In the heart of the maelstrom, where the clash of steel and the roar of battle formed a monstrous symphony, the First Demon King stood. Each swing of his blade was a reaper's scythe, carving a bloody path through the enemy ranks. Yet, a flicker of unease crossed his features. A furrow creased his brow, and he halted mid-stride, summoning a shard of dark crystal.
The gem pulsed with a malevolent light in his palm, its surface marred by a web of cracks. With a violent crack, it shattered into a million obsidian fragments, dissolving into wisps of dark energy that dissipated before his eyes. An irritated hiss escaped the First Demon King's lips.
"Ah," he sighed, the sound laced with disappointment. "It seems that the Crown Prince has perished."
It was neither too swift nor too slow. Having him kill the Heavenly Emperor was not even the First Demon King's main objective. All he wanted to do was corrupt the Crown Prince's soul and break the hearts of all those who cared about him.