“Perry. Where are you?” The room held Kait’s weak voice like wind through withered reeds.

Perry dropped his papers like dry leaves and ran for the study. “Your Highness, what happened?”

Kait forced himself upright like a bent pine bracing against snow. He pushed away the helping hands, squared his shoulders, and frowned. “Go prepare. My eldest brother’s here.”

“...Yes.” Perry sighed like a cooling forge and hurried out, his footsteps fading like rain.

Only when Perry’s shadow slipped from sight did Kait pick up the urgent dispatch again. He coughed twice, thin clouds in cold air, then skimmed the lines with a knotted brow. “The Fourth Prince’s subordinates aren’t human. Every soldier who stormed his manor vanished like lanterns snuffed at once.”

Most comms died mid-sentence, like cut strings, before anyone could describe those things.

The shadow-servants we planted in the Fourth Prince’s house and the First’s got wiped out like chalk under rain. It must be those creatures.

No wonder I chose the “weakest” on the surface for the first move, he thought, a bitter tide rolling in. I stepped into a mire.

He scowled, the feeling like grit behind the eyes.

The report was too thin, like soup watered thrice. It didn’t say what killed them.

Irritation pinched his gaze to slits, a knife-edge against dusk.

And I’ve got reason to doubt the First Prince too, he thought, ice before motion. He once sent men to the First’s estate, and after that, all my shadows went silent like stones in a lake.

How could I not suspect?

Better to tread soft as a cat, he decided, then moved. Reagan Osborne coming now wasn’t for brotherly wine beneath the moon.

Maybe this is their blade. Maybe they mean to cut the most dangerous fish first.

He sighed, then smiled badly, like glass catching a cold light. “Big fish eat small fish. Let’s see which fish dies last.”

He snatched the medicine from the table and swallowed it like iron tea. He dressed, fast as storm shutters, and walked to the hall to greet the ‘friendly’ brother.

In the Third Prince’s great hall, Reagan cradled a cup of tea like a warm pebble and squinted with a smile. “Good tea, Third. Where’d you get it? Share a little?”

“If you like it, take it all,” Kait laughed, steam curling like mist between them. “What’s ‘share a little’?”

“Heh. Third, how about a family gathering sometime?” Reagan’s smile was ripples on a dark pond. “Haven’t seen the others in ages. I miss them.”

“Sounds good, if you truly feel that way.” Kait smiled with a shallow crescent. “By the way, Brother, why bring so many men and so many carriages? What’s your plan?”

Reagan’s smile deepened like ink. “A grand gift for you, Third. Congratulations on your ascension.”

Kait’s eyes narrowed, a blade under silk. “Oh? Why so certain? The throne’s not decided.”

“Of course it’s you,” Reagan said, voice like honey on steel. “Father favors you most. You hold the army. That’s the Empire telling everyone you’re next.”

Kait laughed, a dry rattle of bamboo. “If only it were so simple. Old nobles and fat merchants don’t buy my name. You did well there, Brother. I should prepare a gift and return the favor.”

Reagan glanced at the sky like a hawk, then his face shifted like storm over plains. “Third. No more pleasantries.”

Kait’s fingers moved before breath, palm settling on his hilt, a calm lake hiding depth. “Brother, what are you doing?”

Reagan exploded forward like a boar breaking brush.

Kait’s gaze snapped cold, emotion first, steel second. His blade sang free with a whoosh and kissed Reagan’s throat, halting him like frost on a path.

Pain stabbed through Kait’s body like needles of ice. He’d tugged a wound. His arm trembled; the tip dipped like a falling star.

He set the point against Reagan’s chest, right above the heart, a single green leaf poised to cut.

“What are you trying to do?” Kait snarled, thunder behind his teeth.

“Heh-heh, guess,” Reagan grinned, a fox in torchlight, face twisted and bright.

Then he ignored the sword and lunged. The keen blade pierced his unarmored chest with a wet, yielding sound.

Reagan wrapped him with bloody arms like iron vines.

Kait wasn’t ordinary. His mind flashed like lightning, and he heaved back. Reagan only managed to grip his forearm, a snake’s bite on sinew.

It was enough.

Guards burst from the shadows like wolves, grabbing for Reagan, but his hands clamped down like manacles on Kait’s arms.

Kait kicked, heel a hammer, and smashed Reagan’s leg. Reagan dropped to his knees like a tree felled clean.

He still didn’t let go. Those hands clung like burrs.

Reagan ripped open his shirt with a ragged sound. A field of black sigils crawled over his chest like ants on bark.

“For the Demon Race’s march!” Reagan bellowed, eyes fever bright. “Fall, Third! Submit! Hahaha!”

On the roof above, Edlyn opened her eyes, calm pond turned to mirror. She’d received the signal. The battle began.

Her arms spread wide like wings, and demonic aura burst from her body like smoke from a furnace.

Black runes spilled from Reagan’s flesh like oil, and flared into a barrier. His blood seeped from the pierced chest, and in a breath the shield swelled, a half-dome that wrapped the Third Prince’s estate like a bell jar.

Edlyn hovered at the barrier’s crown, a star at zenith. Her demonic aura flowed along the black shell like night ink, sealing sight and sound. To outsiders, the manor vanished into silence.

Down below, the carriages Reagan brought cracked open their black boxes like coffins.

Countless Black Demons fluttered out like crows from rotten rafters, and clawed the nearest men with hungry shrieks.

Edlyn spread her hands, and violet magic circles flowered in the air like lotus blooms. Twenty Dark Knights stepped out blade-first and swept down.

Kait saw black miasma stream from Reagan’s hands like smoke, then crawl onto him like leeches. He kicked Reagan away, a thunderbolt from the hip.

To his surprise, Reagan didn’t resist at all. He flew like a rag and crumpled.

Kait looked at his “brother.” Reagan looked drained like a tapped tree. He shriveled, a husk in royal clothes.

Reni kicked the doors wide with a bang. Her spear pointed at Kait like a winter branch. “Surrender, Third Prince. You’ll be the first cornerstone of the Demon Race’s dominion!”

A white-bearded elder hobbled in behind her, cane tapping like rain on stone. He took in Reagan’s dried corpse-form and shook his head, a weary willow. “Ah. As expected. Human blood is too thin. A barrier like this drained him dry.”

Kait’s eyes went cold, frost on a blade. “You did this to my brother?”

The elder shrugged, careless as drifting ash. “I wanted to test whether humans could raise a rune-barrier like us. As His Majesty the Demon King said. Humans are weak-blood. Unfit for trials.”

“What are you?” Kait roared, anger a red river breaking banks.

“Did you not hear, mortal?” Reni’s pride rose like a black banner. “We are the Demon Race, once above you all.”

“Impossible. The Demon Race was driven to the brink,” Kait said, gaze cutting like sleet. “What’s left are scraps crawling in shadow.”

“Hahaha. You’ll know better soon,” the elder cut in with a laugh like gravel.

Kait raised a hand, emotion a spark then motion a flame. His shadow-guards surged at Reni like arrows.

Reni’s spear swept, a black tide. One guard dropped, limbs jerking like a fish on sand.

“Pathetic,” she clicked her tongue, a knife of contempt.

Black Demons poured into the hall behind her like smoke, and smashed into the charging shadows.

Reni thrust at Kait, spear a lightning bolt. “Die, human!”

A golden shield flashed before Kait like sunrise through fog. Reni’s spear glanced off with a ringing clang.

Perry stood in front of Kait, sword in left, shield in right, stance like a rooted oak. “Demon Race! Show respect!”

A blast of pressure fell from above like a falling mountain. Perry couldn’t dodge. It hit square, drove him back, and he spat blood like dark petals.

“You all right?” Kait called, worry a quick flame, eyes still hard.

The ceiling tore open with a roar, wood flying like startled birds.

Era, a Fallen Angel with a single black wing, floated above with cruel grace, looking down like a moon over a battlefield. “Oh? You dared demand respect from the Demon Race, mortal? Leisure made you forget terror, it seems.”

Kait frowned, surprise a cold pebble in the gut. “Didn’t expect this. Demons of this caliber still exist.”

“Oh? Mortal. Your vital blood smells rich, yet tainted,” Era said, cigarette ember a firefly at her lips. “Something spoils it. What a pity.”

Kait touched his chest. Green venom pulsed with his heartbeat like a snake coiling through veins.

Era’s smile curved, a cat’s. “So you know why your blood’s impure. Join the Demon Race. Maybe we’ll fix it.”

Kait chuckled, a knife sheathing. “What dream are you chasing? Trash.”

Era’s face cooled like iron in snow. Power surged from her body like a black squall and rushed for Kait.

A flash cracked the air like ice. A child appeared before Kait, staff in hand like a sapling of light, and shattered the pressure.

She grinned, starlight in dusk. “Dear Fallen Angel, don’t be so hot-blooded. This old soul will play with you, yes?”

Era narrowed her eyes, pupils like needles. “My mistake. A holder of a Divinity stands with him.”

Reni suddenly dropped to one knee, gaze lifted like a worshiper under a storm. “We welcome His Majesty the Demon King!”

Era looked up as well, lashes the shadow of a raven’s wing.

The Little Demon King stood on the last unbroken lip of the roof, eyes cold enough to freeze the air.

Her displeasure pressed the room down like bleak winter.

Edlyn pouted, brows knit like tight thread. What do I do? I’m wearing a skirt. If I jump, won’t I flash everything?