In a distant realm beyond the known world lay Astara, an ancient land of demons. The young prince, Feng Deming, who appeared no older than ten years of age by human standards, raced through fields alongside the lieutenant. The grass brushed against his legs as they sprinted into the fading daylight on the horizon, hope and uncertainty pushing them forward. His heart raced with each step, breath quickening in sync with the lieutenant's as they fled for their lives until they stopped in the center of the field.
Deming's breath caught as the hundreds of high fairy lords loomed ahead, blocking their path. "Enemies," he murmured, his heart quickening, fear dilating his pupils at the sight of the fairies for the first time. Preparing to flee, he quickly shifted his gaze to the lieutenant, ready to anticipate his next move.
"Lord Muchen," the lieutenant whispered.
"Muchen?" Deming's heart raced, a knot forming in his chest as he locked eyes with the fairy leader. 'He killed my father.' A tear escaped his eye, and his fists clenched in fury, replaying his father's last words in his mind.
"Take my son to safety, Lieutenant. Protect him with your life."
Without a word, the lieutenant slowly lowered his sword. The silence thickened with tension, broken only by the prince's rapid breaths and the distant murmur of the fairies.
"What are you doing? You're going to get yourself killed!" Deming cried out as the lieutenant approached the fairy leader.
"My lord, you have arrived early."
"What? Him?" Deming's jaw dropped, and he turned to the lieutenant and the fairy leader, eyes widening at the lieutenant's indifference. Like a setting sun, the vibrancy in his golden eyes dimmed as the truth slowly sank in. "Don't tell me... that you..."
"Truthfully, Lieutenant, I had concerns that you would not uphold your end of the deal. However, I admit I was mistaken." The fairy leader, Lord Muchen, nodded and commanded, "NOW!"
With a flick of the fairies' wrists, they activated the chains wrapped around Deming's limbs, empowered by twenty layers of glyphs.
'What... is this?' Deming eyed the phantom chains encircling his wrists, brows furrowing with concern. He struggled to free himself from the chains, but they held firm, resisting his every effort. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he grasped the futility of his attempts—the glyphs reinforcing the bindings proved too powerful to overcome.
"I promise I shall take good care of my slave."
"Me? A slave?" Deming's jaw clenched, eyes boring into Lord Muchen in anger. He turned to the lieutenant, gaze intense as he whispered, "What is happening?"
The Astaran lieutenant's eyebrows furrowed as he moved forward with suspicion, capturing Deming's attention. He whispered, "What is happening? Your father was a coward who prioritized himself and his son over his own people. I am only doing what he lacked the guts to do for the safety of Astara. And as its new ruler, I will do it right." With a deep bow before the fairy leader, he swept his hand from his chest toward Deming in a grand gesture. "Lord Muchen, as you requested."
Deming's pulse quickened, gaze hardening as he fixed it on the lieutenant with a piercing glare. "You..." his voice trembled.
The lieutenant sneered, savoring his victory while maintaining his facade in front of the fairy leader. "In exchange for my life and the Supreme Throne of Astara, I present Feng Deming—the crown prince."
Disgust etched itself into Deming's features as he glared at the lieutenant. "You despicable traitor!" he spat, voice quivering with rage. "My father was a blind man to trust a coward who stoops to slavery. You are a mockery of a king."
The lieutenant stepped back, eyes darting between Deming and Lord Muchen, sweat trickling down his forehead. 'I have no choice... If I don't hand over the prince, Astara is doomed. The fairies would wipe us out,' he agonized, guilt tearing at his soul. "I am aware that slavery goes against our principles. However..." He acknowledged his treason and the strict prohibition against slavery, a code ingrained within his tribe since its foundation millions of years ago. 'There's nothing I can do now.'
In a final attempt, Deming's eyes pleaded with the lieutenant, silently begging for compassion, even as the chains held him firmly in place.
His troubled gaze shifted, unable to meet Deming's eyes, and he stated, "He is all yours," and walked away without turning back.
Lord Muchen's eyes flickered with pleasure as he stepped forward with grace, eyeing the prince with satisfaction. "A most generous offering, indeed."
Deming's fists clenched, fury blazed in his eyes, molten lava raging within them as his once-prestigious life crumbled into a living hell. "One day, the Fairy Realm will fall, and its name will be forgotten forever—along with yours," he declared, voice fuming with anger. "I promise you this!"
As the fairies approached Feng Deming, their footsteps pounded like drumbeats against his chest. His breaths grew shallow as the general shrank from view, and the fairies drew nearer.
"You will all regret this, mark my words!" Deming raged, a storm brewing in his eyes. His muscles strained against the phantom chains of his captors, his limbs heavy and unresponsive. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought against the overwhelming force pressing down on him. Resisting tears, memories of his father's teachings echoed in his mind, urging him to stand firm in the face of hardship.
"Listen closely, my son—never allow yourself to be trapped... You are our only hope against their millions of years of oppression. The fairies want to crush our pride and destroy our culture. If we lose our identity, everything our ancestors achieved will turn to dust. We will be nothing... They want to weaken us by making us less protective of our heritage, which will divide Astara. If they succeed, fairy worship will occur here and doom us all... that even death is a mercy.
Even if they take away our lands and try to break our spirit, we must never turn the other cheek and abandon our ideology... We are Astarans; we never surrender to oppression or lose our dignity, even if death comes near.
One day, you must lead our people, because only you can stand up to the fairies until the end... When the time is right, I will reveal who you truly are. Until then, never forget our legacy, our culture, and who we are as a people... Always remember who you are, Feng Deming."
Hope brightened Deming's eyes. He frowned with determination, lips pressed tightly together as he exhaled sharply through his nose. 'Now I see why he never wanted me to waste time and play like the other kids...' Memories of grueling training sessions flooded his mind, his muscles tensing with each remembered exertion. 'That deciphering technique... I haven't mastered it yet, but I will... Father, I promise I'll never slack off, and I'll restore Astara's glory... and once I decipher those seals, I'll break free...' A knot of dread tightened in his chest, constricting his breath as he imagined the suffocating consequence of entrapment. His jaw clenched, and he released a shaky breath. 'But what if I fail after breaking out... and be trapped again... and never see my home again until I die? What will they do to Astara and... to my people?'
"Take this... monster... away," Muchen's words hissed, each syllable filled with loathing.
Deming's heart clenched at the accusation. 'Monster,' the word reverberated within him, twisting his insides. 'Father knew something about me that he didn't tell. Maybe that's why he trained me all my life. Maybe I am... a monster.'
Thousands of years passed since the fall of the previous Astaran king and Feng Deming's imprisonment, kept deep underground within the dungeon to ensure the safety of the Fairy Realm. The young prince, now in his late teens, possessed strikingly handsome features, sculpted precisely according to the golden ratio: a pointed nose, defined cheekbones, and eyebrows as sharp as daggers. His long, dark-brown hair flowed down to his thighs, enhancing his captivating appearance.
The dungeon emitted a musty odor, its walls marked with droplets of his blood as a reminder of years of insufferable torture. Focused solely on breaking the phantasmal chains that bound him, he had studied the twenty seals during his captivity. With closed eyes and a glowing forehead, he diligently deciphered them, yearning for the liberty to walk free once more.
'How satisfying it would be to see no trace of their world, all by my own hands,' Deming entertained as his lips curled into an evil, pleasure-filled smirk. 'Their mutilated bodies shall be my masterpiece, and their painful screams, well, the sweetest melody to my ears... And all of that is within my grasp now.'
With his eyes tightly shut, Deming listened intently as heavy footsteps approached the dungeon and the faint murmur of male voices. Aware of Feng Deming's immense power, many self-proclaimed 'gods' had gathered to prevent his escape.
The fairy general, also known as 'the god of war,' shouted through the dungeon, "Cease, demon!"
Deming did not open his eyes yet, not when he was this close to breaking the seal. 'Now, they shall witness the true meaning of what they call... a monster,' he sneered as he continued to decode.
The general's voice grew more forceful. "I said, stop!" His hand formed a beam of light.
Despite the repeated warnings, Deming did not halt his work.
Frustration and dread gripped the general as he turned to his troops. "Attack!"
With a burst of energy, the group fired brilliant beams of light at the chained-up demon, following the man's orders without hesitation. However, even when they joined forces, their combined strength could not hold Deming back.
And at this moment, his efforts to break the seals paid off. In a seamless effort, the chains that had tightly constricted his limbs and neck, strangling him with pressure, vanished.
The demon's eyes, golden like molten metal and framed by long lashes, held a deadly beauty forged from untold suffering and the promise of vengeance. They opened, sweeping a terrifying glare of disdain over the group. With a smirk, he taunted in a deep voice, "I wish you could see your faces."
"Stay alert, everyone!" the fairy general gritted his teeth. "Lord Muchen is nearly here! Stay put!"
The mere mention of Muchen caused Deming's eye to twitch and his jaws to clench. 'Why is he depending on him? Don't tell me that Lord Muchen... has another trick up his sleeve to trap me?' He locked eyes with the terrified general and gave him a daring smirk. 'How amusing... So, the plan to obliterate this entire realm is postponed... No matter... First, I shall eradicate these pests, then return to Astara to reclaim my throne, retrieve our stolen lands and historical artifacts, learn every detail about the fairies' schemes, and then destroy their realm. I should not let my guard down. Muchen is cunning.'
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A soldier rushed into the throne room, his voice urgent. "My lord, the Astaran prince is on the verge of breaking free!" Sunlight, intense and glaring, bounced off his gleaming white armor, illuminating a vibrant glow on the crystal pillars of the chamber. A faint scent of incense filled the room, blending its sweet and earthy fragrance.
This news filled Lord Muchen's heart with anxiety as he murmured, "That cannot be... he is just a boy."
Lord Muchen, a middle-aged man, wore a long, white robe that signified his authority. His partially tied-back hair, as black as night, allowed a few stray strands to frame his sharp features. Atop his head rested a golden crown, its twisted plant stem design symbolizing his connection to nature and his role as ruler.
Muchen's hands trembled without control. "Seal... that... demon," he urged in a strained voice, his teeth clenched so tightly they threatened to shatter, his eyes bulging with fear. "Summon all the high gods. IMMEDIATELY!"
"Yes, my lord," the fairy soldier bowed, only to be interrupted by the ground shaking with great force. Both their eyes widened in shock.
"Hurry!" Muchen scowled in disdain. 'If Feng Deming roams free, our demise is inevitable.'
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Deming tilted his head, regarding the fairy general with a cold stare as the general's breath hitched, sweat trickling down his forehead. Overwhelmed by fear, he could only meet the demon prince's deadly gaze with trembling eyes.
The fairy general appeared to be in his mid-twenties, long silver hair adding to his handsome appearance, an elegant gold head chain with a jewel hanging from it resting against his forehead, matching his vibrant blue eyes.
The demon's golden eyes now blazed fiery red, his dark aura pulsating and radiating eerie energy as he clenched his fists. Time froze, and in an instant, a violent eruption shook the dungeon.
The unfortunate fairies nearest to him vanished in a cloud of smoke, their painful screams of hundreds echoing throughout the dungeon. The air filled with a strong, smoky odor of burnt matches and materials for those who survived the attack.
The general, overwhelmed, succumbed to the ruthless assault. Drops of blood trickled from his trembling lips as he muttered in confusion and fear, "What... what is he?"
"Make sure you prepare for my return, for I shall reduce your precious realm to dust," Deming declared with a cold smirk as he ascended into the air. Fierce black flames erupted from his back, forming broad wings that crackled and burned. A swirling cloud of black smoke surrounded him as he departed, leaving behind a bone-chilling nightmare for the witnesses.
Muchen and his soldiers stormed into the dungeon, their eyes sweeping over the dusty area with heavy hearts, taking in the remains of their loved ones reduced to ashes. Shock and grief gripped them, their jaws dropping as they struggled to comprehend the loss. Frustration and sorrow tightened their fists, some suppressing tears at the sight of their once-living comrades, now gone.
"L-Lord Muchen," the general barely clung to life, his voice a weak whisper.
Muchen, paralyzed with fear, snapped back to reality, turning his attention to the fortunate survivors. His eyes fell on the injured man lying on the ground who had spoken his name and recognized him. "Yize..."
"I... I failed in my duty." Yize's eyes narrowed in pain. Two of Muchen's soldiers knelt beside him, reaching out their arms to help him as he tried to get back on his feet.
Yet, before he could gather himself, Muchen's gaze froze him in place like ice on a winter's day. He bowed his head in shame, bearing the silent disappointment of his lord.
In the middle of the wrecked dungeon, Muchen clenched his fists, his eyes bulging with rage. His voice, dripping with evil authority and hatred, commanded, "Seize him!"
Muchen had long acknowledged Feng Deming as the greatest threat to their realm, a truth carefully guarded among a select few since ancient times.
Millions of years ago, a prophecy foretold the fairies' eventual downfall. An indestructible soul would split into two halves: one possessing the power of insight and compassion, and the other, overwhelming strength and immortality. These two souls would inhabit an Astaran man and woman, and together, they would rule all realms, destroying the high fairy lords and their entire foundation, ending the era of the fairies.
After many generations, rumors of Feng Deming's unmatched strength and combat skills swiftly spread throughout the Fairy Realm, leading Muchen to identify him as the other prophesied soul destined to bring about their downfall.
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Deming soared across the sky, his black robes billowing in the wind. A gentle breeze caressed his face, tousling his straight, silky hair. This moment, he had long imagined—reuniting with the sunlight's warmth and the wind on his skin. It had been an eternity since he last tasted such freedom, and the distant horizon beckoned him back to Astara, his home.
His mind overflowed with memories of his entire childhood. After enduring countless sleepless nights, constant anxiety, and the echoes of screams, he grasped the extent of the fairies' fear and how they viewed him as an abomination.
But his peaceful journey shattered by a disturbance. His cold, aloof eyes snapped to attention as an energy beam approached from behind. With flawless precision, he dodged the attack, tilting his shoulder and spinning to face his opponents.
A group of fairy soldiers hovered in the air, their auras shimmering in the sunlight. They moved in sync, tracing complex patterns with their hands, starting with a circular motion and ending with both palms pressed together, unleashing another powerful beam aimed at the prince.
Deming smirked. "They're courting their demise." With a malevolent glint in his eyes, he calmly closed them as the beam hurtled toward him.
In an instant, his piercing gaze snapped open, the blazing fire within emanating from his eyes. He raised his arms and manipulated the beam's energy, redirecting it back toward the soldiers.
Now under Deming's control, the beams encircled the soldiers, intensifying until they met their end. Their own attack backfired, exploding in blinding light and deafening noise. Arms crossed, a fleeting satisfaction softened his aloof demeanor as he took in the explosion.
"You tried," he mused, giving a short, dismissive wave before resuming his flight. A faint spark of amusement flickered in his eyes as he considered his personal plans for Lord Muchen. Leaving the Fairy Realm behind, his form blended with the clear blue sky, thoughts of revenge consuming his mind on his journey back to his realm.
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After a few hours, Deming arrived in Astara, a realm where mountains reached the sky, surrounding the land like a protective cloak. At the heart of Astara stood a city far more advanced than any other, where history, culture, art, and academia thrived. The grand palace served as the city's crown jewel, its stone walls adorned with stunning carvings portraying the culture and artistry of the Astaran people.
Approaching the palace gates, childhood memories flooded his mind, urging him swiftly toward the grand throne room, where his sworn enemy awaited.
The massive doors swung open, and Deming stepped inside, his presence dominating the hall. The Astaran Supreme and the council gaped in disbelief as the boy they once knew had matured into a tall teenager.
Murmurs filled the chamber. One council member whispered to another, "Isn't that Prince Feng Deming? Wasn't he declared dead?"
Deming's deadly gaze locked onto the king's, thirsting for revenge. "Former lieutenant and servant of my father... how dare you sit on my throne!" he taunted in a fierce, deep voice, burning with rage in his glare. "You parasite... You sold me to the fairies as a slave. You disgust me."
Gasps and cries of outrage echoed throughout the throne room. The once-mighty King of Kings shifted nervously, his eyes darting around the room in shame and fear. His composure crumbled as he struggled to comprehend how Deming's escape had occurred.
"What? Did you truly believe I would remain imprisoned forever?" Deming summoned forth a raven-black sword with a sinister aura.
The king attempted to regain control. "These accusations are nonsense! If anyone is breaking the law, it is you, entering my palace uninvited... GUARDS!"
"I made you a promise that day, and as you are aware, I always honor my promises." Deming's gaze bore into the former lieutenant, causing bystanders to recoil in horror. "Your reign ends today, and I will ensure not a single statue is made in your likeness, nor will any Astaran speak your name again until you are forgotten..." he paused, holding his own hand before him with indifference. "Also, why would I need permission to enter my palace?"
The king's heart sank as he grasped the direness of his situation. With trembling hands, he drew his sword in a desperate attempt to defend himself. Yet, before he could raise his blade, Deming moved with lightning speed, striking before the king could lift his sword. With a swift blow, the prince shattered the king's defenses, leaving him gasping as his life force ebbed away.
Deming stood over the fallen ruler, his breath heavy with anger. The council members dropped to their knees, recognizing his power. They had no choice but to submit. His reign had begun, and there would be no mercy for those who opposed him. The prince became a tyrant—the King of Kings and the Astaran Supreme Leader, also known as the Supreme Lord.
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COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
Demon King's Love
Copyright © 2023 by Aurora Luxi
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, filmed, animated, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.
All rights reserved.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Demon King's Love has been rewritten and revamped from an earlier iteration by Aurora Luxi.
Copyright © 2022 (previous version), 2023 (latest version) by Aurora Luxi
Cover design copyright © 2023 by Aurora Luxi
ISBN: 9798223752325
AuroraLuxi.com/Demon-Kings-Love
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I praise God for being the unbreakable pillar in my life during the most challenging times and for providing me with ideas for a story.