing gently behind her. She wore a kimono of exquisite silk, so daringly cut that it seemed to float around her, amplifying her every graceful movement. She glided towards me, and her cool hands cupped my face, her touch surprisingly gentle.

"I chose you to get rid of that pest in the demon community, my little dragon," her voice was a hypnotic melody, a silken promise. "Don't disappoint me." I felt utterly entranced, unable to tear my gaze from hers.

I blinked, and the vision was gone. I was back in the bare room, still strapped to the chair. But now, a strange, resonant power thrummed beneath my skin, a deep hum in my veins. This final, agonizing challenge, unlike the others, had not merely tested my limits; it had fundamentally changed me. It felt as though the very dangers that had sought to destroy me had instead been absorbed, integrated into my being. I was still bound, still in the torture chamber, but a profound energy coursed through me, leaving me feeling more alive, more potent than when I first entered.

Just then, the heavy door hissed open and Yelena walked in. As she stepped over the threshold, the metal clamps around my wrists and ankles simultaneously retracted with soft clicks, releasing me. I pushed myself up, my movements light, unburdened. I followed her, my steps light, as she led me from the stark, empty chamber into another room entirely. This one was bathed in soft light, adorned with plush rugs, a comfortable bed, and all the familiar comforts of a normal bedroom.

"Rest for now," she said, her voice softer than before. "It has been a long month for you."

"Month?" I gasped, the word catching in my throat. My eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yes," she replied calmly, her red eyes unblinking. "We will talk when you wake up."