The sun blazed relentlessly in the clear sky, casting its scorching rays upon the Earth below. Birds chirped cheerfully, seeking shelter in the dense foliage of towering trees, while blades of grass danced in harmony with the gentle breeze that swept through the forest.

Amidst this picturesque scene, a lone figure traversed the forest road. Axel, cloaked in a dark robe with his hood drawn tightly over his head, trudged forward with determination etched upon his sweat-soaked face. The oppressive heat bore down upon him, his pallid skin glistening under the unforgiving sun, while the black fabric of his robe seemed to absorb even more warmth. Each step he took seemed to weigh heavier than the last, the path stretching endlessly before him.

Since the tumultuous events of the previous day, Axel had departed from Northrade town under cover of night, embarking on a journey southward. His singular objective: to confront and eliminate Yokubo, the formidable Warlord of the South. Motivated by a dual purpose, Axel harbored vengeance against his oppressors and sought to attain greater strength. By absorbing the stats and abilities of his fallen foes, he aimed to expedite his ascent to power, enabling him to exact retribution upon those who had wronged him. Moreover, he harbored a desire to destabilize the kingdom, leaving its borders vulnerable to invasion by the demon race, sworn enemies of the realm.

Though Axel's plan seemed foolproof, there existed a formidable obstacle that threatened to thwart his ambitions.

Axel's frustration reached new heights as he stood at the crossroads, sweat pouring down his face like a leaky faucet. Veins bulged on his forehead like tiny earthworms desperately trying to escape. The oppressive heat only fueled his irritation, turning his irritation into a simmering rage.

"DAMMIT ALL!!" Axel exclaimed, his voice echoing through the forest and startling nearby woodland creatures. Squirrels scurried up trees, birds took flight in a flurry of feathers, and even a brave rabbit dared to peek out from its burrow before quickly retreating.

Since venturing into this forest, and even embarking on his journey southward, he had grappled with the same daunting challenge. The labyrinth of pathways stretched endlessly before him, some marked by barely legible signs, while others had succumbed to the ravages of time and nature. For over sixteen relentless hours, he had pressed on, traversing the shifting veil between night and day without respite. His last meal, Martha's stew, lay a distant memory, a sustenance fading into the blur of exhaustion. Though his pockets bulged with ill-gotten coin from fallen knights, the prospect of utilizing it remained elusive without the refuge of civilization.

What had initially promised escape now imprisoned him in a nightmarish reality. Axel's once vibrant fantasy had soured into a tormenting nightmare, his disdain for this world kindled by an unrelenting flame. But perhaps the cruelest twist of fate lay in the irrevocable bind that tethered him to this realm, forever entwined with the very beings his peers sought to vanquish. Fate, in its capricious cruelty, danced upon his life, mocking his feeble attempts at defiance.

Yet, propelled by instinct, he forged ahead, heedless of the agony pulsating through his limbs. Each step ignited a symphony of pain, sinews protesting against the relentless march. His calves convulsed with cramps, tearing at the fabric of his endurance, while a searing inferno engulfed his legs, as though molten lava surged beneath his skin. Despite the silent pleas of his tortured body, his countenance remained stoic, an indifference born of resignation rather than apathy.

His breaths labored, each inhale a struggle against the oppressive weight of the thinning air. Like a savage beast, hunger gnawed at his stomach, while waves of dizziness threatened to engulf his already weary mind. Amidst the sweltering heat, even his own eyes betrayed him, blurring the lines between reality and the fevered delusions of his imagination.

"Hello, Axel..."

The haunting echo of a familiar voice sliced through the stifling air, jolting his entire being to a standstill. Slowly, he turned, his heart heavy with dread.

There they stood, silhouettes from a lifetime past, his once cherished companions.

Axel's eyes quivered, a single tear tracing a crimson path down his cheek.

"No..."

His voice trembled, a feeble protest against the cruel specter of his memories.

Tom and George beckoned to him, their smiles radiant but hollow, their outstretched arms a mocking invitation to a bygone era of innocence.

"Let's go play, Axel! Just like old times!" Tom's voice, once brimming with laughter, now pierced through Axel's soul like a dagger.

George's words echoed with painful nostalgia. "The three musketeers!"

A dagger twisted in Axel's chest, tearing at the fragile remnants of his shattered heart. His hand reached out involuntarily, a desperate yearning for the warmth of their embrace, but he recoiled, biting back the agony that threatened to consume him. Pulling his hood tighter around his face, he turned away, his steps weighted with the unbearable burden of grief.

"You're not here... You're dead..."

The words fell from his lips like a whispered prayer, a futile plea to banish the ghosts that haunted him.

He knew these apparitions were mere illusions, cruel tricks played by his own fractured mind. Yet, the pain they inflicted was all too real, a relentless torment that gnawed at his soul.

With each glimpse of his friends through the shimmering veil of his necklace, Axel felt the dam of his emotions strain against the weight of his sorrow. But no tears came, only an agonizing emptiness that threatened to consume him whole.

Except for one emotion...

In the depths of his despair, one ember still flickered within him, a solitary flame amidst the encroaching darkness.

Suddenly, his friends' screams shattered the oppressive silence, wrenching Axel's attention with a gut-wrenching force.

His eyes widened in horror as the grotesque tableau unfolded before him—his beloved companions, bathed in crimson, their lifeblood spurting forth as blades rent their flesh. They reached out to him, desperate pleas etched in their tear-stained eyes, before succumbing to the cruel embrace of death, leaving behind a pool of viscera.

And there, amidst the carnage, stood Blake, the architect of his torment, a sadistic grin etched upon his face as he nonchalantly cleansed his blade of their blood.

In a surge of unfathomable rage, Axel erupted from the depths of despair, his fury akin to a volcanic cataclysm, rending the earth asunder with each thunderous step.

"BLAKE!!!!"

Veins bulged like taut cords beneath his skin, his teeth ground together with an intensity that threatened to shatter bone. His fists clenched so tightly that blood oozed from his battered knuckles as he launched himself forward with reckless abandon.

Blake's smirk widened as he effortlessly danced around Axel's onslaught, his words dripping with contempt.

"Alive, are we? Your feeble power pales in comparison to mine, a mere flicker against the blaze of my supremacy. Your efforts are futile, like dust in the tempest."

But Axel refused to relent, his fists raining down upon Blake in a relentless barrage born of desperation. Yet, with each swing, Blake's mocking laughter only grew louder, a cruel symphony to accompany Axel's anguish.

"You may blame me, but remember, it was your weakness that sealed their fate," Blake taunted, each word a dagger plunged deep into Axel's already bleeding heart.

"SHUT UP!!!"

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With a primal roar, Axel tapped into reservoirs of power he never knew existed, unleashing a torrent of flame that consumed the air around them. But even as the inferno raged, Blake remained untouched, his laughter echoing through the scorched landscape.

As darkness enveloped Axel's fractured mind, his body succumbing to the relentless onslaught of pain and despair, he knew one thing with grim certainty—his torment would continue, a relentless cycle of agony from which there could be no escape.

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Slowly emerging from the depths of unconsciousness, Axel felt a glimmer of awareness pierce the enveloping darkness. A faint light, like a solitary beacon in the void, flickered to life, casting tentative rays that gradually swallowed the shadows whole until he found himself cocooned in its blinding embrace.

As his bleary eyes fluttered open, they were met with the mesmerizing dance of flames from a bonfire, its dwindling embers casting a feeble glow upon the surrounding foliage. Nestled against the sturdy trunk of a tree, Axel surveyed his surroundings, taking in the dense forest cloaked beneath a canopy of stars, the night sky painted in hues of deep purple.

"You're finally awake."

The voice, soft and feminine, cut through the silence like a gentle breeze, causing Axel to snap his head in its direction, his senses sharpened by the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Despite the oppressive darkness that cloaked the forest, Axel's Night Vision ability granted him clarity, enhancing his vision to pierce through the obscurity with ease.

(Night Vision: Allows the user's eyes to adjust to the darkness and see clearly by enhancing the amount of light particles that can enter his pupils.)

Next to the crackling bonfire sat the familiar figure of the female knight Axel had encountered in Northrade town, her form illuminated by the dancing flames. Clutching her sword tightly against her chest, she greeted Axel with a warm smile, though her disheveled hair and faint bruises spoke of recent trials.

Axel's gaze remained fixed upon her, his expression vacant as he attempted to rise and depart.

Yet, as he summoned the last vestiges of strength to stand, his legs betrayed him, buckling beneath the weight of exhaustion. He collapsed to the ground with a weary thud, the gnawing ache in his stomach a cruel reminder of his depleted reserves.

Despite having just rested, Axel's body remained dangerously depleted, a consequence of his harrowing existence as the Grim Reaper. Forced to sustain himself with his own arm, a futile attempt at staving off hunger and thirst, he found solace only in the bitter realization of its futility. In truth, consuming his own flesh offered no sustenance, merely a cycle of diminishing returns as his energy dwindled with each futile attempt at self-preservation.

Hunting proved equally fruitless, the stench of death serving as a deterrent to potential prey, leaving Axel to wither amidst the barren landscape of his hunger-stricken existence. The fleeting nourishment of Martha's stew, now a distant memory, offered little reprieve from the relentless march of time and torment.

In the face of such adversity, Axel's continued consciousness seemed nothing short of miraculous, a testament to the resilience born of desperation and despair.

"Here you go. It's a bit cold, though," the knight rummaged through her bag and extended a roasted rabbit leg towards Axel, an unexpected kindness.

Axel's stomach roared in anticipation as he eagerly accepted the offering, drool threatening to escape his lips.

Snatching the leg, he turned away, devouring it with a voracity born of starvation, the savory meat disappearing in mere seconds.

A look of surprise flickered across the knight's features. "Woah," she exclaimed before delving back into her bag, producing more sustenance for Axel. "You can have some more if you'd like."

Axel continued to eat, the sky gradually lightening with the promise of dawn, while the knight observed him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"You're the same person I found getting harassed by the thugs in the alley, correct?" she ventured, her head tilted inquisitively.

The crackling of the fire filled the silence as Axel remained focused on his meal, yet he couldn't ignore the weight of her question. Pausing mid-bite, he glanced at her, offering tacit confirmation of her inquiry.

"Why are you here in this forest?" she pressed, her tone gentle but insistent.

Setting aside his food, Axel met her gaze. ". . . I was heading towards Southrade town, but I got lost along the way," he admitted.

To his surprise, her face lit up with enthusiasm, her wolf-like ears perking up with excitement. "No way! I was just heading there too! Hey, how about I guide you there?" she suggested, extending her hand in friendship.

"My name is Alice! What's yours?"

Axel hesitated, the weight of his past experiences coloring his response. Accepting her offer felt like a vulnerability he couldn't afford, yet the prospect of navigating the forest alone filled him with dread.

After a moment of internal struggle, Axel reluctantly reached out, shaking her hand in agreement.

"My name is Josh, and I accept your offer," he conceded, a sense of resignation lacing his words.

Alice's smile widened, genuine warmth radiating from her as they shook hands.

"Great! We'll go once I'm done cleaning this place!" she declared, and together they extinguished the fire and tidied up their campsite, preparing to embark on their journey.

As they set off, Axel couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease, but for now, he would rely on Alice's guidance, knowing that survival in this unforgiving world often required alliances, even with strangers.

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Three days later.

Inside Black Shield Castle.

A butler glided down the opulent corridor, his demeanor aloof as he passed rows of motionless knights, their stoic facades belying the horrors lurking within the Warlord's domain.

As he neared the colossal doors leading to the Warlord's chamber, the muffled cries of a woman pierced the thick walls, accompanied by the sinister laughter of a man. Her desperate pleas echoed through the corridor, falling on deaf ears as the butler approached the source of the commotion.

Unfazed by the woman's torment, he reached the towering doors, just in time to witness her final, harrowing scream abruptly silenced by the cruel laughter within.

With a sudden jolt, the doors burst open, hurling a broken and bloodied figure into the corridor. She lay crumpled on the ground, her body bearing the cruel marks of her ordeal, as two knights callously dragged her away, their indifference a chilling testament to the depravity within.

Undeterred, the butler stepped into the room, where a monstrous figure loomed over the scene. Towering above ten feet tall, Lord Yokubo exuded a palpable aura of malevolence, his inhuman features twisted into a sadistic grin. Long, black hair cascaded over his monstrous form, and razor-sharp teeth gleamed in the dim light.

"Master Yokubo, if you continue to break your toys in such fashion, soon there will be no young women left in the South," the butler remarked, his tone dripping with sycophantic loyalty.

Yokubo's laughter boomed through the room, reverberating with cruelty. "Hahaha!! Oh, Franky, that worthless wretch could never satisfy a man. Her screams were the only pleasure she provided, so I indulged myself by breaking her slowly," he chuckled, his satisfaction evident as he donned a shirt.

Straightening up, the butler, Frank, delivered his message with practiced formality. "Master Yokubo, a knight from Northrade town awaits you in the audience room," he announced before swiftly departing, leaving Yokubo to his twisted pleasures.

Yokubo reclined on his throne, a malicious smirk playing upon his lips as the castle's knight ushered the trembling messenger before him, forcing the man to bow in submission. Under Yokubo's oppressive gaze, the messenger seemed to shrink, his very essence withering beneath the Warlord's malevolent aura.

With a languid gesture, Yokubo beckoned the knight to rise, his amusement evident as he observed the messenger's distress.

"Haha, have you brought what I requested?" he inquired, his tone laced with thinly veiled impatience.

The knight quaked visibly, sweat beading upon his brow as he stammered out an excuse, his voice barely above a squeak. "My apologies, sire... B-but we encountered an issue in Northrade town..."

Silence enveloped the throne room as Yokubo's smile melted into a scowl, his displeasure simmering beneath the surface.

"What issue," he demanded, his voice a frigid whisper, his fists clenching at his sides.

The knight's words spilled forth in a rush, his fear palpable. "Axel the Reaper, sire... He was the hero that was killed not too long ago… And he’s hunting you my lord..."

Yokubo's eyes narrowed, a glint of fury flashing within them. "And your comrades?"

The knight's shoulders sagged, tears welling in his eyes as he confessed, "S-slaughtered, sire... I was spared..."

With a swift motion, Yokubo seized the knight, his grip tightening around the man's throat with an iron grasp.

"You dare live as a coward in my presence?" he growled, his voice dripping with venom.

As the knight pleaded for mercy, Yokubo's laughter rang out, a chilling echo in the cavernous chamber. With a final, brutal twist, he silenced the knight's cries, his mirth unabated by the man's demise.

The lifeless body was cast aside as Frank, Yokubo's loyal servant, entered the room, awaiting his master's command. Yokubo's grin widened, a sinister gleam dancing in his eyes.

"Things have indeed become interesting," he murmured, a surge of excitement coursing through his veins. A war was brewing, and Yokubo relished the opportunity to unleash chaos upon his enemies.

As the castle knights dragged away the corpse, Yokubo licked his lips in anticipation, a new era of darkness on the horizon. With Axel's betrayal, the stage was set for a cataclysmic showdown, and Yokubo would revel in the chaos to come.