A war is the only word that terrifies all humanity because there is nothing as dreadful, painful, and destructible as can happen to us more than wars.
For many years, humans fought each other. They fought to conquer land and to gain power. They fought over differences in world views, religion, lifestyles and even over the colour of their skin.
And all of this because of one thing all humans have, but some can not control: hatred. Despite the divine admonition, "God grants you all that you need, not for your greed," humans persist in their strife. But what if this greed filled with hate went to a level of insanity that you've never seen before?
"Then hear this tale from many years ago, in the ice age when the mammoths roamed the frozen landscapes, colossal beasts vulnerable to the prowess of another formidable creature known as 'the strongest beast'—the sabertooth. As the icy epoch drew to a close, most creatures succumbed to the changing climate, fading into the annals of history. Yet, amidst the thawing tundra, one creature persisted, a survivor of a bygone era, its existence shrouded in mystery.
This was no ordinary sabertooth, but a creature of mythical proportions—the Zeralizion, the Silver Sabertooth. As the last remnants of the ice age vanished, the Zeralizion emerged as an apex predator, its silver fur gleaming like moonlight on the frost-kissed landscape. Unlike its extinct brethren, this creature not only adapted but thrived in the evolving world. Its very essence embodied a primal force, a creature that defied the natural order.
The Zeralizion stalked the land with an unmatched grace, its feline form moving silently through the terrain. Legends spoke of its uncanny ability to blend with the shadows, becoming one with the wintry landscape. No creature could match its swiftness, and none possessed the strength to challenge its dominance. The Silver Sabertooth, as it came to be known, became a mythical enigma, a living embodiment of the ice age's lingering power.
Legends whispered that the Zeralizion's silver fur was imbued with ancient magic, rendering it impervious to harm. Many had attempted to challenge the beast, but none had succeeded in even scratching its ethereal hide. The Silver Sabertooth, relentless in its pursuit of prey, left an indelible mark on the folklore of those who dared to venture into its realm. It was a creature of awe and terror, a living testament to the enduring mysteries of a world long past."
The silver sabertooth became a legendary creature for the people of the great kingdom of Antorya to talk about, where some claimed that the ones who witnessed the Zeralizion didn't come back alive as some barely survived to tell. No matter what the humans used to try to kill it, it always gave the same result: a death to anyone who sought to fight it or unluckily got in the beast's way...
"The king of Antorya, David the 7th, was a ruler fueled by an insatiable ambition that eclipsed even the grandeur of his kingdom. His desire for power knew no bounds, and tales of the Zeralizion, the Silver Sabertooth, had captured his imagination like an enchanting spell. He hungered for the secrets that lay within the creature's essence, driven by the enticing prospect of immortality.
In his pursuit of eternal reign, King David turned to his most trusted confidant, the enigmatic druid Hirvan. A master of ancient arts and keeper of mystical knowledge, Hirvan was the key to unlocking the mysteries of the Zeralizion. With a voice that carried the weight of authority, the king instructed his druid to capture this mythical creature.
'The legends say Zeralizion is a creature of God and is undefeatable. Unless, somehow, you remove his immortality; and if you drink his blood, you will be immortal as well.'
The druid told the king that, thus David's eyes gleamed with a fervent determination as he envisioned the possibility of becoming an immortal monarch, a ruler beyond the constraints of time. The prospect of ruling his kingdom for eternity fueled his ambition, and he spared no expense in his quest for the Silver Sabertooth. The king commanded legions of men to venture into the treacherous mountains that bordered his realm, a perilous expedition in pursuit of the mythical beast.
The mountains echoed with the shouts of men, the clashing of weapons, and the howls of the wind, but none returned alive. The elusive Zeralizion continued to evade capture, leaving the king's ambition unfulfilled. Undeterred, David the 7th remained resolute in his quest, willing to risk everything for the promise of immortality and the power that awaited those who could command the secrets of the Silver Sabertooth."
Then Hirvan told the king that he found out the only way to kill him was to end his immortality with a black poison that only druids can make. He learned from his predecessor's book, who fought against the beast but died shortly after few days from the battle from his deep injuries. However, he made the silver sabertooth weak - and for the first time, the creature retreated, as he claims that he is the only one who survived the silver sabertooth's claws ...
The king wanted to get the sabertooth desperately, so he ordered the druid to go with his army to make this black poison and go with his army to kill the beast so that he could drink the blood and finally become an immortal king. The druid had a condition: he wouldn't retrieve the poison unless he could drink the blood too, so both would be immortal and live by his side as an immortal king and druid...
So the king finally agreed, and he made a large army again to hunt down the silver sabertooth. After weeks of tracking down the beast, one of the troops (along with the druid) had found it in a deep cave.
In the heart of the formidable mountains, the cave revealed itself as an ancient sanctuary, a dimly lit abyss veiled in shadows and mystery. Jagged stalactites hung like ominous icicles from the ceiling, and the air within the cavern carried a chilling, otherworldly stillness. The walls, adorned with shimmering crystals, cast a feeble glow that barely illuminated the vast expanse.
As the troops, led by the intrepid druid Hirvan, ventured deeper into the cavern, the oppressive darkness seemed to swallow their every step. The Zeralizion, sensing intruders in its sacred domain, awaited with a watchful gaze, silver fur blending seamlessly with the cavern's gloom.
Near the entrance, Hirvan set to work with an air of focused determination. He gathered rare herbs, crushed ominous-looking berries, and mixed potent elixirs in a ritualistic dance of alchemy. The flickering light revealed the druid concocting a dark, viscous substance — the black poison that held the key to the creature's mortality. The air around the druid crackled with arcane energy as he chanted incantations, binding the poison with ancient, forbidden knowledge.
Meanwhile, within the depths of the cave, the clash of steel against the beast's silvered hide echoed like a symphony of war. The troops, facing a creature of divine strength, fought valiantly, their weapons striking against the invulnerable body of the Zeralizion. The cavern resonated with roars, growls, and the desperate cries of men.
As the battle unfolded, the druid finished his macabre creation, a vile potion that could strip the Silver Sabertooth of its immortality. Holding the potion aloft, Hirvan approached the fray, weaving through the chaos to deliver the elixir to the heart of the struggle. The remaining troops, alerted by the druid's sinister creation, rushed to aid their comrades, unaware of the impending choice between victory and the unknown consequences of the black poison.
"KILL IT!...GO GO!...LET'S SLAY THE BEAST..." The soldiers were screaming as they ran to fight it.
Their collective gasps echoed through the cavern as the Zeralizion emerged from the shadows, a colossal embodiment of power and ancient might. The Silver Sabertooth stood at a staggering 80 feet tall, a towering titan that dwarfed even the mightiest creatures of the land. Its massive form, an amalgamation of strength and grace, loomed over the cavern like a living mountain.
The creature's fur, a spectral silver that shimmered in the dim light, glistened like moonlit frost, each strand a testament to its divine lineage. The sheer magnitude of the Silver Sabertooth was enough to strike awe into the hearts of those who dared to challenge it, a creature larger than the combined might of five tigers, an imposing force that defied the laws of nature.
Despite its colossal size, the Zeralizion moved with an otherworldly swiftness that belied its bulk. The cavern floor trembled with each calculated step, and the air crackled with the anticipation of a force beyond comprehension. Its massive paws, each equipped with razor-sharp claws, left indents in the cavern floor as it maneuvered with a feline grace that seemed impossible for a creature of its magnitude.
The Silver Sabertooth's most awe-inspiring features were its formidable fangs, two gleaming silver protrusions larger than a human's head. These ivory-white blades, honed by millennia of existence, were the embodiment of both elegance and lethality. The creature's eyes, pools of radiant intensity, gleamed with an intelligence that spoke of a primal wisdom acquired over countless centuries.
As the troops faced this behemoth, the cavern seemed to shrink in comparison to the boundless might of the Zeralizion. It roared with a thunderous resonance, a sound that echoed through the very core of the earth, sending shivers down the spines of those who dared to challenge the creature. In the presence of the Silver Sabertooth, the boundaries of reality blurred, and the ancient power that coursed through its veins manifested as an overwhelming force that left all who beheld it in fear.
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With one bite, he could took the upper half of a human body, his terrifying roar showing he was the king of animals, the lion himself a kitten compare to the silver sabertooth. His skin was harder and tougher than all the swords no matter how much they attacked it. The Zeralizion ate them one by one and tears soldiers to parts, the screaming, the tears, all of it could be heard miles away, the blood was everywhere...
The soldiers, faced with the overwhelming presence of the colossal Silver Sabertooth, felt a primal fear gripping their hearts.
Panic spread like wildfire among the ranks as the soldiers contemplated the futility of challenging a creature of such immense power.
Attempting to flee the cavern, they were halted by the resolute command of the druid Hirvan. 'Stand your ground!' he roared, his voice carrying the weight of authority. 'I am close to weakening the beast. Fight on!'
As the soldiers hesitated, Hirvan completed the final incantation of his dark magic. A potent concoction of herbs, rotten meat, chemicals, and arcane ingredients swirled in a malevolent cloud above his outstretched hands. The druid, covering his nose to shield himself from the toxic effects, released the ominous mixture into the air.
Instantly, the cavern became a battleground not only of steel and fang but also of unseen forces. The magical poison, a malevolent miasma, wafted towards the Silver Sabertooth. Its effect was swift and profound—where it touched, the creature's movements became sluggish, and its once-invulnerable hide seemed less impervious.
Despite the soldiers' initial fear, a newfound determination overcame them as they witnessed the Silver Sabertooth falter under the influence of the druid's dark alchemy. The fear that had gripped their hearts transformed into a flicker of hope, fueling their resolve to stand against the mythical beast and witness the culmination of the battle between mortal might and ancient power."
His magic started to affect the beast and the warriors. After a few minutes, the sabertooth started shaking and moving less as the poison affected his body, and soon he stopped fighting and tried to escape from the cave.
In a moment of daring bravery, a lone warrior vaulted onto the back of the Silver Sabertooth, his sword raised high. The creature, caught off guard, roared in fury as the warrior rained blows upon its silvered hide. Despite the onslaught, the mighty beast continued its relentless charge through the cavern, the warrior clinging tenaciously to its back.
The battle reached a crescendo as the Silver Sabertooth, its colossal form quivering, finally succumbed to the relentless assault. With a thunderous crash, it collapsed to the ground, the warrior still astride its back. Yet, victory was elusive as the creature retaliated in a savage display of power. In a gruesome twist, the Sabertooth's razor-sharp fangs tore through the air, severing the warrior's left arm in a spray of crimson.
The druid, witnessing the fierce struggle, raised his voice in a frantic yell, 'Kill him now!' The remaining soldiers, fueled by a mix of fear, determination, and the effects of the druid's dark magic, converged on the fallen Silver Sabertooth. The creature, wounded but far from defeated, roared at the druid with a primal defiance as it rose once more.
Undeterred, the warrior, now missing an arm, displayed a grim resolve. With his remaining hand, he plunged his sword deep into the gaping maw of the Zeralizion. The cavern echoed with the Sabertooth's anguished roars as the warrior, drenched in the creature's lifeblood, laughed through the pain. 'Die, hahaha!' he exclaimed, a mixture of triumph and agony etched across his face, as the ancient creature's strength waned in the face of mortal tenacity.
As the Zeralizion succumbed to the effects of the druid's dark magic, its colossal form crumpled to the cavern floor, lifeless for the first time in centuries. The triumphant warrior, despite the searing pain of his injuries, gazed upward with a mix of exhaustion and exultation. His eyes, filled with a glint of unyielding pride, reflected the surreal magnitude of his achievement. Half of his body may have been sacrificed in the battle, but the joy of toppling the legendary Silver Sabertooth eclipsed the physical toll.
A bitter-sweet smile played on the warrior's lips as he envisioned the tales that would be sung of his valor. The cavern seemed to shrink in the wake of his accomplishment, the once-ferocious beast now reduced to a vanquished foe. The warrior, though wounded and weakened, felt a surge of elation coursing through him.
Hirvan, the druid who had orchestrated this daring endeavor, shared in the warrior's joy. His eyes, gleaming with a profound satisfaction, spoke of the culmination of a plan set into motion by ancient knowledge and a thirst for power. The cavern echoed with the silence of victory as the remnants of the once-mighty Silver Sabertooth lay still, a testament to the indomitable spirit of mortals who dared to challenge the very gods of old.
As the battlefield fell into an eerie hush, the druid Hirvan, his senses attuned to the ancient magic coursing through the cavern, approached the lifeless body of the vanquished Zeralizion. The air crackled with an uneasy tension as he prepared to extract the creature's coveted blood, the key to the whispered immortality that had driven the king's insatiable ambition.
Yet, in the shadowy aftermath of the battle, the sudden betrayal unfolded like a malevolent specter. The soldiers, once comrades in arms, turned their blades towards Hirvan with a cold determination. A chilling proclamation cut through the stillness, 'This is the order from the king.' The druid, paralyzed by shock and disbelief, found himself encircled by those he had fought alongside.
The realization of betrayal etched across Hirvan's face, his eyes widening in incredulity at the sudden turn of events. The soldiers, blades glinting ominously in the dim light, closed in on the druid, ready to strike. In a moment of disbelief and rage, Hirvan muttered under his breath, 'We had a deal, how dare he try to kill me?... Fuck him. I always had doubts that the king never forgave us, he is like his ancestors after all, I shouldn't believe his lies about the peace with the druids'
Fueled by a mix of defiance and desperation, the druid, in a daring act of survival, vaulted onto the body of the Silver Sabertooth. With a swift, almost feral motion, he began to drink deeply from the creature's blood, knowing that the mystical elixir coursing through its veins held the key to his own survival. The soldiers, realizing the druid's intent, hurried to close in on him, their betrayal casting a grim shadow over the aftermath of the battle. In the face of impending danger, Hirvan's actions became a desperate gambit, an attempt to grasp the elusive immortality that had driven both king and druid into the clutches of treachery.
As the druid Hirvan greedily imbibed the blood of the Silver Sabertooth, an agonizing scream escaped his lips, resonating through the cavern. The elixir coursed through his veins, setting off a grotesque transformation that defied the laws of nature. His once-human form convulsed as if caught in the throes of a malevolent possession, the air thick with the stench of flesh and magic.
Hirvan's face contorted with pain, turning an unnatural shade of red, and his body began to disintegrate before reforming into a devilish being. The flesh sloughed off in tatters, leaving behind a gruesome visage marked by a bloody countenance, fiery red eyes, and elongating fangs that dripped with the essence of the Zeralizion's blood.
The warriors, who had witnessed the defeat of the Silver Sabertooth, were now confronted with a far more terrifying sight—their once-trusted druid transformed into a monstrous entity. Shock and fear gripped them as they tried to flee the cavern, but the newly transformed Hirvan, now a creature of nightmares, lunged at them with uncanny speed.
The monster Hirvan's attacks were swift and merciless, and one by one, the fleeing warriors found themselves succumbing to the same grisly transformation. As the monstrous druid sank his fangs into his victims, a dark power surged through them, turning them into grotesque beings akin to their assailant.
In the wake of this unholy metamorphosis, Hirvan marveled at the power he now wielded. He felt a god-like exhilaration coursing through his veins, an insatiable desire for dominion over life and death. With a newfound sense of purpose, he resolved to raise an army of monsters under his command, each one a twisted reflection of the once-human warriors. The blood of the Zeralizion had bestowed upon him an unparalleled strength, and he saw himself as a force destined to seize control of the Antorya Kingdom, no matter the cost in blood and suffering."
The king David the 7th was shocked by the news of Hirvan, so he started preparing himself for the dangerous outcome...The ex-druid was now taking over the north of the kingdom, killing all inhabitants of the towns there, and transforming humans into monsters. All of this for one quest: to conquer the entire kingdom, then the entire world...
Ten years had passed since the monstrous transformation of Hirvan, and the once-thriving kingdom of Antorya now lay ensnared in the coils of a devastating war against the newly formed realm of monsters under the druid's malevolent rule. The landscape, once lush and vibrant, had become a haunting tableau of destruction and despair.
The war-torn fields were stained with the blood of millions who had perished in the relentless conflict, their dreams of peace extinguished by the monstrous forces that now ruled with an iron grip. The skies, once serene, now echoed with the anguished cries of the fallen and the roars of monstrous creatures, a cacophony of suffering that permeated the very air.
Antorya's cities, once bustling with life, now stood as grim monuments to the horrors of war. Buildings lay in ruins, their foundations shattered by the onslaught of monstrous forces led by the transformed Hirvan. The once-proud kingdom's defenses had crumbled under the relentless assaults, and its people lived in constant fear, their lives overshadowed by the looming threat of the monstrous army.
The toll of the conflict was not just measured in lives lost but in the twisted transformations inflicted upon those who had once been citizens of Antorya. Half of the population had succumbed to the dark powers under Hirvan's control, their humanity stripped away as they became grotesque monsters in service to the druid's insidious agenda.
The once-great kingdom was now a battleground of despair, a realm where the struggle for survival unfolded against the backdrop of monstrous tyranny. The legacy of the Silver Sabertooth, once a symbol of mythical power, had become a curse that cast a perpetual shadow over the shattered remnants of Antorya.
"In the vast expanse of the towering mountains, a mysterious man emerged. Adorned with two swords strapped to his back, a weathered beard, and long, unruly hair, he traversed the rugged terrain with a determined stride. With piercing eyes fixed on the heavens, he spoke in a calm yet fervent tone, 'God, do you hear me? I'm Zeral. Listen to me, for the last time in my life. I beg you, send me someone who can kill me.'
His plea echoed through the mountainous landscape, a desperate prayer that carried the weight of countless battles and untold burdens. Suddenly, his composed demeanor shattered as he unleashed a resounding scream, 'COME ON!' The air resonated with the intensity of his plea, a challenge to fate itself, as the mysterious man continued his solitary journey, seeking an end to a life that seemed to defy even the divine."
The end.