the miserable demon asked in disbelief.
"But… why?"
Salamander shrugged,
as if it were the most trivial thing in the world.
"If I'm not enough on my own to wipe out an entire clan,
at least someone will remember me. Hahaha!"
"So… this could make me stronger?"
the little demon asked,
his voice trembling with a mix of hope and fear.
"That's for fate to decide," Salamander replied.
"Well, I'm off.
Can't wait to smash in my old clan leader's stupid face.
And even more than that,
I can't wait to play with his woman over his corpse.
If we ever meet again,
tell me your name."
"But… I don't have a name."
Salamander grinned.
"Then use that necklace…
and earn one."
The great demon walked away,
leaving the wretched little Fire Demon alone among the rocks,
holding the first thing he had ever been given in his life.
But this necklace was no ordinary trinket.
It was an ancient, cursed relic.
Forged from the heart of an Evil Fire Dragon.
A thing that did not grant power—
but dominion.
The moment the little demon placed it around his neck,
the necklace seized control of him.
It devoured his endless rage.
It devoured his sorrow.
It devoured his weakness.
And in return,
it gave him overwhelming power.
Thus was born Wildfire,
the mad demon who burned alive anyone who crossed his path.
He hated demons.
He hated clans.
He hated everything stronger than him—
and everything weaker.
Meanwhile, Salamander slaughtered the warriors of his old clan
and claimed all their women.
Years later, fate brought them together again.
Salamander and Wildfire became the rulers of the Fire Demons.
They defeated every clan leader.
Every Fire Demon bowed before them.
Salamander became the Leader of the Fire Demons—
the first Demon General.
And at his side stood his right hand:
the mighty Wildfire,
feared across the Demon Isles.
Feared by everyone…
except the other two Demon Generals,
who knew exactly what he really was.
Ashes of a Nameless Demon
Back in the present.
Wildfire desperately reached for the necklace
now held firmly in Andras's hand.
"A weak demon like you…
killed so many knights," Andras said quietly,
almost contemplatively.
"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes,
I never would have believed it."
"Give it back!" Wildfire shrieked.
"It's mine!"
"The evil dragon's power has completely devoured your body,"
Andras replied, calm as ever.
"I don't even need to kill you myself.
And I don't mind.
Creatures this weak aren't worthy of my blade."
"I… I'm not… weak! I…"
Wildfire's voice trembled
as the black veins spread across his skin.
His body began to shake.
The black veins crawled further.
His skin cracked.
His fingers crumbled into ash.
For the first time in eighty years,
the miserable demon cried again.
His tears hissed as they hit the ground.
Then his entire body collapsed into ash.
The wind carried away what remained.
Wildfire —
the demon who never received a name —
vanished from the world at last.
"Dust and ash… that's all that's left of him," Eris said as the wind scattered Wildfire's remains. "Just like the knights he executed."
"Wildfire has been defeated," Andras replied. "But considering how weak he truly was, I find it impossible to believe he was ever one of the Demon Generals."
"Weak, huh?" Eris gave a bitter smile. "He completely defeated us. But you're right… he did say himself he wasn't a Demon General yet."
Andras turned his thoughts toward the Golden Stag. Aurelyndra, from here on it's your task. Work with the forest spirits to extinguish the wildfire and save whatever can still be saved.
The Golden Stag lifted her head. She felt the moment Wildfire's flame finally died. The spirits of the forest gathered around her, and together they began to put out the vast fire that had scorched so much of the woodland. Yet the natural power of this place was immense—beneath the ash, new life was already stirring.
Eris and Andras walked toward Noelle, who was already tending to Andrea's wounds.
"Will she recover?" Eris asked.
"I've healed her body," Noelle replied. "But she pushed her magic far beyond its limits. She won't wake up for a while."
"I see."
Captain John Scarlett approached Andras. His voice was deep, but sincere. "Young Wolf, you saved us. You saved the Hero… but that's not what I'm going to thank you for. I thank you for saving my daughter. Truly. You've proven once again that you deserve your place among the Heroes. Eris needs you."
"Let's not talk about this now," Andras answered, turning his gaze away.
Eris suddenly lifted her head. "The Princess! What about the Princess?"
"They're already on their way back to the castle, under safe escort."
Eris let out a long breath of relief. "Thank goodness…"
John's eyes drifted to the necklace still held in Andras's hand. "That necklace was Wildfire's true power? What will you do with it?"
"I'll make sure another Wildfire is never born."
"Good. Then I leave it to you."
Noelle snorted. "Andrea's armored backside is too heavy. I'm not carrying her all the way to the castle."
"Eris will carry her," Andras said.
"What? Me?" Eris blinked, then shrugged. "Fine. I'm strong enough."
John chuckled. "A Hero carrying a Hero, hm?"
"Then that's settled," Noelle concluded. "Time to move."
The group slowly began their journey back toward the castle.
The battle was over—
but their story was far from finished.
The Price of Victory
With Wildfire's fall, the first battle against the demons had come to an end. Young Wolf's party returned to Greenwood Castle, yet no one felt the slightest urge to celebrate their victory. There were too many losses. Too many names. Too many faces missing from the ranks. Too many empty spaces where comrades once stood.
The demons' casualties had been immense: a magical beast, three Clan Leaders, seven Demon Shamans, a hundred Fire Demons, and five hundred Imp‑spawn. But the Kingdom's losses were no less devastating. King Matyas Julius Riel had fallen. Two nobles—Bandorn Wolfwood and Lajos Redwood—had perished. Two knight lieutenants had died: the aforementioned Lajos, and Janos Wolf, lieutenant of the Wolf Knights. Five elite female Silver Knights had been slain. And six hundred knights would never return home.
The chief hunter of the Wolf Hunters, Beela Hawk‑Eye, and a hundred hunters had also vanished forever. Greenwood had lost its thousand‑year‑old legendary blade, the Eagleclaw. Yet amid the devastation, a small miracle had occurred: Marta, the maidservant swept away by the teleportation wave, had been found alive. She had survived the fire and slaughter by hiding, and the Princess's escort discovered her on their way back to the castle.
Floralys dispatched two hundred knights to search for survivors, combing through every corner of the burned forest. Captain John Scarlett and David led the search. For three days they looked. For three days they hoped. For three days they called out names that never answered.
On the evening of the third day, they returned to the castle.
They had found no survivors.
The battle was over—but the people of Greenwood would carry its scars for a long time to come.
The Weight of Silence
Greenwood Castle – three days after the forest battle
I already knew.
I knew far too well that there would be no more survivors. Aurelyndra, the Golden Stag herself, had confirmed it: after consulting with the spirits of the forest, she saw that no one out there remained alive. Only those who had reached the castle on the day of the battle had survived. The rest… were gone.
I knew this, yet I couldn't bring myself to say it aloud.
I watched the Princess cling to the hope that her father had survived. Not because he was the King, but because she was a daughter worried for her father. She waited for good news, waited for the chance to see him again. The flame of hope still burned in her heart—and I couldn't extinguish it. I couldn't tell her that this flame was nothing more than a futile wish.
Three days passed like this.
Three days of hope, three days of silence, three days of fear.
In the end, Captain John took upon himself the cruel duty. He delivered the news no one wanted to hear: the others had not survived the battle.