Monsters... Humans... are we really not the same? We kill, we dominate, we destroy. In a world where monsters and humans collide, why can't we live together? Humans believe in angels, while monsters believe in kings. We are so weird... and so... dangerous.

...

...

"Rise... Protector."

...!

Skalf awoke to the sight of a gloomy sky, the snow falling and disappearing as it touched the ground.

'What the...'

Slowly, he got up but halted his movement when he felt something strange in his chest. He looked down, his glowing eyes widening in shock. His once blue soul was now a vibrant red, and his skeletal chest was more robust and powerful. He touched his face and felt his teeth, now sharper and more menacing.

"What the fu..." His voice was deeper, more resonant.

He stood up fully, realizing he was taller, his form more imposing. "What the hell happened to me?!"

He was naked, his white skull and bones stark against the snow.

"A-ah..."

Despite the confusion, he felt an undeniable surge of strength. "So... this is the power of the king..."

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Looking around, he saw the black dust of fallen skeletons drifting in the air. It was a melancholic sight, a reminder of the loneliness that haunted him. Then his eyes caught something unusual: a glowing sword half-buried in the snow.

The sword was massive, a true bastard sword with a long, broad blade that shimmered with an eerie, dark light. The hilt was ornate, with intricate carvings of skulls and ancient runes, and the pommel was a large, blood-red gem that pulsed with energy.

"This... this is incredible," he muttered, lifting the sword with ease despite its massive size.

He swung the sword experimentally, feeling its perfect balance. It moved like an extension of his own body, resonating with his newfound power.

As he stood there, sword in hand, he knew his journey was just beginning. The power of the Skeleton King was now his to wield, and with it, he would bring vengeance upon those who had wronged him and his kin.

Skalf looked down and saw the scabbard of the sword, made of dark leather and reinforced with metal, adorned with the same intricate carvings as the sword. He sheathed the sword with a satisfying clang.

"Okay, I got transformed... this sword is in my hand..." He looked down at himself.

...

...

Skalf now wore clothes scavenged from other skeleton soldiers. Finding something that fit his new, larger form took time. The clothes weren't particularly protective, but at least they covered him. He wore a hooded cloak, its fabric worn but serviceable, giving him a menacing, shadowy appearance.

"Okay... now I'm ready."

Standing alone in the desolate place, he tried to recall his purpose. "Ok... where the hell am I going again?"

Suddenly, his eyes widened as he felt something in his head. He looked up and saw a black raven perched above him. The raven had black plumes mixed with a few white ones.

"Caw!"

"Uh... hi?" Skalf greeted uncertainly.

The raven flew in front of him, then darted to the left. Skalf had an inexplicable feeling that the raven wanted to help him. But how did this crow find him? Despite his questions, he felt compelled to follow.

With a deep breath, Skalf began to walk, his eyes fixed on the raven leading the way. He had no idea where this journey would take him, but the power within him surged with every step, and the legacy of the Skeleton King burned bright in his soul.