The fallen god

The bustling Adventurer's Guild of Central Lionion roared with life, a cacophony of shouts, laughter, and the clanking of tankards. Seasoned warriors, robed mages, and stern knights filled the hall, their conversations a tapestry of quests, rewards, and battle strategies.

Then, a sudden hush fell, followed by a ripple of snickers and outright guffaws. All eyes turned to the entrance, where a small figure stood: Ren, a mere ten-year-old, with a gleaming twin-bladed spear, Fallenfang, strapped to his back.

"Oi, is this a lost kid?" a burly adventurer boomed, triggering another wave of laughter.

Ren's grip tightened on his spear, his jaw clenching. A cold fury ignited within him, a flicker of the god he once was. But before he could react, a shadow fell over him. Kuro, his Demon King servant, stepped forward, his human form radiating an oppressive aura. The air grew heavy, thick with a barely visible black mist.

Kuro's voice, low and menacing, cut through the residual laughter like a blade. "Say that again."

The guild fell silent, an icy chill sweeping through the room. Adventurers exchanged nervous glances, some even instinctively stepping back. Kana, in her animal form, bristled, subtly tugging at Kuro's cloak. "Kuro, stop! You're gonna scare them to death!"

Ren, sensing the escalating tension, quickly stepped between them, forcing a grin. "Relax, Kuro. We’re not here to start a fight." Kuro huffed, a low growl rumbling in his chest, but he relented, crossing his arms. The mood in the guild remained wary, but the laughter was gone. The message was clear: this was no ordinary child.