The East End was gone.
Once a vibrant part of the Thurosian Kingdom, the district had been swallowed whole by grime, chaos, and magic. Namo could barely recognize it as the place his mother had once called beautiful. Now, it bore a new name—Legion End.
The triad gang that claimed it, The Legion, was a melting pot of misfits: kobolds, goblins, and devilkin. Their rule was absolute, their presence choking the streets like a suffocating fog. Every corner of this burrow teemed with criminals, castaways, and people who had given up hope.
Namo knew who was responsible.
Whether by design or negligence, this was Iana Din's doing. Her influence rippled through every shadowed alley and crumbled facade. If she hadn't directly orchestrated Legion's rise, then she'd let it happen without a second thought. The thought curdled in his chest, anger brewing with every step he took deeper into the ruins of the East End.
Namo's jaw tightened. She ruined this place. She let it rot.
But he wasn't here to lament the past. He was here to make the heads of Legion pay.
---
The streets of Legion End were quieter than expected, the kind of silence that wasn't peace but the calm before a storm. As Namo moved through the alleys, the stares followed—sharp, mean, and unyielding.
He ignored them, even as they lingered, shadowy figures beginning to trail behind him.
Namo's destination was clear: The Five Hundred. Once an opulent hotel mansion, it now served as Legion's fortress. Its tall, looming frame stood at the heart of Legion End like a decayed crown, a mockery of what it had once been.
As he approached the building, the crowd of demons behind him grew. By the time he reached the grand, weathered doors, he felt the heat of their gazes crawling up his back.
The air around him began to shift, crackling with energy.
Fire flickered to life in the hands of kobolds, their sharp-toothed grins illuminated by the flames. Goblins conjured dark energy that swirled and coiled, eager to be unleashed.
Namo slowed his pace, taking it all in. Demons and their magic—it came to them so easily, so naturally. A raw power humans had spent centuries trying to emulate.
One of the goblins stepped forward, his voice a low growl. "You've got a lot of nerve walking in here, human."
Namo smirked, finally turning to face the growing crowd.
"I'm not just walking in," he said, his tone calm but cutting. "I'm here to tear this place down."
The crowd erupted in laughter, their mockery ringing through the broken streets.
But Namo didn't waver. His eyes locked on the doors of the Five Hundred. He wasn't here to make a statement. He wasn't here for games.
He was here to send a message—to Legion, to Iana, and to everyone who thought he was still the exiled prince of ten years ago.
Let's get started.
The laughter from the gang died down as three figures emerged from the shadows.
A towering kobold with jagged scars crisscrossing his snout, a goblin draped in dark, patchwork armor, and a devilkin woman with sleek horns and crimson eyes that gleamed with malice.
Namo's attention narrowed in on the devilkin. Her presence was familiar, an echo of the past, but he couldn't place her. She strode forward, the gang falling into a tense silence, awaiting her command.
The devilkin tilted her head, her voice dripping with mockery. "Well, if it isn't the prodigal son. Do you remember me, cousin?"
Namo blinked, his expression cold. "Cousin?"
She scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. "You really don't remember, do you? Neress. Iana's bloodline. Your bloodline." Her grin widened, exposing sharp teeth. "No wonder you've come crawling back to this dump. It suits you."
Namo's jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. "I don't have time for your games. How did this happen? How did the East End fall so far?"Neress smirked and gestured around her. "This?" She waved a hand, and the gang parted to reveal what lay behind them.
The street was lined with makeshift stalls and tables, covered in vials of glowing liquids and enchanted powders. Demons worked openly, mixing and packaging drugs, their magical auras crackling faintly. Customers, both human and demon, lingered, exchanging coins and
favors.
"It's simple," Neress said. "We saw an opportunity and took it. The East End is ours now. No one can stop us, certainly not the weak little humans who used to live here."
Namo's gaze swept over the operation, his fists clenching. "And Iana allows this?"
"She doesn't just allow it," Neress said, stepping closer. "She encourages it. The demons of Thurosia have power now. Magic that puts everyone else in their place. This is our world, and we're just showing it how to fall in line."
The gang around her grinned, their auras flaring as they conjured small spells-crackling sparks of lightning, flickers of fire, and streams of shadowy energy.
Neress gave Namo a mocking look.
"What are you going to do, cousin? Report us? To who? The humans cowering in the Outer Ring? You're powerless here."
Namo closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath.
"Attack him," Neress ordered, her voice cold.
The gang surged forward, magic lighting up the dim street.
But before the first spell could land, Namo's eyes snapped open.
A burst of deep red flames erupted around him, the intensity forcing the attackers to recoil. The fire danced and roared, unnatural in its hue and energy. It wasn't ordinary magic-it felt sharper, more controlled, and yet far more dangerous.
The gang faltered, their confidence wavering.
"What... the hell?" Neress muttered, her voice unsteady.
Namo stood at the center of the fire, unscathed, his expression calm and unyielding.
"This isn't magic," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "This is something else entirely."
The flames flared brighter, casting long shadows across the gang and their operation. Namo's gaze locked onto Neress. "You and Iana ruined this place. Now, I'm going to fix it."
The gang hesitated, their earlier bravado gone. But Neress gritted her teeth, refusing to back down.
"Kill him!" she screamed.
And the battle began.
#*#*#*#
For millennia, demons had held dominion over magic in the lands of Thurosia. Their natural affinity for the arcane made them the undisputed masters of mystic arts, capable of shaping the elements, bending reality, and manipulating forces beyond the comprehension of lesser beings. Demons had not only harnessed magic, they had become it, their bodies infused with the very essence of power that flowed through their veins like blood.
It was a power that came as easily as breathing, and in the centuries since demons had claimed control, it had shaped every aspect of life in Thurosia. Their rule, their pride, their magic—all intertwined.
But while demons reigned supreme in magic, others in Thurosia were not without their own strengths. The Beastfolk—creatures born of both earth and spirit—were endowed with physical enhancements that surpassed the average human or demon. Their combat prowess, heightened senses, and unparalleled strength made them fierce warriors, nearly unstoppable in battle. Magic had no place in their veins. They relied on the raw power of their bodies to crush their enemies, their very presence enough to strike fear into anyone who dared challenge them.
Humans, once the proud and formidable rulers of kingdoms, had been left in the shadow of the demons' magic and the Beastfolk's might. Their affinity for the arcane was minimal at best, and most could only muster the barest of magical talent with years of study. But even in the face of such overwhelming odds, humanity had carved its own path—a path not of magic, but of sheer will and determination.
The forgotten strength of humans lay not in spellcraft but in Weapon Ki—an ancient art passed down through generations, where warriors could draw out the power of their inner spirit through their weapons. Every strike, every thrust, every slash—imbued with Ki—became a manifestation of the user's own energy, harnessed into deadly force. The weapons, whether they be swords, spears, or even unarmed fists, became extensions of the wielder's soul, allowing them to wield an incredible power that, while not as overtly destructive as demon magic or as fearsome as the Beastfolk's raw strength, was deadly in its precision and intent.
The power of humans was not forgotten; it was simply misunderstood, overlooked, and underestimated. Weapons, when wielded with true mastery, could surpass even the most formidable opponents, as the Ki channeled through them could strike at the very heart of the enemy's essence.
But that power was rare now. In the present day, humans were seen as relics of an older time, their once-proud legacy reduced to whispers in the wind. The world was no longer a place where humanity's strength could easily rival that of the demons or the Beastfolk. Their might was scattered, hidden in forgotten corners of the kingdom, waiting for a new generation to awaken it once more.
And in the shadows of Legion End, as Namo's flames burned brighter, the ghosts of humanity's forgotten strength stirred once again.
#*#*#*#
Namo surged forward, the deep red flames dancing along his fists as if alive. The first wave of demons barely had time to react before they were sent sprawling, their bodies crashing into crates and stone walls with the force of his strikes. The air filled with the sharp crackle of burning embers, and for a brief moment, Legion End was alight with something unnatural—something neither magic nor raw strength alone.
Neress sneered but did not falter. With a sharp snap of her fingers, another wave of gang members rushed forward, surrounding him in a ring of snarling kobolds and grinning goblins. Their hands glowed with crude fire magic and dark energy, but Namo didn't hesitate. He surged forward again, fists igniting as he struck. Each blow was a strange mix of precise martial technique and something more—his fists burned, not like the enchanted fire of a spellcaster, but with the force of something primal, something old.
The gang had numbers, but Namo had no intention of stopping. He weaved between attacks, ducking under a kobold's wild swing before driving his knuckles into its gut, sending it crumpling with a hiss of steam rising from the impact. Another goblin leaped at him with a dagger coated in darkened flames, but Namo grabbed its arm mid-air and twisted—his hand searing the creature's wrist as it howled in pain. He followed through with a spinning kick, sending it flying into its allies.
More fell, the scent of scorched leather and singed fur filling the air. Namo barely felt his body moving—his strikes were coming too naturally, too easily. He hadn't trained in magic, and he wasn't a Beastfolk… but his body knew this power. The flames were his, responding to him as though they had always been waiting.
This enemy also lacked any discipline. Something Namo's come to experience in droves.
Their spells were erratic, their movements wild, relying on intimidation rather than true coordination. Namo ducked under a goblin's sloppy fire blast and drove his fist into its stomach. The red flames surged on impact, sending the creature flying back, unconscious before it hit the ground. A kobold tried to flank him, claws outstretched, but Namo pivoted, catching its wrist and twisting hard before throwing it into the next attacker.
The alleyway turned into a blur of motion. Fists met flesh, flames scorched the air, and bodies dropped one by one. The gang's confidence wavered as their numbers dwindled. Namo wasn't just fighting them—he was tearing through them. The heat of his strikes left scorch marks along the walls, his movements carrying an unnatural force, as if something deeper within him had awakened.
Neress stood at the back, her expression shifting from amusement to rage. Her gang was crumbling, and it wasn't even magic that was doing it. This was something else.
"How?" she hissed, eyes narrowing. "How is some filthy human using abilities like this?"
Namo exhaled, rolling his shoulders. He could feel the energy coursing through him, the unnatural heat pulsing beneath his skin.
That's when it hit him.
This entire fight—this entire setup—was planned. Even if Neress thought she was in control, she was just another pawn. This was Iana's test.
Namo let out a low chuckle. He fell into her trap, but it didn't matter. He had every intention of springing it himself.
"Doesn't matter if this was a setup," he muttered under his breath. "I was going to burn this place down anyway."
Before Neress could bark another order, Namo moved.
Faster than before, he burst through the last few standing gang members, his body a blur of motion. The kobold and goblin leaders barely had time to react before he was past them, his momentum carrying him straight to Neress. She barely lifted her arms in defense before his hand closed around her throat. "What are-?"
The heat surged.
Her eyes went wide, her hands instinctively clawing at his wrist. The searing energy didn't come from fire magic, nor was it raw Beastfolk strength. It was something else entirely—something she didn't understand.
Namo leaned in close, his voice low.
"Ah, I do remember you now, cousin. Though it seems you've forgotten…"
The moment he said it, the energy surged from his grip, burning into her skin. With a powerful motion, he threw her, sending her crashing into a pile of broken crates.
"I'm only human."
The remaining gang members hesitated. Their leader was down. Their operation was in flames. Fear crept into their expressions.
Namo exhaled, letting the energy flicker down. He cracked his neck, glancing around at the destruction he had caused.
The air grew thick with smoke and fear. The remaining gang members hesitated, the firelight casting their wide eyes in flickering orange and red. Some dropped their weapons outright, their courage extinguished along with their numbers. Others turned and fled, their retreating footsteps echoing against the crumbling walls of what was once their stronghold.
Namo didn't chase them. He had no interest in pursuing the weak. Instead, he stepped forward, his boots crunching against the scattered debris of the ruined lobby.
The old Five Hundred was unrecognizable. The grand lobby desk, once polished and welcoming, had been reduced to a makeshift bar—its surface littered with glass vials, powder-stained cloth, and rusted tools of the trade. This place had been twisted, consumed by greed and corruption, a far cry from the memory buried deep in Namo's mind.
He reached out, his fingers brushing against the wood, and for a moment—just a fleeting second—he saw himself as a boy. A bright, carefree smile. The warmth of his mother's presence beside him. The echo of her laughter in the grand halls.
Then, like all things in his past, the memory faded.
Namo sighed, his fingers tightening against the desk.
"Goodbye."
At his touch, the wood blackened. The heat spread outward in rippling waves, consuming the surface, seeping into the cracks of the floor and up the supporting beams. The flames were unlike ordinary fire—this was something deeper, something unnatural. Stone, dirt, and decay all ignited, as if feeding on the energy within him.
The Legion End began to burn.
Screams filled the air as the gang members scattered, some too slow to avoid the heat, others trampling over each other in their desperate escape. Townspeople, drawn by the commotion, gasped and murmured as the fire engulfed the heart of their broken district.
It wouldn't be long before the guards arrived. Already, he could hear their boots against the cobblestone, their shouted orders as they pushed through the growing crowd.
Namo exhaled and turned away, slipping into the shadows before they could catch sight of him. He had no intention of being arrested—not yet.
---
Far above the chaos, overlooking the Thurosian capital, stood the mountain-carved Royal Castles—a collection of towering fortresses where the noble bloodlines made their home. Among them, in one of the tallest, most imposing spires, a figure watched the inferno below with quiet amusement.
Iana Din.
The Demon Princess leaned against the balcony railing, her violet eyes reflecting the distant flames of the East End. Her lips curled into a knowing smirk.
"So," she murmured to herself, her voice smooth as silk. "You really have come back, dear brother."
She had been waiting.
And now, the game could truly begin.