The Demon King sat inside his lavish throne room on a blood red throne built from the entrails of his enemies. And he was about to add one more to the total. He started tapping his jet black claws upon the surface of the throne, anticipation filling up his core.

The throne room itself was nothing to sneeze at. Two pearl white pillars headlined the opulent, golden room. A closer look would show that the pillars themselves were actually made out of human bones. A golden carpet marked the path to the throne.

The throne was raised on a dais, so that the Demon King could look down at his subjects and anyone else that was brought before him. The Demon King cut a large imposing figure. 10 feet tall, the King possessed sharp black claws and blood red scales. He was the perfect combination of dragon and man, but more powerful than either could ever hope to be.

The King sat on his throne, waiting. And then, the moment finally arrived.

The massive doors to the throne room opened with a bang as two large, winged Demonic Dragons walked into the room. However, the most intriguing part of this picture was the bloodied man they were dragging into the room. If you just glanced at the man, you would think he was an ordinary human, but a closer inspection would yield much more.

A black aura surrounded the man, one so powerful that even the Demon King flinched at the sight of him. But, the surprising power was not the most interesting part of his aura.

No, it was the rage the man exuded from every single pore on his body. The rage that was represented in his dark aura. Because power wasn’t the only reason the Demon King flinched. It was the unbridled anger of one of the most powerful beings to ever exist, filled with the power to challenge even the gods.

And even with his body torn to shreds, his mind and soul hanging onto the last shreds of his miserable existence, the man was not defeated. No. Past the long shaggy hair that covered his face, past the dirt and the grime and the pain and the suffering, two sharp blue eyes shone out of his dirty face. And these two eyes told a story.

He’d lost, that was obvious, but he would never accept it. The Demon King had torn him apart, had destroyed everything the man had ever loved, had tortured him until even the metal bars of his cell weeped from his pain. Even then, the two eyes that peeked out from his face were not those of an insane or broken man. No. They were the eyes of a King, one that had had everything taken from him, but had never backed down. His will was unbreakable. He was unconquerable.

This man, this King was the person the Demon King had defeated. However, after looking into the man’s eyes, the Lord of all Demons did not believe that he had won, did not think that he had actually defeated the man in front of him. Instead, for some reason, he felt as if he had been the one who had been beaten.

And this feeling disgusted the King, and he was filled with a potent anger as he leaned forward with a snarl twisting his face and lashed out with his aura. The two Dragons were instantly incinerated and the man dropped to the ground with a squelch. But, this senseless violence did not satisfy the King and knowing that his anger would do nothing but hurt his own goals, he instead sighed and sat back against his throne.

He raised his hand and crooked a finger, using the power of his Core to bind the man with waves of energy. Then, he slowly raised the man off of the ground and brought him up to the King’s face, the man’s stomach right in front of the bent finger of the Demon. Minutes passed as the Demon King studied his adversary. And then the King started laughing.

It was an ugly sound, his laugh, like metal scraping bone, somehow projected into the imitation of a chuckle. He’d been told this fact many times by people he used to know. Obviously those people were all dead.

The Demon King laughed for several minutes until the awful sound was cut off almost as suddenly as it had begun. The Demon then finally started talking.

“They called you my most worthy adversary, the fulfiller of the ancient prophecy, the legendary Beast King. Or should I call you the disciple of Chaos” The Demon King peeled his lips back and smiled at the startled expression that crossed the man before his face hardened once again. A forked tongue slid out and licked his sharpened teeth before he continued.

“And look where you are now, my great nemesis. At my feet, like the worm you really are. Betrayed by the ones you thought to call your friends, beaten down by my power, you have been defeated. Now bow down before your rightful king, you pitiful, broken thing.”

The man did not answer for a long time. But, the King did not care. For what was time to Immortal Cultivators? Years could pass without acknowledgement, decades without movement. Mere minutes were nothing to beings such as them. But finally, the man did answer.

In the coldest whisper possible, he answered the Demon King. “He’s coming. It doesn’t matter who you’ve beaten or how many people you’ve killed in your thirst for power. He’s coming and all of you will finally fall. He rages at your injustices, and your never ending wars. He will achieve what I could not. He will crush all of you and end this farce. No matter how long it takes, just know a clock is now ticking. The Scion is coming because Chaos still lives. Mark my words, one day you will remember what I have told you and you will wish that you had died by my hand.”

The Demon King screamed, flinging the body of the almost-dead man across his throne room, blood staining the tiled floor.

“Chaos is a myth, a story strung up by old fools who had nothing better to do with their miserable existences! Now die, you worthless piece of shit!”

And he then ripped apart the once great Beast King. But, when he had finally gorged himself on the man’s corpse, when the only things remaining of his legendary nemesis were the bloodstains on his tiles, he wasn’t satisfied. And he felt it in the air. Somehow, the presence of a being even more powerful that him filled the room. And the Demon King felt something that he hadn’t ever experienced in his many millennia of existence. Fear.