Ale felt his heart race at a dizzying speed. The Spirit of Darkness? The one long described as the embodiment of evil, chaos incarnate, the master of shadows and destruction? Was it truly him, here, imprisoned for centuries?
His mind buzzed with questions. How had this spirit ended up here? Wasn't it supposed to be a malevolent god? The one who sowed terror and plunged the world into chaos? Should he flee, fight, or simply listen?
He lowered his gaze for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. His fists clenched involuntarily, every muscle in his body tense with a fury he had long suppressed. Memories of his village consumed by flames swirled through his mind. The houses engulfed in fire, the screams of the villagers, the acrid stench of smoke. And his grandfather, fallen in the ashes, sacrificed to the brutality of the followers.
The Followers of Darkness. They were responsible for everything. They had killed his grandfather. They had destroyed everything he had ever known. They acted in the name of this cursed spirit—the one standing before him now, imprisoned but alive.
Hate surged within him, burning, blinding. Should he seek vengeance for his people? Should he deliver justice here and now?
"It's you…" he murmured, barely aware of the words leaving his mouth.
He suddenly raised his head, his eyes filled with a deep, seething pain and an uncontrollable rage. "It's you who sent them! The Followers of Darkness—they destroyed my village! They killed my grandfather!" His voice cracked, his fury exploding uncontrollably.
Without thinking, Ale lunged at the massive creature. Words of power tumbled from his lips, his whispers becoming fierce incantations. "Ignivores!" he screamed, hurling fireballs with an intensity magnified by his rage. Flames swirled around him, lighting up the sanctuary in bright hues of orange and red.
The fireballs slammed into the chains and the towering form of Nyxion, but nothing seemed to affect the imprisoned spirit. Yet Ale kept going, blinded by hatred. "Ignivores! Ignivores!" The flames continued to erupt from his hands, even as his mana reserves drained. He was willing to burn himself if that's what it took.
But soon, his magic began to falter. His breath became erratic, his strength waning. Still, he did not stop. When the fireballs dissipated into the air, he charged at the spirit, striking the creature with his bare fists. Each blow landed on the dark form of the phoenix, each impact sending sharp pain through his knuckles.
"I hate you!" Ale screamed, his fists pounding relentlessly against the chains and the imposing body of the Spirit of Darkness. He struck again and again, but his blows felt insignificant against the vastness of the creature.
His vision began to blur. The force of his fists colliding with the hard chains tore the skin on his hands, but still, he continued, refusing to give in to exhaustion. His cries turned into desperate murmurs, then into silence. Yet his fists kept striking, even as his strength gave out.
Finally, utterly drained of energy, he collapsed to his knees before the creature. The world around him spun, his head buzzed, and his vision darkened. His bloodied fists fell for the last time, and he fainted, his frail body collapsing onto the cold floor of the sanctuary.
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Ale struggled to lift himself off the freezing ground, his head heavy and his body aching. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but the first thing he noticed was the still presence of Nyxion. The Spirit of Darkness remained there, silent, watching Ale with an unreadable gaze. Its black wings, still aflame with shadows, spread around it like a protective veil.
There was no anger in its eyes. Nothing betrayed the aggression Ale had expected. Instead, the phoenix seemed filled with sadness, as if it understood all the pain that weighed on the young man's heart. Its voice echoed once again, but this time with a deep sorrow that surprised Ale—an almost fatalistic sadness.
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"You have been deceived, just like many before you," the Spirit of Darkness said, its tone grave but without judgment. "The darkness is not chaos, nor is it destruction. I am the night… the one that brings rest and balance after the day. A force that is vital, necessary for this world to survive."
Ale stood motionless, stunned. Emotions swirled within him, clashing in a chaos he couldn't make sense of. Everything he had believed, everything he had been taught about darkness, seemed to crumble before this creature. If what the Spirit of Darkness said was true, then… what was the faith he had been raised to believe? Who was the enemy, if not the Spirit of Darkness itself?
His voice, filled with pain and disbelief, broke the silence: "And what about your followers?" he demanded, his fists clenching once more. "They've destroyed entire villages. They've caused hundreds, thousands of deaths. They've spread chaos in this world! I've seen it!"
The phoenix remained silent for a moment, observing Ale with even greater gravity. Then it spoke, its words weighed down by ancient sorrow:
"They have misunderstood. These so-called followers never sought to understand my true nature. In reality, they worship only the power they believe they can find in darkness. They see shadows as a force they can wield to enslave, conquer, and strengthen themselves. But darkness is not meant for that. It exists to bring balance, not domination."
Ale frowned, confused. "Then why? Why have they caused so much harm in the name of darkness?"
Nyxion inclined its head slightly, its black eyes shimmering with personal pain.
"Because they were corrupted by their thirst for power. They believed that by spreading darkness, they could increase their influence over this world, without ever understanding that my darkness is not a force for destruction. They acted out of ignorance, out of arrogance. And I…"
The spirit's voice faltered slightly, almost imperceptibly.
"… I have suffered from their actions, imprisoned here, condemned to watch the consequences of their madness without being able to intervene. My name, my essence, have been used as a pretext for their conquests. Every life taken, every village destroyed under their banner is an insult to what I truly represent."
Ale stood silent, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Everything he had believed seemed to be crumbling before him, like a castle of cards swept away by the wind. He raised his eyes to Nyxion, his voice trembling with confusion.
"Why are you imprisoned here, then? The divine spirits? Why did they do this to you?"
Nyxion remained silent for a moment, its black wings trembling softly. Its eyes, filled with sadness, met Ale's.
"There was a time when the spirits lived in harmony…" it began, its low voice echoing in the chamber. "Each spirit had a role to play in maintaining the balance of the world. We watched over our lands, blessed our followers, and the natural cycle of life and death, of day and night, unfolded without conflict. Each of us brought an essential force, and humans began to worship us."
The phoenix paused, as if allowing his words to sink into Ale's mind before continuing.
"At first, this worship didn't disturb the balance. But gradually, religions grew stronger. Each people began to honor one spirit above the others. They built temples, created rites and doctrines. And soon, they began to fight, each claiming that their spirit was the most powerful, the most righteous. Religious wars erupted. Men, blinded by their fanaticism, turned against each other, believing that only the spirit they worshipped could bring peace and prosperity."
Ale listened intently, captivated by the phoenix's tale, sensing that the story was taking a darker turn.
"But it wasn't just men who became divided... The religious wars eventually affected us, the spirits. We began to argue amongst ourselves. Some spirits sought to expand their influence, to dominate the others. The balance we had preserved for centuries crumbled. The lands burned, the seas raged, mountains crumbled. The world descended into chaos, and with it, humanity. Even the spirits were at war. Disaster seemed inevitable."
The phoenix folded its wings slightly, as if the memory itself weighed heavily upon it. "In a final effort to save humanity, the Spirit of Light gathered the other spirits in secret. They forged a pact: to end the human wars, they would name a common enemy, a scapegoat. That scapegoat had to be me."
Ale's eyes widened. "You? But why?"
"Because I represented darkness, the night, the unknown. To men, it was easy to blame me. The other spirits agreed that by making me the cause of all their troubles, the wars would cease. They needed a common enemy to unite the kingdoms, to stop the chaos. I was that enemy."
Ale clenched his fists. "But… it worked, didn't it?"
Nyxion nodded slowly. "Yes. The wars ended. Humanity united to fight a single enemy: me. My followers were hunted, massacred, their lands destroyed. What they worshipped, what they believed in, was twisted and deformed. They had no refuge, no purpose. So, in their despair, they fought to survive, to destroy what they could no longer protect. They mistakenly believed that spreading darkness would make them stronger. But they never understood that darkness is not meant for destruction. They only sowed chaos, and I suffered for it, imprisoned here, powerless to stop the carnage."