The Demon Lord And His Hero

The first two mer kids were dragged forward by the guards. One of them looked young enough to be about six years old in human age. The mer child was in extreme distress as he made crying sounds and asked for his mother.

Syryn, whose hand was curled over the armrest of his throne, tightened his fist till he began to feel pain from his nails digging into the hard stone of the throne. He mentally gave himself a pep talk because the mage was so close to stopping everything.

[You can fucking do it Syryn don't give up when you're so close to your goal.]

I see you torturing yourself worse than what some of those mers are feeling.

[Did I ask for an opinion?]

I'm entitled to it, brat. Just get it over with quickly.

[Why don't you take over and finish it?]

You started it, you finish it. Besides, no one's getting killed. Why are you so upset?

Syryn was an asshole demon lord who had tortured and killed people but he had one weakness, children. He could never lay his hands on the young and innocent ones who were untainted by the world's corruption. There were exceptions to the rule, like everything else. Some children were wicked, already corrupted at a very young age, but the mage still spared even those children. Lucien was an example of it. There was absolutely no way that he could force them into a violent game of death. This was just an elaborate scheme of his to mentally torture the adult mers who believed that they were going to lose their children.

[I shouldn't have told you.]

What? That it's all a big play? Who asked you to beg for my help with the guards then?

[Keep gloating. One day I'll stick you inside the body of an old woman with sagging boobs and dried-]

Still better than sharing a mind with you. If I'd known that you were such a handful, I'd have waited the next thousand millennia for another disciple.

[Then leave, get out of my head.]

Syryn frowned when one of the guards threw the older of the mer children to the ground. The six-year old's opponent was a young female mer who looked to be eleven or twelve years old. She was just as distressed as the six-year-old.

[Have I pushed it too far by involving the children?]

You've scarred those two at the very least.

The mage sighed. He didn't want to call it off just yet.

Crossing his legs, he declared in a haughty voice. "Bring those two before me."

What are you planning now?

[Calm them down. I'll owe you one.]

One what?

The kids were brought to him, trembling and shaking like leaves in a storm.

[Just do it, old man. Look at how scared they are.]

And whose fault is it?

Nevertheless, Syryn leaned forward and placed his elbows on his thighs. His hair fell forward and covered parts of his forehead where a third eye was slowly opening.

One child at a time, the cruel human whispered words in their ears that alarmed the little ones. The mers couldn't see Syryn's third eye because he used the children to shield his face from the audience.

The parents of the mers were in chains and held down by the guards. They gnashed their teeth, cried out against the villainous ruler, prayed to their gods, and cursed the human world. The mothers were especially loud in their distress. How could they be silent when they were about to witness the death of their babies? The other mers who hadn't tried to escape knew that their turns would come soon. It was a special sort of torture to remain helpless while their young were sent for execution. Never in their cushy lives had the nobles felt so hopeless and distraught.

[Look at their faces.] Syryn smiled as he looked from one anguished face to another. This was the satisfaction he had been craving. When the nobles had bowed before him, it had felt as if they were mocking him. Syryn hadn't planned for any of this but now that it had happened, he took every delight in their agony.

Look at your fiancee's face.

Syryn glimpsed a look at Rowan's face and it was as dark as storm clouds. The anti mage wasn't even bothering with his neutral expression anymore.

[That's quite troublesome....]

Syryn's smile froze like winter had suddenly enveloped his heart.

End this before your relationship ends.

[Good idea.]

Rowan's eyes were looking very scary to Syryn. The worst part was that the anti mage wasn't even giving him a look of intimidation. The disappointment and cool anger in his blues doused Syryn's fire of happiness faster than he could say Ro.

Syryn cleared his throat and stood up. Thousands of eyes like knives were pinning him where he stood. If looks could kill, Syryn would have been murdered several times by the dangerous looks he was receiving from the mers. They hadn't revolted till now because of fear. But seeing the two young mers about to shed blood was igniting their fighting spirits. Things were going to get out of hand very soon.

[I've had my fun. I don't regret a thing.]

Save your monologue for after you've had a conversation with your fiancee.

Syryn smiled like a mannequin. Rowan's stare was the hottest. His skin itched between his shoulders where he imagined the anti mage was burning a hole through with his freaky eyes; freaky beautiful eyes.

"I'm hungry," he announced suddenly. "You're all free to go. Guards, release the prisoners," Syryn said in the most bored tone he was capable of producing.

"What?!" Drevin's shocked exclamation was loud behind him.

The mage glanced at Drevin like the mer was annoying him. "You heard it, didn't you? Are you deaf, Drevin?"

Syryn's gaze slid over to Rowan who was smiling. The edges of the mage's lips twitched, wanting to smile back at Rowan but feeling a smidgen of awkwardness.

The guards freed the mers who hugged their children and wept. Was the nightmare really over? They were too afraid to believe that it could be true. Even so, the nobles began to leave as fast as they could.. They were escaping before the human ruler could change his mind or get some new ideas for torturing them.