As the sun sets on the horizon, casting its golden light across the desolate landscape, a lone figure stands amidst the ruins of a once-great battlefield. The air is heavy with the scent of blood and ash, and shadows dance ominously around the crumbling remnants of what was once a bustling city.
The figure, cloaked in darkness, stands tall and resolute, his features obscured by the fading light. His presence is commanding, his gaze piercing and intense, betraying a depth of emotion hidden beneath a veneer of stoicism.
"I know you all see me as the worst villain ever," he begins, his voice low and gravelly, carrying with it the weight of untold burdens. "Maybe even more evil than those monsters, demons, and their kings. I don't care about that. I had to do what I had to do to achieve this peace for you."
His words hang in the air, heavy and laden with meaning. There is a palpable sense of resignation in his tone, as if he has come to accept the role fate has thrust upon him, no matter the cost.
"And if I were given a chance to relive my past again," he continues, his voice growing softer, almost wistful, "I would not change a single thing, 'coz I don't fucking regret a single thing I did."
There is a finality to his words, a sense of closure that lingers in the air long after he falls silent. As the last rays of sunlight fade into darkness, the figure turns and fades into the shadows, a silent specter haunting the ruins of a world torn apart by war and strife.
And his name? Lucas Grayson.