CRUCIBLE OF SHADOWS

The morning light seeped through the wooden cracks of the modest abode. Kairos awoke in silence, his golden eyes flickering open with an eerie calmness. There was no tension in his body, no wary glances over his shoulder. Here, in this humble dwelling, he was not an outcast. He was not loathed.

He rose from his bed, draping a robe over his shoulders, and made his way toward the living room.

Mysa was already up, sweeping the floor with practiced ease. She glanced at him with mild surprise. "You're up this early?"

Kairos met her gaze, his voice smooth and steady. "Yes. I'm used to waking early in the castle." He paused, scanning the room. "Where's Myra? Shouldn't she be helping you?"

Mysa scoffed, her voice dripping with mockery. "That girl? Helping me clean the house?" She shook her head. "She can't even hold a broom properly."

As if summoned, Myra emerged from the kitchen, yawning, her long silver hair cascading down her back. Stretching, she grabbed her sword and swung it carelessly through the air. "I don't need to sweep. That's not for me," she declared with a grin. "I am Myra, warrior of the Demon Realm! Any fool who dares challenge me shall—!"

A broom smacked against the back of her head.

"Hey! Move, I'm working here," Mysa scolded.

"Ouch! That hurts, Mom!" Myra whined, rubbing her head.

Kairos let out a quiet chuckle.

Myra turned sharply toward him, her violet eyes narrowing. "Did you just—laugh?"

"Leave him alone," Mysa said teasingly. "Is it a crime for him to be happy?"

"You know I don't mean that," Myra shot back. "It's just… it's rare to see Kairos smile."

Another smack of the broom.

"Enough chattering. Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Mysa said.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." Myra huffed, flipping her hair as she turned toward her room.

Mysa turned to Kairos, her gaze inquisitive. "And what about you? Aren't you going to work?" A pause. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I was so excited to see you that I forgot to ask—why did you come back?"

Kairos hesitated, pressing a hand against his stomach where the bruises from Prince Vakon's attack still lingered. The pain was manageable, but the truth? That was something he could not afford to share. He had no desire to see Mysa worried. Pain, fear, suffering—he would spare her from all of it.

So, he ignored the ache and forced a smile. "No, I'm not going to work today. I just… came back to see you."

Mysa's eyes narrowed slightly, scanning his face for deceit.

"Did you?"

"I did," Kairos replied, his voice steady.

Mysa exhaled, her expression softening. "Thank you. I've missed you so much."

"Me too," he murmured, running a hand through his long blond hair.

Just then, Myra reappeared, now clad in her warrior attire. She twirled in place, grinning. "How do I look, Kairos?"

Kairos regarded her calmly. "You look as good as ever."

Myra beamed. "You mean it?"

"Yeah."

As he stepped past her, Myra suddenly grabbed his wrist. "You're escorting me."

Kairos frowned. "I don't feel like walking."

Myra leaned in, whispering into his ear. "If you don't, I'll tell Mom you're injured."

Kairos's expression remained unreadable, but his mind calculated quickly. If Mysa knew, she would insist on tending to him, fussing over him. That was the last thing he wanted.

"Fine," he relented. "Let me prepare myself."

A few moments later, he emerged from his room, now clad in a deep blue robe, his sandals tapping lightly against the wooden floor.

"Mom, I'm heading out. See you later!" Myra called out, linking arms with Kairos as they stepped outside.

Mysa merely waved them off, already returning to her cleaning.

Outside, the streets were teeming with demons of various ranks, each moving with purpose. The Demon Realm was a vast, structured society, divided into seven clans—each ruled by a prince. Here, in the Shadow Clan's territory, power belonged to Prince Kharon.

The hierarchy was absolute.

Demons were ranked by their combat prowess, and their standing determined their role in society. The weak became servants, cleaners, and laborers. The strong became warriors, enforcers, and executioners. One's fate was determined at a young age—through trials, through bloodshed, through suffering.

Myra, a high-ranking demon, had carved her place among Prince Kharon's elite warriors.

As they walked through the streets, Myra turned to Kairos. "You're awfully quiet again," she noted. Then, more hesitantly, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to walk with you. It makes me feel… comfortable."

"There's no need to apologize," Kairos said evenly. "I enjoy walking with you, too."

Myra stopped suddenly, her gaze turning serious. They had reached the entrance of the Shadow Clan's training grounds. The towering black walls loomed before them, the sound of clashing steel echoing within.

"You know why I like you, Kairos?" she asked, tilting her head. "Because I know you care about those close to you. You don't even hate the ones who forced you to do awful things when you were a child."

Kairos stood still. He did not flinch. He did not react.

Myra smiled, waving at him before stepping inside.

Kairos remained, golden eyes locked onto her fading figure.

"Myra… your words are misplaced."

His fingers curled into a fist.

" I have not forgiven them. I merely acknowledged my own powerlessness. I accepted my wretched existence."

How he wished he could be the person Myra thought he was. But such innocence was a fleeting dream, an illusion he could not afford.

"In my eyes, only two people matter—Mysa and you. The rest? They are pawns. Tools. Inconsequential."

He turned away, the weight of his thoughts pressing against him.

"But mark my words, Myra… this world will change. The power structure of this realm will be shattered. Those who share my… peculiarities will no longer suffer as I have."

His golden eyes burned with a cold, unwavering resolve.

" This realm will be reshaped in my image. And when that time comes… all will tremble before me."

With that, Kairos walked away, his footsteps silent, his heart heavy with unspoken truths.