What followed was a battle that lasted three days and nights.

The demon lords threw everything they had at Advent. Fire that could melt mountains. Ice that could freeze souls. Time manipulation that tried to age him to dust or rewind him to non-existence. Space magic that tried to tear him apart at the molecular level. Curses, blessings inverted, forbidden magic that mortals couldn't even comprehend.

Advent adapted to all of it.

The fire became his to command. The ice strengthened his cold resistance until he stood in absolute zero without flinching. Time manipulation taught him to exist outside temporal flow. Space magic gave him the ability to fold reality around himself.

One by one, the demon lords fell.

Some he killed with their own powers, reflected and amplified. Others he simply outlasted, his infinite stamina versus their finite reserves. A few he crushed with overwhelming physical force—his body had been tempered by so many attacks that he could move faster than light and hit harder than meteor strikes.

By the end of the third day, Advent stood alone again.

The twelve demon lords lay dead around him. The greatest threats to humanity, eliminated in a single battle.

He should have felt victorious. Triumphant.

Instead, he felt... empty.

"That's it?" he said to no one, his voice echoing across the silent battlefield. "That's the final challenge? The ultimate threat?"

He looked at his hands—stained with blood and ash, crackling with absorbed powers. He'd become something beyond human. Beyond hero, even.

He'd become boring.

"Three hundred years," Advent said quietly. "Three hundred years of adventure, of fighting, of getting stronger. And for what? To realize that nothing can challenge me anymore? That I've already won every battle before it even starts?"

He felt exhaustion settling into his bones—not physical, but existential. The weight of being undefeatable. The burden of having no equals.

"I'm tired," he admitted to the empty battlefield. "I'm so, so tired."

His power flared involuntarily—reality cracking around him from sheer accumulated strength. The ground beneath his feet disintegrated. The air itself seemed to scream from being unable to contain his presence.

"I need to sleep," Advent decided. "Just... sleep for a while. Let the world move on without me. Maybe when I wake up, there'll be something interesting again."

He found a cave—deep underground, hidden from the world. He sealed himself inside with magic, setting conditions for his awakening. Only a direct summons from the kingdom, only a threat worthy of his attention, would break his slumber.

Then Advent, The Reaper, the hero who'd killed twelve demon lords in three days, closed his eyes and let unconsciousness claim him.

He slept for two hundred forty years.

—--------

Present Day

Advent woke slowly, consciousness returning in stages.

First came awareness of his body—still powerful, still perfect, completely unchanged despite the centuries. Absolute Adaptation meant even aging couldn't touch him.

Then came awareness of his surroundings—the sealed cave, exactly as he'd left it. Dust covered everything, but that was the only sign of time's passage.

Finally came awareness of the summons—the magical call that had triggered his awakening protocols. The kingdom needed him again.

"Wonder how long it's been," Advent muttered, stretching as he stood. His joints cracked in a way that was satisfying rather than painful. "Feels like a while."

He broke through the cave's seals easily—his power had only grown during his hibernation, crystallizing and refining. The outside world was bright with afternoon sun, and Advent had to shield his eyes until they adjusted.

"Okay, let's see what the big emergency is this time," he said to himself, starting the journey to the capital.

It took him three days of casual travel—he could have teleported, but he wanted to see how the world had changed. The answer was: not much. Still medieval fantasy world. Still kingdoms and monsters. Still adventurers delving dungeons.

Boring.

When he reached the capital, guards immediately recognized the legendary armor he wore—unchanged since his last appearance. They escorted him with awe and fear to the royal palace, where the current king waited.

The throne room was packed with nobles, knights, and advisors. All of them stared as Advent entered, his casual stride and relaxed posture completely at odds with the formal atmosphere.

"Your Majesty," Advent said with a slight nod—not quite disrespectful, but definitely not the full bow protocol demanded. "You called. What's the problem?"

King Aldric III great-great-great-grandson of the king who'd originally summoned Advent stood from his throne. He was young, maybe thirty, trying very hard to project authority in front of this legend from ancient history.

"Lord Reaper," the king began formally. "We are honored by your awakening. The kingdom faces a dire threat that requires your unique abilities."

"Yeah, I got the summons part," Advent said, waving dismissively. "What's the threat? New demon lord? Dragon? Some kind of ancient evil awakening? Give me the short version."

"A demon lord, yes," King Aldric confirmed. "Seraphine the Corrupted, fourth-seat of the demon lord council. She rules the Fallen Spires to the east. For centuries, she's been a plague on our lands—corrupting our people, spreading her filth, killing humans who oppose her. Her territory is a den of sin and corruption that—"

"Hold on," Advent interrupted. "Is she actually attacking human kingdoms, or is she just existing in her own territory?"

The king paused. "She... her territory harbors fugitives and criminals. Women who flee from righteous punishment often find sanctuary there. She has also refused multiple demands to submit to kingdom authority."

"So she's not actually invading or killing humans unprovoked," Advent said slowly. "She's just running her territory the way she wants, and you guys don't like it."

"She is an affront to all that is holy!" a bishop shouted from the side. "A fallen angel who spreads corruption and depravity! She must be purged!"

"Uh huh." Advent looked around the throne room at all the righteous, angry faces. "And what exactly has she done to humans lately? In the last, say, fifty years?"

"She harbors criminals!" the bishop repeated. "Women who flee their rightful husbands, slaves who escape their masters, those who reject the Goddess's teachings! She protects them all!"

"So... she's running a refugee city," Advent said flatly. "For people who don't fit in human society."

"She is evil!" the bishop insisted. "Her very existence is an affront! She has killed—"

"How many humans has she killed?" Advent asked directly, his voice suddenly harder. "Give me a number. In the last fifty years, how many humans has Seraphine personally killed or ordered killed?"

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