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As Reinhold lounged on the couch, his gaze fixed on the endless expanse of ocean before him. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the dark waters below. A refreshing breeze swept through the trees, causing their leaves to rustle gently. In this peaceful setting, with the stars twinkling above and the soothing sound of waves brushing against the shore, Reinhold found himself lost in thought about the ranking system.

'Hmm, Ranking system. Now that they mention it, I start to pay more attention to it. My Legions are rarely compared, but if put on the scale they would be somewhere between the Heroic and Legendary ranks.' Reinhold thought to himself.

As a descendant of the chosen ones, Reinhold and his armies were not subject to the control nor approval of nobles. This meant they did not have an official position on the ranking system, but if he were to be placed on it, Reinhold couldn't help but feel that he and Amelyna would hold the highest rank possible - Mythical.

The thought both excited and intimidated him, knowing that their power and abilities surpassed those of any mortal being.

However...

The idea of holding so much power over others made Reinhold's skin crawl and his stomach turn in disgust. It was a burden he did not want to bear.

"If we are so powerful, how come our ancestors still failed in their duty to expel the darkness?"

Reinhold shook himself from his thoughts and looked back towards the balcony where the moonlight streamed in and cast shadows over his surroundings. His mind began wandering once more as he recalled a memory from a long time ago.

The memory of his first battle against the red orcs seared into Reinhold's mind like a brand, haunting him with its vivid and terrifying details.

His heart pounded in his chest as he watched the orc chief charge towards him with ferocious speed and deadly accuracy. Every muscle in his body tensed, preparing for the inevitable clash. The stench of death filled his nostrils, mixed with the acrid scent of burning flesh from the ongoing battle.

With a shrill roar, the massive creature shook the very earth beneath them as it barreled forward with its axe held high. Its glowing red eyes burned with an insatiable hunger for their flesh.

Paralyzed with fear, Reinhold watched helplessly as the beast loomed over him, ready to strike. Time slowed to a crawl as he saw the orc's axe rise above his head.

Then, in a blinding flash of blue light, a figure appeared before him and struck down the orc with a powerful blast. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air and caused an explosion that knocked everyone around them to the ground.

As they slowly regained their senses and looked up in awe, they saw a cloaked figure standing amidst the rubble. The wind whipped at his billowing cloak as he held a staff in one hand. Fear and respect washed over Reinhold as he realized this was no ordinary being, but a powerful ally who had just saved their lives.

The orc chief let out a guttural cry, pushing through the pain of its wounds as it struggled to rise to its feet. Its beady eyes fixated on the mysterious figure before it, hatred and anger consuming its entire being.

With a menacing snarl, the orc raised its giant axe and pointed it at the cloaked stranger, bellowing, "YOU! I will devour your flesh and gnaw on your bones tonight!"

But the hooded figure only responded calmly, "To the hell you are."

Infuriated by this defiance, the orc charged towards the stranger with all its might, swinging its weapon in a frenzy. Yet, just as it was about to strike, another bolt of magic hit it with such force that it was sent flying backwards, crashing onto the ground with a sickening thud.

Reinhold watched in awe as the masked man strode towards the fallen orc, his staff pulsating with powerful energy. With a fierce determination in his eyes, he raised his weapon high above his head and unleashed a blinding beam that struck the orc directly in the heart. The beast let out one final shriek before falling silent, its lifeless body lying still on the ground.

Reinhold could hardly believe what he had witnessed. He turned to look at the cloaked figure with a mix of shock and admiration. Then, in a deep and commanding voice, the stranger spoke: "Your first task may have been daunting, my young king, but you must prove yourself worthy."

Reinhold's mind raced as he absorbed these words. Overwhelming? Yes. But overwhelming does not mean impossible.

"I know you always have my back, old man." Reinhold said, chuckling at him.

"Of course, my lord. It's what friends are for." came the familiar voice of the old man.

His name is Armagus Octarius, the wise and powerful royal Archmage. He has served the kingdom of Lionheart for generations, ever since Reinhold's father ruled. His presence commands respect and awe, and his robes are adorned with symbols of ancient magic and wisdom.

Armagus was a rare and powerful magician, gifted with the vast knowledge of the elves and trained directly by them in his youth. It was said that this was the reason for his exceedingly long lifespan, even surpassing those with the blood of the chosen one. His powers were unmatched and his understanding of magic was quite extensive.

Right now, he holds the prestigious position of headmaster at Laruthar's Academy and serves as a trusted confidante to the king. It had taken a great deal of persuasion from Reinhold to convince Armagus to accept this role, as he preferred to spend his time experimenting with magic and indulging in daily libations at his advanced age.

He often said that teaching youngsters was akin to "trying to teach a rock to dance." Nevertheless, after many months of coaxing and promises that he wouldn't actually teach the students anything, Armagus finally gave in and agreed to assume the position.

The truth is that Reinhold valued his counsel greatly and knew that his experience could prove invaluable in dealing with the political climate of the continent. In addition to this, Reinhold knew that Armagus' presence at the academy would help ensure that its standards remained high despite the growing corruption amongst the noble families and mages alike.

After a few moments, with a heavy heart, Reinhold took a deep breath and opened his eyes to the endless expanse of the sea. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore did little to soothe his troubled mind as he contemplated the events that had led them here.

While thinking about his old story when he was younger, a feeling of guilt suddenly washed over him like a tidal wave as he remembered his old friend. It had been far too long since they had seen each other, and even though Reinhold had returned to the city over a month ago, he hadn't made an attempt to meet with Armagus.

Although he really wanted to meet and talk with Armagus about the old days, a part of Reinhold knew that he would have to tell Armagus about the return of the Monarch of Arachnids. However, if he acknowledged this news, Armagus would obviously abandon his current position as principal and immediately rush into the spider nests to test some of his destructive spells without any hesitation.

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The last thing he needed right now was to deal with an overly enthusiastic mage who was eager to blow things up. Reinhold chuckled at the thought, shaking his head in disbelief that Armagus was still the same after so many centuries.

"Well, at least he's still got his sense of humor intact. And that's more than enough." Reinhold said to himself as he gazed up at the starry night sky.

He let out a sigh and stood up, stretching his arms above his head while taking in the cool night air. He felt a sudden urge to visit Armagus in hopes of catching up with his long-time friend.

In an instant, Reinhold's senses were ablaze with the presence of someone lurking in the shadows. Instinctively, he summoned an immense aura of pressure, radiating from his being like a scorching sun that would make even the most vile creatures cower and retreat.

He wondered; if he now met the orc chief again, would this pressure make him kneel and tremble?

Before he could even finish his thought, the figure emerged from the darkness, dropping to their knees in front of him. It was none other than Bhar'ther Gullion, the feared commander of the Inquisitors within the Circle of Darkness legion.

The man's very name struck fear into the hearts of those who heard it. He was infamous for his unyielding brutality and ruthlessness, earning him the title Butcher of Berlington. His twisted pleasure in torture was well-known, even relishing in it when there was no need.

A hushed whisper escaped his trembling lips as he approached the couch, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and reverence. "Your Majesty," he stammered, "forgive me for disturbing your peace, but..."

"Speak, Bhar'ther," came the chilling reply.

Bhar'ther gulped nervously. He knew better than to keep the king waiting.

"We have discovered a spy amongst our own." Bhar'ther reported, unable to meet his gaze as he kneeled before him in submission.

Reinhold narrowed his eyes, his voice unshakeable when he asked,

"Another game of cat and mouse, I see."

"Yes... yes, Your Majesty," Bhar'ther replied hastily while keeping his head lowered, not daring to look directly at Reinhold in fear.

"Who is it this time? Tell me everything you know," Reinhold commanded, his patience thinning with every passing second. If it were anyone else, he would simply have them dismissed for wasting his valuable time with useless information.

But not Bhar'ther. He was one of Reinhold's most trusted commanders. And yet, despite knowing this, Bhar'ther always had that scared look every time he faced Reinhold, which was rather odd.

He was one of the few who experienced Reinhold's wrath, back in the days when he was still better known as the 'Butcher of Berlinton'. At that time, he was one of the most notorious assassins in the South. His 'hunting' method is also quite special as he mastered and possessed the power of darkness at a very young age, a power that was only accessible to the dark elves. It was as if he was born from the darkness itself.

He is always the card that turns the tables in the nobles' games. The one who ensured their plans went smoothly, the one who guaranteed their success.

But with such a fearsome reputation preceding him, his targets often tried to flee before he arrived. However, it was pointless to run from him. For the darkness would always find them, and when Bhar'ther caught up to them, they would beg for mercy amidst their screams of agony. And he reveled in their suffering as if it gave him life.

In his mind, he thought he had reached the pinnacle of invincibility—a towering figure above all other nobles. But then whispers of his infamy began to reach Reinhold's ears. It would have been dismissed as insignificant if he were just a mere mortal, but he 'blessed' to carry the blood of the chosen ones.

And Reinhold absolutely hates those who are not worthy of that ancient blood. And he hates even more those people of ancient blood who bow down and accept money as mere pawns for the nobles.

Reinhold's eyes blazed with an unquenchable fire as he rushed towards Berlinton, his battle axe gripped tightly in his calloused hands. He is driven by a fierce determination to make an example of whoever dared to defile the ancient blood of their ancestors.

At this time, Bhar'ther reclined luxuriously on a throne-like chair in his opulent mansion nestled in the bustling port city of Berlinton. Despite being warned by the nobles' network of spies about the impending storm, he remained unfazed and confident. His trust lay in the skilled mercenaries under his command and the intricate traps painstakingly woven into every corner of his mansion.

But it was not long before Reinhold arrived at the front gate of the opulent estate. The guards standing watch could do nothing but cower before him, feeling as though their very lives were being suffocated by the intensity of his gaze. With an air of determination and vengeance, Reinhold kicked open the gates and made his way inside. His eyes glinted with murderous intent as he strode towards Bhar'ther's ostentatious abode.

As Reinhold stepped through the imposing gates, he was immediately surrounded by a menacing army of armed men clad in black armor. Their swords were pointed directly at him, their voices blending into a deafening chorus as they demanded his surrender.

But Reinhold showed no fear. With a contemptuous sneer, he boldly stared down at his adversaries and spoke with unshakeable confidence:

"I'll be damned if some weakling like you can kill me."

His words alone sent shivers down the spines of the mercenaries, but it was nothing compared to the sheer power that emanated from Reinhold's very being. The air around them seemed to crackle with electricity, causing their bodies to freeze in terror as if paralyzed by an invisible force. And yet, this was only the beginning of what Reinhold was truly capable of.

With a mighty roar, he crouched down, taking a fighting stance with both hands holding the ax tilted back. His hands gripped the ax with such force that his knuckles turned white, while his left foot anchored him firmly in place.

"Now is the right time to regret being born." he growled, his eyes blazing with fury.

With a swift motion, Reinhold released his grip on the ax and launched it forward with all his might. The razor-sharp blade tore through everything in its path, unleashing a fierce and destructive force. The ground shook violently as the blade tore through swords and armor alike, leaving a trail of blood and metal in its wake. The soldiers were no match for Reinhold's unstoppable fury; they were torn apart and blood splattered like raindrops after being caught in the wake of this brutal storm.

The remaining soldiers froze in fear as they watched the 'meat grinder' obliterate part of the mansion before crashing into the garden behind it. It was a terrifying display of deadly precision that left them quivering in their boots.

However, Bhar'ther was far from defeated and was still hiding within his mansion, watching Reinhold through a spyglass and laughing at his pitiful display. He had underestimated Reinhold's prowess, but that didn't mean he would give up. He would make sure to crush Reinhold under the heel of his boot until there was nothing left but a bloody smear. But first, he would need to prepare his trap.

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a dozen of his most trusted guards to surround Reinhold. They wore thick leather armor covered in spikes and blades. Each carried an assortment of weapons ranging from axes, spears, and even crossbows. Their faces were hidden behind masks resembling the visages of demons.

"So you think yourself invincible, eh?" Bhar'ther taunted, "Let us see how you cut these down."

Reinhold merely smirked as he watched the guards take their positions around him, their movements perfectly coordinated and disciplined. They moved swiftly and precisely without making a sound, reminding Reinhold of dancers performing a choreographed routine.

It was obvious to Reinhold from their movements that they were professionals who had spent countless years honing their skills in order to serve their master. This realization caused Reinhold to chuckle inwardly as he blurted out: "How pathetic. To think that a person would have to run away from his fate."

He then shifted his attention back to Bhar'ther, locking eyes with him directly thru the spyglass. The smug expression on his face vanished as a shiver went down his spine. He could sense the overwhelming strength radiating from Reinhold's presence alone—it made Bhar'ther feel like an insect in comparison.

Reinhold's muscles bulged with adrenaline as he let out a primal roar, throwing off the enemy soldiers' rhythm and striking fear into their hearts. Without hesitation, he lunged forward and seized a man by the head, crushing it in his powerful grip before the poor soul could even scream.

A savage delight filled Reinhold as he tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth and heard the cries of his enemies. It was a heady rush that made him feel invincible, like death itself could not touch him.

"What are you waiting for? Kill him!" Bhar'ther ordered, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

Immediately following his command, two guards rushed forward, brandishing their spears and charging at Reinhold.

Their attack was swift and precise, and their coordination was flawless. They struck simultaneously in perfect synchronicity and aimed directly at Reinhold's heart with all their strength.

In a blur of movement, Reinhold evaded their strikes with ease and grabbed each of their necks with one hand. With a sickening snap, he broke their spines like brittle twigs before casually tossing their limp bodies aside. With a triumphant grin, Reinhold turned to face his next opponent, eager for more bloodshed.