Zeral, still dazed and disoriented from the explosion, instinctively began removing the rocks that had fallen on him. With each boulder he tossed aside, he couldn't shake off the shock of the unexpected blast. He muttered to himself, "What is this? Black powder from hell? Really? Ughh."

Once he managed to create a hole large enough, Zeral hoisted himself out, only to be met with the devastation around him. The once-standing cathedral now lay in ruins. The gravity of the situation slowly dawned on him, and he questioned, "Fuck, the entire cathedral fell down. It feels like this was a plan or something. Could the druids have put black powder to protect their books?" He pondered the possibility, the pieces of the puzzle slowly fitting together in his mind.

Then, a realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. "Wait, Hirvan told us about the location, but why? Could it be?" Zeral's mind raced with thoughts and suspicions. He looked in the direction of Batrak, a sense of anger building within him. "Maybe Hirvan wanted me stuck here so he could interrupt the peace treaty."

With frustration echoing in his voice, he screamed, "Hirvan!"

Zeral's powerful roar cut through the stillness of the air, echoing across the desolate landscape. The sheer force of his voice sent shockwaves through the surroundings, startling every creature within earshot. Birds took to the skies in a flurry of wings, their panicked calls filling the air. Small animals scurried away from the epicenter of the roar, seeking refuge in the safety of their burrows.

As Zeral's mighty roar continued, the larger creatures—deer, wolves, and other wildlife—reacted with a mix of awe and fear. Their instinctual senses recognized the presence of a formidable force, and they hastily retreated from the source of the imposing sound. The ground beneath them seemed to tremble, adding to the dramatic spectacle created by the unleashed power of the silver god.

In the wake of the roar, the once-quiet landscape was transformed into a scene of chaotic motion. Nature itself responded to the display of strength, and the animals scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving behind an eerie silence that hung in the air after the reverberations of Zeral's roar subsided.

The distant echo of Zeral's roar reached Hirvan's ears, a foreboding symphony that signaled the silver god's awakening. The urgency of the situation pressed upon them as they prepared to make a hasty retreat. Hirvan, normally composed and cunning, felt the sting of panic as the revelation about Andreas unfolded.

As Kevin disclosed the connection between Andreas and a general who harbored hatred for the druids,and how he was an infant rescued by that general during a river poisoning attack in the outskirts of Batrak, an event that claimed the lives of his parents.. A shadow passed over Hirvan's face. His carefully woven plans were unraveling, and the unforeseen consequences loomed ahead. The news struck him like a physical blow, a mixture of shock and dread etched across his features. He couldn't afford Zeral discovering the truth, for it risked everything he had orchestrated.

In response to Kevin's suggestion of revealing the connection and the danger it posed, Hirvan's eyes flickered with a momentary struggle. The weight of his decisions bore down on him, evident in the creases on his forehead and the tension in his posture. The monsters, loyal to their leader, shared in his distress, their expressions mirroring a profound sadness at the unfolding tragedy.

"Keep it hidden, Zeral can't find out the truth about this damned commander otherwise he will kill us" Hirvan declared with a hint of desperation, his voice strained.

"Take the king's body to the capital as he deserve to be burried among his beloved ones, and tell them you have few days to prepare for the war" Hirvan orders three monsters

The monsters, though unsettled, followed their leader's command, swiftly moving to transport the king's body and deliver the white flag of peace. The urgency of the situation permeated the air, casting a somber mood over the departing group.

As the monsters carried the fallen king away, the mixture of sorrow and determination on their faces painted a poignant picture. Kevin, looking back at the ruins of Batrak, carried a burden of guilt, his eyes reflecting the internal conflict within him. "You made me do this..." he muttered, a whisper lost in the haunting echoes of Zeral's distant rage.

Meanwhile, Zeral, amidst the foliage and shadows, began to run with an unrestrained force, each step a destructive echo of his inner turmoil. His anger pulsed with each heartbeat, a tempest brewing within him as he sprinted through the forest destroying anything in his path. The very earth seemed to tremble beneath his power, mirroring the storm of emotions raging within the silver god.

Zeral's heart pounded like the furious beats of war drums as he raced through the devastated city of Batrak, his powerful roars going through the desolation. Each step he took stirred the ashes of the once vibrant city, a haunting dance of memories and destruction.

His eyes scanned the grim tableau of death and destruction, searching for any sign of life. He called out for Kevin and his king, his voice a blend of desperation and rage. The once-mighty leader was reduced to a tormented soul, haunted by the possibility of losing those he had sworn to protect.

Blood-stained remnants of what was once a thriving community adorned the ground. Zeral's eyes darted between lifeless bodies, hoping against hope that he would find his comrades alive. Yet, the sight that met him was one of horror and anguish.

As he reached the location where the king's life had been extinguished, a wave of grief and fury overwhelmed him. The ground beneath his claws felt cold and unforgiving, mirroring the desolation within his heart. Crimson stains painted the canvas of ruin, a testament to the brutality that had unfolded.

"Kevin! My king! Where are you?" Zeral's voice reverberated through the empty scrapings of Batrak, a desperate plea for a glimmer of hope in the darkness that surrounded him. He frantically combed through the debris, his eyes catching glimpses of torn banners and shattered structures, symbols of the once-mighty Batrak.

Tears welled in Zeral's eyes, his vision blurred by the pain of loss and the smoke that still lingered in the air. His claws clenched and unclenched in helpless frustration, seeking an outlet for the storm of emotions that raged within him.

His mind raced with questions, and anger coursed through his veins like molten fire. "What happened? Where is the king?" Zeral's roar shook the very foundations of the broken city, an anguished cry that resonated with the heavens. He gazed upon the lifeless bodies around him, a silent witness to the tragedy that had unfolded.

In the midst of the devastation, Zeral's thoughts fixated on Kevin. Could it be that Hirvan had taken the king prisoner? The uncertainty gnawed at him, fueling the flames of his wrath. With an intensified determination, he bellowed Hirvan's name, his voice a thunderous declaration of vengeance.

Without wasting a moment, Zeral sprinted towards the mountain where Hirvan's cave was concealed. Each stride carried the weight of a grieving god seeking retribution. The once-stalwart protector of Batrak had transformed into an avenging force, fueled by the unrelenting desire to bring justice to those who had turned his home into a graveyard.

Amidst the remnants of hellfire and scorched earth, the valiant Anotryan soldiers moved with a deliberate and cautious pace. The strange glow of the hellstorm reflected in their eyes, a haunting reminder of the supernatural force they faced. Each step brought them closer to the abyss, their resolve tested by the relentless blaze that danced in the periphery of their vision.

The soldiers, armed not only with weapons but also with the sacred elixir provided by the druids, approached the fiery maelstrom. The holy water, a precious gift from the enigmatic druids, held the promise of quenching the unwholesome flames of hell. The air hung heavy with trepidation as they unleashed the mystical liquid upon the inferno, watching as it sizzled and spat in response.

Despite the fear that gnawed at their hearts, a glimmer of hope fueled the soldiers' determination. They knew that this battle against the monsters had the potential to end the prolonged war, bringing an era of peace that had long eluded them. The flames, though formidable, began to waver and retreat before the power of the blessed water.

As the last embers of hellfire extinguished, a collective sigh of relief seen through the soldiers. The blaze that once threatened to consume them now yielded to the triumphant efficacy of the sacred elixir. Faces once marked by apprehension now bore expressions of joy and disbelief, their eyes reflecting the profound transformation of their surroundings.

Commanders moved amongst the soldiers, acknowledging their valor and commending their unwavering commitment to bringing an end to this fire. Congratulatory words and pats on the back resonated in the newfound serenity, a stark contrast to the infernal chaos that had plagued them moments before.

However, amidst the celebration, the soldiers' jubilation was interrupted by an unexpected sight. Three monsters, accompanied by a horse adorned with a white flag, emerged on the horizon. The soldiers, having readied themselves for the arrival of a peace delegation, greeted the approaching figures with cautious optimism.

As the monsters drew near, the soldiers' expressions shifted from uncertainty to recognition. The truth unfolded before them, a revelation that challenged the contours of their understanding. The monsters carried a message, not of a victorious peace but one shrouded in tragedy and loss. The soldiers, once buoyed by the hope of a war's end, now braced themselves for the reality that awaited them.

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The monsters, their grotesque faces marred by profound sadness and tears streaming down, approached the commanders with heavy hearts. In their ugly visages, an unexpected display of sorrow unfolded, conveying a depth of emotion that defied the conventional perceptions of their kind. As they walked towards the commanders, their movements carried the weight of an unbearable burden, an unspoken tragedy etched into the lines of their monstrous faces.

One of the commanders, a mix of curiosity and optimism in his voice, welcomed them to the capital. "Why the sadness? Welcome, you come here to deliver news of the peace that has already happened?" Another commander, perceptive and anxious, cut straight to the heart of the matter. "Where is the king and Sir Adomas?"

The monsters halted, their eyes filled with grief, and a heavy silence hung in the air. Without uttering a word, one of them took the horse to the forefront, bearing a burden far more profound than any creature should endure. "This is the king's corpse. Rest in peace to his soul. May he forgive us all," they said, the weight of those words crashing upon the soldiers and commanders like a tidal wave.

Shock seized every heart, rendering them speechless and motionless. Tears flowed freely, as the monsters approached, offering hugs to both soldiers and commanders alike in moment that defines history, perhaps first and last time monsters and humans are in same side. "We are sorry. You can take him and give him a burial that fits his legacy," one of the monsters solemnly declared. Another added, "Hirvan sends his grief and says there will be peace for a few days until the war resumes."

In this poignant moment, an unprecedented alliance emerged. Monsters and humans, sworn enemies for generations, found themselves united in shared grief and loss. As everyone's gaze fell upon the lifeless body of the king, the shattered bones serving as a testament to the price he paid for peace, a profound silence enveloped the scene. The very peace the king had yearned for was shattered by the blind hatred of Hirvan, yet the irreversible had occurred.

In the aftermath of this historic moment, the commanders took the horse, bearing the lifeless king back to the castle. Tears of soldiers followed in a silent procession, mourning a ruler who had dreamt of a unity that seemed elusive. The monsters, standing with lowered heads, paid their respects to the fallen king. Kneeling one last time, they bid their farewells, the weight of their shared sorrow stuffing in the somber air. The commanders expressed gratitude, and as they continued their solemn journey with the king's corpse, the monsters, now alone, remained behind, perhaps contemplating the unexpected bonds forged on this fateful day.

The gates of the capital creaked open, revealing the bustling life within its walls. The once formidable entrance, witness to countless arrivals and departures, now groaned under the weight of both sorrow and anticipation. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the cobblestone streets.

The citizens, oblivious to the heavy news approaching, continued their daily routines. Merchants haggled over prices, children played in the streets, and the aroma of various foods wafted through the air from the bustling market stalls. The city seemed alive, an intricate tapestry of humanity woven with threads of both joy and sorrow.

As the gate widened, revealing the honorable procession carrying the fallen king's body, a ripple of hushed whispers swept through the crowd. Faces turned towards the mournful sight, and a heavy silence fell over the once lively marketplace. The atmosphere shifted, and an unspoken understanding passed through the people, a shared sense of grief for a king they had come to respect and love.

Soldiers and commanders led the way, their shoulders burdened not only by the weight of the king's lifeless form but also by the gravity of the news they carried. Behind them, the monsters walked with heads bowed, a gesture of mourning that transcended the animosity between their kind and humanity.

The city, which had thrived on the vibrancy of life, now bore witness to a procession of mourning, a visual elegy for a leader who had dared to dream of unity. The gates, once the symbol of protection and security, now stood open not just physically but metaphorically, exposing the vulnerability of the capital to the imminent challenges that lay ahead.

As the procession traversed the streets towards the heart of the city, the citizens, in somber unison, stepped aside to make way. Shopkeepers closed their stalls, children ceased their play, and the city, for a brief moment, paid its respects to the passing king. The atmosphere was heavy with collective sorrow, a shared lamentation that repeated through the stone-paved streets and ancient walls of the capital.

The somber procession advanced through the city, and as the news of the king's death spread like wildfire, the atmosphere became thick with sorrow. Citizens from all walks of life gathered along the route, their eyes glazed with tears as they bore witness to the lifeless body of their beloved ruler. It was a heart-wrenching scene, a shared grief that transcended social status and affiliations.

As the news traveled, people abandoned their daily activities, drawn to the streets to pay their respects. The once lively city transformed into a sea of mournful faces, a collective lamentation living through the stone walls and narrow alleys. The air was heavy with the weight of despair as the procession moved steadily toward the castle.

The gate of the castle, a symbol of protection and stability, now stood ajar, opening not to welcome a triumphant return, but to usher in the heavy burden of sorrow. The news had reached the castle ahead of the procession, and the queen, generals, and other dignitaries descended the steps to meet the mournful cavalcade.

Tears streamed down the faces of the queen and generals as they witnessed the king's lifeless body. The queen, overcome with grief, ran towards the horse carrying her fallen husband. Her cries pierced the air, a heartbreaking sound that resonated with the pain of a love lost. The maids struggled to hold her back, their attempts to console her met with the futility of comforting a shattered heart.

The other generals, once stalwart figures of strength, fell to their knees in disbelief. Erik, in particular, could not comprehend the tragedy that had befallen the kingdom. His mantra of denial, "no, no, it can't be true," sounded through the courtyard as he walked towards the king's body, tears streaming down his face. The once vibrant castle now bore witness to a moment of collective grief, a profound sadness that enveloped the entire kingdom.

Zeral's rage burned hotter than ever as he stormed into the empty cave, his furious screams reverberating off the walls. Frustration and sorrow mingled with the flames of anger as he demolished anything in his path. Rocks crumbled under the force of his blows, and the very air seemed to tremble with the intensity of his emotions.

"I WILL KILL YOU, HIRVAN!" he bellowed, his voice taking over through the cavernous space. The promise hung in the air like a thunderous oath, a declaration fueled by the pain of loss and the searing desire for vengeance.

Despite the chaos around him, Zeral's determination to save the king remained unwavering. Blinded by anger, he turned his focus to the northern side behind the mountains, hoping to find any trace of Hirvan. The rugged terrain did little to impede his relentless pursuit, but the elusive druid remained one step ahead, leaving Zeral with only the pain of his own frustrations.

After a fruitless search, Zeral returned to Batrak, his heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty. The once-familiar landscape felt strange as he combed through the surroundings, every inch a potential hiding place for the elusive Hirvan. The air was thick with tension, and Zeral's senses were heightened, scanning the area for any sign of the druid who had orchestrated the tragic events.

Driven by a singular purpose, Zeral's journey to save the king unfolded against the backdrop of a kingdom in mourning. Unbeknownst to him, the truth lingered in the shadows, waiting to be unveiled.

Zeral, surrounded by the remnants of tragedy, scoured the scene for any clues that might lead him to Hirvan or Kevin. The broken crowns lay strewn across the ground, a shattered symbol of the fallen king. As he examined them, a surge of anger coursed through him, intensified by the suspicion that Hirvan had done something nefarious with the king's body.

His gaze fell upon a blood-stained crown, and the absence of the king's corpse intensified the mystery. Zeral's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with the possibilities of Hirvan's actions. It was then that he noticed a piece of paper hidden beneath the crown. Intrigued, he retrieved the paper, unfolding it with a mix of frustration and curiosity.

As he scanned the ancient language written on the letter, a surge of anger caused him to crumple it in his hand. "Damn those druids and their language" he muttered under his breath. The complexity of the old script posed a challenge, but a flicker of realization crossed his mind. Perhaps the letter held a hidden message or revealed Hirvan's whereabouts.

Resolute, Zeral decided to keep the crumpled letter, tucking it beneath the remnants of his crushed armor. "I need a druid to read this letter and need new armor again," he grumbled, acknowledging the urgency of deciphering the contents. Determination etched across his face, Zeral set his course toward the capital, his quest for answers driving him forward amidst the ruins and sorrow that surrounded him.

Within the concealed cave nestled in the heart of the dense forest east of Batrak, Hirvan grappled with a maelstrom of emotions. Kevin stood at the helm, outlining strategic plans for the impending attack that would resume after the days of peace drew to a close. Monsters huddled around, attentive to Kevin's words.

A curious monster inquired, "Are you certain Zeral won't intervene?" Kevin replied, "I am certain. Everyone will likely hold him responsible for the king's death. He's faced with two choices – either he goes on a rampage, possibly killing everyone, or he decides to leave humans alone and disappear. There's no other viable option to end the suffering. Furthermore, only Hirvan has the capability to kill him. It's not in Zeral's best interest to annihilate us along with Hirvan. Additionally, I know Adomas quite well so he won't involve himself in this war."

Then as they all observing Hirvan's solitary state, a curious monster inquired about the reason for his seclusion. Kevin, perceptive as always, suggested that the weight of his hatred towards the king might be taking its toll after he learned the truth. Amidst the discussion, a lingering question emerged – what if Hirvan had revealed the truth about the bald commander who wanted to kill him ?

A monster, its voice laden with sorrow, contemplated the potential ramifications. "Had he disclosed that fact, we might have reached a different understanding. Perhaps we could have avoided this conflict and found a resolution with the king. But now, it's too late. Humans will never forgive us, and war is inevitable."

Kevin nodded in agreement, casting a thoughtful gaze at Hirvan, who sat immersed in a tempest of depression and grief. Once a formidable god, Hirvan now bore the weight of conflicting emotions. Muttering to himself, he questioned, "Why? Damn it! I should be reveling in revenge, conquering the world. This pain is unbearable. Could it be that the respect and admiration for that damned king before the betrayal have morphed back from hatred? No, it can't be. I must stay strong."

Closing his eyes, Hirvan whispered an apology to David, acknowledging the need to press on with his original plan. In that cave, surrounded by monsters and the looming shadow of war, a determined yet conflicted god prepared to reshape the world. Unbeknownst to them all, the twists and turns of destiny awaited, shrouded in the impending darkness.

Hirvan whispered with a heavy heart, "Forgive me, David, but I must forge the world according to my original plan. The end of humanity is a must."

the end.