The soldiers stood at the edge of the looming forest, a silent force brimming with anticipation. The air crackled with tension as the commander, a seasoned warrior with eyes that bore witness to countless battles, spoke with a resolute tone, "Are you ready for the battle of your life?" He surveyed the determined faces before him, each soldier clad in armor, their weapons glinting with the promise of impending conflict.
A wave of spirited shouts repeated through the ranks as the soldiers, fueled by a mixture of anxiety and adrenaline, responded in unison, "Hell yeah!" The forest lay before them like a foreboding gateway, concealing the unknown horrors that awaited within.
As the soldiers prepared themselves for the fateful fight that would shape the destiny of humanity, a figure emerged from their midst, radiating a commanding presence. It was Donatella, a beacon of strength and courage. Her armor adorned with the symbols of resilience, she stepped forward, her eyes ablaze with determination.
Donatella's voice cut through the tense air, rallying the troops with a powerful call to arms, "Let's fight not just for the kingdom, but for everyone who came before us. Let's fight for humanity itself and for the legacies that will outlive us. Behold, my fellow warriors, and let us give it our all!"
Her words resonated, a fiery prelude to the impending clash. The soldiers, inspired by her fervor, tightened their grips on their weapons, their resolve solidified. The forest, shrouded in shadows, stood as a formidable adversary, but the army, led by Donatella's rallying cry, was poised to confront the looming darkness that awaited within.
The commander, initially mistaking Donatella for Marco, approached with a smirk, "Ah Marco, I didn't think you had the balls to fight and speak in such a manner." Donatella, maintaining her composure, replied with a smile, "Words are words. In the end, what matters is what we can do after hearing them." The commander, seemingly acknowledging her wisdom, said, "You've gained wisdom, my dear friend."
However, as he continued to observe as he get closer to her, then the realization struck him. He questioned with disbelief, "Wait a sec, hey, who the hell are you?" Donatella, unfazed, responded with another smile, "I'm the legend that everyone will talk about." With that proclamation, she swiftly mounted her horse and galloped towards the woods, shouting, "March on, my brave warriors!"
The commander, still processing the unexpected turn of events, hurriedly chased after her, trying to halt her advance. As Donatella ventured into the woods, the rest of the soldiers readied themselves for battle. Little did they anticipate the hideous plan lurking in the shadows—a sinister strategy involving the use of black powder bombs by the monsters they were about to face.
The moment the soldiers ventured into the forest, the tranquility was shattered by a series of deafening explosions. The air reverberated with the echoes of destruction as black powder bombs ignited with devastating force. Soldiers on horseback were violently thrown off, their bodies colliding with the ground. Screams of pain and shock filled the air, mingling with the acrid scent of burning wood and flesh.
The once serene forest, a haven of greenery, instantly metamorphosed into a nightmarish tableau of chaos and despair. Trees that once stood proudly were now shattered remnants, their splintered trunks and branches scattered like twisted sculptures of destruction. The earth beneath their feet, once alive with flora, now bore witness to a ghastly transformation—blood-soaked and churned into a macabre tapestry of horror.
Human flesh, torn and disfigured, lay strewn across the now-tainted ground. Limbs and torsos formed a grotesque mosaic, a testament to the brutality that had befallen the unsuspecting soldiers. The air itself seemed thick with the palpable horror of the scene, carrying the weight of the sudden carnage.
From a distance, the generals and the grandmaster stood in stunned silence. Their eyes widened with shock as they witnessed the calamity unfold before them. The unexpected detonations and ensuing fires had turned the forest into a hellscape, leaving the onlookers grappling with the magnitude of the horror that had befallen those who dared to enter. Uncertainty and dread hung in the air as they wondered about the nature of the unseen enemy and the unfolding tragedy within the heart of the once-tranquil woods.
Amidst the hellish tableau, Zeral emerged dramatically, soaring from above the walls and descending with a force that rivaled an earthquake. The ground beneath him quivered and shattered, a testament to the intense impact of his landing. A primal roar erupted from him, a manifestation of the raging fury within. In that moment, the shattered earth bore witness to the depth of his anger, as if responding to the unleashed tempest within him.
With a thunderous scream that pierced the chaotic air, Zeral's voice reverberated through the turmoil. His utterance carried not only the urgency of the battlefield but also the desperate call for someone dear to him. The raw emotion in his cry heard in the maelstrom, a sonic manifestation of his turbulent soul seeking solace in the midst of the relentless chaos.
The grandmaster, perplexed by Zeral's unexpected freedom, questioned internally, "What? Zeral is freed? Why? He should be awaiting my word." Attempting to communicate with Zeral, who was fervently searching for Donatella, the grandmaster found himself at a loss for words. Zeral, fueled by anger, demanded answers, turning to the generals and demanding, "Where is she?" He walked among them, searching for any sign of the princess, his agitation palpable. Yet, no one could provide an answer, as they hadn't anticipated Donatella's involvement in the brutal war, leaving Zeral to move from one person to another, desperately searching for her.
As Zeral frantically sought answers amidst the chaos, the battlefield in the forest, transformed into a gruesome tableau of survival. The remaining monsters, fueled by a savage hunger, descended upon the fallen soldiers with a relentless ferocity. Their goal was clear: capture the injured and deliver them to Hirvan, concealed in a nearby cave, where he lurked in the shadows, eager to reshape them into monstrous reinforcements.
The soldiers, battered and bruised, fought valiantly against the onslaught. Their swords, infused with the potent essence of Dragon's Tear, cut through the monsters' tough hides with an almost supernatural ease. Each swing of their blades was met with a sickening sound as the creatures fell, their grotesque forms succumbing to the deadly efficacy of the enchanted weapons.
However, the battle took a harrowing turn as the monsters, driven by a newfound desperation, began to prioritize killing over capturing. The soldiers, once confident in the superiority of their Dragon's Tear-infused swords, now found themselves in a grim struggle for survival. The monsters fought with a savage determination, their claws and fangs tearing into the ranks of the human defenders.
What was initially a battle for supremacy now morphed into a frantic fight for survival. The soldiers, outnumbered and facing relentless adversaries, fought not only to protect their fallen comrades but to stave off the encroaching tide of monsters. The Dragon's Tear, while a potent weapon, could only do so much in the face of the monsters' sheer numbers and newfound aggression. The battlefield became a grisly arena, where the line between victory and defeat blurred with each passing moment.
Amid the chaos and carnage, Donatella emerged as a whirlwind of fury, slashing through the monsters with a deadly precision. The Dragon's Tear-infused sword in her hand gleamed with an otherworldly brilliance. Each swing of her blade was a dance of vengeance, a relentless ballet of revenge choreographed by the anguish of lost loved ones.
With every movement, Donatella displayed a surprising dexterity. She darted between monsters, her agility remarkable, as if she had been honing her skills for a lifetime rather than a brief training period. Her strikes were imbued with a raw, unbridled force, fueled not by refined technique but by an overwhelming desire for retribution.
In the midst of battle, Donatella's eyes blazed with an intensity that transcended mere hatred. Her focus was singular: destroy every monster that stood in her path. She swung her sword with a fervor that defied reason, unburdened by the fear of death. It was a visceral display of determination, each swing a declaration of defiance against the monsters that sought to end humanity.
As she moved through the battlefield, her strikes left trails of severed limbs and fallen bodies. Monsters fell before her, their grotesque forms no match for the unrelenting wrath she unleashed. Donatella's movements were a symphony of chaos, a testament to the primal power of a wounded soul seeking retribution.
Yet, within the heart of this tempestuous dance, there lingered a sense of recklessness. Her focus on vengeance eclipsed all concern for personal safety. Donatella fought like a woman possessed, her every move a proclamation that she would embrace death if it meant taking down those responsible for the horrors inflicted upon her kingdom.
As she darted through the melee, her blade danced with deadly precision. The Dragon's Tear-infused weapon cut through monster after monster, leaving a trail of dismembered foes in her wake. Her strikes were not just about survival; they were a cathartic release of pent-up rage and grief.Donatella's fighting style, though lacking in formal training, compensated with sheer determination. She moved with an unyielding ferocity, making the monsters hesitate in the face of her relentless assault. Every swing of her sword was a declaration, a defiance against the forces that had brought destruction to her world.
As she screams "Come on! fight me, you bastards! I will kill all of you" as she heavy breathing. Her actions spoke louder than any battle cry. Each fallen monster became a testament to her resolve, a small victory in the larger war for survival. In the midst of the mayhem, Donatella's eyes burned with an intensity that transcended the immediate conflict—a flame that carried the weight of her losses and the determination to see justice served.
As the clash continued, Donatella fought not just for herself but for the fallen soldiers, for the kingdom, and for the legacy of those who had come before her. In every swing, she etched a chapter of defiance onto the canvas of the battlefield, a testament to the strength that arises when one fights not just with skill, but with an indomitable spirit.
Donatella's once agile movements now bore the weight of fatigue and injuries. Her body, marked by the trials of battle, moved with a noticeable sluggishness. Yet, the fire in her eyes remained undiminished, a testament to her unyielding spirit.
In the relentless dance of war, Donatella pressed forward, her every heartbeat a resounding sound of the tumultuous battlefield. Each step seemed to draw energy from the very chaos surrounding her. The air, thick with the acrid fog of black powder, obscured her vision like a shroud, amplifying the challenge that lay ahead.
Her movements, once nimble and precise, now bore the weight of exhaustion. Every step became a laborious effort, as if she carried the burdens of the entire conflict on her shoulders. Despite the fatigue etched across her face, determination radiated from her every pore. Her eyes, fiercely focused, sent an unspoken challenge to the unseen adversaries lurking in the shadows, daring them to reveal themselves and face the fury of her resolve.
The battlefield, a cacophony of clashes and distant roars, bore witness to Donatella's solitary march. With each step, she carved a path through the obscurity, a beacon of defiance in the midst of chaos. The challenges ahead may have been unseen, but Donatella's indomitable spirit vowed to confront them head-on. In a moment of respite, she halted, turning in a slow circle and defiantly inviting any challengers. "Come at me," she declared, though her voice carried the strain of exhaustion. Her body, however, betrayed her resolve. Legs frozen in weariness, she struggled to move, using her sword as a crutch to maintain a defiant posture.
Donatella, with a heavy breath and a heart pounding in her chest, reiterated her challenge, "Who wants to fight?" The strain on her body became evident as her knees buckled, causing her to collapse to the unforgiving ground. Yet, surrender was not a word in her vocabulary. Using the sword as a makeshift support, she summoned the strength to rise again, her determination unwavering in the face of adversity.
Removing her helmet, she tilted her gaze upward, tears now mingling with the dirt on her battle-worn face. In the deafening whispers of the battlefield, she confessed, "Finally, I did it." The words held both a sense of accomplishment and the weight of the struggles she had endured. In that poignant moment, in middle of the haze of war, Donatella stood as a testament to resilience, her spirit unbroken despite the physical toll exacted by the relentless fight.
Just as the weight of her accomplishment settled, a menacing figure emerged from the fog. A monster, emboldened by her vulnerability, declared its intent to end her life "I will kill you, demonic human". Donatella, undeterred, turned to face her impending foe. "Do it!" she challenged, lifting her sword with a trembling but defiant hand. "I dare you." The battlefield's cruel symphony continued, and in the midst of it all, Donatella stood as a symbol of unwavering courage.
Inside the grim battlefield, the monster, ready to strike, suddenly froze, stunned by the warrior standing before him. Struggling to find words, he stammered, "Wait, this face..."
Donatella's face bore the visible marks of the relentless battle that had unfolded around her. Bruises adorned her skin like dark brushstrokes on a canvas, testament to the fierce clashes with monsters. Blood, both fresh and dried, streaked across her face, marking the wounds she had endured in the chaotic melee. The mud, splattered on her once-pristine armor, mixed with the sweat of exertion, creating a gritty mask that spoke of the unforgiving struggle she faced.
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Despite the physical toll, her features displayed an unwavering resolve. In her eyes burned the fiery determination that fueled her every move on the battlefield. The intensity of the fight had etched lines of concentration and commitment on her face, a portrait of a warrior unwilling to yield to the overwhelming odds. As she moved forward with her sword raised, it was not just the scars that defined her appearance but also the unyielding spirit that refused to be extinguished by the brutality of war.
As Donatella moved closer, the monster, instead of fighting, he was cowering in fear, broke down in tears. "You...no way..." he muttered, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. Donatella, ready to deliver the final blow, declared, "Now you die, you ugly monster." But to her surprise, the monster knelt before her, not in submission, but in an unexpected display of admiration, love, and respect. "Finish me off, my dear princess," he implored.
Stunned by his words, Donatella hesitated. The monster continued, "Finish me, please! I would rather die than fight someone I used to love." Her disbelief turned to questioning as she demanded, "What?" The monster, now bending over, pleaded for his end. "Please kill me! I don't want you to see me like this, cursed into such a horrible being." Donatella, her voice choked with tears, insisted, "Answer me, who the hell are you?"
In a tense moment, the monster, with a tearful smile, begged for release. "Please kill me! I don't want you to see me like this, cursed into such a horrible being." Donatella, overwhelmed by the revelation, began to cry. "Answer me, damn it!" she demanded. The tension heightened as the monster finally confessed, "I used to be your fellow friend who loved to hunt and become a warrior." The realization hit Donatella like a wave, and in a defiant act, she dropped to her knees, embracing the monster—a moment of profound connection amid the chaos of a battle between soldiers and monsters.
The unexpected scene unfolded—a defiant moment that defied the norms of war. Donatella, a princess draped in the remnants of her once-glorious armor, stood embracing a monster. Her grip on the creature, who had revealed himself as her old friend Fernando, spoke volumes of the human emotions prevailing over the merciless clash between monsters and soldiers.
Soldiers and monsters alike, locked in a bitter struggle for survival, momentarily paused to witness this surreal encounter. The air crackled with tension as the enemies took a collective breath, momentarily diverted from their blood-soaked conflict. The princess, known for her unyielding spirit, had just revealed a vulnerability, and the monster—once Fernando, her dear friend—stood within the circle of her arms.
Surrounded by the chaos of battle, the princess and the monster shared an intimate connection, transcending the boundaries of their present circumstances. It was a beautiful tableau, a fleeting moment of humanity amid the relentless brutality of war. The onlookers, both human and monster, couldn't help but be captivated by this unexpected display of compassion and sorrow in the heart of the battlefield.
As Fernando began to speak, the cacophony of war seemed to fade into the background, allowing his sorrowful tale to resonate with a haunting melody. His words painted a picture of exile and isolation—a poignant narrative of seeking refuge among the holy beings. The transformation that rendered him monstrous had become a cruel barrier preventing his return to the human world. The stigma associated with Sarzon's kingdom, combined with the grotesque form he now possessed, condemned him to a life of servitude under Hirvan's rule rather than alongside the humans he once knew.
This revelation, delivered amidst the chaos and destruction of war, carried an eerie weight. It laid bare the personal tragedies woven into the fabric of the larger conflict—the stories of individuals caught in the crossfire of a war that reshaped not only kingdoms but the very essence of those who fought in its shadows.
Within the chaotic tapestry of battle, where clashes of steel and monstrous roars melded into a symphony of chaos, Fernando found a moment to extend a heartfelt apology. Amidst the relentless warfare, he voiced remorse for the atrocities inflicted upon Donatella's father by the malevolent Hirvan. His words carried the weight of sorrow, acknowledging the gruesome fate of a man who had dedicated his life to the pursuit of peace and unity.
Donatella, bearing the weight of her own guilt for not preventing Fernando's transformation, stood in the midst of the turmoil, her eyes reflecting a profound mix of sadness and understanding. As Fernando expressed remorse, memories from their shared past emerged like ghosts from the recesses of their minds. The feelings of bygone days resonated through the chaos, threading a connection between two souls torn apart by the ravages of war and monstrous transformations.
As they exchanged stories and shared the burden of their individual paths that led them to this moment, a monstrous figure approached them, questioning the unusual scene. With a stern order to finish Donatella, the tension skyrocketed, and the air crackled with impending danger.
In the heart of the chaotic battleground, a precarious standoff emerged. Fernando, now transformed into a monstrous being, stood resolute in defense of Donatella, while the surrounding soldiers struggled to comprehend the unfolding drama.
"Don't harm her!" pleaded Fernando, a glimmer of humanity in his monstrous form. Donatella, equally determined, rebuffed his protective stance, brandishing her sword with a readiness to continue the fight. As tension escalated, Fernando positioned himself in front of Donatella, urging her to rest due to her evident fatigue.
An enraged monster, frustrated by Fernando's defiance, approached and accused him of betrayal. Before Fernando could offer an explanation, the creature attacked, delivering brutal blows and branding him a traitor. Donatella, witnessing the assault on her unexpected ally, couldn't bear to stand idly by. With a swift stroke, she severed the monster's head, as she screams "LEAVE HIM ALONE" a testament to her unwavering resolve.
The revelation of Donatella's identity sent shockwaves through the soldiers, realizing they were in the presence of the princess. Their instinct to protect her clashed with her insistence to fight alongside them. The monsters, now aware of her status, redirected their focus, making the princess their prime target.
In between the chaotic clash, Donatella and Fernando fought side by side, the soldiers torn between safeguarding their princess and engaging the monstrous assailants. Donatella with fatigue she barely can fight, she tried to fight off the coming monsters and Fernando by her side defending. The situation took a dire turn when a powerful blow struck Fernando from behind and two monsters jumped on him beating him, and when Donatella tried to save him a monster hit her by a rock in her head from distastance causing her to collapse as she hit the harsh ground she couldn't move, she was just looking to Fernando who was struggling as she fading away. Fernando attempted to get up and saveher, but the monsters seized the opportunity to intensify their assault and hold him.
As Kevin, the leader among the monsters, approached the tumultuous scene, his authoritative presence commanded attention. His face etched with determination, he surveyed the chaotic battlefield where monsters clashed with soldiers, all while Donatella and Fernando struggled against the relentless assault.
The din of clashing swords and the roars of monsters filled in the air as Kevin, in the midst of the chaos, shouted orders to his monstrous comrades. "Focus on the fight! Ignore that traitor!" he bellowed, attempting to restore some semblance of order to the tumultuous situation. The monsters, caught between their loyalty to Kevin and the perceived betrayal of Fernando, hesitated for a moment but resumed their attacks.
However, the dynamics shifted drastically when a monster, seemingly sympathetic to Fernando, approached Kevin and urgently whispered into his ear. Kevin's expression morphed from stern determination to stark shock as he absorbed the unexpected information about Donatella's identity.
In a swift and decisive move, Kevin's leadership took a new direction. He immediately issued a command, raising his hand to signal a temporary cease-fire. "Stop hitting him! Hold!" The monsters, momentarily confused, halted their assault on Fernando, turning their attention to Kevin.
As the monster conveyed the critical information about Donatella's presence and her vulnerability, a sense of urgency seized Kevin. The shock on his face turned into a grim resolve. "Take her to Hirvan! Now!" he ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos. The monsters, under Kevin's command, quickly picked up the fallen princess, preparing to transport her to Hirvan.
Simultaneously, Kevin directed another group of monsters to relay a message to Hirvan. "Inform him to take the princess and head to his lair in the cave at the northern mountain. Go!" The monsters, now under a new set of directives, swiftly moved to carry out Kevin's orders, leaving the chaotic battleground with a palpable tension in the air.
The monsters, gripped by terror, froze in their tracks as the deafening roar echoed through the forest. The visceral sound sent shivers down their spines, and an overwhelming sense of fear enveloped them. It was a roar unlike anything they had ever heard, a primal sound that instilled dread in their hearts.
As the monstrous bellow reverberated through the trees, soldiers glanced at each other with wide-eyed trepidation. The once chaotic battlefield fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the distant sounds of Zeral's furious approach. The soldiers, caught in the grip of paralyzing fear, realized the magnitude of the impending danger.
Zeral's reaction to discovering Donatella's presence in the forest beneath Marco's armor was nothing short of explosive. A maelstrom of emotions engulfed him—fear, anger, and an overwhelming sense of urgency. The realization that Donatella was in the midst of battle, hidden beneath the guise of Marco's armor, ignited a furious fire within him.
His worry for her safety manifested as an intense, unbridled rage. In that moment, Zeral's usual stoicism crumbled, replaced by an almost primal instinct to protect someone dear to him. His heart pounded with anxiety and anger, fueling every stride as he sprinted towards the heart of the forest.
The air resonated with Zeral's thunderous footsteps, and his voice, usually steady and commanding, now erupted in guttural screams. The forest bore witness to the manifestation of his fierce determination and concern for Donatella. His vicious calls, echoing through the trees, conveyed a sense of impending doom and unleashed fury.
As he closed the distance, the intensity of his cries heightened, a manifestation of the turmoil within him. The very forest seemed to quiver in response to his wrath, amplifying the tension in the air. In those moments, Zeral became a force of nature, a relentless storm racing against time to reach the one he cared for.
The juxtaposition of Zeral's normally composed demeanor with the unbridled fury he now exhibited created a visceral scene—one where the mighty warrior was driven by the depths of his emotions to ensure Donatella's safety. The forest, once a backdrop to the clash of armies, now stood witness to the impending collision between the unstoppable force of Zeral's rage and the chaotic battlefield within.
In an instant, the mood shifted from the chaos of battle to a collective realization that a force beyond their comprehension was about to descend upon them. The soldiers, gripped by a deep sense of foreboding, abandoned their attempts to save Donatella and turned to flee. The urgency in their movements reflected the instinctual need to escape the imminent wrath that awaited them.
Kevin, recognizing the impending cataclysm, uttered a curse under his breath. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of frustration and resignation. Realizing the futility of facing Zeral head-on, he swiftly issued orders to the monsters. "Take her and go! and everyone run and hide." then he screams "Everyone go faster, run away, I'll deal with him myself." Standing resolute as the soldiers scattered in panic.
The monsters, grasping Donatella's unconscious form, hurriedly retreated, disappearing into the depths of the forest. Meanwhile, Kevin prepared to confront the oncoming storm—Zeral's unrestrained fury. The soldiers, acutely aware of the impending cataclysm Zeral's wrath promised, wasted no time in heeding Kevin's words. A collective urgency took hold, prompting a mass exodus from the battlefield. Abandoning their posts, the soldiers hastily retreated, leaving the once-bustling forest eerily silent in the wake of their departure.
As Zeral thundered through the foliage, the forest itself seemed to shudder in anticipation of the impending storm. Every stride he took left a trail of destruction in its wake—uprooted trees, shattered branches, and an unrelenting force that left the landscape transformed. The very fabric of the forest twisted and contorted under the weight of Zeral's fury, a chaotic dance that mirrored the tumult within him.
The soldiers, now fleeing for their lives, cast terrified glances over their shoulders, the fear of Zeral's wrath propelling them forward. The forest, once a battleground between monsters and humans, now bore witness to a one-man onslaught, a force capable of toppling everything in its path.
Kevin, standing inside the chaos, watched as Zeral approached with an expression that blended resignation and anticipation. The end was inevitable, and the soldiers scattered like leaves in a tempest, driven by the instinct for self-preservation in the face of an unstoppable force. The once-sturdy forest found itself ensnared in the throes of Zeral's wrath, a tempest that left destruction in its wake.
In the haunting aftermath of the chaotic battlefield, Zeral's footsteps cut through the heavy silence, each stride unraveling a tapestry of profound revelations destined to fracture the very bedrock of his reality. The air, thick with an unsettling tension, bore witness to a resurrection of long-buried memories clawing their way to the forefront of Zeral's consciousness.
Advancing with unwavering determination, the destruction wrought by the druids acted as an inadvertent catalyst, triggering an inexplicable agony within him. A tidal wave of memories, fragmented voices, and indescribable torment surged through his mind, intensifying with each relentless step towards the solitary figure discernible in the desolate aftermath—Kevin.
The remnants of the battlefield, enshrouded in a spectral fog, painted an otherworldly backdrop for Zeral's odyssey. Amidst the haze, he found himself standing within a transient tapestry—a glimpse into the bygone glory of Batrak's past. The vivacious tableau of people strolling by and the comforting presence of his wife manifested within an ethereal glow, a stark juxtaposition to the impending horror.
Yet, serenity crumbled to reveal a nightmarish tableau—the grotesque metamorphosis of Batrak's grandeur into a macabre ruinscape. A haunting voice, laden with pain, shattered the semblance of peace, calling out, "Dad!" Zeral's gaze fixated on his son, a ghastly specter drenched in blood—a visage of loss and anguish.
A chilling realization seized Zeral as he stumbled upon the harrowing truth. In a visceral montage, he witnessed himself as the architect of destruction, a relentless force that laid Batrak low. The ground beneath him, saturated in the stark redness of blood, echoed with his own anguished cries reverberating through the corridors of time.
Images of his wife, the spectral innocence of the people he mercilessly slaughtered, haunted every step he took. Wading through a river of blood, his own tortured screams melding with ghostly whispers, he cried out, "No! No!" grappling with the grotesque reality unfolding before him.
In the throes of this waking nightmare, Zeral's descent into madness accelerated. The boundary between memory and present reality blurred, and he found himself confronting Kevin in a human semblance—a phantom of accusation amidst the towering trees. Torment etched across his visage, Zeral screamed, "Kevin! No!"
The waiting figure of Kevin, tears carving paths down his face, acknowledged in solemnity, "Finally, you remembered." Zeral, ensnared in the maelstrom of haunting memories, stood entrenched in the heart of the forest—trapped between the brutal truth of his past and the imminent chaos poised to unfurl.
As Zeral, burdened by an unbearable weight of guilt, finally reached Kevin, he collapsed onto his knees, his hands trembling with an anguish he had never experienced before. In a voice laden with pain and self-reproach, he uttered, "I did this."
Kevin, standing nearby, approached him with a solemn acknowledgment. "Yes," he affirmed, "it was you who brutalized Batrak." The gravity of the moment hung heavily in the air—a moment pregnant with the potential to reshape the very fabric of humanity's future.
The end.