The Strongest With Nothing Left

Back to Li Vrak— He sat inside the ruins of a blacksmith's forge, the once-thriving village reduced to smoldering ashes around him. The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh and blood. Crumbling houses lined the streets, their charred remains whispering the stories of those who once lived here. Corpses lay scattered, some slashed cleanly, others barely recognizable.

The sound of a whetstone gliding against his katana echoed in the silence. Sparks danced from the blade's edge as he carefully maintained its durability. This was routine. A blade must always be ready to kill. His piercing purple eyes, glowing faintly in the fire's reflection, gazed at the ruined village with indifference.

"Still not sharp enough," he muttered to himself. A faint scream echoed in the distance—someone had survived. He smirked. "Tch… missed one." 

He stood up, dusting off the bloodstains on his clothes, and turned towards the sound, his blade gleaming under the flickering flames. 

As Li Vrak approached the trembling survivor, his footsteps were slow, deliberate like a predator toying with its prey. The man, barely able to stand, was covered in soot and blood, his breathing ragged as he tried to crawl away. 

Li tilted his head, his crazed grin widening. "You should have stayed still."

Before the man could even scream, Li's katana sliced through him effortlessly. The sound of flesh splitting and bones snapping filled the air as the survivor was cleaved in two, his blood splattering onto the already crimson-stained ground.

Li watched as the two halves of the man collapsed, twitching for a moment before going still. He sighed, shaking the blood off his blade with a flick of his wrist. "Now then… where to next?" he mused, his voice laced with cruel amusement as he stepped over the corpse, disappearing into the burning ruins.

As the royal court gathered in the grand hall, the air was thick with tension. King Aldric sat on his throne, his fingers gripping the armrests as a royal messenger rushed in, clutching a sealed parchment with the royal insignia of the High Priests.

"Your Majesty!" the messenger called out, dropping to one knee as he presented the letter. Aldric took the parchment with urgency, breaking the seal. His eyes scanned the contents, and for the first time in months, a glimmer of hope flickered in his tired gaze.

"The gods have not abandoned us…" he muttered, gripping the letter tightly. General Venkur, standing beside the throne, asked cautiously, "Your Majesty… what does it say?" 

The king exhaled sharply before reading aloud, "A hero will rise. One blessed by the heavens, with hair as blue as the vast sky and eyes that shine like gold. He alone will have the strength to defeat the demon that terrorizes the world."

A collective murmur spread through the court, a mixture of relief and urgency. 

"We must find this hero immediately," one noble declared. "If this prophecy is true, then he may be our only hope against Li Vrak," another added.

Venkur crossed his arms, his expression still hardened. "A prophecy alone won't win this war. But if such a hero exists… then we need to reach him before Li does." Aldric nodded. "Send word to every kingdom, every guild, every scout. We must find him before it's too late."

The next morning, the kingdom was alive with movement. Decrees were issued, and notices were pinned to every guild board across the land. 

[Royal Emergency Quest Issued!]A hero has been foretold, one with blue hair and golden eyes. He alone holds the power to stand against the calamity that plagues the world. Find him and bring him to the royal capital!

From the smallest villages to the largest cities, adventurers, mercenaries, and knights took up the quest. Some were motivated by the promise of riches, others by the desperate need to stop the madman known as Li Vrak. 

Inside the Adventurer's Guild, Elise now a guild master read the quest aloud to a hall full of warriors.

"This isn't just any quest. The fate of the kingdom, no the world itself, depends on this hero. Whoever finds him first, bring him back safely!"

Among the crowd, S-rank adventurers, noble knights, and rogue bounty hunters all had the same thought: Whoever finds the hero first will be remembered as the one who changed history. 

The search had begun. 

Li Vrak stood in the middle of a ruined city, his bloodstained cloak draped over his shoulders. The scent of ash and death lingered in the air, and the streets were littered with broken bodies—once proud warriors, now reduced to nothing more than corpses.

As he casually strolled through the wreckage, his piercing purple eyes caught sight of a torn piece of parchment nailed to the crumbling remains of a guild board. 

He approached, wiping the blood from his blade against his sleeve before plucking the paper from the board. "A hero, huh?" he muttered, skimming through the words. The more he read, the more twisted his grin became. Then he burst into laughter.

A deep, manic, almost hysterical laugh echoed through the empty streets.

"AHAHAHAHA! A HERO?! THAT'S YOUR LAST HOPE?! BWAHAHAHA!!"

His laughter continued, his shoulders shaking as if this was the funniest joke he had ever heard.

"You really think some 'hero' is going to stop me?!" he sneered, crushing the parchment in his fist. "How desperate have you all become?"

He exhaled, his laughter finally dying down into a smirk. His expression darkened, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Fine then. Let's see if your so-called 'hero' can even make it to me alive." 

With that, he turned away, flicking the blood from his blade as he walked toward the city gates. The prophecy had sealed the kingdom's fate. 

The hunt had begun.

While the entire kingdom was in desperate chaos, scrambling to locate the foretold hero, Li Vrak was strolling calmly through a vast, open plain. 

The sky stretched endlessly above him, golden rays of the sun casting long shadows over the tall grass. A gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the distant sounds of civilization a world still clinging to hope.

But Li? He simply hummed a tune, an old melody from a time long forgotten. His fingers rhythmically tapped against the hilt of his katana, his footsteps light, almost carefree, as if he weren't the most feared man in the entire world.

He chuckled to himself. "A hero, huh?" He repeated the thought, rolling it around in his mind like a joke only he could understand. His path was aimless. He had no destination—only destruction in his wake.

Would this so-called hero appear before him soon? Or would he reach the kingdom first and tear it apart before they had a chance? Either way, it didn't matter.

A twisted grin spread across Li Vrak's face as a sudden idea sparked in his mind. 

"Hm?" He stopped in his tracks, tilting his head, his piercing purple eyes glimmering with amusement. "Oh, I know—" 

His voice was filled with mock excitement, as if he had just come up with the most brilliant game.

"What if… I destroy the Demon Kingdom? Murder every last one of them? Take over their little castle… and then send a message to dear old Aldric?"

He chuckled, his fingers tightening around his blade. "Yes. I'll wait for them there." The idea thrilled him. He could already picture the panic how the humans would react upon realizing that their worst nightmare had taken over the stronghold of the very monsters they feared.

Would they send their golden hero straight into his grasp? Would the king come begging for mercy? Would they even dare step foot into his new domain? Li Vrak didn't care. All he knew was that soon, another kingdom would burn.

The demon king's castle stood tall, an imposing fortress of black stone that had withstood countless sieges, wars, and cataclysms over the centuries. Its towering spires loomed over the cursed lands, an unyielding symbol of demonic supremacy.

But tonight— It would fall.

A deafening explosion tore through the night as a pillar of crimson energy erupted from the heavens, streaking toward the castle like an unstoppable comet. The entire throne room shook violently, chandeliers swung wildly as shockwaves blasted through the castle.

Then— The roof exploded. 

A massive shockwave of destruction blew apart the enchanted stone, sending shattered debris raining down like a storm of death. Demonic nobles, guards, and generals screamed and scrambled for cover, some crushed instantly by the falling wreckage. A thick cloud of smoke and dust choked the grand hall, obscuring everything in sight.

Then, through the chaos—a shadow. A figure, draped in darkness and illuminated only by the crimson glow of destruction, slowly emerged from the dust. 

As the air cleared, he became visible. Li Vrak. 

His piercing purple eyes burned with madness, his clothes tattered but untouched by the destruction, and in his hand his blade, gleaming with fresh blood.

He stood tall in the wreckage, like a god descending upon insects.

Then, as if to mock their fear, he casually strolled forward, his boots crunching against the rubble. Without a word, he walked straight to the throne, stepping over the bodies of crushed demons as if they were nothing more than dirt. 

He collapsed lazily onto the throne, resting his elbow on the armrest, his chin on his fist, and then—he grinned. "Hi everyoneeeee~!" His voice rang through the broken hall, sickly sweet and dripping with amusement.

"I've got great news!" he continued, spreading his arms wide as if making a grand declaration. The surviving demons stared at him, their faces twisted in horror, their once-mighty kingdom's stronghold reduced to rubble in mere seconds.

Li's grin widened, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "I'll be your new king from now on." 

"Hehehe."

The demon king's castle was in absolute chaos. Blood coated the once-pristine obsidian floors, pooling beneath the bodies of the strongest demons in the kingdom. The air reeked of burning flesh, split entrails, and the acrid stench of death. 

The surviving demons—those too weak to even think of resisting—trembled as they fled.

"C-CALL THE KING!!" a demon noble screeched in panic, his voice raw with terror.

Servants and guards stumbled over each other in a desperate attempt to summon their supreme ruler. The Demon King. The one being who could possibly stand against this living nightmare. 

But it was too late.

Li Vrak was already walking through the grand hall, his katana dripping with fresh demon blood. His face twisted into a cruel grin, his piercing purple eyes gleaming with madness.

The corpses of the demon kingdom's most powerful generals littered the room behind him—their bodies butchered, torn apart, or still twitching from their brutal deaths. These were the unmatched warriors who had once terrorized entire continents monsters who had held off armies, slaughtered heroes, and brought kingdoms to ruin.

And yet… They didn't even last an hour against Li Vrak. He dragged his blade across the floor, letting the metal screech against the stone, a sickening sound that sent shivers down the spines of every remaining demon in the castle.

Then, he stopped. He tilted his head, as if listening to the distant booming footsteps that signaled the Demon King's approach. Then, he laughed. A low, guttural chuckle at first—before it erupted into a deranged, uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"Ohhh, finally!" he grinned, eyes glowing with pure bloodlust. "I was hoping I'd get to kill your 'King' too!" As the doors to the throne room exploded open, and a towering figure emerged—Li Vrak simply tightened his grip on his sword and smiled. 

As the doors to the throne room exploded open and a towering figure emerged, Li Vrak threw his head back and let out a crazed laugh before pointing his bloodstained katana forward.

"Come on then! Entertain me!" he roared, his voice echoing through the ruined castle.