Beast born from love

In a kingdom cloaked in perpetual darkness, a king sat upon his throne. His hand wielded power unmatched—a mere wave could topple nations, transform barren fields into fertile farms, and elevate barren lands into thriving settlements. This king was truly a ruler of might, revered by many as he dutifully served his subjects.

One fateful day, a woman arrived—a tempest of defiance. Unlike others who bowed before the king, she stood her ground, unyielding even in the face of his authority. She saw him not as a saint or an invincible monarch, but as a flawed human. Intrigued, the king approached her, day after day, unraveling the enigma she presented. Despite her lack of power, this woman captured his heart, and he fell deeply in love.

Soon, the garden within the castle bloomed with the flowers of their love. They danced together under the moon's gentle glow, their love rivaling the brilliance of the northern star. Their union was sealed in marriage, and for a fleeting moment, happiness enveloped them.

Yet fate's cruel hand emerged from the abyss. The king's enemies, like serpents in shadow, drew their swords against him. But their blades missed the king—they struck his beloved instead. His vast power couldn't shield her, nor could it save her. For what is power in the face of death?

Enraged, the king transformed into a beast, his anger shaking the very land. His sorrow turned the once-bright night into darkness rivalling the abyss. The world bore witness to his anguish, and the sky wept for his despair. His once-magnificent heart, now tainted by loss, became the harbinger of an inevitable end.

Amidst the king's horsemen, the brilliance of his knights waned, their vigilance tinged with wariness. Whispers circulated: Had the king already abandoned them? But one knight spoke with a solemn resolve: "Our king is no more—a mere shadow of the great man he once was. His life intertwined with ours,

granting salvation after salvation. Yet, when it mattered most, we couldn't shield him or protect the empress—his world, his beloved, his wife. The king's light has dimmed, and we accept this truth." With steely determination, they marched toward the castle, knowing their lord awaited them—a final chapter in this tragic tale.

The hand that once lifted them from the abyss of despair belonged to the king. Now, as madness consumes him, they shall raise that very hand towards him, tears cascading from their eyes. The one human who had shown them kindness now stands lost in the. shadows of his own mind.

Sir Bertold, once the brightest knight, had been subjected to torment and treated as a mere slave by men. Yet, the king, in a rare act of mercy, saved him, taught him the art of war, and bestowed upon him purpose. But why must it come to this? "My liege, hast thou finally abandoned me?" he lamented. Fate, thou art a cruel mistress. The king had plucked him from the abyss of suffering and treated him as a son. Is it not too cruel to force him to raise his sword against such a savior?

As the knights marched towards their lord's castle, the sky darkened, and a chilling wind whispered through the barren trees. They were halted by the king's aide, General Isac, whose eyes burned with a furious light. "WHAT DOST THOU THINK THOU ART DOING?! Hast thou all gone mad? HOW DAREST THOU RAISE THY SWORD AGAINST HIS HIGHNESS?" he roared, his voice echoing like thunder.

The leader of the knights replied, "General Isac, canst thou not see? The king we knew hath long since perished. It is no longer he who resides within the castle."

The general sighed, a shadow crossing his face, "And what of it? We are his knights. Should he wish to lay waste to all, must we not heed his dark desires?"

"Awake, General. If he truly wished to destroy us all, dost thou think we would still stand here?" Bertold retorted, his voice tinged with despair.

The general inquired, "What dost thou mean, Bertold?"

"The king desires death, General. This is his suicide note. He intends to drag this land with him into the abyss. Our king died when he struck down the queen."

"Then I shall bow to his wishes, Bertold. Thou shalt not pass," the general declared, drawing his sword. The air grew heavy with the scent of impending doom, and it was clear that, one way or another, blood would be spilled.

Fate, ever more cruel, had decreed that two friends must point their swords at each other.

"I wish not to fight thee, but if it be thy desire, then..." Bertold drew his sword, accepting his grim fate.

"Knights, run from this place for whoever remain while we fight than nothing shall await him other than death ," Bertold commanded, sending his knights away without him.

The ground beneath their feet did tremble, and naught but the clash of swords did echo through the desolate air.

"Oh great light, bless my sword with thy power," Bertold intoned, his blade aglow with an ethereal light.

"Heed me, mother of nights, bring forth death to my sword, let all mine enemies perish," Sir Isac chanted, an aura of death enveloping his blade. Such incantations never came without a price.

Their swords collided with such malevolent force that the very earth beneath them did shatter. Memories did flash through their minds—once brothers, both saved by their lord, now forced to slay each other. Isac, the king's general, born of noble blood yet treated harshly by his parents, a product of the lord's lust for his maid. Chained like a dog, beaten, burned, starved, and forced to watch his mother die before his eyes, his heart had long been void of life. But one day, the king laid siege to his land, found him, and raised him. How could he now turn his back on the king?

"Stop this, Isac! We are not too late; we can end this together!" Bertold cried, holding back Isac's sword.

"Thou, of all people, should understand why I do this!" Isac's eyes burned with the aura of death, his life force dwindling away—the price of the power he wielded.

Bertold knew that Isac would never betray their lord. If it were Isac, the world would burn before he turned his back on their king. But this had to be done; their lord was no longer in his right mind.

"Thou leavest me no choice. Oh light, bring forth thy power to my side, let it be my strength, let it be my bones," Bertold chanted, invoking an incantation that promised absolute oblivion to his foe.

"Raphael's Judgement!" Activating the spell, Bertold's eyes did glow brighter. A sword of judgment descended from the heavens, scorching Isac's body whole.

"Arghhhhh!" Isac screamed in agony, his voice echoing through the desolate air, filled with pain and despair.

"Oh dear mother of night, I offer thee my life. Grant me the power to slay mine enemy before mine eyes," Isac chanted, his words filled with a desperate plea for power.

"No!!!!" Bertold screamed, his voice filled with horror and desperation. The incantation Isac was about to use was the darkest of spells. It would transform the user into a monstrous lump of flesh, reeking of death. Should he do it, the mother of night would make him her eternal servant, never to be freed, even in the afterlife.

"Satan's Grave," Isac intoned, completing the spell with a final, dreadful utterance.

Isac's body turned inside out, wings tearing his flesh asunder, his skeleton morphing into a creature beyond recognition. It was no longer his body, but a grotesque abomination.

"No!" Bertold's defeated scream echoed through the air, filled with sorrow and helplessness.

The monster's strength was terrible. Bertold's armor was torn apart, his flesh breaking as he tried to fend off the relentless attack.

"I will honor thee, Isac," tears flowing from Bertold's eyes, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Oh light, bring forth oblivion to this creature. Let nothing be left, not even the soul of the dead," Bertold chanted, his words a solemn invocation. This spell would destroy Isac's soul, preventing him from reaching the afterlife or becoming the mother of night's servant. Isac, as a human, would cease to exist.

"Sefiroth's Rage," Bertold invoked, his voice filled with a final, resolute determination. As he finished the incantation, angelic creatures appeared before him, thousands of them holding holy javelins. They pierced Isac's body, breaking it into pieces, each strike a testament to their divine power.

As the final piece of Isac's body disintegrated, Bertold heard a whisper, faint yet unmistakable:

"Take care of him for me."

Bertold cried out Isac's name, his voice filled with anguish, slowly forgetting isac existence as the memory of his friend faded into oblivion.

In the king's chamber, a profound sorrow did grip the monarch, as if a piece of his very soul had been torn asunder. Tears streamed down his face. "Sire, what hath befallen thee?" his servant inquired, concern etched in his voice.

"I felt it… one of my children… their soul hath been destroyed," the king whispered, his voice trembling with grief. "Those humans… they have taken yet another thing that belongs to me!" Tears of blood mingled with his sorrow, his visage contorted into that of a beast. "No more, no more shall they take what is mine!" he declared, his voice rising with fury.

With a determined hand, he channeled his power, creating a summoning circle. "Come, heed my call," the king pleaded, and from the depths of hell, a demon arose, answering his summons.

"Go! Kill for me, kill for my love, kill for the lifetime of hatred that burns within me. And when thou art done, unleash thy wrath upon the world, turning it into a hell on earth, mirroring the torment of my heart," he commanded.The madness in his eyes was unmistakable; it was clear that the king had lost his way.

The demons ransacked every town they came upon, a scream of sorrowful plea accompanying them, and when they departed, only a river of blood remained. Thousands of human corpses were stacked upon each other—women, men, and children—all perished indiscriminately.

"Behold, brothers and sisters, our liege hath gone mad. Is it not the clear truth of what must be done? This is not him, but madness that speaks in his place," spake Berthold to his knights.

Many of his knights did retch, unable to comprehend the horror before their eyes. Those who still hoped for their liege to come to his senses quickly realized that even that hope was out of reach. If such destruction could occur in one day, imagine what abominations could await humanity if another week were to pass. Perchance human life would cease to exist.

And so they arrive at their lord castle and their lord did welcome them with death. So many knight fall to their death. And Berthold remain alone against the mad king he once serve.

"Berthold have thy forget what I have given you?" clearly the king still had shred of love for the knight he raised especially Berthold who he and the queen has taken care off for a long time but that's much is no match against the sin of the humanity that took his wife away.

And so they fight the castle shaken by sheer scale of their attacks. And in the end only Berthold left standing against his own leige. So did he prayed.

"Dear god if the sin of humanity were too much let this body bear it. Dear king of once did I serve for!!!. Beholder the power of humanity let order nor chaos avail today!!"

His sword shining brilliantly as if the light of a thousand of his comrades did powers the sword. It has become all of humanity and so tol it's sin. The powers of humanity in flesh of a sword.

And so he wielded it against the king might. And the battle were won. The world rejoice in his victory. And soon it hailed him as hero.

That were the case but truthfully eventually that Victory were in the king original plan. He had to accumulate enough chaos and enough hope for one purpose. That's is to bring his beloved back into mortal realm.

The king tranceded beyond mortal realm. Using the power of himself and both chaos and hope he did try to recreate world where his beloved live once more. But even after a thousand of world did he not find a chance for his beloved to rise again. And so after eternity of trying and fail purging countless of world into destruction and reincarnation finally he resorted in last ditch effort. He used his very own essence of existence to create a chance for his beloved to survive universe bear witness to love so great.

Finally a world was created his beloved live once more born to a different parent and fate. His once knight become her lover. And the king sacrifice did not be remembered by none. A love of a thousand year's heard by none.