"Kaito Ren, your reign ends here and now!" The voice echoed down the dimly lit corridor, each word striking like a hammer against the silence.

At the end of the hall, upon a throne of cold, obsidian stone, Kaito sat. His heart, once unyielding, now trembled with disbelief.

He lifted his gaze, and his eyes widened as they met the figure standing before him—a figure he knew all too well.

"Theodore..." Kaito's voice faltered, the name barely escaping his lips.

The boy he had taken in as a child, nurtured, and trained, now stood before him as an adversary.

But Theodore was no longer the child Kaito had known; he had grown into a warrior, a formidable mix of dark elf and Chantau, his aura pulsing with power.

"Theo, what is the meaning of this?"

Kaito's voice wavered, a mixture of shock and betrayal lacing every word.

But before he could comprehend the full weight of the situation, a searing pain tore through his torso. His breath hitched as he looked down to see a massive rod—dark and cruel—forced through his chest, the weapon of unseen assailants.

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Blood welled up in his throat, and as he struggled to breathe, Kaito's gaze locked with Theodore's, who now advanced with measured steps.

"Show yourselves, servants of darkness," Theodore commanded, his voice cold and sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.

From the shadows emerged two figures: Debora, a dark mage of formidable power, her eyes glinting with malevolence, and Wraith Jr., the son of Kaito's most trusted general, now twisted by ambition.

"You've grown weak and complacent, Kaito," Wraith Jr. taunted, his laughter reverberating off the stone walls like a cruel echo of what once was.

His eyes, once filled with loyalty, now gleamed with a hunger for power.

"Indeed, he never even sensed our presence," Debora added, her voice a venomous whisper as she relished the sight of the fallen king.

Theodore, seemingly indifferent to their banter, rolled his eyes before kneeling to meet Kaito at eye level.

Their faces were mere inches apart, and in Theodore's eyes, Kaito saw a storm of conflicting emotions—rage, sorrow, and a trace of the love that once bound them.

"Kaito," Theodore whispered, his voice barely audible above the ragged breathing of the dying king.

"Lord of the abyssal realm, this breaks my heart, but it must be done." Kaito felt the weight of betrayal crush his spirit, more painful than the rod piercing his chest.

The boy he had raised, the soldier he had molded, was now poised to deliver the final blow.

The once-mighty king, feared by many, now felt a deep sorrow, not for himself, but for the path his beloved Theodore had chosen.

"I always knew this day would come," Kaito murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "But never did I imagine it would be at the hands of my own kin... my own adopted son."

In a heartbeat, Theodore drove his blade deep into Kaito's heart, the cold steel cutting through flesh and bone in a final act of a tragedy centuries in the making.

As Kaito's vision blurred, the darkness creeping in from the edges, he heard Theodore's voice crack, laden with the weight of what he had done. "Farewell, King of all... Lord of the abyssal realm... Father."

The last thing Kaito saw was the tear that slipped from Theodore's left eye, glistening in the dim light before it fell to the cold stone floor. And then, all was darkness.