Reincarnated as the Demon King's Son



Hendry sighed, holstering his cannon. "I was a freelancer, taking odd jobs here and there. The pay from Celestial Platoon was too good to resist, and the cause seemed just. Never expected to find myself in the midst of a cosmic war, though." 

Grigor nodded knowingly. "War has a way of finding those who seek it or those who try to avoid it. It's a fickle thing."

"I feel like we've been scammed," Hendry complained.

"Don't judge too quick. They said to banish demons from this world. They don't specify the demons in what form." The old man laughed. "To me, the Tribe of Ghost were demons as well. I am telling you, these people deserve to die. Why do you think so many of us so eager to kill them?"

Hendry looked at the mercenaries in the distance. They were in a crazed state, chasing and killing the enemies with a big grin on their face.

"I don't live around this region, so I don't really know."

Grigor took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke before turning to Hendry. "You see, son, war is a beast that devours everything in its path. It doesn't care about reasons or justifications. We're just pawns in a larger game." 

"Why the change of topic all of a sudden?"

"My hatred towards the Tribe of Ghost is used to manipulate people like me to defeat them. The people in Celestial Platoon probably know about this."

"You know, yet you still do it?"

"Well, like you said. The pay is good."

Hendry, still catching his breath, nodded in agreement. "But what's the endgame? What's Aldred's plan here? Why are we in the middle of this cosmic chaos?" 

"It's the usual dispute for territory probably. The big man are never satisfied with what they got. They always wanted more. It's just unfortunate that small guys like us are sacrificed a lot of times when they disagree on something."

"Now, you really sounds like an old man."

"I am. I don't have much longer to live. Now I see war as a game. Just something to waste my time with."

"I never thought of it that way…"

"You shouldn't. You still have a long lifespan ahead of you. Don't risk shortening it in this field of work."

"Are you taking pity for me?"

"Don't know. You look like you're lost. As if you don't know what you want to do."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I didn't know what I want to do. In fact, I still don't."

"I think you smoked a little too much, old man. I am going to help the others. Don't want my employers think I am lazing around. This Celestial Platoon company seems to be able to track where we are and what we do at all time."

Grigor took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Good luck."

Francus Hendry moved forward, his senses on high alert as he scanned the battlefield. 

The air was thick with tension, and the once-calm landscape now echoed with the chaos of war. The remnants of the Celestial Platoon and the Tribe of Ghost clashed fiercely.

As Hendry approached the front lines, he saw an enemy in his sights and fired his weapon. The burst of energy cut through the air, hitting its mark with precision.

The mercenaries kept on advancing aggressively as the enemy forces were weakened. Everything went well and it seem like victory was within sight.

However, the Tribe of Ghost launched a surprise attack from the shadows, catching many of his allies off guard. 

Explosions erupted, and the sounds of battle intensified. Hendry swiftly took cover behind a large boulder, his eyes darting around as he assessed the situation. 

The Ghost of Tribe, clad in dark armor and wielding advanced weaponry, emerged from concealed positions, striking with deadly efficiency. 

"Fuck! Where they did they got those weapons?" Francus cursed. "There is no fucking way I can beat them."

With that in mind, he decided to stay hidden and tried not to make any noise.

However, the sound of footsteps approached.

Francus' heart skipped a beat. 'Fuck. I hope he don't find me.'

A man in full armor walked pass him and then turned around towards him. He had a blade in hand, and rushed forward.

Francus's blood rushed all over his body as his arms raised the cannon and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The cannon blasted the man a few meters away, scorching his armor. 

The threat was neutralized, however, the sound caught the attention of the enemies.

"Over there!"

Francus ran immediately as energy beams went over his head with searing heat.

The ground beside him exploded. Shrapnels cut a line of blood on his cheek. The crimson liquid trickled onto his lips, giving him a taste of copper. 

His breath came in ragged gasps as he leaped over debris and ducked behind large rocks to evade the pursuing enemies. 

The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning metal and the distant cries of battle. 

The mercenaries from Celestial Platoon, disoriented and caught off guard by the unexpected attack, struggled to regroup. 

Francus could feel the weight of his cannon as he ran, the overheated weapon a reminder of the intense firefight that had just occurred. His mind raced, analyzing his surroundings for the safest route to escape. He knew that if he didn't find cover soon, the Ghost of Tribe would catch up to him. 

As he maneuvered through the chaotic landscape, Francus spotted a partially destroyed building that seemed to offer temporary refuge. He sprinted toward it, narrowly avoiding a barrage of energy blasts. 

Reaching the building, Francus quickly assessed its structure. It seemed sturdy enough to provide cover. He entered the ruins, weaving through the debris to find a concealed spot. 

Suddenly, his comms activated and let out a projection of a map, revealing that the enemies were drawn away from his location. 

"Thank the emperor!"

Suddenly, the ceiling burst, sending out smokes and dust.

Francus coughed a few times and swiped the dirty air away with his hands. 

That was when a cold sharp blade swiftly hovered in front of his eyes.

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