New Project - Fragmentum Mundi - Prologue (Patreon)

The capital is burning.

In a way, it was inevitable. We've been warned about the rise of a Demon King, emerging from the depths of the land to wage war on the world. Once every other generation, a Hero would rise from the masses, with awesome powers and impeccable character. They would gather and unite the other great talents of their era, accomplish great deeds, avert disasters… and invariably alert the world about the coming of the Demon King.

You'd think that when people like them say so, the world would listen. To be fair though, when that prophecy doggedly refused to come true for hundreds of generations, you can also kind of see why nobody would take it seriously anymore. Until the bastard actually showed up in full force, that is. And it just had to happen in my generation, too…

"This is such horseshit…" I mutter as I put more force into my legs and shift the fallen rafter off my shoulder. I couldn't exactly recall how I ended up here, under the rubble of an abandoned bakery. There was some roaring… an impact… lots of swearing…

My head is too muddled, so I stop trying to remember and focus on wriggling out of my predicament. There's a sharp pain in my left arm as I pull it out of under the wooden beam, but I grit my teeth and hold in the scream. Not that anyone would notice; there's already more than enough screaming around here, with the army of the Demon King tearing through the Empire's last defenses.

Still, it hurts like a bitch, and once my arm is free, it hangs limply at my side. Oh, great. A compound fracture. Thank you, that's exactly what I needed right now! Bah. Even if I happened to have a potion on me (which, for the record I don't), I couldn't use it until the bones are realigned, which is impossible to do in this situation.

"On the bright side, at least I'm still alive," I whisper and get up, then shake my head to clear it of stupid thoughts.

Well, of course I'm alive! I'm the descendant of a Hero, after all. Six generation removed, but still. It would've shamed all my ancestors if I died like this.

Thinking so, I shuffle out of the ruined building and stare at the skyline, covered in sooth and billowing clouds of black smoke. On the street in front of me, I can see dozens of corpses; mostly Free Workers like me. With the threat of the Demon King at our doorstep, all the explorers, mercenaries, and other folks working for the Empire's Free Workers Guild were forcefully enlisted into the army, and these poor sods were no different. Nor was I. I was stuck as a Silver Rank Worker for ten-odd years, and no matter how I tried to explain to the military officer in charge of our group that I wasn't fit for being a simple cannon fodder, they wouldn't listen.

Well, would you look at that? They're dead, and I'm alive! Suck on that!

Though again, 'I'm alive' is a fairly volatile statement at the moment. My left arm is useless, my squad is squashed, burned, or pulverized, and the capital could fall at any moment, so… yeah, death seems to be one of those 'any moment now' kind of situations, from where I'm standing.

So, what now? Head down the right, towards the place we were supposed to protect, or turn to the left, run away, and hide in a hole, starving and alone, until some beastie would inevitably eat me anyway?

"Well, fuck," I mutter as I shuffle down the street, towards the sound of clashing swords, explosions, and primal screams. "Time to find a better place to die."

While I walk, I try to recall how I ended up under all that rubble. There was something big and red, followed by lots of yelling… and explosion… too much teeth… Damn, my mind is still fuzzy. One thing I clearly remember is that this street was leading into the main square of the capital, where the Hero, his Companions, and the core of the military were setting up the final defensive line. Seriously, that's the only thing our generation's Hero is good for. Setting up defensive lines, and talking a lot. Did we draw the short straw or what?

Anyhow, on the way to the central plaza, I graciously borrow some intact potions and a short sword from the corpses lining the street. Hey, it's not like they need them. I hesitate on drinking the former, considering the state of my left arm and all, but I soon throw caution to the wind and chug them down. My insides churn, and my broken arm quivers as the concoctions are doing their best to heal it. It hurts like meat-grinder, and doesn't accomplish much, but at least my other bruises and injuries quickly recover, so I can continue at a brisker pace.

The battle still rages on in the main square, as anticipated. There are much less people running around than expected though, and even those who are still breathing focus on the duel unfolding in the middle. I break into a run while holding my left hand, so that it doesn't flop around. Whatever else might be going on, that's the place for me to be right now.

Surrounded by a loose circle of men and demons, brutish red-skinned creatures with spiked skin wearing little to no armor, nor wielding any weapons, there's an enormous creature. It's easily as tall as two men standing on top of each other, its smoldering red skin covering enormous bulging muscles. Its head looks similar to a human's sans for the pair of jet-black horns sticking out of its forehead, while its face is just plain terrifying; eyes glowing like red-hot iron out of a blacksmith's forge, and cheeks lacking skin or lips, revealing rows upon rows of sharp, interlocking white teeth.

However, it's also hurt. Its body is covered in shallow cuts and stab wounds, and one of its hands is completely missing from the elbow-down. Yet, even with these injuries, it still towers over the man facing it head on. The Hero of our generation, and it's the first time I see him in person. He looks… considerably less handsome than the paintings I've seen made him out to be. His armor is broken, revealing his shoulder and part of his chest covered in blood, and his long sandy-blonde hair is singed and soaked in a mixture of sweat and sooth.

As I move closer, I have to shove away the idiots who seem to be mesmerized by the duel, knocking over people, and even some demons in the process. I have to get closer. I know it's not a battle I can join, but maybe I could affect it some other way. Distract the Demon King for a moment, or something. If it lets the Hero land the killing blow, I could still end up as a footnote in the history books for my contribution. That's something. Not much, but something.

Yet, just as I get close, the Hero shouts and jumps into the air. He's surrounded by a bright golden light, and the Sacred Sword in his hand is blazing with blue flames as he brings it down upon the Demon King. Strangely enough, the monster barely tries to defend itself, only raising its intact arm instead of striking at its opponent in the air.

With a high-pitched sound, and a gust of wind, the blade descends. The blue flames erupt in the shape of a great blade, and it slices through the Demon King's forearm. But that's not the end of it. The blade continues to fall, breaking one of the monster's horns, and then severing its enormous, muscular arm right at the shoulder.

There's no blood, and the limb, in two parts, hits the ground with a thud, followed by a second one as the Demon King falls to his knees.

"Fuck! I'm late!" I cry out from the bottom of my heart, but nobody pays me any attention. All eyes are focused on the two stars of today's event.

"Demon King!" The Hero's voice is deep and resonant, but it's also fraying, as if the effort he put into it was too much for his throat to handle. "You have been defeated!"

"Aye. Took you long enough," the monster responds flippantly, it's voice even deeper, like echo left behind the roar of thunder, or the groaning of a volcano about to erupt.

"Why? Why did you do it!? Why did you make me do this?!" the Hero bellows, sounding strangely distraught. Dude, you just won. Don't sound like a wet blanket.

"'Tis just the way the world is," the Demon King answers wearily, and while his face is impossible to read due to his lack of lips and cheeks, he sounds amused. "Now come. Finish me off."

The Hero grips his sword, raises it… and then chucks it to the side. What?

…

No, serious. What?

"What is wrong with you, you fool!?" The Demon King seems to share my opinion, as he rises to one knee, and waves the stump of his remaining arm around. "I burned down half your gods-forsaken continent! What more do you want!?"

"No," the Hero responds sternly. "Killing you here would only make you into a martyr of your people. Violence isn't the answer."

"It is! Stop dragging your feet, you useless piece of trash!" the monster bellows, and I suddenly feel ashamed.

I was so caught up staring at the two of them, I completely ignored the Sacred Sword landing just a couple of steps away from where I'm standing. I glance at the shining blade on the ground, then at the Demon King only focused on the reluctant Hero, and before I know it, the short sword I picked up on the way here falls from my grip and I dash forth.

Ignoring the pain that shoots through my left arm, I slide on my knees and pick up the discarded holy weapon. Just touching it sends another jolt of pain through my entire body, but I ignore it. It naturally doesn't recognize me as its rightful wielder and burns me with its holy flames, but it doesn't matter. My goal is simple, and I only need to hold it for a second as I rush forward.

"Fuck the footnote!" I roar as I lunge forward, and plant the blade in the back of the Demon King. "I'm getting the whole chapter!"

The stab is shallow, but it's on point, so I throw my whole weight behind it, slamming my chest against the pommel to push it in deeper. My rib-cage creaks and cracks, but at the same time, the tip of the blade pierces through and emerges from the other side, and the Demon King stares at the blade impaling his heart in disbelief.

Then, I fall, and the whole world is swallowed up by white darkness, and even as I'm being swallowed by oblivion, I mutter, "That's… how you go out… with style."

Except… oblivion never comes.

Instead, my point of view slowly shifts, and as I blink, I find myself in a strange, white room. I'm sitting on the floor, with my legs crossed. There are no doors or windows, nor any furniture… but there is a huge, muscular red figure, also sitting cross-legged in front of me.

The Demon King, the tips of his horns nearly scraping the ceiling even as he sits, looks at me with his glowing crimson eyes, his expression unreadable… and then he lets out a very human, and very displeased, sigh.

"That's… not how things were supposed to go."

Story of my life, really.