CHAPTER 436: INTERMISSION - ROLAND ASHFORD

It was the fifteenth day of the sixth month, during the Year of Fire, when the oracle of that time—Unagi, an elder woman in her fifties—received the divine message.

She was one of the few who still held hope—hope that humanity would once again rule the lands, instead of being treated like cattle.

Demons ran the world.

They ruled every corner.

At the top of their hierarchy were the vampires, who had gained the power to tame after the First War.

These were the ones who not only enslaved humans but drained them of blood, using them as fuel for their twisted empire.

Free humans were rare.

Only the strongest survived, and even then, only in small numbers.

Everyone else was confined to concentration camps, the vampires called "farms."

Many died.

Many survived.

But no one was happy—except the demons.

The world was ruled by twelve Demon Lords, each one holding a unique domain.

Of these, only five still sought a way back to their original world.

They were the first summoned—called by humans in a desperate attempt to turn the tide of the great war of that time, the first war. But the demons betrayed their summoners and the great spirits that had once protected humanity.

As punishment, the spirits severed the demons’ connection to this world’s mana.

Cut off, they could no longer grow in strength. The only ones who could still use mana freely were the hybrids—those born of demonic blood but loyal to no world but this one.

And so, a hero was prophesied to bring an end to demon rule and restore the age of man.

The oracle did her best to spread the word. All humans were prepared for the day the hero would appear, including the few demons who had bought that information.

Villages were found. More humans were killed.

But the slow fire of hope never went out.

That was when those who could still fight gave up their lives to summon an ordinary boy—Roland Ashford—pulled straight from his first day working at a convenience store.

The destined hero was nothing more than a nineteen-year-old kid struggling to get by.

His parents were dead. His home was taken by his aunt and uncle, along with all the insurance money he was supposed to receive. The two frauds left him with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Now, he worked to eat and to pay rent for a tiny room he’d barely managed to find.

He was the studious type. Always wanted to be an astronaut. He loved staring at the night sky—especially when comets passed by—imagining what it’d be like to escape Earth and fly among the stars.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t see the truck coming while he was taking out the trash.

Luckily, he didn’t feel any pain after seeing the headlights.

What he did feel... was like being caught in a whirlwind, as if a tornado had sucked him up—or like he was tumbling inside a giant washing machine.

It was a rough journey. He nearly lost his dinner, the cheap instant ramen he’d painstakingly bought.

But all was well.

He was able to keep his dinner, though he now found himself in a strange place, wherever that bizarre ride had dumped him.

All around him were bodies sprawled across the floor, each one cloaked in a black robe of some kind.

The only light came from a few torches, carefully placed around what looked like a magical circle.

"Damn it, who played a trick on me? I still got two hours left to clock in!" Roland shouted, voice echoing faintly in the still air.

There were no streetlights, no passing cars—just flame and silence.

He looked up at the sky, instinctively, like always. He could usually tell where he was just by the stars.

But this time... everything was different.

"Where... am I?"

He blinked up at the sky, but none of the constellations above were familiar.

And the moons—two moons?—were probably the strangest part. He was still inspecting them when a third emerged from behind the clouds.

"Three? Three moons!?"

Roland couldn’t process it. His only theory was that he had fallen asleep. There was no other logical explanation.

He pinched himself—

And winced in pain.

"Damn... this is one real-ass dream..."

He pinched himself harder, stretched his cheeks, even screamed out loud—but nothing changed.

Panic rising, his next instinct was to check the strange people lying around him. He approached the nearest one: a man in his late forties or fifties, dressed in a black robe.

Roland reached out—only to leap back in fright.

The man was cold. Lifeless. Not breathing. No pulse.

Dead.

He scrambled to the next body. The same. Then another. And another.

Thirty. At least thirty corpses surrounded him. And he was right in the center of it all.

His stomach turned.

He was standing in the middle of what looked like a mass murder. His first thought? Would he have to run from the cops? Or stay and try to explain himself?

He hadn’t done anything, but he was the only one alive. No one had come. No one was arriving.

He started to tremble, thoughts spiraling in his head.

Then, without warning, three figures appeared.

They were armored heavily so but didn’t draw their blades.

One of them stepped forward.

"Who are you!?"

Roland cried out, already preparing to run if they got too close.

"Hero! You have been summoned—please forgive us!" one of them called out, breathless."We only wanted to give you a moment to recover. This is the first time in centuries that humanity has called forth someone... thank the spirits you’re human like us!"

Contrary to Roland’s expectations, the three figures looked ecstatic to see him. In fact, they were already beginning to kneel, as if he had completed the most important task in the world.

"Ugh, right... But who are you?" Roland asked, taking a few cautious steps back. He wasn’t going to fall for sweet talk or strange actions.

"You are the hero—the one destined to destroy all evil in this world," one of them said, voice full of urgency. "We summoned you, so please, come with us. We need to move before the demons arrive. They’ll be tracking any large-scale magic."

Roland heard every word, but focused more on the anxiety in the man’s voice than the prophecy itself.

"...Lead the way then. I, uh... I’ll follow."

He didn’t like the sound of demons coming after them. Sometimes, you had to pick the best option available, and right now, running seemed like the best one.

The group sprinted through the darkness, feet pounding the ground, until one of them came to a sudden stop.

"This should be far enough," the older man said. "I’ll begin casting teleportation. Please... you two—remember to keep going without me. You know what happens once I open the portal."

"Can’t you come with us, Father?" the younger voice cried. "Why must you stay behind? We’ll need your guidance in the coming war..."

Roland couldn’t see their faces clearly in the dim light, but he could tell one of them was a girl around his age. The man—her father—sounded closer to forty, maybe a bit younger.

"Stella," the man said gently, "you know they can trace teleportation signatures now. If I go with you, they’ll find us. I’ll create four decoy portals... with luck, that will buy you time. Just stay safe—and help the hero. We all have our roles to play."

The girl began to cry. She didn’t turn to face her father; she couldn’t.

The man, on the other hand, raised his hands and created what looked like four portals, each one opening a path to a different location.

The younger man in the group spoke next.

"Let’s hurry—we have only seconds before they come."

He grabbed the girl’s hand and began pulling her toward the nearest portal.

Roland hesitated, turning to face the older man just as the man’s hood slipped down.

"Protect her, Hero. I... I’ll stall for time."

His voice shook. It was clear he didn’t want to go through with this, but in the distance, shapes began to appear.

Winged. Horned. Dozens of them.

Demons.

"Hurry, Hero! We’re running out of time!"

Roland didn’t need to be told twice. He leapt into the portal just as the other two disappeared through it. As he turned his head for one last glance, he saw them—grotesque creatures, far more monstrous than he’d imagined, charging behind the demons in a pack.

Then the portal closed.

The swirling black mirror that had pierced the air shattered like glass, vanishing from sight.

In its place stood the ruins of what might’ve once been a castle. Or at least, the dungeon of one.

The two who had arrived before him were already there. The girl was still crying. The man was scanning the wall, searching intently for something.

"Hold on... There should be a lever here somewhere..." he muttered.

With a flick of his hand, he cast a small fire spell that flared just enough to light the surroundings. He quickly found the hidden switch and pulled it. A side door rumbled open, revealing a narrow passage.

"We have to keep moving. Stella—get up." His voice softened briefly before turning firm again. "And you, Hero—please come with us. We’ll reach safety in a few hours."

There was something commanding in the man’s voice—an authority Roland couldn’t quite explain.

And for now, it was enough; he simply followed it.