The aftermath of Erik's brutal demise left the throne room in a state of shock and chaos. Queen Elena, in the grip of disbelief and grief, wept uncontrollably, repeatedly uttering a heartbreaking "no" as she witnessed the gruesome scene unfold before her.
Generals, initially frozen with fear, were jolted into action by the sheer horror of Zeral's act. One of them, succumbing to his rage and shock, burst out screaming, "Punish Zeral! Get him now!" Another general, driven by a sense of revenge, coldly ordered, "Kill him!" The soldiers hesitated, torn between their allegiance to Zeral and the commands of their superiors. One soldier, overcome with fear, turned his head away, questioning the absurdity of the order: "But that is Zeral."
Breaking his silence, Zeral walked towards the group of generals with an air of defiance. "Try me!" he declared, challenging anyone to stand against him. "I think you all forget who the hell I am?" as he walk towards the generals who were together gathering in fear. The queen, barely able to speak through her tears, pleaded, "Please, Adomas." Zeral, unapologetic, justified his actions, accusing Erik of being blinded by hatred and indirectly causing the king's death.
Zeral justified his actions by stating, "He got what he deserved. The hatred within him clouded his judgment, leading him to issue orders without the king's knowledge, ultimately transforming Hirvan into a monster and sparking this senseless racial war. It's all because of him, and the king paid the price for that hatred."
The grandmaster attempted to pacify Zeral, saying, "Indeed, the cost of hatred is high, and I concur that killing him wasn't the solution! That's precisely why I hesitated to disclose the hidden message; I foresaw this outcome. All I can express now is my hope that he may find rest, peace, and forgiveness in the afterlife."
The grandmaster, attempting to diffuse the tension, urged Zeral to maintain order. He acknowledged the consequences of Erik's hatred but argued against Zeral's impulsive reaction. Zeral's anger shifted towards the grandmaster, who calmly spoke about the importance of revenge against Hirvan and the upcoming war.
Zeral declared, "I will eliminate them all." The grandmaster, with a smile, responded, "I am aware of your capabilities, but both humans and druids require this war. We must seek revenge. Let the soldiers face the battle without our assistance and triumph over Hirvan! As a heroic warrior such as yourself, you comprehend the significance of fighting for a cause..."
As the unsettling atmosphere hung thick in the air, one of the generals, his voice laced with a mix of anger and sorrow, spoke up, "Yes, that's right! Zeral, you should be in jail for killing our dear friend Erik. I agree with the grandmaster. Let us fight, and if we fail, you can join us. Perhaps some monsters will seek peace as they surrender..."
The queen, her eyes still wet with tears, nodded in agreement. "Zeral doesn't need to be in jail for his actions. No chains can hold him." Her words, filled with a mixture of grief and understanding, felt through the somber room.
However, General Cedric, a seasoned and pragmatic strategist, interjected, attempting to sway the consensus. "Consider this, my fellow leaders. Imprisoning Zeral may serve as motivation for our soldiers. The news of Zeral being imprisoned will spread like wildfire among our ranks, and the mere thought of his incarceration will fuel our troops to fight harder in the upcoming war. Zeral can be there only to help if we need him, and with the druids' weapons, I believe we stand a chance to win even without his direct involvement."
Amidst the lingering uncertainty, one of the generals, still gripped by fear of potential betrayal, voiced his concerns, "What if this is part of Hirvan's plan? And what if the grandmaster is also part of a plot to make us fail? How can we trust this grandmaster? Why do you suggest Zeral not take part in this war? What do you stand to gain from it? Druids always have plans for such events, and what else is hidden in that letter?"
Another general aligned with these suspicions, seeking answers from the druid. Zeral, feeling the weight of the accusations, erupted, "Do you think I need to plot with Hirvan? Why? Do you think I can't just kill you all here and be done with it?" He vehemently denied any involvement, insisting that Erik's death was a result of his rage upon learning the truth.
The grandmaster finally responded, "The second part was about condemning Hirvan for destroying the grandmaster's vault, which held many books. Now, killing druids is something that can be forgiven, but burning our books is forbidden by our laws. He did the unforgivable, so he must be punished by us. Hirvan knows the rules and the importance of books. There is nothing that justifies his actions, and he will be punished by death, along with everyone who follows him. He has angered the druids," he declared with a tone of conviction, ready to bring justice to Hirvan.
A skeptical general raised a question, "He angered the druids now? But didn't he kill many of you? Do you really value books more than lives?" The druid responded firmly, "People are born to live and die, but books are born to stay forever and carry our legacies and knowledge. Thus, he should face the wrath of the druids. We will provide you with our latest weapon, Dragon's Tears, to help."
The mention of "Dragon's Tears" left everyone bewildered. Zeral approached the grandmaster, demanding an explanation, "What the hell is Dragon's Tears?" The druid, with a sinister smile, revealed, "It's our newest weapon, created in the past decade. Thanks to Hirvan's ideas of creating a potion to melt the silver in the Zeralizion, although we can't replicate it without the book he burned, we've created a similar potion that can melt the flesh and bones of every creature in the world, except for Zeral due to his powerful skin."
The throne room, enveloped in tense silence, filled with the residual shock from Zeral's drastic actions. The generals and other dignitaries present were now caught in the whirlwind of revelation, suspicion, and the promise of a mysterious and formidable weapon.
As the assembly bombarded the grandmaster with questions, the dimly lit room heightened the atmosphere of uncertainty. Torches flickered, casting wavering shadows on the ornate walls adorned with symbols of the kingdom's history. The air was thick with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.
The grandmaster, his demeanor composed yet enigmatic, stood before them, a figure of ancient wisdom with a cloak that seemed to absorb the ambient light. He skillfully evaded the barrage of inquiries, his responses carefully calculated to maintain an air of secrecy. His eyes, like orbs of ancient knowledge, held a glint of both concern and determination.
The generals, still reeling from the shocking turn of events, exchanged glances filled with a mix of fear and anticipation. The weight of the impending war, coupled with the revelation of the Druids' new weapon, hung palpably in the air. Details of the room came into focus—the polished marble floor reflecting the dim light, the intricate patterns woven into the tapestries that adorned the walls, and the ornate throne, a symbol of royal authority. The queen, her tear-stained face a reflection of her grief and confusion, observed the unfolding scene from her elevated position.
Zeral, standing amidst the assembly, shifted his gaze from the grandmaster to the queen, then to the generals. The promise of the mysterious weapon, Dragon's Tears, resonate in the air, leaving an imprint of both dread and determination.
The grandmaster, maintaining his air of mystique, finally spoke, "You will witness the power of Dragon's Tears soon enough. Hirvan's demise is inevitable." With those cryptic words, he left the assembly in suspense, leaving them to grapple with the implications of the impending conflict and the enigmatic weapon that would play a crucial role in the battles to come.
The grandmaster, his demeanor unwavering, addressed Zeral with a cunning suggestion. In a manner that betrayed no hint of emotion, he proposed that Zeral accompany him to the prison for a brief period, assuring him that he would provide answers to any inquiries lingering in his mind. With a discerning gaze, Zeral contemplated the offer, weighing the complexities of the situation. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded in acceptance.
One of generals notice that Zeral's is controlled by the grandmaster's words and he listen to him more than before and it rises more questions about the true nature of the grandmaster and his involvement in all of this.
Together, the two figures traversed the corridors of the castle, making their way to the dungeon situated in the northwest corner of the capital. The air in the stone passageways hung heavy with a sense of gravity, marking Zeral's first experience of imprisonment. Upon reaching the dungeon, Zeral observed the cold, dark cells, each holding tales of those who had faced the harsh consequences of their actions. The iron-clad doors creaked as they opened to welcome their new inhabitant. Zeral entered, a stoic figure, his usual confidence undeterred even in the face of captivity.
As Zeral settled into his confined surroundings, the queen, having regained a semblance of composure, issued orders for the removal of Erik's lifeless form. The once-vibrant throne room now bore the stains of a violent act, and the queen sought to restore a semblance of order. The cleaning commenced, erasing the traces of the brutal confrontation.
With a heavy heart, the queen directed that Erik's remains be laid to rest alongside his family. Her words carried an undertone of forgiveness and a plea for the peace her late husband had desired. The somber process of burial began, marking the end of one chapter and the uncertain beginning of another.
Meanwhile, the generals, still grappling with the shock of recent events, convened with their commanders to strategize for the impending battle. The air was charged with tension as they noted the Druids' symbolic shift from their traditional white cloaks to the ominous black—a visual manifestation of their outrage and a signal of the turbulent times that lay ahead.
Through the dense, shadowy forest near Batrak, the monstrous horde, a nightmarish assembly led by the relentless Kevin, began its march toward the capital. The twisted trees and gnarled branches cast eerie, elongated shadows as the monsters moved forward with a sinister determination. The air itself seemed to thicken with grudge as the chanting of the monstrous horde echoed through the darkened woods.
The monsters, a grotesque collection of creatures with glowing eyes and razor-sharp claws, moved in a horrifying procession. Their sinister silhouettes, illuminated sporadically by the odd glow of luminescent fungi, created a haunting spectacle. The chilling vibes of their footsteps reverberated through the ancient trees, as if the forest itself recoiled from their presence.
At the forefront of this grotesque parade, Kevin, with his predatory stance, led the way. His eyes glowed with a cold intensity as he orchestrated the march. The monstrous army followed suit, their growls and roars merging into a discordant symphony of death. A palpable aura of cruelty hung in the air as they advanced with ruthless efficiency.
Amidst the dark, foreboding atmosphere, the monsters chanted in a guttural, otherworldly language, their words dripping with hatred and malice. "Death to all humans!" heard through the forest, a haunting mantra that seemed to disturb even the creatures dwelling in the depths of the woods.
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As the monstrous horde moved closer to the capital, the forest seemed to shudder in response to their malevolent presence. The night, once filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, now bore witness to a procession of darkness fueled by an insatiable desire for revenge.The monsters, driven by a collective thirst for destruction, advanced with an unholy fervor. The march of shadows through the forest marked the ominous prelude to a confrontation that would unleash chaos and terror upon the unsuspecting capital.
Meanwhile on the battlefield in front of the captial's gates, soldiers diligently prepared for the impending confrontation, their eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and anxiety. The assistance of the druids proved invaluable as they provided the soldiers with innovations that promised to tip the scales in their favor.
The air crackled with the acrid scent of hellfire and black powder as the soldiers meticulously loaded their weapons. The rhythmic clang of metal against metal duplicated across the battleground as swords were sharpened, armor secured, and shields readied for the impending clash.
Among the array of weapons, a peculiar yet formidable contraption emerged – a weapon veiled in mystique and aptly named the "Drake's Gaze." This ingenious creation resembled a cannon but carried an air of ancient magic. Crafted by the druids with a blend of alchemy and arcane knowledge, the Drake's Gaze harnessed the essence of dragons without explicitly revealing its true nature.
The soldiers marveled at the intricacy of the device, its darkened metal adorned with runes that pulsed with an ethereal glow. The druids, with an air of caution, instructed the soldiers on its usage. As the soldiers manned their positions, the druids unveiled vials containing a potent substance known only as the "Dragon's Tear."
Silently, the druids infused the vials into the Drake's Gaze, enhancing its destructive potential. The soldiers, entranced by the mystical aura surrounding the weapon, awaited the moment when the first burst of fiery brilliance would illuminate the battlefield.
The anticipation hung in the air as the soldiers grasped the significance of this new weapon – a symbol of the alliance between men and druids, and a force to be reckoned with against the impending monster horde. The stage was set for a battle that would see the convergence of ancient magic and modern warfare, as the soldiers readied themselves to unleash the power of the mysterious Drake's Gaze.
In the Donatella's chamber which was shrouded in the light glow of candlelight, casting elongated shadows that danced along the walls. She was consumed by a fiery determination, awaited the arrival of Marco, a trusted commander close to her. As he entered the room in response to the urgent summons, the gravity of the impending battle hung heavily in the air.
Donatella greeted Marco with a mix of gratitude and urgency. "Marco, I need to be on that battlefield. I need to fight and avenge my father's death. Find me armor, and let me join the battle."
Marco, however, was quick to reject her plea, his tone resolute. "No, Donatella. I can't allow you to be there. It's too dangerous."
Undeterred, Donatella reminded him of the burning desire for revenge that fueled her. She ordered him to grant her request, but Marco, bound by duty and concern, steadfastly refused. The princess, overwhelmed with passion and frustration, began to cry. She clung to Marco, seeking solace and understanding.
In an attempt to soothe her, Marco offered words of reassurance, promising victory and vengeance. However, as the air shifted from despair to a glimmer of hope, Donatella expressed her gratitude. She presented a flask of wine, proposing a toast before the impending battle – a brief interlude of shared warmth amidst the looming darkness.
As Marco took a sip from the offered cup, he marveled at the deliciousness of the wine. "Oh this is delicious, thanks Dona, I...I...Wait...I..." Yet, before he could articulate his gratitude, an unexpected lethargy enveloped him. Confusion flashed across his face as he struggled to maintain consciousness. Donatella, with a sorrowful smile, whispered, "I'm sorry, Marco. You need some rest."
In a swift and calculated motion, she removed Marco's armor and helmet, revealing her intent to take his place on the battlefield. She said said "Time to create history and take my revenge" and with a final glance at the slumbering Marco, Donatella locked her room and stealthily made her way through the castle, donned in the borrowed armor, ready to weave her own destiny on the battlefield.
As both sides geared up for war and made preparations, Donatella secretly aligned herself with the human army, awaiting the imminent commencement of the battle. In the cell, Zeral, now restrained by symbolic chains, displayed a lighthearted demeanor despite the gravity of his situation. The commander, tasked with securing the god-like warrior, engaged in a moment of banter. "Do you think these chains can stop me?" Zeral quipped, a playful glint in his eyes.
The commander, while securing the chains, responded with a touch of humor, "Of course not. It's symbolic, sir Adomas. I have orders to follow." Zeral, acknowledging the gesture, replied in good spirits, "That's alright. You're just doing your job. Perhaps you should have brought bigger chains – I might accidentally break these." Laughter of everyone heard in the confines of their temporary captivity.
As the commander exited, leaving Zeral and the grandmaster alone, the weight of impending war and the clash of civilizations loomed over them. The grandmaster, recognizing Zeral's unique position as a symbol for mankind, spoke with a mix of admiration and caution. "Adomas, you are already a symbol. History will remember you as the god who emerged, a benevolent deity. Just imagine if someone with the hatred of Erik or his nephew gained such power – the consequences would be catastrophic."
Acknowledging the grandmaster's insight, Zeral shifted the tone, turning serious. With the commander gone, Zeral began probing for the truths hidden within the druids' secrets. "I understand the importance of secrets, but I'm not human. I'm a god," he declared with a smile. "You will tell me what was written in that letter, and you will answer my questions about the lost supreme grandmaster. There are no secrets between gods, and you don't want me to turn into something else, something darker."
The grandmaster, feeling compelled to answer, began by stating, "The second part of the letter held no significant importance for the kingdom. It was meant for us, the grandmasters, to take specific actions and make notes regarding Hirvan's act of burning the books, an action punishable by our laws." Zeral, displaying a hint of confusion regarding the abundance of laws, inquired why the druids needed so many regulations.
The grandmaster explained, "Without laws, there would be chaos. Not everything druids do is inherently good; some ideas could turn into actual threats that harm people. That's why we understand Erik's hatred, and that's why we have laws. Anyone who breaks them faces punishment. In the case of Hirvan burning the books, as I mentioned in the throne room, that is a red line, and he will be punished. The letter confirmed it, but I don't know who sent it. I don't know how they knew Erik was the traitor. Many questions have left me puzzled, so I need some time to unravel the truth behind it all."
In the faint confines of the dungeon, Zeral unfolded the events that had transpired, recounting the discovery of Leo and his suspicions about a clandestine grandmaster operating in the shadows. The grandmaster, with an air of conviction, reassured Zeral that such notions went against the laws binding every grandmaster. Each was obligated to share and report anything significant, especially plots, to one another. However, he acknowledged the absence of the supreme grandmaster, resulting in a hiatus in elections until confirmation of the supreme's demise.
Transitioning to the topic of Hirvan's book, the grandmaster disclosed its origin. Authored by the supreme grandmaster, the book held ideas of immortality and the hunt for the beast. Despite facing opposition from numerous grandmasters who rejected the concept, the supreme grandmaster gave the book to be copied by Hirvan's father, a writer. After the meeting, the original book and the supreme grandmaster mysteriously vanished. The copied version, inherited by Hirvan, became the sole repository of the keys to immortality. However, he didn't reconsider until he encountered Lina, renowned as the most brilliant healer.
As Zeral processed this information, he inquired about the healer. "Lina? Isn't she the healer who assisted Antoryan soldiers injured by a black powder attack, she saved me too even though she was on the opposing side." The grandmaster confirmed her identity, acknowledging her compassion for humans amidst the chaos of war. Lina, who cared for everyone, even Antoryan soldiers sent to kill her, became Hirvan's mentor. Her teachings shaped him, helping him forget the traumatic loss of his parents. The grandmaster noted the irony of Hirvan, once a compassionate druid, now seeking to annihilate humanity.
"I saw with my own eyes how Hirvan was doing his best to serve and help humans no matter what with her,but look at him now, he want to end them all."
Expressing empathy for Hirvan, Zeral mused, "He aims to transform injured soldiers into holy beings. He saved people in Batrak. Perhaps he's a monster, but deep down, he's still a druid. That's why I hesitated to kill him. I've heard stories about him and Lina and both healed me when I was injured."
With a tinge of sadness, the grandmaster concurred, revealing a tragic turn of events. Lina, afflicted by the black organ disease, became Hirvan's focus. Despite his desperate attempts, he failed to cure her. Zeral queried about the incurable disease, prompting the grandmaster to acknowledge Zeral's extensive knowledge of their world. The disease corrupted normal organs, leading to fatal consequences. Hirvan, intrigued by the concept of immortality, and how it can save people from such powerful disease suggested using the Silver Sabertooth blood as a potential cure. The grandmaster explained that this is what made Hirvan brought this idea to the king, setting in motion the chain of events that culminated in the present conflict.
Zeral now comprehends the underlying idea behind Hirvan's quest for the beast in the mountain—to find a cure for the black organs disease. However, he queries, "If this was a good idea by Hirvan, why did the druids refuse it? And why did they reject the original idea from that supreme before he vanished?" The grandmaster maintains silence for a few moments before responding, "I'm sorry, but I can't answer that." This response only fuels Zeral's intrigue and aggression. He strides towards the grandmaster, the chains barely containing his strength, demanding, "Tell me now, why did they refuse it?" The grandmaster, visibly fearful, steps back and says, "Alright, I will answer you, but I need you to calm down after you hear this." Zeral urges him to continue.
The grandmaster finally reveals the true nature of the silver sabertooth, a revelation that shatters Zeral's understanding. "Hirvan wanted to create a cure from the blood of that beast, but the original idea by the supreme grandmaster was to create the ultimate weapon—a human mixed with the strength of such a beast, possessing strength only gods could have. In this case, it's you. He wanted to create you. Many disbelieved this and refused, deeming it too risky to hunt such a beast for a myth created by his own imagination. But now, seeing you, I..."
Zeral interrupts, "Yes, it can be real. I got it. It was the same conclusion reached by that brave druid you sent with us." The grandmaster acknowledges, "Yes, that is it," and turns to leave. Zeral, however, stops him with a question, "This isn't the only thing, is it? Leo mentioned something about control. That made me think." The grandmaster finally turns, delivering words that will linger in Zeral's mind forever: "Yes, he wanted to create someone like you that he could control. No human would accept being a weapon for the druids willingly. He aimed to conduct experiments on humans to make them follow his orders, creating not just a killing monster, but a controlled killing monster. He intended to unleash it with his words and destroy everything he desired. That's why we refused. It goes against every level of humanity and our laws forbid such a thing."
Zeral, in total shock, mutters, "What?" The grandmaster continues, "Yes. And since you don't remember how you ended up like this, I wonder if someone turned you into this. Maybe you are behind..." The grandmaster stops abruptly, looking into Zeral's eyes, who is in disbelief, asking, "Could it be me who destroyed Batrak? Could it be true? Tell me."
The grandmaster responds, "I don't know. There is no proof of anything about mind control. It's just a theory, but in reality, it's impossible unless someone finds a way. That's why, my dear son, I didn't want to tell you about this. I can't confirm it and can't give you a final conclusion until I find anything to prove it." With that, the grandmaster turns to leave, prompting Zeral to ask one final question. "I will help you find the true answers about my transformation and was I ever controlled, I would kill that someone if he did. But before you leave, one last question: What is with the black cloak I saw your druids wearing while we were coming here earlier? I never saw them with black as they always wearing white cloaks"
The grandmaster turns his head with a wicked smile, "It is a symbol of the anger of the druids. As I said, Hirvan did wrong when he burned our books, something even David 5th never did. Although he killed many druids and created the longest war ever, he never went after our books." Then with sinister tone "Otherwise, the world would be different today. So, for the first time in centuries, we wore black for revenge." He then exits the cell, leaving Zeral with a profound sense of sadness and, for the first time since his transformation, a feeling of fear.
The end.