Prologue
The Demon of Fire
The night sky burned as though the heavens themselves had split open. Crimson flames devoured the stars, and smoke rolled like storm clouds, blotting out the moon. The village below, once alive with song and laughter, became a pyre of shrieks and ash.
Temperu was only a boy then — fragile, wide-eyed, his hand clinging to the hem of his mother's cloak. Though terror clawed at him, there was a gentleness about him still, a quiet grace that made the chaos seem almost bearable, like a fleeting angel's light shining through the smoke. But even angels cannot stop demons.
The earth quaked under the march of soldiers clad in blackened steel, and with them came him.
The Monarch of Incineration strode through the firestorm like a demon born of flame. His cloak writhed like molten smoke, his burning eyes cold and merciless, his presence twisting the air as though the world itself recoiled from him.
"Leave them!" Temperu's father roared, raising his battered shield. His mother, trembling yet resolute, gripped a wooden practice sword and stood at his side. The demon-man laughed — guttural, cruel, a sound that crawled beneath the skin. With a mere gesture, he summoned a torrent of fire. The cottage vanished in a roar of flame. The shield melted, the sword splintered, and in an instant, both of Temperu's parents were gone, their lives stolen by the inferno.
"NO!" Temperu's scream tore the night. He surged forward, only to be hurled into the dirt by a soldier's gauntleted hand. Through smoke-stung eyes he saw the Monarch turn, indifferent, striding back into the blaze as if their lives were less than ash.
The soldiers withdrew, leaving silence and ruin. Temperu crawled to the smoldering wreckage, his small fingers clutching the charred rim of his father's shield. Tears carved pale tracks through the soot on his cheeks.
In that moment, something in him broke — and something else ignited. Not the warmth of innocence, but a fire to match the demon's own.
This night would not be forgotten. This blood would not go unavenged.
From the ashes of his broken world, the boy who had once seemed like an angel swore an oath: One day, the Monarch of Incineration would burn.
