Argoth stood at the base of the tower, his cold eyes fixed on the window far above, where Lydia was held captive. A bitter mix of frustration and longing flickered in his gaze, his mind replaying the decisions that had led him to this point. Everything he had done—the sacrifices, the betrayals—all for her. He believed, with an unwavering certainty, that Lydia was meant to be his, and yet, she remained out of his reach.
The stillness around him was punctuated only by the low, constant whistling of the wind as it wound through the empty halls of the castle. A weighty silence settled, almost suffocating, before it was abruptly shattered by a voice—low, ancient, and brimming with malice.
"Human..."
Argoth’s eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he turned toward the source of the voice. It was coming from the old urn, sitting in the shadows near the far wall. The vase, seemingly ordinary, had always carried a hidden power, but now it pulsed with a sinister presence.
"You took my essence, human. Bound me into this cursed form" Morgath's voice hissed from within the urn, each word laced with anger and a growing strength. "But thanks to the man from Tristan’s team, and the power you gave me through our deal, I have regained some of my strength."
Argoth moved closer to the urn, his heartbeat quickening. He had known that Morgath's essence was volatile, dangerous—but it was also the key to his rise to power. Back then, he had sought Morgath out, breaking the ancient seal that imprisoned the demon and making a deal that bound Morgath's essence to him. In exchange for part of the demon king’s power, Argoth had freed Morgath from his imprisonment, though not entirely. He still controlled Morgath, but only through the fragile balance of the pact they had struck.
“I’ve held up my end,” Argoth replied, his voice a cold murmur. "You got what you wanted. Now deal with them."
There was a pause, a chilling silence before Morgath responded.
“I need a body, even if temporary. You’ve tasted power, but you cannot fathom its depth. Provide me a vessel, and I will handle them myself,” Morgath said, his tone brimming with arrogance and certainty.
Argoth clenched his fists, his gaze flickering back to the tower where Lydia was. He had done so much, and now... now Morgath offered to take care of it all, to eliminate the threats.
Morgath’s voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. “And do not worry, Human. I will spare you and your beloved once this is finished. You can live... in the world under my command. You will have everything you ever desired.”
Argoth stared into the darkness, weighing his options. The power Morgath spoke of was immense, far beyond anything he could achieve alone. And yet... he hesitated, knowing that any alliance with a demon king came at a price.
But the promise of Lydia, the idea of them ruling together, untouched by the chaos, was too tempting.
“I’ll get you a body and you can have this power” Argoth said finally, his voice steady. “Just make sure you do your part and leave us out of it.”
Morgath’s laughter echoed from the urn, a chilling sound that reverberated through the room.
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Tristan, Magnus, and Elysia—who held Liora in her arms—emerged onto the deck just as the sun began to rise, casting a soft glow over the horizon. Cedric stood at the edge of the ship, rubbing his temples, his expression distant as he gazed at the island now looming ahead of them: No Man's Land, the place where Argoth waited.
Tristan stepped forward, concern etched across his face. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low but filled with worry.
Cedric lowered his hand and turned to face him. "I'm fine," he replied, though the dull throb in his head hadn’t quite faded. "Just a headache. Probably an effect from fighting Veilith." He forced a small smile to reassure them, but the tension in his eyes was hard to miss.
Tristan grimaced slightly, feeling the weight of his own helplessness in that battle. "I’m sorry we couldn’t do more to help."
Cedric shook his head. "Don’t blame yourself. The only thing that matters is that she’s gone now." He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the remnants of the illusion that still lingered in his mind.
He then glanced around, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon and the sea. "I don’t see any ships," he remarked, his brow furrowing. "And nothing during our way here either."
Tristan’s face hardened. "We can’t waste time waiting for them. Whether the reinforcements arrive in time or not, we’ll have to go ahead on our own for now." His voice was resolute, and the weight of their mission was heavy in the air.
Magnus, who had been silently observing, stepped up to Cedric and handed him a mug of water. "Here, drink this. Might help with the headache," he said gruffly, but the concern in his voice was clear.
Cedric took the mug gratefully and nodded. "Thanks," he muttered, taking a sip. The cool water provided a brief moment of relief, but his mind was still occupied with what lay ahead.
A few moments later, as the ship neared the shore, Magnus moved to the side of the ship and, with a practiced motion, threw the anchor into the water. The chain rattled as it sank, and the ship finally came to a stop, bobbing gently with the current.
The island of No Man’s Land loomed before them, its dark, jagged cliffs rising like sentinels against the early morning sky. The trees lining the shore were dense, and the air felt thick with an ominous stillness. This was the place where they would face Argoth. The final confrontation was at hand.
"Looks like we’ve arrived," Magnus said, his voice cutting through the quiet. He glanced back at the team, his eyes meeting Cedric’s with a knowing look. They were ready.
Cedric took one last look at the horizon, the calm sea stretching out behind them, before turning toward the island. "Let’s move," he said, his voice steady. "We’ve come this far. There’s no turning back now."
Tristan, Elysia, and Magnus nodded in agreement, their faces set with determination. Elysia adjusted Liora in her arms, who clung tightly to her, her wide eyes taking in the strange island before them.
The team disembarked their wagon and stepped down from the ship, their boots sinking into the coarse sand of the shore. The weight of the mission pressed down on them all, but they had no choice but to push forward. Argoth was waiting.
The team climbed aboard the wagon. The wagon’s robust design ensured that it could withstand the harshest of terrains. Magnus took his place at the front, gripping the reins to steer the magical vehicle forward. The wagon hummed softly as its enchanted wheels rolled smoothly over the sandy beach, transitioning seamlessly into the forested terrain ahead.
The air grew thicker as they ventured deeper into the woods, the trees towering high above them, their branches intertwining like a canopy. The smell of damp earth filled their lungs, and the occasional rustling of leaves reminded them that they were far from alone in these ancient woods.
Elysia scanned the area, her brow furrowed with concern. "Do we know anything about the layout of this island?" she asked, her voice a touch uneasy.
Tristan shook his head. "We don't have much information, unfortunately. This could just be woods, or there could be something far worse waiting for us. Either way, we press on."
Magnus, adjusting his hold on the reins, guided the wagon deeper into the narrowing path. "If I had to make a guess," he began, his tone serious, "there's a flat area in the middle of the island that is likely the most strategic point. It would make sense for Argoth’s stronghold to be there."
Cedric sat in the back, one hand resting on his sword, eyes darting between the shadows that surrounded them. "Stay sharp," he muttered, the tension in his voice palpable. "There could be an ambush"
As the wagon slowly continued its steady journey through the dense forest, the glowing stones embedded in its frame emitted a faint light, illuminating their path. The enchanted materials ensured that the wagon could withstand nearly anything the island could throw at them, but even so, the ominous atmosphere of No Man’s Land was enough to put them all on edge.
After about an hour, the thick tree line finally began to thin out, revealing the open landscape ahead. They had reached the edge of the woods. In the distance, silhouetted against the faint light of the sky, stood a massive castle—Argoth’s stronghold.
But before they could advance any further, a sudden explosion erupted in front of them. The ground shook violently as the blast tore through the air, sending the wagon flying into the air. The sturdy vehicle, though made of Tree Stone and Molten Stone, cracked under the immense force and tumbled to the ground in pieces. The team was thrown from their seats, rolling across the ground as debris scattered around them.
Magnus was the first to recover, pulling himself up and taking cover behind a large tree. "What in the blazes was that?" he shouted, eyes scanning the area for the source of the explosion.
Cedric, shaking off the shock, quickly joined him behind the tree. "I don’t know," he said, his voice tense, "but look over there."
In the distance, barely visible through the smoke and dust, were massive mechanical figures. Their towering frames gleamed in the faint light, their surfaces coated in thick armor. Long cylindrical barrels jutted from their fronts, and strange, wheels dug into the ground beneath them, resembling the beasts of war.
The machines emitted a low rumble, moving slowly but purposefully, their metal bodies creaking with each motion. Steam hissed from their joints, and the distinct smell of oil and burning fuel filled the air.
Magnus squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "What are those things?" he muttered under his breath, gripping his weapon tighter.
Cedric, his heart racing, didn’t have an answer. He had never encountered these familiar looking machines like this in any of the worlds he had visited, but their purpose was clear. Another explosion rocked the area as one of the mechanical beasts fired, sending a shockwave that rattled the ground beneath them.
“We can't stay here, we need to move!” Cedric shouted.
Cedric scanned the battlefield ahead, spotting what looked like a deep, long hole dug into the ground—something resembling a trench, though he had no knowledge of it. To him, it was a place of cover, a way to stay out of the direct line of fire from the strange metal creatures advancing toward them.
Without wasting any time, Cedric shouted, "Fay!" and rushed forward.
Faylinn leaped onto his shoulder and, with a sharp hiss, summoned a massive wall of vines from the ground. The thick, twisting mass of plant life surged up in front of them, forming a barrier just as another explosion erupted nearby. The shockwave sent dust and debris flying, but Faylinn's vines held, absorbing the brunt of the impact before finally crumbling away.
"Move!" Cedric called, gesturing for the others to follow.
The team wasted no time. Magnus was the first to react, rushing forward with his shield at the ready. Cedric slid down into the trench, landing hard on the uneven ground below. It stretched out on both sides, a long, narrow passage of dirt and stone that offered them much-needed protection from the blasts. The walls were high enough to conceal them from the metal figures, but the sound of their rumbling movements and the hissing of steam echoed above.
Elysia followed closely behind, clutching Liora tightly, her eyes darting around with tension. Tristan took up the rear, his sword drawn, ready to fend off any attacks that might breach their line of defense.
"Magnus, take point!" Cedric ordered, his voice sharp.
Magnus nodded, his face set in determination. He activated his armor and shield, causing them to glow faintly with a magical aura. His shield was broad and sturdy, large enough to block most of the incoming debris and protect the others as they advanced.
With Magnus leading the way, they began to push forward, moving slowly and cautiously down the length of the trench. Every few steps, the ground would shake from the impact of another explosion, but Magnus's shield held firm, absorbing the force. Behind him, Elysia, Tristan, and Cedric advanced in formation, keeping close to the trench walls as they moved.
As Magnus carefully advanced through the trench, his foot suddenly sank into the ground, disappearing into a hidden pit. He felt the impact but, fortunately, his heavy armor absorbed the force. The spikes that had lined the bottom of the pit shattered against the magical metal, leaving Magnus unharmed. He glanced down and cursed, "What the hell are these?" He frowned at the now-broken spikes, clearly another of the many traps scattered across the battlefield.
Before anyone could respond, a hand shot out from a hole on the side of the trench wall, clutching a strange object that Cedric couldn’t quite place. It had a metallic, angular shape with a small tube extending from it. It was foreign to his eyes, yet somehow, something about it stirred a deep familiarity within him.
A weapon. He didn’t know how, but Cedric instinctively knew the object in that hand was dangerous. Without hesitation, he rushed to Magnus’s side and, in a swift motion, grabbed the arm wielding the object. His sword followed immediately, slicing cleanly through the wrist before the wielder could react. The hand fell to the ground, still gripping the strange device, and Cedric heard muffled cries from within the hole—a voice, distinctly human.
The cries barely registered as the explosions continued to rock the trench, and Cedric’s grip tightened on his sword. This was a battlefield, and it was either them or him.
Tristan quickly assessed the situation. Understanding the threat, he didn’t hesitate to act. He concentrated, and flames shot from his hand, surging into the hole where the voice had come from. The screams of agony echoed out as the fire engulfed whoever was inside. Liora, clinging tightly to Elysia, was spared from witnessing the horrors by Elysia, who gently covered her ears.
But there was no time to dwell on it. Just as the screams died out, a new threat emerged. A group of men appeared at the far end of the trench, all clad in strange uniforms that were unlike anything Cedric or his team had ever seen. They wore green, bulky armor that covered them from head to toe, their faces hidden behind smooth, reflective visors. Each of them carried a larger version of the strange object Cedric had seen earlier—these had long tubes and metal parts that gleamed under the dim light filtering through the smoke-filled air.
The men lifted the objects—long, angular devices with barrels—and a sharp, rapid burst of sound followed. Metal cylinders flew through the air, screaming toward them at terrifying speed.
"Get down!" Magnus roared, instinctively raising his shield.
The metal cylinders—bullets, though Cedric didn't recognize them as such—slammed into Magnus's shield with a fury. Each impact sent tremors through the earth, but Magnus's enchanted armor and shield held firm, absorbing the barrage. The strange soldiers advanced steadily, their weapons blazing, but they couldn't penetrate the shield's defense. Sparks flew as the bullets ricocheted off the surface, clattering harmlessly to the ground.
Cedric instinctively reached down and grabbed the strange object from the severed hand lying in the trench. Its weight felt oddly familiar in his grasp, though he couldn’t place why. The cold metal was unlike any weapon he had wielded before, yet something about it felt natural.
"Do you know how to use it?" Magnus asked, his voice strained as he continued to block the incoming barrage of bullets, his shield taking the brunt of the assault.
Cedric wasn’t sure, but as he gripped the object tighter, a strange sense of familiarity settled over him. His fingers found the trigger, and his hand steadied without thinking. "I think so," he replied, narrowing his eyes at the advancing enemies.
He raised the weapon and fired. The sound was deafening, sharper than any bowstring or crossbow, and the result immediate. A rapid burst of shots erupted from the barrel, each one hitting its mark with deadly precision. The men, clad in their strange uniforms, fell one by one, the bullets piercing through their visors and dropping them in an instant. Cedric didn’t miss a single shot.
The battlefield quieted for a moment, but there was no time for reprieve. Before they could gather their thoughts or even acknowledge the disturbing reality of killing more humans, another group of soldiers appeared, rushing toward them with the same urgency. The trench was alive with the chaotic sound of metal and fire once more.
"Here they come again!" Tristan shouted
Just as Cedric prepared to shoot, yet another figure emerged from the smoke—this one different from the rest. He wore thicker armor, bulkier than the others, and his face was hidden behind a mask with dark lenses that glowed faintly. He held a large metal device in his hands—bulky, cylindrical, and brimming with an ominous heat. As soon as the man pulled the trigger, a stream of fire roared from the device, flames bursting forth like the breath of a dragon.
Tristan reacted immediately, rushing toward the flame-wielder, his ring glowing brightly. With a quick motion, he raised his hand, and the fire streaming toward them dissipated, absorbed by the magic of the ring. The flames curled inward, vanishing before they could cause any damage.
"Go!" Tristan urged, maintaining his concentration as he held the flames at bay.
Magnus didn’t need to be told twice. With his shield raised, he charged forward, barreling into the fire-wielder with a bone-crushing tackle. The impact sent the soldier sprawling, his flamethrower clattering to the ground as he struggled to regain his footing.
Meanwhile, Cedric moved swiftly, his newfound weapon taking down the remaining enemies with precise shots. His focus was unshakable, every movement fluid as if he had trained with this weapon all his life. He aimed, pulled the trigger—and then nothing. A sharp click echoed in the trench, followed by a dull, empty sound.
Without hesitation, Cedric hurled the spent weapon at one of the approaching soldiers, the heavy object smacking him squarely in the face and knocking him back. In one fluid motion, Cedric unsheathed his sword and closed the distance. With a single powerful slash, he dispatched the man, the blade cutting clean through.
The trench was finally cleared. For a brief moment, the chaos subsided, and they all took a moment to catch their breath. Sweat dripped down Cedric’s face, his muscles aching slightly from the battle. He leaned down, his hand instinctively finding another weapon once more.
"Who are these people!?" Magnus yelled, frustration lacing his voice as he scanned the battlefield.
Cedric shook his head as he scanned the bodies of the strange soldiers. Their uniforms were unlike anything he'd seen in this world—modern, metallic, and advanced beyond the typical weapons or armor he was used to facing.
"I don’t know..." Cedric muttered, his brow furrowing in frustration. "But they’re not like anything we’ve seen before." His mind raced, trying to make sense of the technology—the weapons, the armor, the precision of their tactics. None of it fit the world they were currently in, but somewhere deep inside him, there was a flicker of recognition. The familiarity nagged at him, elusive, as though it was something long forgotten.
Elysia quickly rushed to Magnus, who had taken a minor burn from the fire-wielder's weapon. Her hands glowed softly as she placed them over the burn. In seconds, the wound knitted back together, leaving only a faint mark on his armor. Magnus nodded gratefully, flexing his arm as the pain subsided.
"We need to keep moving," Tristan urged, his voice tense as more explosions erupted overhead. The sounds echoed ominously, signaling the presence of more enemies closing in. Just as they began to gather themselves, another strange noise cut through the chaos—a high-pitched, roaring sound Cedric couldn’t identify, yet it sent a shiver down his spine.
The group looked up as the sound grew louder, and soon they saw it—a sleek metallic machine, unlike anything they’d ever encountered. It was flying, darting through the sky at unbelievable speeds, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. It glistened in the sunlight, its smooth, angular body slicing through the air with purpose. Whatever it was, it moved too fast for any of them to track properly.
"What now?" Magnus growled, looking at the approaching threat. He raised his shield instinctively, though he knew it wouldn’t be enough against something like that.
Faylinn hissed sharply, sensing the danger. In an instant, she summoned a massive wall of vines, the thick, twisting plant life shooting up from the ground to form a protective barrier in front of them. The vines were dense and strong, but Cedric could feel the ground trembling as the metallic object in the sky adjusted its path, aiming directly at them.
Liora, her small face set in concentration, pulled on the brown lines she saw flickering in the air around her. With a determined tug, the earth beside them rumbled and heaved upward, forming a massive mound of dirt that added another layer to the protective barrier. The wall of earth and vines stood tall, creating a fortified defense just as the metallic object unleashed its attack.
A deafening explosion rocked the trench as the object fired, sending shockwaves through the air. The blast struck the wall of vines and dirt, and though the impact was fierce, Faylinn’s magic and Liora’s quick thinking held strong. The barrier cracked and splintered, pieces of dirt and vine breaking away, but it didn’t collapse entirely.
The metallic object veered away, circling back for another pass. They had barely survived the first attack.
"We won’t last if that thing comes back around," Cedric said, his voice grim. He looked at the others. "We need to get rid of that thing."
"I have an idea," Tristan said, wiping the dirt off his face as he knelt down. "Give me a few moments. Elysia, I need your help."
Elysia nodded and moved beside him, her hands glowing with soothing energy. She placed them gently on Tristan’s back, her magic flowing through him, helping him focus. Tristan closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath as he gathered his strength and centered his thoughts.
Meanwhile, Magnus’s voice rang out in warning. "There’s more coming!" He pointed toward the far side of the trench, where another wave of enemies emerged from the smoke and debris. Their strange weapons glinted in the light, and the rapid sound of gunfire grew louder.
Cedric turned to Liora and Faylinn. "Fay, Liora—can you both do what you did before? Protect Tristan and Elysia."
Liora nodded, determination in her young eyes, while Faylinn mewed in confirmation, hopping onto Liora’s shoulder. "Thanks," Cedric said. He then turned to Magnus, drawing his sword and readying the strange weapon he’d picked up. "Let’s go."
Magnus didn’t need to be told twice. He raised his shield and charged forward, blocking the incoming bullets with his enchanted shield, his large frame a bulwark against the enemy’s fire. Cedric followed closely behind him, aiming the unfamiliar weapon at one of the soldiers. Just as he squeezed the trigger, a sudden surge of pain shot through his head—a piercing headache that made the world sway.
The shot went wide, missing its target. "Hah..." Cedric gasped, trying to steady himself, but the headache persisted, clouding his vision.
"Cedric, are you alright?" Magnus called back, glancing over his shoulder as he pressed on, his shield absorbing another round of gunfire.
Cedric shook his head, trying to blink away the blurriness. "Yeah... Yeah, I’m fine," he replied, his voice strained. The world around him wavered, but he forced himself to take a deep breath, steadying his hand. He blinked rapidly, and the clarity returned, though the throbbing in his head didn’t fully fade.
With renewed focus, Cedric raised the weapon again, firing off several shots. This time, his aim was true, and the enemies fell one by one as the bullets struck them down.
Magnus, meanwhile, continued his relentless advance. He swung his battle axe with brutal efficiency, cutting down any soldier in his path. His magical armor, glowing faintly with its protective aura, shielded him from the enemy’s fire. Bullets pinged off the enchanted metal, unable to penetrate, as Magnus plowed through the group.
Suddenly, a new enemy leaped into view, wearing strange white metallic armor that gleamed in the light, its helmet shaped like a skeletal face with glowing green eyes. The figure had strange bursts of fire coming from behind its back, propelling it forward with unnerving speed. It slammed into Magnus with a forceful kick, sending him stumbling backward.
The figure pulled out a smaller object from its side—a strange, sleek metallic device Cedric had never seen before. The weapon glowed faintly, and when the enemy fired, it didn’t release arrows or anything Cedric recognized. Instead, bolts of crackling energy shot out, striking Magnus’s shield with a sizzle. The impact didn’t pierce the shield, but Magnus winced as a burning heat flared where the blast had landed.
Cedric reacted quickly, grabbing his own unfamiliar weapon and firing. The bullets bounced harmlessly off the enemy’s thick armor, leaving only small dents. The figure turned toward him, aiming its glowing weapon at Cedric. Cedric felt a surge of danger and used his power to slow the figure's movements, forcing it to move as if caught in thick mud. In the same moment, Cedric blinked forward, teleporting behind the enemy and driving his sword into the joint at the armpit, where the armor didn’t fully cover.
The blade found its mark, cutting deep, but before Cedric could press the advantage, the figure twisted and kicked him in the chest. The force knocked Cedric backward, and the figure used the fire from its back to leap away, putting distance between them. Cedric noticed it pull out a small tube, jabbing it into its own neck. Whatever was inside gave the figure renewed strength, making its movements faster and more aggressive.
Cedric didn't waste any time. He blinked again, closing the gap instantly. The enemy pulled out a rod from its back—something metallic and cylindrical—but as the figure pressed a switch, a glowing blade of energy extended from it, humming ominously in the air like a blade of light.
They clashed, Cedric’s sword against the glowing energy blade. Sparks flew from each impact, the light from the weapon casting strange shadows across the battlefield. The enemy’s strikes were precise and relentless, but Cedric's experience and focus kept him in the fight. He parried and dodged, each swing of the glowing blade forcing him to dig deep into his reserves of strength and agility.
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As they exchanged blows, Cedric found the opening he needed. With a deft maneuver, he parried the glowing blade to the side and, in one swift motion, drove his sword deep into the enemy’s chest. The figure staggered, the fire from its back sputtering out as it crumpled to the ground. The energy blade flickered and vanished as the armored figure collapsed into a lifeless heap.
"What kind of weapon are these guys using—" Magnus started, but before he could finish, a deafening explosion erupted near him. The force of the blast sent him flying to the side, his heavy armor clanging as he hit the ground. For a moment, Cedric feared the worst, but Magnus groaned and slowly pushed himself back to his feet, shaking his head. "Ugh..."
Cedric quickly moved to his side, helping him retreat further back into the trench. "Whatever those things are," Magnus muttered, pointing at the hulking metal beasts in the distance. The massive mechanical machines crawled across the battlefield on thick tracks, their sides armed with long, hollow barrels that emitted blasts strong enough to tear the earth apart. "We need to destroy them."
Before Cedric could plan their next move, Tristan acted. A towering form of flame surged into the sky, taking the shape of a dragon—its fiery wings spread wide, casting a bright orange glow over the battlefield. The heat from the massive creature was intense, even from the relative safety of the trench.
Above them, sleek metallic machines darted across the sky, their speed unmatched. One of the strange airborne creatures was caught in the fiery dragon’s path. The dragon snapped its jaws around it, engulfing it in flames, and within seconds, the metal bird exploded in a burst of fire and debris.
The fiery dragon, now fully unleashed, swooped down toward the lumbering mechanical beasts. With a deep, rumbling roar, the dragon unleashed a torrent of molten flame, bathing the machines in searing heat. The metal creatures stood no chance—their thick armor melted away as if it were wax, and their barrels twisted and shattered from the intense heat.
The battlefield, once alive with chaos, fell silent as the fiery dragon incinerated everything in its path. The mechanical monsters were reduced to molten scrap, and the sleek flying machines were gone, leaving only the crackling remnants of Tristan’s flames. The trench, a place of violence and explosions moments ago, now lay quiet beneath the fiery glow.
"So the human prince is here..." A booming voice echoed across the battlefield. Cedric peeked from the trench to see a towering demonic creature standing in the distance. Its red skin gleamed under the sun, massive black horns curling up from its head, and a sinister smile stretched across its face. The demon's voice carried with ease. "I'll start with you first. Once your empires are under my reign, I'll take control of the other regions!"
Cedric leaped from the trench, sword drawn. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The demon’s glowing eyes locked onto him, a flicker of recognition crossing its monstrous features. "Oh, you!" the demon's grin widened. "You're the one who gave me this amazing power!"
Cedric's mind raced as the demon continued, "Thanks to you and that human, Marius, I was able to take control of this temporary body." The demon gestured to itself as if admiring the vessel. "And I’ve witnessed worlds beyond imagining, all thanks to you!" The demon’s laughter rumbled like thunder. "Now, after I finish with you humans, I will be revived and rule them all."
"That's Morgath?" Tristan and the others jumped from the trench, joining Cedric. Tristan's face was filled with disbelief.
"How?" Elysia’s voice barely hid her shock.
"It doesn't matter," Magnus said, gripping his weapon tighter. "We've come too far to turn back now."
"Worry not," Morgath said with a mocking tone, "I’ll give you all a quick and painless death. With this power... I can do anything." With a wave of his hand, a massive rift tore open in the sky. Through it emerged an enormous metallic structure—something Cedric had never seen before. It was a colossal ship, with sleek, angular designs and glowing blue lines running along its sides. Whatever it was, it looked like it came from another world, brimming with power beyond understanding.
"What in the world is that..." Elysia's voice trembled as she stared up at the massive object. Cedric didn't know what it was either, but it didn’t matter.
Before she could finish her sentence, time froze. The world around Cedric went silent, the air itself seeming to stop moving. His friends were frozen in place, their expressions locked in shock as the enormous ship loomed over them.
Cedric felt a presence, and when he turned, Morgath was there, standing right in front of him. The demon's hand shot out, grabbing Cedric’s face and lifting him effortlessly off the ground. "Your power is beyond anything else I have ever seen, human," Morgath growled, his voice dripping with twisted admiration. "Tell me, how does it feel to have this power? You could become a god among men, and yet you waste it on these mortals. Why?"
Cedric’s mind raced, trying to focus through the splitting headache. He realized what Morgath was doing—he was using Cedric's own power to manipulate time itself, pulling machines and weapons from different eras. But Cedric also knew something Morgath didn’t... there was a limit to the power.
"I guess..." Cedric muttered between breaths, "you don’t know about its consequences."
Morgath’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening. "What? What consequences?"
Cedric coughed, the pain in his head making it hard to speak. "There's... hah... a limit to it..." he rasped.
Morgath's expression twisted into panic. "Lies!" He roared, throwing Cedric to the ground with a force that rattled his bones. "Tell me the truth!" Morgath rushed toward him, desperate.
But Cedric, despite the pain, was calm. He drew his weapon and pointed it toward Morgath, his voice low and steady. "Bang."
Morgath grabbed Cedric by the neck, but it was already too late. Cedric watched as Morgath's legs began to fade into nothingness, his body disintegrating piece by piece. "No! No, no, no!" Morgath’s voice grew frantic as he stared at his dissolving form. "No!"
In his final moments, Morgath’s body faded completely, disappearing into the ether along with the massive ship in the sky.
Time resumed, the world returning to motion around Cedric as he lay on the ground, gasping for air. The headache throbbed fiercely in his skull, but it was over. Morgath was gone, along with all the destruction he had tried to bring into this world.
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Morgath found himself standing in an abyss of darkness. The cold, oppressive void stretched endlessly in all directions. His surroundings were so empty that even the concept of time seemed to vanish, leaving him stranded in an eternity of stillness. The ground beneath him was neither solid nor fluid—it was simply there, offering him no comfort, no warmth.
"Where am I?" Morgath muttered, his voice swallowed by the nothingness. His form had reverted to its original state—the hulking, demonic figure that once struck fear into the hearts of men. His massive frame, covered in dark red skin and layered with jagged armor, stood out starkly against the emptiness. His horns curved back like those of a great beast, and his glowing eyes searched for something—anything—within the void.
But there was nothing. No light. No life. No sound. Just the eternal coldness of the abyss.
Morgath continued to turn, desperate to find some sign of where he was. The silence was maddening, and with each passing moment, the weight of isolation pressed down on him. He clenched his fists, frustration building in his chest. "I will not be trapped here!" he growled, his voice echoing faintly before disappearing entirely.
Just as he was about to lose himself to rage, something appeared. A figure—a being, pale and luminous—emerged from the void. It resembled a female human, but it was far more than that. Its presence was monumental, towering over Morgath in an indescribable way. The being’s form was radiant and ethereal, as if it was made of pure light. It cast no shadow, and despite its brilliance, it did not illuminate the darkness. It simply was.
Morgath’s anger flared as he locked eyes with the being. "Who—" he began to demand, but then stopped, realizing his tone. "No," he corrected himself, "get me out of this place at once, and I will spare your life."
The being remained silent, its expression unreadable, its gaze unwavering.
Morgath’s fury deepened. "Did you not hear me? I am Morgath, the ruler of realms! I will end your existence if you refuse to obey me!" His voice thundered through the void, but the being gave no response.
The silence stretched, and before Morgath could issue another threat, a strange sensation washed over him. He felt... lighter. His massive form began to dissipate, first at his fingertips, then his arms, his legs. His body, his power, everything that made him Morgath was fading. The coldness of the void seemed to seep into his very essence, erasing him piece by piece.
"N-" Morgath tried to shout, but his voice was gone. There was no sound, no struggle, just the cold finality of disappearance. The void claimed him entirely, leaving no trace of his existence. Not a particle remained.
Gone. Forever.
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"Augh..." Cedric collapsed to his knees, doubling over as a violent wave of nausea overwhelmed him. He barely managed to turn his head before he began to retch, his body shaking with the effort. His breath came in ragged gasps as the headache pounded relentlessly, feeling like a hammer was slamming against the inside of his skull.
The battlefield around him was eerily quiet now. The once-vibrant chaos had settled, leaving behind a landscape littered with the twisted remains of the mechanical machines, their hulking metal bodies half-buried in the dirt. Pieces of the strange armored figures lay scattered, their weapons still clutched in lifeless hands, smoldering from the firestorm that had ravaged the trench. Thick clouds of smoke drifted up into the sky, their dark tendrils blending with the deepening hues of orange and red as the sun sank lower on the horizon.
It wasn’t supposed to be this late. They had only just arrived, but now the sun was already setting, casting long, distorted shadows over the battlefield. Time itself had been twisted, manipulated by Morgath’s final stand—and now he had paid the price for it.
Faylinn leapt from Cedric’s shoulder, landing softly beside him. She mewed in distress, nudging his arm as if urging him to get up, to keep moving. Elysia quickly knelt beside Cedric, her hands glowing with a soft, calming light as she placed them on his back, trying to soothe him. Tristan joined her, crouching down and rubbing Cedric’s shoulders. "Breathe, Cedric," Elysia whispered, her voice steady but laced with concern. "We’re almost there."
The air was thick with the scent of burning metal and earth, the remnants of their battle hanging in the atmosphere like a suffocating veil. In the distance, the castle loomed, its jagged spires silhouetted against the setting sun, casting a foreboding shadow over the land. The path ahead was littered with debris—twisted fragments of the battlefield—but the way was clear now.
Cedric wiped his mouth, grimacing as the taste of bile lingered on his tongue. His whole body ached, the pain in his head still pulsing, but he forced himself to stand with the help of Elysia and Tristan. "How do you feel?" Elysia asked "Can you still fight?"
Cedric took the water pouch Magnus handed him, drinking deeply before answering. "Yeah..." His voice was hoarse, but he nodded, trying to shake off the lingering dizziness. "I think I'll be fine. Just... give me a moment."
Magnus stood at the edge of the trench, his shield lowered but still ready, scanning the horizon. The flames from Tristan’s fire dragon had cleared much of the battlefield, leaving only the smoldering remains of the mechanical monsters. The metal corpses lay strewn about, slowly fading into nothingness as the magic that summoned them dissolved.
"What happened to Morgath?" Tristan asked, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the battlefield for any sign of the demon.
Cedric wiped the sweat from his brow and took another deep breath. "He’s gone," he said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing on him. "He won’t be coming back."
For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind brushing through the scorched grass and the distant crackling of flames. The sky continued to darken, the sun sinking further below the horizon, casting the battlefield in a surreal orange glow.
But there was no time for rest. In the distance, rising above the blackened earth, was their next challenge—the massive fortress where Argoth awaited them.
Tristan’s eyes locked onto the silhouette of the castle, his expression grim but determined. "Mother, I’m coming," he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible over the wind.
With Cedric standing now, Elysia gave a nod, and the group began to move once again. Their steps were heavy with exhaustion but filled with purpose as they advanced toward the dark stronghold, the final destination in their long and perilous journey. The fading sun cast the last of its dying light upon them as they made their way to face Argoth, the last obstacle between them and victory.
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The massive doors to the throne room groaned open, revealing the shadowy interior. Inside, the castle was eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the faint whistle of wind through the cracks in the ancient stone walls. Darkness clung to every corner, thick and oppressive, and the air was heavy with the weight of the past. Dust floated lazily through the faint beams of light filtering through the high, narrow windows, adding to the sense of abandonment.
Tristan led the way, his hand still aglow with fire, casting a warm, flickering light as they stepped deeper into the room. The glow barely reached the towering walls or the grand ceiling high above, leaving most of the vast space shrouded in shadow.
At the far end of the chamber, illuminated by a few sparse torches, sat a figure on the throne. Dressed in a flowing green robe, his form was surrounded by an unnatural, dark aura that seemed to pulse with each breath he took. His face, pale and sharp, was twisted into a cruel smile, and his eyes glowed with a sinister light that sent shivers down the spine of anyone who dared look at him.
This was Argoth.
He lounged on the throne with a regal arrogance, his glowing eyes watching them approach with unsettling calm. His green robes shifted slightly as he leaned forward, the dark aura around him growing thicker, more menacing.
"You’ve finally arrived, my dear nephew," Argoth said, his voice smooth and cold, carrying a mocking edge that set Tristan’s blood boiling. "I take it from your presence here that Morgath has met his end? How fortunate—for me."
Tristan’s jaw clenched in anger as he stepped forward, fire dancing in his eyes as much as in his hand. "Where is Mother?" he demanded, his voice echoing through the vast hall.
Argoth didn’t flinch at the question, his cruel smile only widening. "Ah, Lydia… She is safe, I assure you. Far better off with me than she ever was with that oh-so-noble father of yours."
Tristan’s eyes burned with fury. "She’s not yours to take, Argoth! She chose Father. They loved each other, and you—" He spat the words. "You couldn’t accept it. You’ve always been jealous, haven’t you?"
Argoth’s eyes darkened at the accusation, his twisted smile fading for the briefest of moments. The aura around him seemed to pulse angrily, flickering with dark energy. "Jealousy?" he sneered. "I’ve always had my eyes on Lydia. I even let Darius have the throne. But when he took her from me, I could no longer stand idly by. She was meant to be mine."
Tristan’s voice trembled with rage. "She chose Father! You’re nothing but a jealous, power-hungry monster."
Argoth rose from the throne, his green robes billowing as the dark aura around him surged. His eyes glowed brighter, his voice dripping with venom as he replied, "You think you understand, boy? You know nothing of what it feels like to be denied what should be yours! I would have given her everything—more than your father ever could."
The room seemed to grow colder as Argoth’s power filled the space, his shadow stretching across the floor as he stepped toward them. The final confrontation was at hand, and the tension was unbearable as Argoth and Tristan stood face to face, the weight of years of resentment and jealousy pressing down on them.
"She will never choose you," Tristan growled, his hand gripping his sword hilt tightly. "Not not or ever"
Argoth’s eyes narrowed, his cruel smile returning. "Perhaps we shall see, my dear nephew."
The battle began with a thunderous clash as Argoth, robed in green and surrounded by a swirling dark aura, raised his hand, summoning arcs of crackling electricity that danced toward the group. Tristan, quick on his feet, countered with a blast of flame, sending fire roaring toward the archmage. Argoth smiled wickedly, deflecting the flames with a gust of wind, his eyes glowing with malevolent power.
Magnus charged forward, his shield raised to absorb Argoth’s next strike. A bolt of lightning struck the shield with a deafening crack, but Magnus gritted his teeth and pushed through, swinging his weapon at Argoth. The archmage stepped back, flicking his wrist to create a barrier of shimmering magic that stopped Magnus’s attack cold.
"You think you can defeat me with such crude strength?" Argoth sneered, raising his arms. The ground trembled as shards of ice formed in the air, sharp as daggers, and shot toward Magnus. The warrior barely had time to lift his shield before they slammed into it, chipping away at the magical barrier.
Cedric, watching from a distance, tried to steady himself. His headache had worsened since the battle began, and his vision wavered as the pain pounded in his skull. He gripped his sword tightly, blinking to clear his sight. He looked down at the strange weapon in his hand—the one he had taken from one of the soldiers—and aimed it at Argoth.
But just as he pulled the trigger, a sharp pulse of pain shot through his head, causing him to sway. His shot went wide, the bullet striking a distant wall instead of its intended target. "Hah…" Cedric mutters under his breath, struggling to stay on his feet as the throbbing in his head intensified.
Magnus, still blocking Argoth's attacks, yelled back at him, "Cedric! You alright?"
"Yeah.. Just— I'm fine" Cedric muttered, though he was far from it. His legs trembled beneath him as he tried to shake off the disorienting headache. He needed to focus, but the pain made it nearly impossible.
Amid the chaos, Liora, still being held by Elysia, caught sight of the red lines swirling above them. Her eyes widened, and instinctively, she reached out to pull the red thread. In an instant, the chandelier above Argoth broke free from its fixture, hurtling toward the mage with alarming speed.
Argoth glanced up just in time and raised his hand, casting a spell that shattered the chandelier mid-air. Glass and metal rained down around him, though he remained unharmed. "You wretched child!" he roared, turning his gaze toward Liora.
Elysia, seeing Argoth's wrath directed at Liora, quickly ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding a blast of dark magic aimed at them. She held Liora tightly, shielding the child as they moved behind a nearby column for cover. Though Elysia's role was primarily healing, her instincts to protect Liora kicked in as she ensured the girl stayed out of harm's way.
Meanwhile, Tristan and Magnus pressed their attack. Tristan swung his sword in an arc, the blade crackling with magical energy, but Argoth countered with a gust of wind that knocked Tristan off his feet. Magnus followed up with a crushing blow from his axe, but Argoth summoned a wall of ice, blocking the strike with ease.
Argoth's power seemed endless. He shifted seamlessly between elemental magic—fire, ice, wind—each spell more destructive than the last. Every time they closed in, he would blast them back, keeping the team at bay with his mastery over the arcane.
Cedric, his head pounding and his vision blurred, staggered forward, trying to focus through the pain. He forced himself to stand, gripping his sword tightly, struggling to stay upright.
But Argoth, sensing Cedric’s weakened state, turned his attention toward him. A malicious grin spread across the mage's face. "You're nothing but a broken man," Argoth hissed, summoning a bolt of lightning. He hurled it toward Cedric with deadly precision.
Cedric barely managed to blink out of the way, his short-range teleport saving him from the attack at the last possible moment. But the effort left him even more drained. His headache intensified, and his knees buckled beneath him.
Magnus charged once more, his shield raised, but Argoth’s magic was relentless. A wave of flame surged forward, consuming everything in its path. Magnus’s shield held, but only barely. The heat was unbearable, and he could feel his strength waning.
Tristan rushed in, his sword crackling with fire magic, and swung at Argoth, but the archmage parried the blow with a barrier of arcane energy. Tristan staggered and he was thrown back by a blast of wind, hitting the ground hard, his sword slipping from his grip as his vision blurred. He tried to stand, but his body refused to respond. His strength was spent. Argoth loomed over him, his hand glowing with dark energy as he prepared to cast the final blow.
"Tristan!" Magnus shouted, charging toward them. His shield raised high, he blocked a series of attacks from Argoth’s swirling magic. But the force behind each strike was immense, and Magnus could feel his strength faltering as well.
"I will end you all!" Argoth roared, his voice echoing through the darkened throne room. With a single, powerful motion, he hurled a blast of arcane fire straight toward Tristan, the flames twisting in the air, ready to consume him.
Magnus leaped into action, rushing to place himself between Tristan and the incoming attack. His shield was raised, but even he knew that the strength of Argoth’s magic was too great to withstand.
Just as the flames were about to strike, a voice cried out, cutting through the chaos.
"Tristan!"
The shout came from the staircase at the far end of the room. It was Lydia.
Time seemed to slow as Lydia, her face filled with terror and determination, threw herself in front of the attack. The arcane flames collided with her, the force of the magic knocking her back with a terrible explosion of energy. She fell to the floor, the sound of her body hitting the ground echoing throughout the chamber.
"Mother!" Tristan screamed, scrambling to his feet despite the pain coursing through his body. He rushed to her side, his heart pounding in his chest as he knelt beside her. Lydia lay still, her breathing shallow, but she was alive.
Argoth, for the first time during the battle, hesitated. His hand lowered slightly as he stared at Lydia's fallen form.
"No..." Argoth muttered in disbelief as he rushed to Lydia’s side. "Lydia..." His voice cracked, his hands trembling as he knelt beside her. He reached out to touch her, his expression one of shock and anguish.
But before Argoth’s hand could reach her, Lydia’s eyes snapped open. With a sudden surge of strength, she grabbed Argoth’s wrist and pushed Tristan away. Blood seeped from her lips as she bit down on her finger, muttering words in an ancient language that none of them understood. Her body began to glow with a radiant, golden light, pulsing in rhythm with her chant.
"Lydia, What are yo—" Argoth’s voice trembled as he tried to pull away, but her grip was unbreakable.
"Mother, stop!" Tristan shouted, panic flooding his voice as he scrambled to his feet and tried to rush to her side. But as he got close, the energy radiating from Lydia forced him back, a powerful barrier keeping him away.
"MAGNUS! CEDRIC!" Tristan’s desperate cry echoed through the throne room. Magnus reacted first, rushing toward them with his shield raised. He bashed at Argoth with all his might, but the blow barely made Argoth flinch, the dark magic surrounding him protecting him from harm.
Cedric, still struggling with his crippling headache, forced himself up. His vision blurred, and every step felt like agony, but he pushed through, stumbling toward them. He extended his hand, trying to summon his power, but the pain in his head made it almost impossible to concentrate.
His hand shook as he focused, attempting to slow Lydia's movements. His power flickered, but it was too late. The glow from Lydia's body intensified, blinding the entire room in a burst of brilliant light. Cedric was thrown back by the force of the explosion, crashing into the stone floor.
When the light finally faded and the dust settled, there was nothing left between them except for two crystals. One was a soft pink, glowing faintly in the dim light, and the other was dark, swirling with an ominous, shadowy mist.
"No!" Tristan’s voice broke as he rushed forward, falling to his knees in front of the spot where his mother had stood moments ago. His hands fumbled over the ground, desperately searching for her. "No, no, no!" His voice cracked as the realization hit him—she was gone. Imprisoned.
Tears welled in Tristan’s eyes as he grabbed the pink crystal, his body trembling with grief. "Mother..." His voice was barely a whisper now. He turned to Elysia, thrusting the crystal toward her with shaking hands. "Elysia, please... can you—can you use your magic? Please, do something!"
Elysia, with tears in her own eyes, took the crystal gently from Tristan. She focused, her hands glowing softly as she attempted to pour her magic into it, but nothing happened. The pink crystal remained unresponsive, its light dim and unchanged. She shook her head, her voice filled with sorrow. "I’m sorry, Tristan. I can’t... It won’t respond."
Tristan’s face crumpled in despair. He clutched the pink crystal to his chest, holding it tightly as if hoping it would bring his mother back. "No, no, no..." His voice was broken, barely audible now, as he rocked back and forth, the weight of the moment crushing him.
Magnus knelt beside Tristan, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We’ll find a way, Tristan. We’ll find a way to free her."
Cedric, still recovering from the blast, forced himself to his feet. He looked over at the dark crystal lying beside the spot where Lydia and Argoth had been. The swirling darkness inside the crystal was unmistakable—it was Argoth, sealed away just like Morgath had been. Cedric limped over, picking up the dark crystal carefully.
After a moment of grieving, the team, now carrying both crystals, slowly made their way out of the throne room. Tristan, still clutching the pink crystal close to his heart, walked silently with the others as they left the castle behind. The sun had fully set, casting long shadows over the island. They made their way back to the shore, the weight of what had happened heavy on their hearts.
The battle was over, but the cost was higher than any of them had expected. With both crystals in hand, they set their course back to the port city, leaving behind the island that had taken so much from them.
Even as the ship set sail, leaving the cursed island behind, the weight of everything that had transpired pressed heavily on Cedric. He leaned against the railing, his vision swimming as the pounding headache grew worse with every passing moment. His legs felt weak, barely able to support his weight. Magnus, sensing his friend’s struggle, moved to his side, offering support as Cedric’s body threatened to give out.
“Where are the reinforcements?” Cedric murmured, his eyes scanning the endless stretch of sea. The horizon was empty—no sails, no ships, just the vast expanse of water reflecting the darkening sky. His voice was hoarse, frustration and confusion biting at him. “There should have been something... ships... anyone.”
Magnus tightened his grip on Cedric’s arm to steady him. “They’re not coming. Looks like it’s just us.”
Tristan, standing near the helm with his hand clutching the pink crystal, glanced toward the horizon as well. His expression was hard, but a glimmer of something vulnerable flickered in his eyes. He muttered under his breath, "I need to speak with Killian. All of this... it could have been avoided."
But little did Tristan know, Killian had been dead for some time now, his life taken in a distant battle.
The ship rocked gently with the waves as the silence hung heavy in the air. Tristan clenched his fists, a determined look crossing his face. “We’ll go back. We’ll find a way. Maybe the High Priest knows how to free my mother… and as for Argoth,” his voice darkened, “I will revive him, and I'll kill him again. This time, I’ll make sure he suffers for what he’s done.”
Cedric leaned heavily against the railing, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the headache gnawed at his strength. Each moment felt like a battle against the weight of time pressing down on him. Magnus stood close by, ready to help him stand, but Cedric felt his legs trembling beneath him.
Faylinn mewed softly, leaping up to his shoulder and nuzzling against his neck, sensing the strain. She pressed herself against him, her soft glow comforting in the dim light.
“I don’t know how much longer I can stay,” Cedric muttered, his voice low but hopeful despite the exhaustion in his body. He glanced at Tristan, whose face was tense with concern. “Morgath took the consequence for me when he used the power. I thought…” He paused, swallowing hard as the headache surged. “I thought maybe I’d be able to stay.”
Magnus and Tristan both looked at him, but Cedric’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon. “I’ve been moving from one place to another for so long,” Cedric continued, his words slower now but filled with hope. “But this time, maybe… just maybe, I won’t have to leave. Maybe this world could be different.”
Faylinn mewed again, sensing his struggle, and nuzzled closer. Cedric smiled softly, reaching up to gently pat her head. "I don’t want to go," he admitted, his voice filled with quiet longing. “Not yet.”
Tristan stepped closer, his voice tinged with urgency. “We’ll find a way, Cedric. You don’t have to leave. Trust me.”
Cedric gave a slight nod, still holding onto that hope, even as his body betrayed him. “I hope so” he whispered, his hand trembling as he brushed Faylinn’s fur. “If Morgath’s gone, maybe the consequence is gone too. Maybe this time, I won’t have to leave you all.”
Magnus glanced at him with worry but also a glimmer of belief in Cedric’s words. Cedric fought the heaviness in his chest, the pain in his head easing for a brief moment as he focused on that hope. “I’ll pray… that I can stay here, Tristan,” Cedric said, his voice soft but determined. “I really want to see this through, I want to help you free your mother. If I can, I'll stay with you until the end.”
Faylinn gave another reassuring mew, cuddling into Cedric’s neck as he took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment as if willing himself to hold on, to stay just a little longer.
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The night was suffocating, the air thick with the remnants of their recent battle. Sleep was impossible for Cedric, the relentless pounding in his head making rest a distant fantasy. Faylinn’s sleeping beside his bed on the bedside table. Unable to endure the confines of his cabin, Cedric rose from his bed and made his way to the deck, hoping the sea air might offer some solace.
Elysia was there, her figure bathed in the faint glow of moonlight, her gaze fixed on the dark expanse of the ocean. Cedric approached her quietly, the weight of exhaustion in every step.
“We should reach the port city by morning,” he said, his voice rough and weary.
Elysia turned to face him, a soft, almost serene smile on her lips. “Cedric... couldn’t sleep?”
He shook his head, leaning heavily against the railing, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his skull. “No. The headache’s too much,” he admitted, his voice trailing off as he looked out at the endless black sea. “It’s over now, Elysia. We’ve won... After everything that happened, at least no one else has to die. The empire is safe.”
Elysia’s response was not what he expected. There was a strange light in her eyes, something almost satisfied, though it was hard to tell in the darkness. Was he imagining it?
“Yes, it’s done,” she replied, her voice smooth, almost too calm. “But you know, Cedric, this is just the beginning.”
Cedric frowned, unease creeping into his tired mind. “The beginning?” He tried to make sense of her words. “Maybe for you,” he said with a faint, tired smile. “But for me, it’s just another world, another story. One more protagonist saved.” He rubbed his temples, the pain intensifying, becoming more than just a headache. “I’ll stick around a bit longer, hopefully. But… what are we going to do with Liora? She can’t go back to her parents.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Elysia said, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “I’ve got a plan.”
Cedric nodded weakly, though he could barely stay upright. The pain was becoming unbearable again, each pulse of his headache feeling like a hammer blow to his skull.
“Cedric,” Elysia’s voice softened, becoming almost soothing. “Have I ever told you a story?”
“What story?” he asked, his words slurring slightly as he struggled to focus.
“There was once a girl,” Elysia began, her tone light, almost conversational, but there was a weight behind her words that Cedric couldn’t ignore. “She was born to a poor family, a commoner with no claim to anything. But one day, she discovered something extraordinary about herself—she had divine power, a gift so rare that it caught the attention of the temple priests. They took her in, trained her, and she became a priestess, revered by all who met her.”
Cedric’s breathing grew more labored, his chest tightening as if the air was being squeezed from his lungs. He could feel something was wrong, but the words seemed to slip away from him.
“Years passed,” Elysia continued, her voice carrying a faint, nostalgic tone, “and the girl grew into her role at the temple and the high priest were like a father to her, he adored her. But then, one day, news arrived that the demon king had risen, threatening to destroy everything she held dear. The high priest and the senior priests were called to aid the imperial family, and they set out on a dangerous expedition. Months went by, and when they returned, they were broken, their forces decimated.”
Cedric gripped the railing, his knuckles white as the pain in his head began to spiral out of control. He felt like he was losing his grip on reality.
“Undeterred, the empire organized a second expedition,” Elysia continued, her voice growing more intense, more personal. “This time, they called upon every last resource they had. The remaining soldiers, the few priests left, and even the young priestess. She went with them, determined to do whatever she could to save her people. But before the expedition could depart, the high priest fell gravely ill. In his final moments, he didn’t just pass on his role—he gave her his holy power. The divine energy that had flowed through him for decades, the strength that had made him the spiritual pillar of the empire, was transferred to her. The very essence of his sacred abilities, now coursing through her veins.”
"He told her of his one great regret," Elysia’s voice softened, taking on a haunting quality. "He spoke of his long-lost daughter and granddaughter, his voice filled with sorrow. He had searched for them for years but never found them. His daughter had no magic of her own, but he believed that his granddaughter must carry some part of his power. His final request to the priestess was simple—find them, protect them. 'They have purple hair,' he said. 'Find them, and do what I could not.' "
"The young priestess accepted his burden," Elysia continued, her voice darkening. "She vowed to honor the high priest’s dying wish, even as she marched off to war. Little did she know that promise would twist her fate in ways she never imagined."
Cedric’s vision blurred, his mind struggling to keep up with her words. Every breath was a struggle, the pain searing through him.
“During that expedition,” Elysia’s voice softened again, “the girl met the prince. He was noble, brave, and he saw something in her that no one else had. They grew close, and despite the horrors of the war, they found comfort in each other. But it wasn’t all victory and triumph,” her tone darkened, laced with sorrow. “The girl, just as the high priest had asked, searched for the granddaughter with purple hair. And she found her.”
Elysia paused, her eyes glinting with a mixture of regret and something darker. “But they were too late. The granddaughter had already fallen, too far gone, one of the demon king's believers. The very power they had hoped to protect had been twisted. She was corrupted beyond saving, and the girl—along with the prince—had no choice but to end her life.”
Elysia’s voice was steady, but Cedric could hear the weight behind it. “They had come to fulfill a dying man’s wish, but instead, they ended the life of his bloodline. Another casualty of the war. Even after sealing the demon king away, that moment haunted the girl. They returned to the empire as heroes, but it didn’t feel like a victory.”
His heart pounded, each beat sending a fresh wave of agony through his skull. He tried to concentrate, to make sense of what she was saying, but it was like trying to grasp smoke.
“The prince loved her,” Elysia continued, her tone growing darker, tinged with bitterness. “He wanted to marry her, to make her his queen. But the nobles wouldn’t have it. She was of common birth, and they wouldn’t allow a commoner to sit on the throne. They tore them apart.”
Her voice grew colder. “And what neither the prince nor the girl knew was that there was a cult working in secret, a cult devoted to resurrecting the demon king. All their efforts in sealing him away were for nothing, as the cultists undid everything, bringing him back into the world.”
Elysia's expression twisted, the bitterness deepening in her voice. “When the demon king, whom they thought they had sealed away, returned, the empire was thrown into chaos once more. And who did they blame? Her. The girl. They accused her of being a witch, saying she had brought the demon back. They stormed the temple where she had taken refuge, dragging her out and executing her, right in front of the prince.”
“Elysia... what are you...” Cedric tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. His legs buckled, and he nearly collapsed, barely managing to catch himself on the railing.
“But the story doesn’t end there,” Elysia whispered, leaning closer to him, her breath warm against his ear. “The girl wasn’t finished. She was given a second chance—a chance to make things right, to take back what was stolen from her. And this time, she swore she would destroy anyone who stood in her way.”
Cedric’s mind reeled, the truth dawning on him too late. “Don’t tell me... that was... you,” he gasped, his strength failing him as his vision darkened.
Elysia’s smile was cruel, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Yes, Cedric. Thank you for being so trusting, for never questioning me. You didn’t even think twice when I withheld parts of my past, or when I handed you every drink and every meal. Every bite, every sip—you never suspected a thing. You didn’t even question why Argoth never made a move on humanity like I had claimed when we first met. You just followed along, didn’t you?”
This can’t be happening. Elysia is the protagonist, she can’t—
“Just because I’m your so-called Protagonist, you thought I could do no wrong, right?" she added, her voice laced with bitter amusement. "Goodbye, Cedric,” she whispered with a final, cold smile.
With a swift, effortless motion, she pushed him off the ship. Cedric’s fingers scraped the railing, but he had no strength left to hold on. He plummeted into the cold, unforgiving ocean below.
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The sound of waves gently lapping against the pier stirred Tristan from his restless sleep. The soft creak of the ship and the distant cries of seagulls signaled that they had finally arrived at the port city. He carefully rose from his bed, glancing at Magnus and Liora, who were still deep in slumber, their exhaustion evident in their peaceful expressions.
Tristan made his way onto the deck, the morning light casting a golden hue across the bustling harbor. The city was waking up, fishermen preparing their boats, merchants setting up their stalls, and the distant hum of life beginning anew after the dark days they had endured. The sight brought him a small measure of relief, a reminder that despite the losses, life would go on.
Suddenly, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him from behind. Startled at first, he relaxed when he realized it was Elysia. She pressed herself against his back, her embrace warm and reassuring. Tristan closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself lean into her touch. He had lost so much—his family, his sense of certainty—but at least there were still a few people who cared for him, people who had been through this hellish journey by his side.
But as the comfort of the moment began to settle in, a nagging thought broke through the haze of his relief. Something was missing. He turned slightly, enough to look at Elysia over his shoulder. “Where’s Cedric?” he asked, a faint frown creasing his brow.
“He left early this morning.”
Tristan’s frown deepened. "He just... left?" Cedric was always a man of mystery, that much was true, but something about the suddenness nagged at him. Elysia's voice was calm—too calm, like she was reciting an expected script. Tristan couldn’t quite place the unease that prickled at the back of his mind. He glanced at her, but the warmth in her eyes was steady, reassuring. Maybe it was just the exhaustion talking, making him overthink.
"He always said he had to go after everything was done," Tristan murmured more to himself than to Elysia. Still, a small pang of disappointment settled in his chest. After all they’d been through, Cedric could have at least said a final goodbye.
Tristan sighed, running a hand through his hair. It’s just like him to disappear, he reasoned. Maybe the loss was getting to Cedric too. He couldn’t blame him for wanting to put distance between himself and the weight of everything they'd faced.
Elysia reached out and took his hand, her touch gentle and reassuring. “We did good, Tristan,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that cut through the lingering shadows in his mind. “The empire is saved.”
A small, tired smile tugged at the corners of Tristan’s lips. “Yes… we did.” He squeezed her hand, finding comfort in her presence. Despite everything they had lost, they had also gained something—each other. As he looked at her, the thought of the future flickered in his mind. He imagined proposing to her once they returned to Eryndor, the city where they would begin to rebuild. What would her expression be like when he asked her to marry him? The thought brought a flicker of hope, a light in the darkness that still clung to him.
But one thing was certain: there was still much to do once they returned. The weight of the crown, hos mother and the responsibilities awaiting him in Eryndor, loomed large, but for the first time in a long while, Tristan felt a sense of readiness. He was grateful, more than anything, that he wasn’t alone in this. Together, they would face whatever came next.
As the ship eased into the harbor and the crew began to prepare for docking, Tristan stood on the deck, Elysia by his side, feeling the gentle pull of the future. They had reached the end of this journey, but another was just beginning.