Disclaimer: It's 2020 and it's still not mine!

Wartime

Years into the reign of the 27th Demon King, Shibuya Yuuri, the world has experienced a phenomenal serenity. No matter how ridiculous it sounded at first, Yuuri's adamant drive for negotiation and peace talks has finally came to fruition. Countries—especially those of Shin Makoku's allies—has realised the importance of having a broader perspective. Instead of impulsively grabbing whatever armaments they had, they should really try to view things from the opposite side. That said, the world was a better place.

Of course, as the Kingdom grew, the King had to grow too. The wimpy and reckless boy was now a gallant and acute ruler. He knew when he should be stoic and when he could freely let his actual feelings come forth. He knew when to use his brain and when to give the rein to his intuition. It was definitely not easy, but it was all worth the peace he had now.

In daily life, there were still some minor problems. After all, conquering the whole world was next to impossible. There would always bound to be some antagonism, regardless of how great a king you were. Unifying thoughts and beliefs were not as easy as in fairy tales. It would probably take an eternity before everyone could see eye to eye.

Yuuri got used to the threats of poisoning, injuries, kidnapping, torture, and—Shinou forbids—death as well. He learnt that given his position, he must allow some protection for himself. Though at some point, he demanded his retainers to allow him to build his immunity to poisons, aside from his regular self-defence training. It was because—as Yuuri reflected, seriously—how long would he depend on his guardians to test his food? Even then, if it happened that some poisons managed to slip past the test, just that slight amount would be more than enough to wreck him if he had no immunity at all. So, he bugged all of them until they eventually gave in.

Immunity building was not a trivial matter. It required a tight supervision, which was also one of the conditions set by his retainers. During the first few poison admissions to let his body adapt to it, Yuuri almost always collapsed and had to be given the antidote within an hour. He really was too weak, even if it was only the symptoms—the actual effect of the poison had not kicked in yet. Gradually, he was able to withstand the symptoms, the actual poisoning, and then even the side-effects after getting the antidote. Again, it was exhausting and hard, but it was definitely worth his safety now.

As such, it was a great surprise—an unpleasant one, mind you—when Yuuri collapsed one day because of poisoning. Everyone thought they were over this; Yuuri had sufficient immunity to hold on until antidote came and what more with his self-healing ability. Conrart, who happened to be the nearest to Yuuri caught him before his head hit the floor.

"Heika!" everyone exclaimed in unison.

Conrart did a once over on Yuuri and he concluded, "This could only be poisoning. Someone, get Gisella quickly!"

Conrart did not see who ran to find the healer, he was busy assessing Yuuri's condition. How severe and how far was the poisoning? Judging from the onset of fever and his shallow breathing, perhaps this poison was meant to progressively shut Yuuri's organ down. Worst case, if help did not arrive before Yuuri stopped breathing, Conrart would need to physically resuscitate Yuuri. Let's hope it did not get to that point.

"Weller-kyo!" a feminine yet sharp voice cut in, thank goodness.

Conrart moved aside to let Gisella do her job. She examined Yuuri thoroughly, beads of sweat forming on her forehead from the strain of rushing here and using her maryoku to save the King.

"This is bad," she whispered gravely, "it's not that Heika cannot withstand this poison, but the effect kicked in so fast his body did not recognise the danger and counter it in time."

Looking up to Gunter, Gisella requested, "Tou-san, could you help me stabilise Heika, while I prepare the antidote?"

Gunter promptly kneeled beside Yuuri and summoned his maryoku as Gisella rummaged her postman bag for the right herbs and concoctions. Not even two minutes later, she shook a small phial containing all necessary ingredients and returned to her position earlier.

"I don't think we can make Heika swallow this now, so at the very least, we have to make him breathe this in," Gisella explained to Gunter, "Tou-san, please focus on clearing Heika's airway. Once he can breathe steadily, then we can try to make him swallow the antidote."

The father and daughter duo worked in sync, immediately getting Yuuri to inhale and successively swallow the antidote. As the cure began neutralising the toxins, Yuuri's pale face gained its lost colours.

The suspense was in fact only about ten minutes or so, but it felt like years. When Gisella cleared Yuuri's condition, the King's guardians released the breaths that they did not even realise they were holding.

"Just in case, I would like to keep Heika in the infirmary," Gisella directed the guards moving to lift Yuuri up the stretcher, "There shouldn't be any complications, but perhaps Heika will take longer to recover."

"How long do you estimate until at least he regained consciousness?" inquired Gwendal. He might hide it, nevertheless the King's close aides knew how much Gwendal had grown fond of Yuuri. Perhaps, even the thought that Yuuri was dying before his eyes was enough to cast a raging storm in his brain.

With her hand on her chin and a calculating gaze, Gisella answered, "From the severity of poisoning, I expect the earliest is within a week and the longest is approximately a month."

Looking at the wide eyes she had gotten, Gisella elaborated further, "I am aware that Heika has been pushing himself a little bit too hard these days. We could factor his exhaustion in the reasons why his immunity was declining."

True, the young Maou had been working so hard it was not even imaginable—if you only took into account his prior habit when he first arrived in Shin Makoku. Come on, everybody recognised how tired the King was, such that he forewent the usual food testing ritual, immediately digging into his meal, and then getting poisoned as a result.

If there was a thing they missed when Yuuri grew up, it was his frankness, which was a very helpful indication of his current state. They used to know when Yuuri was tired because he always complained loudly to make sure everyone noticed it. Or when he was bored, he would make this little trip with Conrart to play and then merrily forgot to continue whatever duty he was doing. However, presently, with the flourishing sense of responsibility towards his people, was the creation of this invisible wall to his real feelings. Yuuri only opened himself when he deemed necessary, and that also meant when he was willing, and it was safe. With pressing matters like politics, threats, and risks of war, well, you could kiss all that chance goodbye.

Besides handling his regular duties, Yuuri had also taken up healing lessons under the infamous Gisella-in-sergeant-mode. He was a decent healer now, his enormous maryoku making up for his lack of natural talent—such as Gisella's line of a healer tribe. That went without saying that the first few times he attempted healing, he very much nearly kicked the bucket because he could not properly gauge how much maryoku he should dispense to safe others, including himself. Fortunately, Yuuri was also quite a fast learner (one did not survive Gisella's training without developing adaptability) that he could control his power better now.

Back to the situation at hand, Gwendal pinched his nose, muttering, "Great Shinou…" It was just so 'nice' that the King collapsed when there was a spreading unrest outside the border. Gwendal would need to take his place to investigate, formulate an appropriate plan, and execute whatever countermeasures assented. Not that he minded representing the King, after all he acknowledged the fact that he was to do so when circumstance called in. It was exactly because he understood Yuuri would somehow feel left out. Yuuri would not voice it out, yet Gwendal would notice it through the minute changes in Yuuri's face.

Carefully watching Yuuri being carried away from him, Gwendal gave in, 'Might as well let him get his much-needed rest,' he considered, 'Hopefully he would not feel too bad later.'

Yuuri woke up at midday, about two weeks thereafter. It was strangely quiet in the castle, when normally he would hear his loyal soldiers marching and exercising around the castle grounds.

'What happened when I was out?' Yuuri pondered, 'Where is everyone?'

Slowly, as much as his weakened body permitted, Yuuri rose from the bed, looking around the vicinity for just anyone to alert that he was awake. Peeking from the curtain separating the royal area and the regular patients' area, he found there was only a healer currently treating a soldier.

"Excuse me," Yuuri called the man in the healer uniform.

"Heika, you're awake," the healer turned his head around, startled, "Please, pardon me for a minute. I am just finishing his treatment," he gestured towards the sleeping soldier.

"It's fine, take your time," Yuuri responded gently to the likely healer trainee. He had spent countless hours of healing lessons with Gisella and various healers in the castle, such that he made note to know at least all the main healers in the castle. He did not recognise this man, thus probably he was just a trainee.

Soon, the man approached Yuuri who was now sitting on one stool near Gisella's table, "Heika, my name is Zen, I am just starting my training this week," the man introduced himself as he motioned to examine Yuuri.

Yuuri allowed him to perform his task, "Where are the others?" he asked.

"Lady Gisella is currently resting, but she should be back about now. As for the other assistants, it seems that they are required at the healing station," Zen replied in a matter-of-fact manner, not noticing that his words had raised a big question mark in Yuuri's head.

"It seems you are recovering well, Heika. From what I had been told, today should be two weeks after you were brought in here," Zen released Yuuri's hand that he was holding for examination, "Is there anything I could do for you, Heika? I would advise that Heika rests for a bit more, but in case you need to do something urgent, I shall prescribe supplements to accelerate and maintain your recovery."

Breaking from his stupor, Yuuri said, "Yes, please, I need to see my generals."

"Certainly, Heika," the man bowed and proceeded to the medication desk.

"You were saying that Gisella is resting now, right? That's rather unusual for her to do at noon. And the rest are needed at the healing station—what healing station?" Yuuri probed with a sense of foreboding. Just what in the world happened when he was out?

Right at that moment, Gisella entered with a really tired face she could seemingly sleep for weeks.

Straightaway spotting the awoken King, Gisella smiled brightly, "Heika, you're awake! Thank Shinou."

"How are you feeling, Heika?" she approached Yuuri, all exhaustion gone from her posture.

Yuuri reciprocated the smile, albeit still worried, "I'm fine, Gisella, thanks. Zen has checked me out and he's just preparing some supplements for me."

"That's great, Heika. You might feel lethargic as you have not been moving for days and likely you will feel faint during heavy activities, so-" Gisella squinted her eyes in her 'little and harmless' glare which screamed, 'I so warn you' and smiled back in a flash, "-please take it easy for these few days until you are fully recovered. Alright?"

Given the current situation, Yuuri could only mentally sweat-dropped while affirming a weak, "Yes, Gisella."

"Speaking of which," Yuuri directed back his attention to what he had wanted to ascertain, "Isn't it unusual for you to rest at this time of the day, Gisella? What happened to make you so exhausted?" and before Gisella could reply, he added, "And Zen said the assistants are required at the healing station. What healing station is this?"

For a split second, Gisella froze. She glanced around and resigned herself to a sigh, "Seems like I'm the one who has to break the news to you."

"Before I start, Heika, let's talk inside," she guided Yuuri back into the royal area, leaving no room for arguments.

Yuuri obediently sat back on his bed, whilst Gisella dragged a stool for herself.

Finally looking at Yuuri in the eye, Gisella spoke seriously, "I want you to take this calmly and not rush to do anything."

"During the time when you were unconscious… things… happened that we were forced to make… some decisions—a very crucial decision—in order to maintain peace," Yuuri did not like her tone or where he predicted this conversation was going. However, he held his interruption back, allowing Gisella to continue.

"The day after you were admitted here, if you recall the unrests around the border, their number increased greatly," something akin to resentment could be detected from her voice, "Somehow, words got out and the fact that you were poisoned—therefore, currently out of commission—was leaked to the rebels."

"Yozak is still investigating how things turned out to be like this, but the rebels were empowered with advanced weapons and houseki. At the rate that they were attacking our people, our people might perish if we did not promptly take action. After hours of debates… and all that relentless effort to find alternative solutions-" the bomb was dropped, "-we finally declared a war-" at this, Gisella turned sombre, "-because there really was no other way to eradicate them."

Yuuri thought his heart stopped, or maybe it did, because he felt pain in his chest and blanched. Just like what Gisella cautioned him, he did feel faint. Lucky he was sitting on his bed, the bed would cushion him if he decided to fall over.

Covering his eyes with one hand, Yuuri cursed softly, "Damn…"

"Yuuri-heika, I know you want to head out right now, but for the sake of your life and your people's, please, take it easy—at least until tomorrow," Gisella put an understanding hand on Yuuri's shoulder, "I will see you early in the morning tomorrow. Once I confirm you're clear, I will allow you to head out."

It did not make Yuuri feel better, but well, it was a much as what he could get now.

"Today, please rest as much as you can. Don't think about anything yet. Even if you're worried, please try to let your mind and body rest, so that tomorrow I can clear you."

"I will get your supplements, meanwhile, please rest, Heika. Trust us with this for now," Gisella stood to obtain Yuuri's supplements.

Gisella was pleased that when she returned, Yuuri had positioned himself under the blankets. She was glad that the King took her advice, although she figured out that Yuuri was so distracted with the current predicament.

After taking the supplements, Yuuri mumbled his thanks and stared outside the window until he fell asleep again. He had much to do, much to handle, much to protect… he really needed his strength back.

True to her words, Gisella permitted Yuuri to leave the infirmary the next day. He was steadily gaining his strength back and too eager—or concerned—to be sleeping for another day anyway. With firm steps befitting his authority, Yuuri squared his shoulders and reached the main camp on horseback. He no longer required a guide nor a rider. He literally had Shin Makoku map imprinted in his head and he could skilfully control his horse now.

Entering the main tent for strategic meeting, Yuuri was a bit disappointed yet relieved to find only Gwendal and Murata there. The rest… they were probably out on the battlefield.

"Heika, you've arrived," Gwendal welcomed Yuuri gruffly and at Yuuri's sweeping gaze, he supplied, "Currently, Gunter and Wolfram are leading the magic wielders on the northern and eastern savannah respectively. Conrart's forces are defending the entrance to our territory from the valley."

"Alright, noted. What is our current situation?" Yuuri swiftly got into his work-mode, worries thrown aside for now.

Gwendal and Murata reported and filled in Yuuri with all the information they had. Based on the progress of the war, it was plausible to say that the war would last for another few days, maybe a week at the very least. How did the rebels get this powerful? Yuuri hoped Yozak would come back fast with his intel.

As silly as it might sound, Yuuri did consider of going into the middle of the battlefield and then going-Maou to instantly end this once and for all. Nevertheless, the area that he had to cover was too wide. It was consuming too much maryoku and Yuuri was not sure he could land a significant damage to the enemy. No, blindly going-Maou was definitely out of the list.

Moreover, at the slightest indication of his wanting to fight alongside his soldiers, Gwendal sternly objected and Murata seemed to be awfully in tune with the general, "It would do us no good if we let you out there right now," as Gwendal reasoned.

Yuuri had learnt not to just oppose his advisers without giving them alternatives, hence he suggested, "Alright, if you don't want me out there yet—which I would definitely be, should I see things going south—then I would make myself useful in the healing station."

They wanted to argue, but Yuuri did not let them, "I have recovered, Gisella cleared me. I know how to control my maryoku and I definitely know how to take care of myself."

Afterwards, Yuuri glanced meaningfully at Murata, his close friend and the Daikenja, "Allow me to 'fight' alongside my people. What good is a King if he only sat back whilst his people are dying facing adversaries?"

Murata exhaled a particularly long breath, then he spoke for both Gwendal and him, "Fine, Shibuya, you can help at the healing station. But please note that I would definitely intervene, should I see things going south for you," and the unspoken 'because you're precious for us too' hung in the air, known, but not needed to be spelled.

Healing war casualties was taxing, Yuuri realised. Far more demanding that his usual training—involving minor injuries with practically no real threats of dying. Maryoku-wise, Yuuri was fine. Even if he was tired, he had plenty of it at his disposal. He could even summon sufficient maryoku to heal grave injuries while half-asleep. The healing was taxing emotionally for Yuuri.

He was the youngest of all healers in the station, being the only one who had no experience of real war. All of them, chief or assistants, they had all lived in the previous Maou's reign. They saw the worst war to ever happen in Shin Makoku. Though all wars were horrible, they said that—fortunately—this war has not reached the degree of the last war. They were all positive that before the war escalated further, it would already be resolved. Still, it was a first time for Yuuri and he was somewhat traumatised.

None of the healers were that close to Yuuri, so none of them could read Yuuri that well. Gisella was in charge in the castle, she had to treat those who were brought back to the castle. Probably, if Gisella was here, she could pick a hint or two about Yuuri's state. Yuuri always tried to fix a brave front, because the last thing he needed was for his people to be discouraged by his weakness. Even then, every time he saw injuries—fatal ones, especially—he always silently broke down in his heart. A fleeting thought of what-ifs did occur, but hurriedly pushed away. Yuuri really did not want to worry his people, they had more pressing matters at hand. Just his being upset alone was enough, no need to drag others down with him.

The first time someone passed away in his care, Yuuri fell apart for real. He could not name what he was actually feeling; anger, grief, desperation, disappointment, everything was jumbled until he felt numb. Right in the nick of time before he collapsed from shock, Murata arrived. He was summoned by a very frightened assistant because the King was unresponsive. Murata pulled Yuuri aside into his resting area and back to himself.

Yuuri could not recall what Murata had constantly whispered to him like a chant. He only remembered that his words managed to calm him down and let him fall into a deep sleep to rest. It was not long though. Within fifteen minutes, he had already risen again and gone back to work with renewed vigour. Murata remembered scrutinising his strong friend, attentively searching for any signs of Yuuri breaking apart. But Yuuri seemed better, so Murata let him work again.

Several days into the war, nearing the final battle, Yuuri appeared to get the hang of wartime. He was much calmer and controlled, although there was something in his gaze that his retainers did not like. It was the eyes of one going through hell and somewhat survived but lost a great deal of his life. They all did not like that look. All they wanted was to keep Yuuri innocent and pure, to keep his hands untainted with blood. Yes, it was impossible; but one could always hope, right?

During these times, Yuuri also experienced first-hand and now he could even more confidently admit that he was very blessed with how his people cared for him. When he almost pushed himself too far in healing, someone would be there to remind him and take charge of what he could not do. As someone of lower rank than him took over his work, Yuuri did not feel offended at all. Instead, he felt so loved. His people, ones he had sworn to protect, was showing that they too cared about their King.

On the day before the final confrontation, Yuuri's advisers insisted that he must rest. None of them could predict what would happen tomorrow. Yuuri could possibly be needed on the battlefield, regardless of how much they tried to avoid that. Thus, they wanted Yuuri to preserve as much strength as he could.

Yuuri was just taking a nap before dinner time and that's when his control spiralled downwards. In his not-so-asleep state, Yuuri saw a premonition. He was standing in the middle of a boundless lake. It was drizzling, but something was not right with the raindrops.

"What is this?" Yuuri extended his hand to catch some water in his palms. He then brought his hand closer to his face to inspect the water.

The water smelled salty, just like, "Tears…" he murmured.

The rain did not stop, or rather, the tears did not stop, "Whose tears were these?"

Yuuri scanned his surroundings, trying to make sense of where he was. Nothing. He was all alone here, under the shower of tears. He began to shiver as the rain got heavier. Since he arrived at the battleground, this was the very first time he felt this scared.

"Could this mean that someone will be very sad after the battle?" Yuuri shrank on himself, "And that I will be alone at the end of this war?"

Suddenly, the water level rose so fast that Yuuri had to tiptoe to breathe. He attempted to swim, but his feet were strangely planted to the ground. He was drowning, he panicked.

The water was changing, Yuuri noticed. Yuuri was starting to get sick of the smell and the taste of salty waters around him. When he expected the water to turn into something better, he was met with red, the metallic tang twisted his stomach.

He desperately wanted to throw up, he could never get used to bloodbath. His eyes watered as he repressed his urge to cough; because the moment he opened his mouth, the blood would only get in. Suffocation seeped in, Yuuri was going to faint, and then—

He awoke with a loud gasp, eyes bulging. Yuuri fell to the side of his makeshift bed as he began dry heaving. The smell, the taste of blood that did not actually touched his tongue, they remained. Hands patted and caressed his back, concerned voices buzzing around him, and he could sense more than one person gathering around him. Well, he really could not care less, given his revolting stomach…

Wolfram was doing his regular patrol around the camp when he saw Conrart walking towards the same direction as his.

"Going to see Yuuri?" Conrart asked as Wolfram joined him at his side.

"Yep," Wolfram confirmed, "They say dinner is ready."

Approaching the tent where Yuuri rested, they heard a loud gasp followed by a thud that sounded painful. Right after that, the sound of someone familiar retching.

With a quick flick of their eyes, they broke into a run, rushing into the tent. They found Yuuri, half kneeling half lying on the floor, in such a miserable state.

"Yuuri!" Wolfram called out to Yuuri, taking Yuuri into his embrace, "Yuuri, Yuuri, what happened?"

Conrart anxiously hovered around, patting Yuuri's back when he did not stop retching.

Yuuri was not coherent, his mind stuck in the nightmare, brain too fogged to think clearly. He could only curl into himself, letting the voices and the touches establish the reality for him. He let them anchor him to the real world, away from the nightmare.

Wolfram's and Conrart's panic dash into the tent alerted the other retainers, including Murata. Soon they were all huddling around the mess who was once their proud King. What happened in such a short time that he broke so far down the abyss?

Wolfram summoned his maryoku to calm Yuuri's mind. It helped; the pants were reduced to quiet inhale-exhale. Energy drained, Yuuri's eyes drooped and shortly he fell asleep again. Wolfram continued his healing, afraid that if he stopped, whatever was ailing Yuuri would return.

It took a while, but Yuuri woke up dizzy a few minutes later. Wolfram gauged how awake Yuuri was and once he was convinced that Yuuri was indeed lucid, he stopped his healing majutsu.

Clutching his head lightly, Yuuri stared in confusion at his retainers, "What-?"

"Seems like you were having a nightmare, Heika," Conrart supplied, "Wolfram and I found you on the ground, heaving and too out of it."

"I…" Yuuri's eyebrow furrowed as he ransacked his memory, finding what he actually desired to forget, "…right."

"What did you see, Shibuya?" Murata gently sat on the bedside, Yuuri must be seeing something in his sleep such that he was so shaken like this, "Please tell us, you don't need to hide anything."

Discerning Yuuri's hesitance, Murata resumed, "Just like how you ask us to trust in you, trust in us too. You have never been a bother for us and will never be. Share with us Yuuri, your pain, not just your joy."

A thin smile creeped into Yuuri's face just as he looked at Murata, glasses not glinting, but showing his eyes in pure concern, "Yeah… you're right… I gave up, Murata."

Skimming through his guardians, Yuuri was relieved to find all of them whole. They looked tired with some minor injuries here and there, but they were whole. Perhaps, the uninjured Yuuri would appear the most pathetic right now.

'What kind of a king you are, Yuuri,' he berated himself mentally, deciding it was time to pick himself up.

"I just got a bad dream, you know, like some really unpleasant vision," Yuuri started, "I am worried. This… I can't help but feel like something bad may happen."

Yuuri fiddled with his blanket, a habit he was yet to grow out whenever he was nervous, "There were tears and blood—a lot of them—and I was drowning in it, all alone."

"Promise me," Yuuri gripped Murata's arm, the closest he could reach, "Swear to me that you all won't die."

"I don't know what may happen, but you must survive. I don't want you all to fight to die. I don't want you to sacrifice your lives. I want you—no, I command you, if I must—to fight to live."

And it was at this moment that the King's aides were painfully reminded that, hey, regardless of how much he had grown, Yuuri was young. Young and inexperienced, as compared to them. Murata would not really count because he had memories of his previous lives, that he had time and ultimately was able to come to terms with all these hodgepodges of war.

Placing his warm big palm on top of Yuuri's other hand, Conrart declared for the rest of them, "We promise," his eyes solemn, directly on the King's.

"And in turn, Shibuya, you have to promise us, that you won't bear you burden on your own. You have to share it with us. No more acting rashly and all that," Murata grabbed Yuuri's hand.

"Okay…" Yuuri agreed, somewhat relieved.

Yuuri had long accepted that in war, sacrifices could not be avoided. Even if his people survived, the enemy would then be slaughtered. That was the cruelty of war. He had not been personally gotten down for it, but he knew he might be required to do it one day. Weighing all the possibilities, the least he could do was to save his people at the expense of tainting his own hands.

The sun had risen for the decisive battle, today they would end this once and hopefully, for eternity. Yuuri watched his people marching proudly to the valley where they would defend Shin Makoku. How many of them would be harmed or lose their lives today? How many letters of condolences and honourable discharge he had to write after this war ended? Everything had been progressing quite favourably for Shin Makoku, but the vision nagged at the back of Yuuri's mind.

Hours into the combat, the healing station was beginning to get crowded. More and more soldiers were brought back from the battlefield. The majority of them suffered lethal injuries; they fought bravely until their very end, refusing to retreat as long as they could hold their swords. It was so hectic; healers rushing around, mending injuries, preparing medications, assigning patients into designated area, monitoring the patients' conditions, directing escorts to return with some patients to the castle, and so on. All healers were too busy to the point that their own welfare was long neglected.

They said that when you worked so hard, you tended to forget everything else. That was so true. That had happened to Yuuri several times, when his paperwork was piling up so high it could rival the mountain at Van da Via island, where he acquired Morgif. He would forget time, skip meals, deny himself of sleep until someone—usually Gwendal—hauled him out of his office. Once his concentration shifted, however, his ignored body protests would assault him at the fullest force. That was why, Yuuri made it clear that he did not want to be disturbed when he really needed to get things done; because he knew the slightest distraction would undo him.

The expected final day extended into another two days. At the dusk of the third day, the healers had officially spent three days of working non-stop. They only took short naps in turn and ate a little just to preserve themselves. When they thought they were at their limits, they remembered, their comrades on the battlefield were facing a greater risk. That gave them the push and enough drive to keep them going.

Under the heavy stress, the bond among the healers grew more solid. They always spared each other short glances, looking out for one another. Of course, Yuuri was included as well. He was not blind to the guilty look he discovered whenever other healers tried to get him to rest. They were blaming themselves because Yuuri had to exert himself, and even then, it was barely adequate.

Reaching the dawn of the fourth day, just when Yuuri granted himself a little bit of rest—because he was getting a worsening migraine—the vision returned. This time, he saw his people were cornered and he just knew he had to take charge of the battle. A second late and that would mean the end of Shin Makoku.

Yuuri stood up hastily, grabbed Morgif, and signalled his leave with a shout. He rode his horse to get to the watch post where the soldiers were stunned at the Maou's sudden arrival.

Dismounting his horse, Yuuri did not even check who he passed the rein to, as he asked, "What's the current condition?"

"Heika," a guard saluted; his face was like he had just found the light in the darkness, "There were unanticipated reinforcements for the rebels and truthfully speaking, it would seem that our forces are cornered."

"With the battle prolonged, we were unable to determine how much longer we could maintain the upper hand," the guard pointed to the front line of Shin Makoku's forces, "and just a moment ago we received a flare indicating inevitable withdrawal of the forefront battalion."

Processing this information in a light speed, Yuuri ordered, "Get me to the closest highest point."

With the Maou teetering on the edge of emergence, Yuuri's maryoku seeped dangerously, subjecting his soldiers into deference. The guards recalled that Lord von Voltaire had warned them, that under no circumstances should the King be involved in the battle until he himself decided it. However, witnessing such an overwhelming power, who would dare to disobey the Emperor? This was an order from the highest authority in Shin Makoku.

At the highest point, Yuuri could see in the distance, a blend of colours, of what would represent his army—putting their best effort to hold their ground against the oppressive rebels.

Yuuri regarded his escort more coldly than he intended to, "I thank you for the escort. Now get back to the watch post and signal to everyone in the battlefield to retreat."

"Pull back as far as you can, to the highest point you could reach in the valley," Yuuri instructed, "Once you hear the sound of burbling water, anchor yourselves and be ready for a torrent."

"Yes, Heika," the guard dashed without further ado.

Bringing forth his maryoku reserves, Yuuri conversed with the Maou within him, "I'm going to flood this valley," in which the Maou complied.

Yuuri was not sure when it began, but somehow, he could communicate with the Maou now. He was able to maintain his own consciousness, as he let the Maou dominate his body. The Maou was no longer an unknown fearsome entity, prone to indisciminately lash out at the slightest provocation. The Maou was a part of Yuuri, one to define his identity and to fill where he failed.

As Yuuri spread his arms, he called in all the elements making up water. The air, the rivers, and the sky responded to him. Thunder rolled in the distance, flashes at the darkening sky signalled the coming of the Maou. Slowly, Yuuri directed his palms towards the enemy, commanding his elements to stream there.

Moments later, heavy rain poured down the valley. Waterfalls were formed out of nowhere, down the steep slopes. There should be sufficient time for his people to retreat. After all, he had warned them of what to come, whereas the rebels would likely be caught in surprise.

Yuuri watched as the water level continued to rise and the stream gained a greater speed. He focused so hard to control the elements and direct the torrents to where he wanted them to be. With the strain of days of healing and almost no rest, it was proved difficult for Yuuri.

Under the rain, Yuuri cried. He was going to kill this many people, finally tainting his hands. He could attempt to set apart his army from the rebels—if his people happened to be drowned—but their sheer number would demand an immense amount of maryoku. Yuuri was not confident he would have enough leftover to sustain his life if he really did that. After all, he had a promise to keep, to fight to live too.

Approximately an hour into the downpour, Yuuri ceased his onslaught. He let the rain gradually diminish into drizzle, before it stopped completely. The waterfall still flowed with lesser force, finishing the last remnants of their water sources.

Before Yuuri's eyes, what was once a combe was now a lake, or a river if the water managed to find its way to the sea. The water below was muddled with dirt, blood, and remnants of a battlefield. At the bottom of it, there would be corpses, corpses of his victims. That was the price he—as the Maou—had to pay: to taint his hands, by annihilating his enemies. Well, at least, his people were once again safe.

Yuuri closed his eyes, revelling in the warmth of the morning sun on his drenched body, feeling the light penetrated between his lids. Ah, this stillness was what would always undo him. With the release of the tension, the prickling pain throughout his body grew pronounced. His head heavy, his body light, or was it the other way around? Either way, Yuuri felt like he was flying or sinking.

And flying thenceforth sinking he did.

The soldiers witnessed with utter fear, how their King swayed and stumbled, before he plunged, freediving into the deep water below. All who saw rallied themselves to rescue the King. Soldiers on the lower and higher points of the valley bolted into action. Some of them dove to search for Yuuri in the murky water.

A group of soldiers successfully retrieved the drowning Maou. They lifted him up the closest point, which appeared to be where Conrart and his battalion just arrived.

"Heika!" the soldiers made way for Conrart as he bellowed.

He quickly assessed Yuuri and found Yuuri was not breathing. Sweeping his gaze around the area, no healers, no magic wielders in the vicinity. Conrart had to physically revive Yuuri now. Just waiting would mean too late for Yuuri.

Conrart pushed straight down Yuuri's chest repeatedly with his palms, "Live, Yuuri!" he urged his godson. Following the chest compressions, he tilted Yuuri's head back and lifted Yuuri's chin to open the airway. Tenderly, he gave Yuuri two rescue breaths, "Breathe for me, Yuuri," then resumed his chest compression.

"If you fall, I will catch you," Conrart whispered, "If you can't stand, I will hold you."

Without losing his steadiness, Conrart proclaimed, "If your heart can't beat, I will pump it for you. If your lungs can't breathe, I will breathe for you," he refused to surrender Yuuri to death, "If your life is too hard to bear, I will endure it for you!"

At the nth cycle—Conrart did not keep track—when he was on the brink of despair, Yuuri spluttered weakly. Conrart tipped Yuuri's body on his side, so that he would not choke on the water. Yuuri harshly coughed up a lot of water, alternately wheezed for air. His face contorted in pain as he attempted to expel the water clogging his lungs; and his eyes were glazed, focusing on nothing in particular.

Through all the hubbub, Gunter arrived soon and immediately used his maryoku to stabilise Yuuri. Next, Wolfram joined them, assisting Gunter in healing. Gunter and Wolfram were both leading the magic wielders, both having their maryoku depleted; but their resolve to anchor the King allowed them to harmonise their maryoku, completing what the other lacked. Yuuri was finally stabilised, and they quickly mobilised the troops to get the King back to the castle.

It took weeks to handle the aftermath of the war; even with Yuuri's river cleaning up the valley. The good thing was, with the new formation of this 'natural' water stream, one entrance to Shin Makoku's territory was secured. None of Shin Makoku's oppositions would dare to approach the area brashly.

A month after the end of the war, everyone has recovered and were returning to their regular duties. However, the castle was quiet, seemingly at a standstill. The Maou, the soul of this kingdom, was not present at the castle.

Right after they assembled at the castle, Murata took Yuuri to Shinou's Temple. Murata did not explain much to them, but all advisers were aware that restoring Yuuri's maryoku was crucial for his survival. Where else was the best place for this, if not at the Temple where Shinou resided? The only one who possessed enormous maryoku comparable to Yuuri's and able to focus solely on him was only Shinou. Since then, none of them had ever seen Yuuri.

Hours and days stretched longer then they would have liked, but they had to be patient. Until, the wait was indeed over, when Murata popped at the castle, bearing a trademark grin that was lost during the war. Certainly, his face looked brighter than he had been in months, when he informed them that Yuuri has recovered. Murata told them to come visit the temple in three days' time.

Their hearts pounded with excitement at the prospect of meeting Yuuri; recovered and well alive. Walking briskly to the room where Yuuri rested after he was allowed to leave the main chamber, they thought any more delay would definitely make them explode.

One of the maidens opened the door, and they were greeted with the most pleasant sight they ever had.

For a moment, the sight of Yuuri—enjoying the gentle breeze mussing his hair softly, smiling with his eyes closed, and perhaps humming some tunes—rooted them all to their spots. Oh, how they would exchange anything to keep this tranquillity.

Murata who was already at Yuuri's bedside smiled genuinely at their reaction. Soon, Yuuri noticed another presence in his room as he directed his jet-black eyes on his friends—his family—that he deeply longed to see. Mouth breaking into a beam of pure joy, Yuuri straightened himself up to welcome them all.

In a flash, Yuuri was engulfed in a tight warm hug, "I miss you…" Wolfram held so tightly as if Yuuri was going to disappear from his sight.

Feeling the familiar drops and wetness, Yuuri returned the hug, "I'm so sorry, Wolfram."

Yuuri then regarded his other guardians: Conrart, Gwendal, Gunter, and even Yozak was there too.

With a gaze asking for nothing but acceptance, Yuuri told them, "I'm sorry too, to you all…" that 'I've tainted my hands,' henceforth losing his innocence, 'Would you still accept this bloodied King?'

The tender smiles reflected on all their faces sufficed as an answer for the King's silent plea.

"Thank you…" Yuuri held Wolfram closer, his own eyes watering at their response, "Thank you, for everything."

This time, Conrart stepped forward, lightly ruffling Yuuri's hair, "Any time, Yuuri."

I finally posted a story, guys! I'm so happy, I could at least finish this after two days of (almost) no sleeping. I really had to squeeeeeze this in.

Well, lately I have taken a liking into the plots involving a grown-up Yuuri. So yeah, this story was born! I might consider developing this further or start a totally different plot altogether. Let's see how things go later.

And as for the multi-chapter story I promised, I'm so sorry guys… Haven't had the time to really sit down and write. But I still remember it and am keeping it. So just wait for it, okay!

Thanks for reading, dear readers! 3