The Demon King Who saved The World

The once-infamous Sun Rise Bandits fled from the village, their spirits battered and their numbers dwindled. Led by their leader, One Eye, the remaining members clutched tightly to the stolen food they had managed to gather during their chaotic retreat.

One Eye's face twisted with frustration as he rode through the forest trail, the wind stinging his wounded pride. His mind replayed the disastrous encounter with the blonde man—the one who had torn through their ranks like a storm.

"Damn it!" he spat, his grip tightening around the reins. "We didn't even get the goods or the girls... and I lost too many of my men."

The leather creaked beneath his fingers, but no amount of pressure could quell the fury simmering inside him.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the grassy plains in an eerie twilight. The evening air was cool, but tension hung thick among the group. They rode in silence, their eyes darting nervously across the open field.

Suddenly, One Eye noticed something strange. The grassy field around them grew unnaturally dark, the shadows spreading like ink across the ground. It wasn't the nightfall—it was something else entirely. His heart sank as he recognized the ominous phenomenon.

"It's… the shadow—so thin… That's Demon Art," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if fearing the darkness might hear him.

His horse neighed in protest, hooves faltering as if resisting some unseen pressure in the air. The beast trembled beneath him, unsettled.

"Boss! We shouldn't go any farther!" one of the surviving bandits shouted, eyes darting toward the darkening horizon

One Eye didn't respond. his instincts kicked in. He pulled hard on the reins, bringing his horse to an abrupt halt. "Stop!" he barked, his voice sharp with fear. The remaining bandits obeyed, reining in their horses as they cast worried glances at their leader.

Silence engulfed them. The only sound was the faint rustle of the wind through the grass, now seeming louder in the oppressive quiet. One Eye scanned the horizon, his single good eye darting wildly. The oppressive darkness crept closer, swallowing the light and tightening its grip on the world around them.

"Show yourself!" One Eye shouted into the void, his voice echoing unnaturally. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, sweat dripping from his brow. "I know you're there! Whoever—or whatever—you are!"

In the distance, a low, rumbling chuckle resonated through the darkness, chilling the bandits to their cores.

"Well, isn't it surprising that a human knows the name of Demon Art?"

Then they saw him—a young man in a simple brown robe, standing calmly in the middle of the path. But upon closer inspection, there was no mistaking it—it was the same blonde-haired man who had decimated One Eye and his forces.

"You! How the hell are you here?!" One Eye shouted, fury twisting his face.

The man didn't even flinch. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with disdain.

"Know your place, lowlife," he said coldly. "And don't dare sully my temple."

As he spoke, his form began to shift. The golden strands of his hair darkened, bleeding into pitch black. His bright blue eyes dimmed, then ignited into a piercing crimson glow.

Then—whoosh—two enormous shadowy wings burst from his back, stretching out with a pulse of raw power.

The bandits froze. None of them dared to speak, their courage obliterated by the overwhelming aura radiating from this man. Even One Eye, known for his bravado, felt his heart pound in terror.

The horses reared wildly, panic overtaking them. They lost control, collapsing into the swirling shadows. Some of the bandits tried to flee—but an unseen force slammed them into the ground, pinning them like insects beneath glass.

All except One Eye.

"Wh...who...who are you?" One Eye managed to stammer, his voice trembling.

The man tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Me? I'm Baldwin Katz. Tell me… you've never been to church, have you?"

One Eye wanted to protest, to say something—anything—but his mind went numb, words slipping away like water through his fingers.

"Yes... I did go to church," he murmured, voice distant. "Back when I was still a soldier… a long time ago."

"So, you did go to church. Isn't that something?" Baldwin said, his voice calm but heavy with menace. He took a step closer, eyes glowing faintly. "Now tell me—did they ever speak of God's wrath?"

"Y…yes… the church did…"

He gulped, lips twitching.

"Why… why are you here? You're a demon… helping humans?"

"Too bad they forgot to mention my wrath," Baldwin said with a cold smirk. "Oh well, you all will understand soon enough."

"P-Please… spare me…" One Eye gulped, his lips twitching in fear.

Baldwin watched him with mild amusement, shaking his head. "Oh, no. I expected a response, but I suppose my shadow power is making that difficult for you. It's quite the problem, isn't it?"

One Eye blinked—just once—and in the very next moment, Baldwin's hand was around his neck. His crimson eyes glowed fiercely, burning with restrained fury.

Let's not waste time. Where is your den, rat?"

One Eye tried to resist. He fought to keep his mouth shut, but this time… nothing obeyed him. His will, his strength—it all vanished, as though drained by the pressure of Baldwin's grip.

"I-It's in the old military base… deep in the forest…" he croaked in a hollow, lifeless voice.

"Old military base? Whose?" Baldwin asked coldly.

"It was… the Hero Kingdom's hidden milita—"

Before he could finish, One Eye's eyes rolled back. His head slumped forward.

He was dead.

Baldwin stared at the lifeless body, then loosened his grip. "Tch… I must've held too tight. Still, better a swift death than the misery of living," he murmured with a calm, chilling tone.

Around him, shadows rippled and rose. One by one, they consumed the corpses—One Eye and his fallen men—swallowing their remains into the earth, as if the darkness itself sought to erase their existence.

Baldwin stood alone, surveying the now-empty field. His expression shifted, the playfulness fading into cold calculation.

As the last of the shadows faded, Baldwin turned away, silent.

Hours later, he reached the outskirts of the old military base, its structure half-swallowed by the forest.

"Who are you!?" barked one of the bandits standing guard.

"Tch… too many bandits," Baldwin muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the area lazily.

"I said—who are you!? Can't you hear!?" the bandit shouted again.

"You're surprisingly polite for a bandit," Baldwin said, amusement flickering in his tone.

"We were soldiers once. Now leave this place—while you still can," another added, stepping forward with a warning glare.

"Soldiers demoted to bandits… how touching," Baldwin said with a cold chuckle. "I'm just passing through."

At that moment, a dark shadow unfurled from behind him—rising like a silent wave and sweeping forward, devouring everything in its path as it surged into the base.

A few heartbeats later, The shadow slithered back, leaving behind only silence—and the stench of death.

Baldwin didn't move. His voice remained calm.

"There. I passed through."

In the dimly lit hut, Olivia paced back and forth, her face drawn with worry. For some inexplicable reason, her thoughts kept returning to Baldwin. Guilt gnawed at her as she replayed their conversation before he left.

"Why am I so stupid? Baldwin was right—the villagers will never change. And what if… what if something happened to him?" she thought, biting her lip anxiously.

Her musings were interrupted by the sudden creak of the door. She spun around to see Baldwin stepping inside, his arms laden with supplies and food.

"Baldwin! You're back!" Olivia exclaimed, relief washing over her. She hurried to his side. "So, what happened? Are you alright?"

Baldwin nodded, letting his shoulders slump as he put on an air of exhaustion, the perfect mask of a boy who had seen too much.

"It was tough, Olivia," he said, his voice low and tired. "The bandits… they were relentless. I thought I wouldn't make it."

He paused, eyes wide with false awe, letting the silence stretch just enough before adding, "But then—someone showed up."

He looked away, as if still in disbelief. "You wouldn't believe how strong he was. He fought them off single-handedly. The bandits didn't stand a chance. They ran like scared dogs."

Then, softening his tone, he reached into the small sack at his side and held it up.

"Thanks to him, I managed to grab some food supplies. It's not much, but it'll help us last a little longer."

Olivia let out a soft sigh, her lips curving into a weary smile. "I see... Thank goodness," she said, her voice tinged with relief and disbelief.

She reached for the supplies, eager to help him. "Let me take this to the kitchen and prepare dinner," she said, moving outside to start cooking.

Once Olivia left, Baldwin turned his attention to Olivia's mother, who lay resting in the corner of the hut. Her frail form looked even more delicate under the faint light. Baldwin approached her quietly, his crimson eyes narrowing with recognition.

Placing a hand gently on her forehead, Baldwin whispered,

"I remember you… the former queen of the Fallen Hero Kingdom. But you—you just look like her, Alisha."

He let out a deep, weary sigh.

"Alisha, you were right. Even if I lost you, there would always be someone… something that resembles you."

His voice dropped to a vow.

"I'll keep my promise. No matter what."

He closed his eyes and focused, pouring his energy into her. Unlike the last time, he was precise, his power honed and controlled. In an instant, the world around him shifted.

As Baldwin touched Olivia's mother's forehead, something pulsed—like a distant church bell echoing in a white void. The architecture was reminiscent of a human church, but it was eerie and surreal. There were no windows or doors, only towering white walls that seemed to pulse faintly.

Before Baldwin could fully comprehend his surroundings, a deep, resonant voice echoed throughout the space, vibrating through his very core.

"Oh, welcome, little creature. But you are not welcome here," the voice boomed, its tone both mocking and ominous.

Baldwin's crimson eyes narrowed. He straightened his posture, his aura flaring with restrained power.

"Interesting," he muttered, a cold smirk tugging at his lips. "I call everyone low—and now this lowlife dares to call me a little creature."

His gaze sharpened, voice dropping with dark amusement.

"Is this… what they call karma?"