UNMASKED

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

Three years ago, the world shifted.

“ALL HAIL DEMON!”

The chants of three hundred White Monarchy soldiers echoed through the air as the helicopter’s rotors sliced the silence. Demon descended, her figure framed against the sunlit backdrop. The sleek, black chopper gleamed ominously, a harbinger of the storm she brought with her. The wind teased at her hair, catching its dark strands and casting her in an almost ethereal glow.

She stepped onto the ground with deliberate ease, unbothered by the sea of faces waiting to greet her. The soldiers stood frozen in their immaculate white uniforms, a mix of reverence and dread in their eyes.

One of her subordinates rushed forward to assist her, his hands trembling slightly, but Demon raised a hand and brushed him off with a cold, effortless gesture. She didn’t need help. She never had.

“Raise your heads, you fools,” she commanded, her voice sharp and unwavering, cutting through the murmurs like a blade.

The soldiers snapped to attention, their movements synchronized as though choreographed. No one dared to hesitate. No one dared to defy her.

Demon’s face was unmasked, her beauty as stunning as it was chilling—a perfect weapon honed to perfection. For three years, she had disappeared, leaving nothing but the ghost of her legend behind. And now, here she was, as if time itself bowed to her will. The sight of her sent ripples through the crowd—a reminder of her power, her control.

Her lips curled into a smirk, a dangerous, knowing expression. “Stop staring,” she said, her tone laced with mockery. “You’ll be seeing this face every day from now on. I will finish what I started.”

She flipped her hair with casual arrogance, her every movement a declaration of victory. The air around her seemed heavier, charged with the weight of her presence.

At the front of the assembly stood Clyde, Jigs, and Rafa, survivors of the explosion in the underground three years ago. They had been given a choice: loyalty or death. Like so many others, they had chosen survival, though the price often felt like their very souls.

Clyde, ever the diplomat, stepped forward. “I’m glad you made it through, Demon,” he said carefully, his voice tinged with fear. “With so many after your life…”

Her gaze flicked to him, cold and dismissive, as if his words were beneath her notice. She moved past him without a word.

Jigs, always eager to break tension, grinned nervously and stepped forward. “Hi! I’m your biggest fan. Can I get your autograph?”

The grin faltered as Demon walked right past him without so much as a glance.

She stopped before Rafa, her icy demeanor melting into something lighter, though no less sharp. “Hi, Rafa, right?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “How’s that plan to become a priest?”

Jigs snorted behind her, still smarting from being ignored. Rafa, however, remained unfazed, meeting her gaze head-on.

“Thanks to you,” Rafa said, his voice steady despite the tension, “I’ve become a sinner. I had dedicated my life to—”

“Boring,” Demon interrupted, turning her back on him before he could finish. Her tone was as flat as her interest in his words.

Anger flashed in Rafa’s eyes, and his hand darted to the knife at his belt. Before he could act, Jigs grabbed his arm, whispering urgently, “Look behind you.”

Rafa froze. Hundreds of White Monarchy soldiers had their weapons trained on them, fingers hovering over triggers. One wrong move, and it would be over.

“Calm down, Rafa,” Clyde whispered. “They don’t trust us yet.”

---

In the three years since Demon’s return, the world had bent to her will. No one entered or left the country without her permission. The laws had been rewritten, the government reshaped. Mr. Salvador, her carefully chosen puppet, sat in the president’s chair, holding a title without power.

Under Demon’s rule, the divide between rich and poor had been obliterated, replaced with a new hierarchy: Demon, and everyone else. Fear and obedience became the currency of her empire. To speak her name was to invoke power, and to challenge her was to invite annihilation.

From her balcony, Demon surveyed the land she had conquered. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in blood-red hues. Her lips curled into a smile.

This was her empire.

And she was its queen.