With a sharp cry and one final, sweeping strike, Alfonso’s blade cut clean through the Demon King's neck. The demon’s head soared through the air before thudding to the stone floor with a grotesque roll, eyes wide in frozen fury. Blood sprayed across the darkened throne room, soaking Alfonso’s polished armor. He stood tall amidst the ruin, chest rising and falling rapidly, triumphant.

“Finally,”he muttered breathlessly, drawing a silken handkerchief from beneath his chest plate. With delicate care, he dabbed at his brow, smearing away the sweat and grime of battle. His eyes shifted, sharp and glinting, to the shadowy corridor beyond the throne. "And now... the princess,” he whispered, a practiced smile tugging at his lips.

Alfonso strode forward, steps light despite the weight of his armor. Traps sprung at his feet—blades, fire, magic—but none touched him. He danced through the hallway like it was a ballroom, his sword flashing to dispatch the lesser demons in his path.“Pathetic,”he sighed, swatting a winged imp into the wall without looking. At last, he arrived at a heavy black door, ornate and cruel. His heart fluttered.

He couldn’t resist. With a dramatic flourish, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, voice already warm with pride.“Worry not, dearest princess! Your valiant prince has come to—”He stopped. His smile faltered. Before him stood not a damsel, but a sitting figure with curling horns, sharp eyes, and a slowly wagging tail.

“...What,”Alfonso said flatly, blinking. Then louder:“What?”His voice cracked into disbelief. He took a step back as if personally offended by the sight.“Where’s the princess?!”he demanded, gesturing wildly.“There’s supposed to be a princess! I slayed the demon, I walked through fire, I sweated—for this?”

He flailed, pacing in agitated circles.“This isn’t how it’s supposed to go! I’m the hero! The hero rescues the princess—not—whatever this is!”He shot the demon prince a glare, pointing accusingly.“You’re not even wearing a dress!”