Demon King

CH- 09: Hidden War's.

 Debbie took charge of both force-feeding Ric and ensuring he had timely water breaks. She managed this task with precision, expertly balancing the intake to avoid any sudden washroom emergencies. Ric, unaware of his contribution, exerted himself excessively, aiding in the process. This resilience surprised everyone except Ric himself, who persevered, staying awake for an astonishing seven days straight with Debbie constantly eating his brains out with utter bullshit. This further fortified people's convictions that he was, indeed, a spirit projection of the highest tier.

In their small town, laughter and skirmishes swirled around Ric, momentarily eclipsing the pervasive misery. Although hope remained a distant beacon, the fleeting smiles painted an illusion of heaven. Yet, one fateful day, the guards' ears caught wind of their laughter.

— — —<|*|>— — —

"Did you hear that?" Bart snarls.

"I warned you about mingling with that cursed bat. See where it's led you now," Uvrodon hissed at Bart.

"What are you two muttering about?" Claude yelled, despite standing right beside them.

"Ah!" Bart shrieks and dives, curling up into a ball.

A slender tail shoots through the floor with lightning speed, striking Claude on the forehead. Despite the velocity and force behind the rounded, club-like tail, it proves futile against his hard shell, barely eliciting any pain.

"Did you just strike me?" Claude asks his tone a mix of incredulity and annoyance.

"If it weren't for those dagger-like teeth of yours, I would have rammed my tail down your throat. Do you even realize we all have superior hearing compared to you crab freaks? Honestly, if it weren't such a challenge to kill you, I would've ended you ages ago," Uvrodon hisses at Claude, his eyes narrowing into a cross as they dart across Claude's bulky crab framework.

The trio were [Beast Tamers], each bound by a contract with a formidable creature — a [Centinent-Bat], a [Buo-Rattlesnake], and a [Dep-Crab].

— — —<|*|>— — —

Beast Tamers can merge with their familiar creatures, adopting their forms—a phenomenon stemming from a scientist's meddling with the ancient tome of Fea. This forbidden exploration of the book's mysteries led to unforeseen consequences, including the emergence of the Beast Tamers race.

The contract functions in a dual manner: a beast can either merge into a human, or a human can shrink down into a bean-sized meatball, establishing a shared consciousness with their familiar. Once the bond is forged, they share a single soul, so the demise of either means the end for both.

A daring scientist endeavored to improve reconnaissance during wars by bonding with an ant. This breakthrough proved invaluable for humankind during the conflict, yet shortly thereafter, the scientist's mind deteriorated. The reasons behind this mental decline remain elusive, although many speculate it stemmed from the profound shrinking of the mind to a tiny scale.

Whatever the case, this marked the birth of the [Apexan]. The madman who researched into taboo territory named the files [Apexan Eclipse], so the insect abomination was named with the initial portion of this ominous title.

The Apexan originated from a select group of elite warriors who survived the radical experiments, swiftly evolving into a formidable menace to both the living and the deceased. They stand as the primary deterrent preventing the descent of mystical beings and the reason humans ceased their internal conflicts.

Outliving, outgrowing, and outmaneuvering every other species in numerous wars, catalyzed the onset of clandestine conflicts known as the hidden wars.

The hidden wars remain shrouded in secrecy, revealed solely to the commanders of the armies. United by a common adversary, fragmented forces unite against their mutual adversary, the Apexan. Each faction endures grievous casualties, compelling the races to forge a treaty. As part of the accord, forty years of peace are pledged following the destruction of the ants' strongholds, acknowledging the exhaustive toll exacted by the all-out war, which depleted both resources and lives alike.

As every formidable force crumbled, they took the Apexan down with them, yet the cost was far greater than the loss of our leaders—it was a piece of our history that vanished—decades of accumulated wisdom vanished in an instant. Our ancient scriptures became cryptic without masters to decode their intricate knowledge or rectify our misconceptions. Thus, a minimum of forty years became imperative to cultivate new soldiers and leaders, bereft of guidance from their predecessors.

Time swept by in a blur, as the newer generation could only listen and perpetuate the tales of past might, forever unable to scale the heights achieved by their predecessors.

How could they?

As the past became enshrouded in narratives that felt increasingly like myths, each mistake was unwittingly repeated, and every path was re-forged. Despite these endeavors, no power could ever quite match the grand tales of the past, leaving an unfillable void between the reality of the present and the legendary prowess of bygone eras.

The once awe-inspiring narratives became the subject of doubt as the gap between reality and the fabled tales widened. Soon, the younger generation began branding the exaggerated stories as myths, dismissing their elders as foolish dreamers.

In their skepticism, they questioned whether anyone could truly create an oasis with a wave of their hand or obliterate a kingdom in the blink of an eye.

Following the fall of the ant stronghold, the dispersed forces ceased to pose a significant threat. However, in the absence of a common enemy, the rulers redirected their focus towards each other. An unspoken agreement followed suit as each faction grappled with the hives that lingered near their kingdoms. With only one and a half years remaining until the treaty's conclusion, a palpable tension loomed, ready to resume the bloodshed.

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