Marked Ones: Advent of the Demon Prince

Darkness settled over what was once a beautiful field of flowers and farmland. Its beauty had long since been adulterated by ash, smoke, and blood. The same irrigation trenches that once fed crops were now filled with crimson and the homes that once housed hopes and dreams were splintered by the aftermath of war.

The observer of such a scene felt both a part of it and separate from it at the same time. They could feel the wind on their face and taste the soot permeating the surroundings, yet they knew that nothing they tried would allow them to intervene and end the chaos.

Men and women lay along the road; many struggled to breathe, and many others were covered hastily with tarps. These scenes felt as though they had been ripped directly from hell. Among those resting were people in long, green robes who ran from person to person, trying desperately to save as many lives as they could.

"It's HIM! …They did not tell us that a monster like that would join the field…."

"I thought he was in the elven kingdoms… what is he doing here!"

"Help me! Please! I can't feel my arms… someone, please …save me"

"Don't worry, I've got you! [Lux: Heal]!" A bright golden light erupted from the hands of one of the men in green. The light slowly enveloped a soldier's stump of an arm and stopped the bleeding as it sealed the wound. He would live, but he would never be the same.

All those who wore green slowly began to cast similar spells among the injured and dying. A few even cast darker magic. "[Umbra: Numbness], there. I can't help you…but maybe this will keep you from suffering in your last moments…"

Metal rattling against metal approached from the north. The first to approach the patients was a massive man who stood at least seven feet tall. His chest was as broad as two men, and his longsword, held by any other, would be considered a greatsword.

Emblazoned on his chest was a red shield with a golden eagle, the symbol of the kingdom of Arcadios. This man was clearly a high-ranking commander, but what confused the strange observer was that they had seen this person somewhere before…

"Status report," the man ordered.

Several minutes passed in silence, only being interrupted by moans of anguish.

"I said a status report, damn it! You might be dumb, but you aren't dead, so someone answer me! What happened here?!" Red veins threatened to burst from the sides of his head.

A small woman in green stepped forward, trembling. "Sir…I don't know…the commander of the southern garrison she…didn't make it."

"And? Who's in charge now?"

"I don't know…"

"Well, since you are the only one who grew enough of a spine to answer me, it's you. So tell me what happened."

The woman's teeth chattered as she relayed the events of the last hour. The rebel army had advanced quicker than expected, but the commander was already prepared for this possibility. They had laid traps in advance in the hopes that it would slow the enemy down long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

However, the rebel army stopped directly in front of the hidden traps as if they knew where they were.

At that moment, a strange ball of fire erupted above their heads and showered the fields with sparks. It was a signal, and several people amongst the garrison turned on their brethren with a crazed look in their eyes.

It was as if they weren't in their right minds; something was controlling them. Brother slashed brother without regard for bonds. One of the traitors under the control of the enemy was the vice commander, but she failed to execute her target and was beheaded instead.

Around the moment of the vice commander's death, HE showed up. The entire mage battalion fired spell after spell at the target…but nothing happened. It was as if the magic was being swallowed up before it could even reach him.

"Where is the rebel army now? Did you cowards let them pass by instead of fighting to the last man as you were ordered?!"

"No sir…the army did not advance. The army never engaged…"

"What?"

The massive commander looked down the road past the temporary battlements that were now nothing but charred and shattered wood. She was not wrong. Just beyond where the traps had been laid, there was no sign of advancement. It was as if the enemy showed their presence and then retreated instead of advancing.

While the man stood there pondering why such a thing would happen, his own second-in-command ran up to him, panting and wheezing.

"Sir…I have a message for you. Someone has infiltrated the eastern garrison! Our forward tower has fallen!"

"What do you…"

"Sir! News from the west! The western tower has fallen!"

"Sir! The imperial gates have reported an unknown intruder! There are heavy casualties amongst the men but no sign of damage to the interior."

"What is happening? These people cannot possibly move around the battlefield this quickly! Let alone without me seeing them!" The commander was enraged. It took every ounce of willpower in his body to maintain some form of calm, though it was mediocre at best.

He began to gather the highest-ranking soldiers from the southern garrison and his highest-ranking personnel for a strategy meeting. Everything inside him told him that he needed to return to the capital; however, it could easily be a ruse to pull him from the battlefield. Clearly, they had some sort of objective…but what was it?

Why did they cease moving after destroying the forward defenses? By this point, the rebels could have advanced on the capital from three directions without much effort… yet all they did was send a small force to disrupt the gates, but nothing further…

"You! Marked. Come here."

A disheveled man in tattered gray clothes quickly approached the commander before kneeling on one knee in the muck. Rain began to fall on the landscape, quickly turning the dirt roads into mud. The commander saw a demonic rune on the Marked One's left hand, as usual, but he could not quite make it out due to the cloak partially covering it.

"Present your left hand."

The disheveled man trembled and hesitated momentarily.

"Well?! Present your hand or your head, your choice!" The commander's voice rose to an inhuman volume.

The man continued to quake in his boots but managed to shakily present his hand.

The commander nodded at his second to move the sleeve up the arm and fully reveal the mark. His second paused and gave a quizzical look to her superior.

"I don't recognize it. He's an Unknown."

"Let me see, dammit," the commander mumbled.

He approached the Marked One. While most of the rebels were Marked Ones, not all of the rats had betrayed the kingdom. However, under his orders, they kept a running list of the names and types of marks assigned to each garrison to avoid anyone slipping in unnoticed.

It would have been wiser to simply execute the bastards, but they had their uses as either weapons of war or forced labor to save the real warriors' strength.

In front of the commander's face was a strange-looking mark. He was not very well educated in the Demon Language that these marks were derived from, but this one looked a little like an upside-down mountain…

Suddenly a chill ran down the commander's spine. He slowly looked into the eyes of the Marked in front of him. Meeting his gaze were a set of glowing eyes. One was silver, and the other gold, but both had feline-like slits for pupils. The man was smiling broadly, though it never reached his eyes. His exposed teeth showed off extended fangs next to the canine teeth.

"You…," the commander said with his voice trembling. "Everyone! Now! Fire every offensive spell now! Don't worry about friendly fire! Kill him now even if it takes us with it!"

The robed man slowly removed his hood, showing off his black hair which glistened in the moonlight that began to illuminate the battlefield. He slowly looked around and locked eyes with the mysterious observer. He was the first person to even notice their presence, but when the man did, he gave a wide, terrifying smile that made the observer's heart shudder.

"[Flamma: Lance]!"

"[Tempestas: Lighting Strike]!"

"[Umbra: Darkness bolt]!"

Dozens upon dozens of spells fell upon the group of people. Every remaining member of leadership was in the target range of this onslaught of spells, but they accepted their fate in the hopes that their sacrifice would make the world a better place. A world without this monster in it.

The cloaked man's smile grew as he looked away and pulled the right sleeve of his robe up his arm, revealing another Demonic symbol. A second mark. The observer gasped. A person should only have one, yet this man…

He locked eyes with the invisible observer once more, his smile never wavering. He then waved his hand at the spells and whispered "[Devour: Spellbreaker]"

In an instant every spell that had been launched at them fizzled out and vanished, like a candle dunked in water. The man held his left hand forward, shifting his gaze to the commander who had fallen backwards on his ass. The commander trembled in fear.

Every human in the area fell to their knees, unable to move, unable to speak. The man looked proudly at his handiwork. Before he whispered again. Despite the quiet, his voice echoed in the mind of everyone, including the observer.

"[Abyss Break: Endless Nightmare]"

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A/N: Interested in Discord?

Here you go!

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