A Familiar Opponent

The Monarch of Darkness stood still, his black robes shifting as though alive, whispering in the silence of the chamber.

His fingers traced the intricate runes carved into his flesh, his abyssal eyes reflecting their faint, pulsating glow.

Each symbol etched onto his body was not just a mere mark — they were scars on his very soul, remnants of a past drenched in blood, betrayal, and conquest.

He closed his fingers over one of the runes on his wrist, the energy within it thrumming beneath his touch.

The Rune of Forsaken Kin.

A crime against his own kind. Once, long ago, he had stood alongside his brethren in the demon courts, swearing fealty to their cause.

But when the moment of reckoning came, he had turned his blade on them. His actions had shattered alliances, broken ancient pacts, and led to the downfall of a once-mighty house.

His hand moved to another mark that stretched along his forearm.