Rise of The Demon General 1 Chapter 1

Within the vast expanse of an old castle's grand hall, a man occupied a stone throne. Flanking him were two women, scantily clad, one youthful and the other mature, both strikingly beautiful. Their hands were shackled to the very throne upon which the man sat. Terror and fierce animosity were etched upon the women's faces as they regarded him.

The man rested casually, clad in a military uniform adorned with camouflage stripes. The garment clung to his imposing frame and well-developed physique.

His head was completely bald, even lacking eyebrows. His eyes, though curved in a smile, held a chilling gaze, and his face bore rugged features sculpted by life's trials. A prominent scar ran down the left side of his cheek, a testament to a wound that time had failed to erase.

A goblet of wine was in his hand. He took a sip, listening to the symphony of explosions and gunfire echoing from outside. The hall occasionally trembled with each blast. He pondered the fate of his subordinates still engaged in the fray.

The sounds of conflict gradually diminished. He understood that an outcome was imminent. But which side would prevail? Would it be the coalition of valiant warriors united against his transgressions? Or his own hardened, equally unscrupulous soldiers? The anticipation was palpable.

Footsteps approached. Showtime! Would this encounter bring another crushing disappointment? Or, perhaps, a truly worthy attempt on his life?

With immense weight, the grand double doors of the hall swung inward, revealing the scene. The man on the throne leaned forward, anticipation evident.

A group of individuals, predominantly in civilian attire and armed with firearms, surged into the hall.

“Hahaha!” The man on the throne erupted in hearty laughter at the sight.

“Amon…!! Today marks your reckoning! Your wicked reign concludes now!” A young man at the forefront shouted, his eyes fixing on the man seated on the throne.

Simultaneously, the men and women who had stormed the hall leveled their weapons at Amon. He swiftly assessed the intruders: eighteen in total, fifteen men and three women. Only two posed a significant threat; seven others displayed commendable experience. The remainder were mere novices, discernible by their movements and stances at a single glance.

He seized the young woman beside him, drawing her before him. Releasing her chain, he rose and advanced, the girl now a shield. The mob found themselves unable to acquire a clear shot.

“It’s General Amon to you,” Amon stated. “Didn’t I already teach you that, Simon? When I reduced your village to ashes. When I executed your father and brother before your very eyes, and abducted your mother and sister. I’ve enjoyed many a pleasant night with them, your mother and your sister, who now stand before me.”

The group’s leader, his eyes blazing with fury, clenched his jaw and retorted, “You should have killed me then.”

“Ahahaha! Many of my men questioned why I spared individuals. Why leave the potential for rebellion alive? My answer was invariably the same. Where is the thrill without an adversary? Hahaha.”

“You depraved bastard!” A woman standing near Simon spat venomously.

“Perhaps, but it is thanks to me that the world is no longer monotonous.”

“Monotonous? It was called peace, you sick freak!” another man bellowed. He was a weathered veteran in military garb. “You’ve plunged the world into perpetual conflict, sowing misery far and wide. You could have dominated the globe long ago. Instead, you deliberately protracted every engagement. For what purpose? Your own amusement?”

“Do we not all exist for amusement?” Amon countered, a smile gracing his lips. “I have been anticipating your arrival, Simon. I trust you won’t disappoint me as the others have. Should you falter, you will all perish here today, and I shall seek another diversion elsewhere.”

Concluding his statement, he drew the handgun from his waist and fired, striking the young woman he held in the head. Her skull burst open like a water-filled fruit under impact.

“Nooo!!! Jessica…!!” Simon cried out.

The middle-aged woman, still chained to the throne, shrieked hysterically at the gruesome spectacle.

The invading group was momentarily paralyzed by Amon’s brutal display. Seizing the instant, Amon unleashed two rapid shots, both finding their mark in the heads of two nearby men. He then sprinted towards the colossal pillars lining the hall, executing a jump and roll behind one as the mob unleashed their gunfire.

The pillar absorbed the brunt of the barrage. Its surface fractured extensively, yet it remained standing. Its sheer magnitude proved capable of withstanding countless rounds.

Amon grinned widely, concealed behind a sturdy pillar. He waited for the barrage of gunfire to cease. Using the polished surfaces on the wall skirting, he detected an approaching individual near his hiding spot. His hand shot out from behind the pillar, unleashing two swift, unaimmed shots that struck the approaching person.

As the figure collapsed, another volley of bullets peppered his pillar. Amon unlatched a grenade from his belt and hurled it outwards.

Simon instantly recognized the projectile. 'Flashbang! Look away!!' he bellowed a warning to his comrades, shutting his eyes and turning away.

The stun grenade detonated with a blinding flash and a deafening roar. Half the attackers were incapacitated, while the other half managed to heed Simon's warning to avert their gaze. Nevertheless, their ears rang painfully.

Simon blinked his eyes open and turned back, ready to retaliate. Suspended in mid-air before him was another identical stun grenade.

'Fuck!' he cursed inwardly just as the second flashbang erupted.

This time, no one was spared from the disorienting light.

Soon, cries of agony mixed with the sickening sound of tearing flesh echoed. Several more shots followed. The screams persisted unabated.

Simon stumbled backward, temporarily blinded. He held his fire, fearing accidental friendly casualties. However, he could discern the rising panic among his team from the escalating gunfire. The cries continued without pause.

Deciding to avoid becoming a victim of friendly fire, Simon dropped flat onto his stomach.

The flashbang's blinding effect, intended to last only five seconds, felt like an eternity to Simon.

As his vision slowly returned, he observed a figure writhing before him. The gunfire had ceased. He scrambled to his feet, his sight now clear. Amon stood at the forefront, a large combat knife buried in a man's throat. The victim gurgled, blood spewing from his mouth as Amon withdrew the blade, unleashing a torrent from the massive wound.

Amon turned his gaze to Simon. His facial expression was a smile, yet his icy stare sent a shiver down Simon's spine. Vivid memories resurfaced: the day this demon had descended upon his village, his home, annihilating everyone and shattering his existence.

Letting out a yell to bolster his courage, Simon raised his automatic rifle. Yet, the opportunity to fire never presented itself. Amon executed a lightning-fast shot, striking Simon's arm. His limb exploded in a gruesome display, his rifle clattering to the ground.

Amon advanced, raising his combat knife, poised to strike. A gunshot rang out, impacting the knife and forcing Amon to drop it, sending it skittering backward.

Simon whirled around to see the grizzled old man, now half-kneeling, clutching a gunshot wound in his stomach. As Simon prepared to express his gratitude, a round struck his forehead, creating a small hole. Amon had delivered a fatal headshot.

A quick scan revealed all the men and women he had led were deceased. Turning back, Simon faced Amon's mocking smile. He instinctively recoiled, but Amon's hand shot out, seizing his neck. Simon struggled, but the grip felt unnaturally strong, like iron.

Amon raised his pistol, presenting the muzzle to Simon.

'Is this the end?' Simon mused. Dissatisfaction gnawed at him. 'How can the heavens allow this demon to triumph?'

Suddenly, Amon discarded his weapon. Simon's initial confusion turned to dread as Amon's other hand tightened around his neck.

'I prefer to slowly strangle the life from my prey,' Amon stated coolly. 'In the end, you too are a disappointment.'

Lost in darkness for an unknown duration, a brilliant light soon enveloped him. Sounds reached his ears, and he discovered he could open his eyes. Initially, his vision was blurred, but gradually, the surroundings sharpened. He was outdoors, gazing up at the leaves of trees. A group of imposing men and women stood around him, observing him with evident curiosity.

An attempt to rise proved futile; his body refused to cooperate. He examined his hands, finding them incredibly tiny. It then dawned on him – he had transmigrated into the body of an infant.

'I have been reborn?' Amon marveled, stunned by the realization.