Demon King

In the twilight of the nursery, under the shadow of night, the young warrior whimpered softly, trying to hide his traitorous weakness. After all, strong boys, as the harsh story said, do not shed tears! He was supposed to face any adversity with fortitude, like a steel-clad knight. But from the sensitive heart of his mother, who is more sensitive than the most keen-eyed guardian, it cannot be concealed that her son is now hiding his great pain in the darkness.

–My darling, what is the matter? - said the woman, as if a gentle breeze, approaching the bed of wood that served as his bed and fortress.

The boy, like a little hunted animal, hid himself entirely under a mountain of blankets, and from there came only a muffled, intermittent sniffle.

–Nothing! It's just... None of your business!

A gentle smile blossomed on her mother's face, illuminated by the soft light of the night-light, like the first ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. She sat down on the edge of the bed and gently, as if with a feather, ran her palm over his head. Then one crying eye peeped timidly out from under the blanket fortress.

–Share your troubles with me, and it'll get easier, I know it will.

–Okay.

The boy sniffed his nose one last time, wiping away the remnants of unruly tears, and began his bitter story.

–I can't do anything at all... I'm practicing at my dad's blacksmith shop, trying... But everything is falling apart like a spell! And I want so much to be like the Great Hero! He fights the Lord of Shadows without fear. He's going to succeed," the boy looked longingly at his small, unsteady hands, "Maybe I shouldn't try. I'm just a loser.

The mother, as if wrapping him with the warmth of her soul, gently embraced the child, and her kiss on his forehead was light and cool, like a blessing.

–Things didn't come out right away for the Hero either. He might have defeated the generals of darkness with ease. But the Lord is as strong as the night itself. - She pulled back a little to look into the depths of his eyes, and her gaze was full of quiet strength. - But the Hero does not back down. He defies the demon again and again, though nearby, in every breath of shadow, the Goddess of Eternal Night, who is also the Goddess of Death, swirls in her black robe.

---

...Somewhere far away, on the edge of a divided world, a battle was raging. Crimson lightning was tearing the sky.

The Demon Lord, majestic and deadly, was fighting with true pleasure. Every movement of his athletic body was filled with grim grace. His scarlet hair fluttered like a bloody banner, and his maroon eyes burned with the predatory joy of battle. He was not playing-he was savoring every moment of the fight, every clang of blades, every effort of his opponent. His refined features were distorted by a smile full of powerful joy.

The hero, drenched in blood and sweat, parried desperately. The sword slipped from his trembling hands. Each blow of the demon, precise and crushing, echoed in his bones with fiery pain. But the hero rose. Again and again. Gritting his teeth, forgetting the pain. Because the whole world was behind him. And there was no right to give up.