As Zeral sprinted towards the capital at an astonishing speed, he passed through the cities he had previously devastated. This time, there was a shift in his emotions – a mix of lingering guilt and newfound hope. With each city he traversed, he couldn't help but apologize silently for the destruction he had wrought, hoping that the ultimate peace treaty would bring an end to the bloodshed.

Approaching the firestorm near the capital, the flames still raging, Zeral expressed a wish for it to consume him too, as if the physical pain could match the turmoil within. Despite the burning turmoil, he leaped forward, propelled by a determination to reach the capital gates.

Upon his arrival, the capital's once-proud castle now bore the scars of sorrow across its grand walls. The castle, once a symbol of power and wealth, now looks with a somber ambiance. The hallways that once bustled with life were now quieter, haunted by the images of past events. Paintings depicting triumphs and celebrations seemed to dim in comparison to the recent tragedies.

As Zeral walked through the corridors of the capital's castle, memories of his past visit as Adomas in the last decade flooded his mind. The once-vibrant castle, filled with the lively pictures of courtiers and joyous celebrations, now bore the somber weight of recent tragedies.

Passing through the grand hallways, Zeral couldn't help but compare the two images in his mind – the bustling castle adorned with riches and adorned with vibrant tapestries during his human days, and now, the shadowed halls marked by the aftermath of war.

The grandeur of the castle stood as a testament to the glory he once held as Adomas. He recalled the memories of last standing in these halls as a human, proud and revered. He couldn't escape the images of his younger self, surrounded by admirers, the whispers of his deeds flying through the chambers.

Approaching a grand statue of himself, sculpted during his time as Adomas, Zeral couldn't help but marvel at the craftsmanship. The statue depicted his past glory and legacy – a symbol to the kingdom of his heroism and accomplishments. There was a mix of emotions within him as he stood before the statue.

"Look how great Adomas looks here," he remarked aloud. A complex mixture of happiness and sadness filled his voice. The statue represented the pinnacle of his achievements, a legacy he had aspired for in his human days. It was a symbol that, even after his death, he had left an indelible mark on the kingdom.

However, the joy was tempered by the weight of recent events. The statue, once a source of pride, now served as a reminder of the fear he had instilled in the kingdom, the lives he had taken, and the chaos he had wrought. The conflicting emotions played across his features – relief for achieving his past goals and sadness for tarnishing the image of his old self.

As Zeral stood before the statue, he couldn't shake the realization that his past accomplishments were overshadowed by the recent destruction. The admiration he once received from the young princess, Donatella, and the countless soldiers and citizens who saw him as a hero now carried a bitter taste.

The grand castle, a reflection of both his past glories and present regrets, bore witness to the complexity of Zeral's journey, a journey that had come full circle but left him grappling with the consequences of his actions.

The guards, recognizing Zeral, allowed him entry to the castle. Zeral made his way through the corridors towards the king's private chambers, eager to deliver the ultimatum for peace.

As Zeral made his way through the halls of the grand castle, the weight of responsibility hang onto to him. The anticipation of the crucial meeting with the king and his generals loomed over him, but before he could reach his destination, a familiar face intercepted him.

Queen Elena approached, her regal demeanor softened by a genuine smile. Behind her, her young son, Prince Alex, clung to her legs, a mix of fear and curiosity in his innocent eyes. Elena, attempting to ease the tension, spoke with reassurance, "It's okay, son. This is my old friend, Adomas. Let's talk to our bravest warrior."

Zeral halted his steps, acknowledging the presence of the young prince. With a warm smile, he addressed the timid boy, "Come on, young prince! I didn't have a chance to meet you. Last time I heard about you, you were still inside your mom." He gracefully bowed down to Alex, coaxing him with words of comfort, "Come here."

The little prince, hesitantly but intrigued, approached Zeral and embraced him. Zeral chuckled, as he hears "My sister told me many stories about you." from the young prince.

Zeral replied "Yes and I have more to tell you" Then, Alex's fear transformed into excitement, responded, "Yes, please tell me... ah, tell me more about your battles against the monster in the cave. Is it true he's larger than the castle? Did you beat him and throw him to the moon? Do you fly? Is it true he eats biscuits like humans? Wait, I mean humans like biscuits? Did that monster had fangs bigger than me? "

Laughter goes on through the corridor as Zeral and Elena indulged the young prince's curiosity. Zeral joined in the fun, "Yes, I did, I did!" Prince Alex, captivated by the mythical creature and the legends surrounding Zeral, eagerly listened and fired more questions. The exchange was a delightful dance of storytelling and the innocence of a child's imagination.

Prince Alex looked up at Zeral with wide-eyed curiosity and said, "Oh, teach me how to be strong then." Zeral responded with a gentle smile, "You are already strong, you've got the blood of your father, the strongest man I've ever faced. He's even mightier than me or the beast I battled."

Intrigued, Alex questioned, "Really? But Dona said you're powerful and can kill all the evil, scary monsters outside."

Zeral, in a moment of tenderness, Zeral shared wisdom with the young prince with kindness in his tone, replied

"True power isn't just in the strength of arms, it resides in the strength of heart and mind. Your father is the reason Antorya is the greatest kingdom ever. I was merely a soldier doing my job, and I'll continue so that you can become a great king like your father. History will remember you, just as it has remembered both me and your father."

Touched by Zeral's words, Prince Alex, with tears of happiness, declared his determination to become the best king. Queen Elena, embracing her son, joined in, "Yes, you're already the best little cutie prince ever."

As Zeral prepared to continue his journey towards the throne room, he looked back at Elena with a smile. "He is an amazing kid," he remarked, expressing genuine admiration. Elena thanked him and, with a touch of motherly concern, added, "Dona wants to see you after you talk with the king, but please don't train her. Just give her some advice and tell her some stories. She's crazy about being a warrior."

Zeral nodded in agreement, "Yes, sure," as he resumed his path towards the throne room, leaving behind the warmth of the family scene.

Zeral stepped into the grandeur of the king's throne room, an expansive space adorned with intricate tapestries, polished marble floors, and the imposing throne that symbolized authority. The generals, clad in their distinguished armor, acknowledged his presence with a mixture of respect and curiosity. King David, seated atop the ornate throne, greeted Zeral with a nod.

As Zeral traversed the room, his eyes were drawn to the intricacies of the decor—a stark contrast to the chaos he had experienced in recent battles. The air was charged with a sense of history, and each step felt like a pilgrimage through his own past.

The memories surged, flashy and haunting. He recalled the strategic discussions with Hirvan, the plans to confront the Zeralizion, and the determination shown on their faces. The juxtaposition of those moments against the present reality struck him with profound intensity.

In a moment of stillness, Zeral's gaze swept across the room, taking in the symbolic artifacts that bore witness to the kingdom's triumphs and trials. His eyes lingered on the throne, a seat of power that had once represented the unity of the realm.

Tears welled up in Zeral's eyes, not out of weakness but from the weight of his journey. He saw the ghosts of the past, the choices that led him to this point. Despite the emotional torrent, he composed himself, standing tall as he prepared to deliver the momentous news.

Addressing the king with a steadied voice, Zeral spoke, "Well, I bring great news." The echoes of the past reverberated in his words, carrying the weight of battles fought and alliances forged.

In the regal throne room, bathed in the soft glow of golden sconces and adorned with the symbols of Antorya's legacy, King David leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Zeral. The atmosphere was laden with anticipation as the king inquired about the news Zeral had brought. The room seemed to hold its breath as Zeral began to weave the tale of recent events.

With a solemn air, Zeral unfolded the narrative of Hirvan's adamant refusal to surrender and the consequential incineration of his personal book—an act that resonated with symbolic finality. The king's brow furrowed in contemplation as Zeral recounted the revelation of Kevin's survival, linking the memory to the king's own recollections of their shared past.

With measured words, Zeral began to recount the intricate details of his encounter with Hirvan, the burning of the personal book, and the revelation of Kevin's survival. He painted a clear picture of Kevin's transformation and his commitment to peace—a vision shared by the king himself. As he spoke, the king's stern expression softened, familiarity clouding his eyes at the mention of Kevin.

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Zeral affirmed his trust in Kevin, emphasizing their shared vision for a world where humans and monsters coexisted peacefully. The weight of history and friendship hung in the air as he detailed Hirvan's agreement to peace, elucidating the delicate balance where some monsters sought a return to humanity and others opted to dwell in tranquility beyond the mountains, under Hirvan's vigilant guard.

Zeral continued, explaining Hirvan's acceptance of peace, albeit with a need for time to heal old wounds. The proposition for the monsters who follows him to live beyond the mountains, guarded by Hirvan, resonated in the king's mind as a viable solution to ensure lasting peace. Some generals, like Erik, expressed skepticism about trusting a former monster, but Zeral emphasized Kevin's human origin and the potential for those monsters to return to their human form.

The king listened attentively, considering every word. Zeral assured him of his presence at the meeting, vowing to protect everyone and guaranteeing the success of the peace treaty. Erik's skepticism lingered, but Zeral reinforced that Kevin was not a monster but a transformed human deserving of trust.

The king absorbed each detail, his eyes reflecting the struggle between skepticism and optimism. Zeral's assurances painted a picture of a future where both sides, once divided by fear and animosity, could coexist. A profound decision loomed as the king granted his approval to the terms, acknowledging that peace required an open heart and a willingness to trust.

The throne room, steeped in history and politics, became a crucible for change. The air hummed with potential as the king consented to meet Kevin and discuss the peace treaty with him in person and bringing a druid to find the second book.

Finally, the king gave his approval to the terms, expressing his willingness to meet Kevin and welcome any monster who sought to return to the human side. He affirmed that Hirvan and his sons would be left in peace in the northern lands.

With gratitude and hope for a better future, the king thanked Zeral for his efforts. As the meeting concluded, he instructed one of his generals to summon a druid to accompany them, ensuring that the second book could be located.

With a final assurance, the king granted Zeral access to the capital, extending the offer of rest until the preparations for the peace mission were complete. The doors of the capital stood open, welcoming Zeral, the harbinger of change, as he left the throne room, the words of diplomacy ringing in his wake.

As Zeral navigated the bustling streets of the capital, his every step seemed to ring with the weight of history. The eyes that met his gaze held a complex mixture of fear, awe, and, in some rare instances, a glimmer of hope. He couldn't escape the memories of his previous visit to a city like this. The Palin's memoirs led him to unleash destruction upon that very city still hunts him as he blames himself for that.

Faces turned to him with trepidation, unsure whether he came as a harbinger of salvation or as a reminder of past calamities. A child, innocent and curious, approached him, marveling at the silver hues that adorned Zeral's form.

"Look at this bright skin color that looks like coins. Please sir, How I can have skin like yours?" The hopeful words that began to escape the child's lips were abruptly silenced as a vigilant mother whisked her away, warning to stay clear of the perceived danger.

Freezed in his place, Zeral smiled at the encounter, realizing the stark contrast between himself and the monsters he sought to protect. He pondered Kevin's choice to avoid returning to such places, where recognition turned to fear, and where people couldn't see past the monstrous exterior to the human within.

Zeral telling himself the real truth he couldn't see before this moment about the humans

"Now, the reason for Kevin's reluctance to return to this place became painfully clear. Amidst these crowded streets, the people failed to recognize me. All I possess is a silver exterior, a self-inflicted transformation, while the monsters, without a choice, underwent a drastic change in their very essence. It's a stark revelation that underscores the unchanging nature of humanity. I can only hope that they find it within themselves to accept those monsters yearning to reclaim their place among them."

Zeral, enlightened by the bitter truth Hirvan shared with his kin, now understands that humans are resistant to embracing those who stand apart from their perceived norms and their refusal to being difference.

As he continued through the city, the whispers of his infamous deeds followed him like a haunting melody. A brief moment of solace awaited him in a tavern, where the atmosphere buzzed with lively chatter. Yet, even in the midst of camaraderie, the patrons eyed him warily, their hushed conversations veering towards tales of his monstrous exploits.

Zeral ordered a drink, a futile attempt to partake in the pleasures he once relished. The liquid, devoid of taste to his transformed senses, became a charade to feel a semblance of normalcy as he can't taste it but yet want more.

He raised his glass, masking his inner turmoil with a forced exclamation of delight. "More!" he called to the bartender. "This wine is exquisite, truly a delight for the senses." Yet, deep down, he yearned for the intoxicating warmth of the drink, a warmth that had long ceased to reach the cold depths of his altered being. Each sip served as a bitter reminder of the pleasures he had lost but desperately sought to rekindle.

Behind his facade of revelry, Zeral's eyes betrayed the truth. The same truth he sought to escape. The weight of his actions and the isolation imposed by his monstrous form bore down on him. Amidst the revelry, tears welled in his eyes, a silent lament for the man he used to be and the world he inadvertently shattered. After that he went to rest and sleep in one of tavern's rooms and for the first time in long period he finally sleeps with peace in his mind.

The morning sun cast long shadows as Zeral, having left the tavern, made his way back to the castle. As he entered the imposing gates, his mind buzzed with thoughts of the upcoming meeting with Princess Donatella. The guards informed him that she was at the training ground, an unexpected revelation that stirred his curiosity.

Navigating through the castle's labyrinthine corridors, Zeral found himself in the less frequented sections where the sounds of the bustling training ground resonated. The distant feeling of clashing wooden swords and fervent shouts of apprentices in the midst of rigorous training grew louder with every step.

As he drew closer, the training ground unfolded before him like a dynamic tapestry of activity. The open space was surrounded by stone walls, adorned with aged tapestries that hinted at the kingdom's storied history. The ground was a patchwork of well-trodden dirt, bearing the marks of countless training sessions.

In the midst of this lively scene, Princess Donatella commanded attention. Dressed in a battle suit that seemed to gleam under the sporadic rays of sunlight filtering through the openings in the walls, she moved with a surprising combination of grace and determination. Her every movement was purposeful, and the clinking of the wooden sword in her hand resonated with the weight of her convictions.

Surrounded by other apprentices, she engaged in spirited combat, her face a portrait of concentration and tenacity. As Zeral approached, the intensity of the training became palpable. The air was charged with the energy of those eager to prove themselves.

The clangor of swords meeting in mock combat, the thud of boots on the dirt, and the occasional yells of encouragement or correction from the training masters painted a vivid picture of a training ground alive with aspirations and dreams. And at the heart of it all, Princess Donatella stood, a beacon of determination, defying convention and challenging the expectations placed upon her.

Her face, radiant and determined, lit up as she noticed Zeral's arrival. With a burst of happiness, she ran towards him and embraced him. "You came back! Please, come and teach me," she exclaimed, her beautiful eyes reflecting a genuine eagerness. The sunlight caught the sparkles in her eyes, and a contagious enthusiasm radiated from her. Her genuine joy at Zeral's return was palpable, making her presence a beacon of warmth in the otherwise stern atmosphere of the training ground.

As she hugged him, there was an unspoken energy passing between them—a shared connection that defied the rigid boundaries of royal decorum. The princess, for that fleeting moment, was simply a young woman with a burning desire to learn. Her embrace conveyed a blend of familiarity and longing, as if Zeral's return had rekindled a flame that had been smoldering in her absence.

The training ground, usually filled with the clatter of swords and shouts of combat, seemed to quiet down momentarily as the princess expressed her joy. It was as if the universe conspired to pause and witness this unexpected reunion, allowing the sincerity of Donatella's emotions to permeate the surroundings.

With her arms still wrapped around Zeral, she looked up at him with an earnest gaze. "Teach me, please. I want to be strong like you," she implored, her enthusiasm undiminished. The words carried a determination that suggested this wasn't a passing fancy but a genuine desire to break free from the constraints imposed by her station and become a warrior in her own right.

Zeral, taken aback by her enthusiasm, asked with a bemused smile, "Why do you want to learn how to fight?" Her response was swift and resolute. "So I can be a warrior like you and others," she declared, her eyes shining with determination.

However, Zeral, mindful of the societal norms, expressed his concern. "But you are a princess, not a common person. Moreover, you're a girl. Girls can't fight," he gently suggested.

This notion irked Donatella, and her anger flared. "What? No? Girls can fight too! There were many female warriors back then in our kingdom – the brave Lady Martha, the dark crusader of Palin, Carlie, and even in Batrak, the legend of Jessica and her twin brother Rowan who fought in previous wars. Other kingdoms have female legends as well," she passionately argued.

Zeral, understanding her fervor, interjected with a smile, "Yes, of course, they were exceptional, but they were few. Each had their own reasons for getting involved. You are a princess, and this war is about to be over. There's no need for you to train and battle monsters, they are more powerful than humans."

However, Donatella's response was unexpected. With tears in her eyes and a vehement scream, she insisted, "NO! They aren't strong! Those monsters will never beat me. I will fight them." Her proclamation left everyone around in stunned silence.

Zeral, attempting to calm her down, gently said, "But the war is over, my dear Dona."

Undeterred, she replied, "Still, I want to train. I must do it! I will never accept peace with the monster who took my best friend." The revelation struck a chord in Zeral's heart as he sought to understand the depth of her resolve and inquired about the incident that had fueled such determination.

As Zeral stood there, embraced by the princess, he couldn't help but notice the sadness lingering in her eyes. The joy of their reunion now carried a weight, and he felt compelled to unravel the source of her sorrow.

Gently pulling away from the hug, Zeral looked into Donatella's eyes and asked with genuine concern, "What happened to your best friend?" Her eyes, once filled with happiness, now reflected the pain of a haunting memory.

With a heavy sigh, she began recounting the painful tale. "He was protecting me, but he was too weak to withstand the onslaught of those evil monsters. I was motionless, unable to fight back..." Her voice trailed off, and it was evident that the wounds of that traumatic event were still fresh in her heart.

Zeral, sensing her reluctance to delve deeper into the painful memories, respected her silence. However, he couldn't let it rest entirely. "It doesn't matter now, let's train," she said, attempting to redirect the conversation.

Zeral nodded, acknowledging her attempt to steer away from the painful past. "Yes, we will train, but we also need to talk about this. I want to help you, but I need to know the full story. Perhaps your friend is still among the monsters. There's a chance to reunite with him, just as I did with my best friend, Kevin." His words carried a mix of reassurance and empathy, offering a glimmer of hope amid the shadows of sorrow.

The end.