I stepped through the gate, and the scene that unfolded before me left me utterly speechless. The palace loomed ahead, a monument of dark majesty and foreboding power. Its spires pierced the storm-laden sky like the talons of some ancient beast, sharp and menacing.
The architecture was intricate yet unsettling—sharp arches, delicate tracery, and grotesque gargoyles that seemed to watch me with lifeless, screaming eyes.
A grand, crumbling staircase led to the entrance, each step worn by time and the weight of countless lost souls. The walls, built of dark stone, flickered with the light of torches that cast eerie, shifting shadows.
The sheer scale of the palace made it feel less like a man-made structure and more like a throne of darkness, birthed from the abyss itself.
A shiver ran down my spine as I felt the oppressive aura of the place. The destructive defense spell surrounding the palace had always kept me at bay.
I'd never ventured inside, never bothered to explore a castle that seemed devoid of life. Or so I had thought—until the rumors of the abandoned prince reached my ears.
The air was thick with an unfamiliar power, dark and suffocating. A normal person would have lost their sanity to the mind-control spell that enveloped the castle.
But I was no ordinary person. Still, even I could feel its weight pressing against my mind, threatening to unravel my thoughts. Why had the Emperor placed such a powerful spell around the place where his own son lived? The question gnawed at me as I placed my hand on the rusted iron door.
My heart pounded as I pushed the door open, its hinges screeching in protest. Dust and dry leaves crunched beneath my feet, and I coughed, covering my mouth as the stale air filled my lungs.
The hall before me was vast and cathedral-like, swallowed in darkness. Towering gothic arches stretched toward a ceiling lost in shadow, and the dim glow of a stormy sky filtered through a cracked stained-glass window at the far end. The fragmented moonlight cast eerie patterns across the stone floor, illuminating scattered books with yellowed, brittle pages.
The air was thick with silence, broken only by the distant groan of wind pushing through unseen cracks. The grand staircase leading upward was veiled in gloom, its steps covered in dust and debris.
The towering bookshelves loomed like silent sentinels, their contents barely visible in the dimness. The scent of old parchment and damp stone mingled with something more unsettling—something ancient, watching.
This was no place for the living. It felt like a tomb, a forgotten relic of a time long past. Yet, I pressed on, climbing the stairs with Slayer in hand. The blade glowed faintly with my red-black aura, its light cutting through the darkness like a beacon.
My hyper-perception allowed me to trace the energy of living beings, and I could feel it now—a slow, shaky breath coming from the furthest corner of the second floor.
My grip tightened on Slayer as I turned left, following the sound. The breathing grew louder, more distinct. It had to be the prince. My heart raced, and my head throbbed under the strain of the mind-control spell. I could hold on for maybe thirty more minutes, but every second felt like an eternity.
As I approached the room at the end of the hall, an ominous energy washed over me. My eyes widened as I realized what it was—demonic power. But how?
The Prince I had seen years ago was incapable of using aura or mana, let alone wielding such a potent and malevolent force. Even my master had confirmed it. Under these conditions, how could he have fallen into demon worship? Doubt gnawed at me, but I couldn't turn back now.
Slayer's glow intensified, its red-black aura shifting to a radiant gold as it reacted to the demonic energy.
The stronger the demonic power, the brighter Slayer's divine light became. I stepped forward, my nerves on edge, and placed my hand on the door. The moment I pushed it open, a wave of dark purple energy slammed into me, throwing me back against the wall.
"Ugh!" I groaned, pain shooting through my body. I swung Slayer, its golden light cutting through the demonic energy like a blade through smoke. The divine power purified the darkness, allowing me to open my eyes. What I saw next was more terrifying than anything I had ever imagined.
The room was vast, more like a torture chamber than a living space. In the center stood a man—his hands bound by red, burning chains, his body hanging limply. His torso was riddled with fresh wounds, and his head hung low, obscured by long, matted black hair. Under his feet was a massive magic circle, glowing faintly with the same dark purple energy that had attacked me.
*Drip. Drop.* Blood fell from his wounds onto the circle, causing it to flare with light. The demonic power surged, engulfing his body as he let out a guttural scream. His legs thrashed weakly, but the chains held him fast.
My heart ached at the sight. This was the abandoned prince, the cursed son of the Emperor. Why was he being subjected to this torment?
Anger clouded my judgment as I stepped forward, Slayer glowing brighter with divine power. I swung the blade, shattering the magic circle with a single strike. The chains were next—each one took twenty slashes to break, draining my aura with every blow. But I couldn't stop. Not now.
As the last chain fell away, the prince collapsed onto the ruined circle. I coughed blood, my body weakening under the strain of the demonic energy. It twisted and clawed at me, trying to invade my mind and body. The pain was unbearable, worse than anything I had ever experienced. I fell to my knees, clutching Slayer as the darkness closed in.
"Please…" I whispered, my vision blurring. "I don't want to die here."
Just as I thought it was over, the demonic energy shifted. It left my body and surged back into the prince. He let out a guttural scream as the power consumed him, his body transforming before my eyes.
At first, he was a broken figure—emaciated, his ribs visible beneath pale, scarred skin. His arms were thin and frail, his collarbones jutting out sharply.
His face, though obscured by his long, tangled black hair, was gaunt, with hollow cheeks and a pallor that spoke of years of suffering. But as the demonic power surged into him, his body began to change.
His muscles swelled, filling out his frame with a strength that seemed almost unnatural. His chest broadened, his shoulders widening as if he were being sculpted by an unseen hand.
The wounds that had marred his body closed, leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. His once-bony arms now rippled with power, and his hands—once trembling and weak—clenched into fists as the transformation completed.
His face, now fully visible, was breathtaking. High cheekbones framed a sharp jawline, and his lips, once pale and cracked, were now full and pink, like cherry blossoms in bloom. His nose was straight and elegant, perfectly balanced with the rest of his features. But it was his eyes that truly captivated me.
They were a vivid amethyst, glowing with an otherworldly light that seemed to pierce through the darkness. His long black hair, once matted and lifeless, now cascaded down his back like a river of ink, shimmering faintly as if touched by starlight.
He was beautiful—dangerously so. His presence was magnetic—a blend of elegance and raw power that left me breathless. Even in this hellish place, he radiated an ethereal beauty that defied explanation.
"Thank you," he said, his voice low and hoarse. He reached out, his hand brushing against my face. His touch was warm and comforting, and for a moment, the pain faded.
But my strength was gone. My vision blurred, and I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness.
The last thing I remembered was the sensation of being lifted, cradled in strong arms. His warmth surrounded me, a stark contrast to the cold darkness of the palace. Where was he taking me?
I was supposed to be the one saving him. But as my consciousness faded, I couldn't bring myself to care. For the first time in years, I felt safe.