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Beneath the Black Citadel
Deep within the underground fortress known as the Black Citadel, Clone II—the Demon Lord—stood atop a balcony overlooking the training grounds.
Hundreds of children, orphans from every corner of the continent, sparred below under crimson banners.
> "Faster," she ordered coldly. "The world won't wait for you to grow stronger."
Beside her stood an old war priest, his robes soaked in blood from the rites of awakening.
> "They worship you like a savior," he murmured.
"Good," she said, voice like a blade. "Because I'll turn them into demons the world cannot chain."
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Whispers of Identity
One child, a quiet boy with silver eyes, stepped out of line and approached her.
> "Mother," he asked. "Why do I dream of a man named Serian?"
The Demon Lord froze.
Her breath caught.
She knelt, taking his small face in her hands.
> "Because he is your god," she whispered. "And your enemy."
> "But I feel like I know him…"
> "Forget him. He will either break us—or become one of us."
And then she smiled.
> "Now go. Win your next match… or don't come back."
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In the Capital – Hero's March
The Hero clone's forces, now refined into a knightly order, arrived in the capital amidst fanfare and cheers.
But the clone himself was silent, his gaze lingering on every shadow.
The dreams haunted him. The name Serian echoed in his ears.
Even now, when the wind blew, he thought he heard his own voice whispering back.
> "Who am I really?"
The truth felt close.
Dangerously close.
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Serian's Council
Meanwhile, Serian sat before a round table of allies and enemies alike—rogue nobles, scholars, cultists, and one very bored vampire.
Ash tossed a knife into the table.
> "The Hero clone is here."
> "I know."
> "And the Demon Lord clone is rallying orphans. She's raising an army."
Serian leaned back.
> "Then the pieces are in place."
> "For what?"
> "For the world to choose who they believe in."
Ash narrowed her eyes.
> "And if they choose the wrong one?"
Serian smiled faintly.
> "Then I'll take back what's mine."
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