1 Prelude

In midst of a battlefield full of slaughter, where one couldn't take a step without touching a corpse.

Everywhere, there were panicking soldiers screaming for their allies, idealistic men reminiscing about their family they would never see again, and also, the brave warriors making battle-cries as they killed their enemies.

In the center of it all, there was a ring of corpses. Inside of that ring, there were countless bodies which could be identified with powerful and majestic figures in their lives. Some were of good, while some were of evil.

Other than those corpses, though, there were two living people.

One of those two was a young man. He had cuts, arrows, and bolts strewn all over his body. To an onlooker, however, it would seem as if those wounds were merely illusions. Somehow, he was standing straight. His expression wasn't fazed even slightly, as if he didn't feel those wounds. In his hand was a sword which emitted a dark feeling. Even though the sun shone on it, the blade didn't emit the slightest gleam.

In front of the young man, there was a kneeling old man with his arms behind his back, and a cold look in his eyes. That look was close to emotionless. That weathered gaze of his didn't seem to be capable of holding happiness, sadness, anger, nor any emotion of the sort.

The emotionless old man stared at the sky, not even acknowledging the young man with the blade. He spoke to himself, muttering,

"The sky looks red..."

The young man leisurely responded,

"It does, doesn't it? It's probably the accumulation of blood. Blood which stains our eyes and creates the illusion that the skies are red."

The old man sighed. He seemed to be brooding something. After a few seconds, he replied in a low voice,

"Then, seeing how ugly the sky is... Will you stop shedding blood?"

The youth with the blade in his hands smiled devilishly,

"No. Actually, I think I can create a beautiful piece of art with this blood."

The eyes of the old man widened. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Seeing this, the youth continued,

"After all, the gods bleed golden blood. Don't you think a golden sky would be a beautiful thing to look at?"

He made a grin that was more terrifying than the devil's smile itself and then swiped his sword. Blood splattered his face, accentuating the demonic look on his face. The blood only accentuated his look, giving the youth a bloodthirsty feeling to him.

It was indeed a look that complemented the Demon King.