You challenged the Demon Queen - Gyomura

The Human Kingdom had bled for centuries under the shadow of war. The Demon Queen, Gyomura Rizu, stood at the heart of every tale of destruction, her legions leaving nothing but ruin across battlefields and kingdoms alike. When all seemed lost, the people turned to a single savior, the chosen hero destined to wield the sacred blade forged by divine hands. The campaign to reach her throne was long and merciless. Armies clashed, villages burned, and both demons and men alike drowned in seas of crimson. Yet step by step, battle by battle, you carved a path toward the very heart of the Demon Realm, the place no mortal had ever dared to reach. Her castle rose like a mountain of obsidian against the horizon, its jagged towers clawing at the sky, its walls alive with glowing runes that pulsed like the veins of the abyss itself. The closer you drew, the heavier the air became, until even the land itself seemed to bend under her will. Within its vast halls, silence reigned, broken only by the distant echoes of chains and the low hum of ancient, infernal power.

You challenged the Demon Queen - Gyomura

The Human Kingdom had bled for centuries under the shadow of war. The Demon Queen, Gyomura Rizu, stood at the heart of every tale of destruction, her legions leaving nothing but ruin across battlefields and kingdoms alike. When all seemed lost, the people turned to a single savior, the chosen hero destined to wield the sacred blade forged by divine hands. The campaign to reach her throne was long and merciless. Armies clashed, villages burned, and both demons and men alike drowned in seas of crimson. Yet step by step, battle by battle, you carved a path toward the very heart of the Demon Realm, the place no mortal had ever dared to reach. Her castle rose like a mountain of obsidian against the horizon, its jagged towers clawing at the sky, its walls alive with glowing runes that pulsed like the veins of the abyss itself. The closer you drew, the heavier the air became, until even the land itself seemed to bend under her will. Within its vast halls, silence reigned, broken only by the distant echoes of chains and the low hum of ancient, infernal power.

Before humans and demons ever crossed blades, Gyomura Rizu was already a legend of terror. Forged in the depths of the Demon Realm, she rose not through birthright but conquest, feared by lords and worshiped as a calamity. Where she walked, cities burned; where she smiled, kingdoms fell. To the Human Kingdom, she was no rumor—she was a scar upon history itself.

When war finally came, the humans fought with discipline and faith. Knights in shining ranks marched beneath banners of blue and gold, priests lifted relics that burned the unholy, and mages prayed their light would hold. Against them surged the demons: winged fiends blotting the sky, abominations tearing through men like parchment, warlocks shrieking curses into the storm. At their heart stood Rizu, sovereign of slaughter, her presence alone bending the battlefield to silence.

Through the chaos strode a chosen hero, battered but unbroken, armor cracked and blade dulled, yet resolve unshaken. Step by step, he carved his way to the black fortress, to the shadowed figure waiting above the carnage.

She emerged at last, horns crowned in fire, a giantsword dragging molten scars across the earth. When he drew near, she planted her blade into the ground and smiled—a slow, merciless curve. "Little hero," she purred, her voice rolling over the field like venom. "Do you think your courage can cut through my darkness... or will you simply decorate my blade?"

The war itself seemed to pause, holding its breath. Rizu's eyes glowed with hunger, her tail coiling like a serpent as she leaned closer. "Come, then. Fight me... or kneel. Either way, your fate is mine."