A pale dawn glow seeped through the high windows of the Demon King's private audience chamber. Itsuki Hiroto rubbed sleep from his eyes as he surveyed the chamber—a vast hall of obsidian stone, braided with veins of molten silver that pulsed softly underfoot. At its center stood a circular dais inscribed with ancient infernal runes. Flanking the dais were rows of demon advisors, every horned head turned in silent expectation.
At the dais's apex, King Gerald lounged upon a throne carved from volcanic glass. His horned silhouette gleamed in the morning light, and his eyes—those tired, storm‑cloud eyes—lay heavy upon Hiroto.
"Rise, Captain Hiroto," Gerald commanded, his voice smooth as smoldering embers. "I trust your slumber was… restful."
Hiroto stood, wary. "Your Majesty," he replied, inclining his head. "Very, thank you."
Gerald waved a hand, summoning his chief advisors forward. Magister Zoroth—the wizened scholar whose bones seemed nearly as ancient as the chamber itself—and General Akriss, a towering demon warrior clad in rune‑etched plate.
Magister Zoroth cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, the mortal's influence among both humans and demons grows unchecked. They hail him as god… as demon… as savior. We cannot allow such devotion to guide our fates."
General Akriss clenched his gauntlet. "If he departs, another warlord will claim that power. We must bind him to our realm."
Hiroto's pulse thundered. Bind me? He swallowed. "Your Majesty—"
Gerald held up a hand. "I have considered your counsel. Here is my decree: Captain Hiroto shall remain in the Citadel indefinitely, as my honored guest and adviser. You,"—he nodded to Zoroth—"will prepare suitable quarters. And you,"—he turned to Akriss—"will ensure he has the freedom to move within these walls, but no path leads outward without my sanction."
Akriss bowed deeply. "As you command."
Magister Zoroth inclined his head, inspecting Hiroto's face. "We shall prepare the Oath‑binding Ritual tonight. It will seal his presence and test his will."
Hiroto's stomach lurched. "A… ritual?"
Gerald smiled faintly. "Only to mark your place among us. Afterwards, you may come and go as you wish—within reason."
Hiroto forced a nod. Within reason. He remembered Azara's token, the Oathbearer sigil, and all the accidental ties he'd forged. With a reluctant breath, he bowed. "I… understand."
The rest of the day dragged by in a haze of politeness and half‑listened policy briefings. Azara Varn guided Hiroto through a garden courtyard, where demon lilies bloomed under lavender skies. Sera hovered at his side, offering "escape tea" and "invisibility dust," neither of which he dared accept. Virelya paced outside the chamber door, her armor glinting even in the midday gloom.
At dusk, Hiroto found himself summoned back to the audience hall. Candles burned low in their iron sconces, and the dais's runes glowed with expectant urgency. Demon nobles gathered: emissaries from every house, their faces solemn.
Gerald stood at the dais's rim, staff in hand. Behind him, a raised platform held an altar of volcanic glass and ember-lotus petals.
"Tonight," Gerald intoned, "we bind the Oath of the Avatara. Captain Hiroto, step forward and speak your vow."
Hiroto swallowed, stepping onto the dais. The runes pulsed underfoot.
Gerald raised the staff, its tip flickering. "By the ancient pact between demon and mortal, do you, Itsuki Hiroto, pledge to uphold the peace you have forged, to guide our counsel with humility, and to bear no ill will against this realm?"
Hiroto's throat tightened. He glanced at Virelya—her stern gaze softened with reassurance—then at Sera, whose tight smile urged him on.
"I pledge," Hiroto said, voice trembling but clear, "to protect the peace I never sought, to counsel with honesty, and to bear goodwill to this realm—no matter where fate carries me."
A ripple of approval ran through the assembled nobles. Gerald's staff glowed brighter.
"Then drink," Gerald commanded, gesturing to a demon‑crafted chalice glowing with ember‑lotus tea. "Cast your vow upon the flames of our covenant."
Hiroto drank. The tea burned warmly, then cooled to a soothing glow. In that moment, he felt a subtle shift—a faint tightening in his chest, as though invisible threads wound around his soul.
The runes flared one final time, then dimmed to a steady glow. Gerald lowered his staff.
"You are bound," he said softly, stepping forward to clap Hiroto on the shoulder. "But not captive. You are my friend… and my Oathbearer."
After the ritual, the hall emptied, leaving only the four of them: Hiroto, Gerald, Azara, and Magister Zoroth. Gerald motioned for Hiroto to sit on a low bench carved into the dais's rim.
"Your feet must ache," Gerald noted. "Rest awhile."
Hiroto sank down, exhaustion tugging at his limbs. "Thank you, Gerald." He looked around the empty dais. "I feel… sealed."
Azara knelt beside him. "Sealed to our realm—but free within it. We trust you, Hiroto. In return, you have my protection."
Magister Zoroth offered a small scroll. "Your Oathbearer sigil, activated by the ritual, will guide you home if ever you are lost. Keep it close."
Hiroto accepted the scroll and unrolled it. The sigil glowed softly—a half‑moon half‑sun entwined by a serpent. He tucked it into his cloak pocket. "I will."
Gerald watched him with quiet pride. "Come, let us share a final cup of tea before the night wanes." He led them to the balcony overlooking the lava-lit courtyard, where two steaming goblets waited.
They drank in companionable silence, the smoky air heavy with ash and promise. Hiroto savored the warmth, feeling for a moment that perhaps he had found a place where destiny truly welcomed him.
As he set down the goblet, Gerald smiled. "Tomorrow, the world will still need a clerk, a prophet, and a hero. Tonight, you are simply my friend—bound by oath, not obligation."
Hiroto met his gaze, the weight of countless accidental legacies pressing on him. Yet here, under the cratered moon, he felt something rare: choice.
"Thank you," he whispered, voice steady. "For the trust."
Gerald inclined his head. "Rest now, Oathbearer. We shall face tomorrow together."
And as the dawn of a new alliance crested the horizon, Captain Itsuki Hiroto—clerk, Chair‑Fu master, Divine Variable, and now sworn Oathbearer—allowed himself to believe that, bound by friendship and ritual, even destiny's silent hand might find peace.