Chapter 38: The Empire's Wrath

The Empire's conquest of the northern city of Elysium was swift and brutal. Once a thriving kingdom known for its towering citadels and lush valleys, Elysium had fallen under the iron fist of the Empire, its proud banners replaced by the black-and-silver standards of Emperor Valen.

The city burned in the distance, smoke rising into the sky like the remnants of a dying star. The once-great walls had been breached, its soldiers slain or captured. The streets were littered with the bodies of those who dared resist, their blood painting a grim portrait of the Empire's dominance.

At the heart of the conquered city, a procession marched through the ruined streets, led by none other than Hazama Seraphis, the Empire's new champion. His cold, emotionless face contrasted sharply with the devastation around him. His armor gleamed in the faint sunlight, bearing the scars of battle, yet his eyes remained focused, unaffected by the carnage he had wrought.

In his hand, Hazama clutched the severed head of King Aldric, the once-proud ruler of Elysium. The lifeless eyes of the king stared blankly into the void, a grim reminder of the Empire's unstoppable force. Hazama held the head high for all to see as he walked toward the center of the city where the remnants of the people had gathered, bound and on their knees, forced to watch their ruler's final humiliation.

The crowd, composed mostly of surviving soldiers, townsfolk, and the remaining members of the Elysian court, shuddered at the sight. Whispers of terror spread like wildfire through their ranks. The Empire had conquered many lands before, but to see Hazama—the Emperor's new executioner—bring their king's head in such a public display sent a message no one could ignore.

Hazama approached the makeshift dais erected at the city square, where the Imperial General and other officers awaited him. His movements were deliberate and calculated as he ascended the steps. The general, an older man with a grizzled appearance and a menacing presence, nodded in approval as Hazama stood before him, offering the king's head.

"Elysium is ours," Hazama announced, his voice as cold as the steel he wielded. He tossed the king's head at the general's feet, letting it roll to the ground for all to witness.

"Excellent work, Champion Seraphis," the general replied, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "The Emperor will be pleased. Another kingdom under our control."

Hazama remained silent, his expression unchanging. He had carried out his orders without hesitation, as he always did. The king had resisted the Empire's demands for far too long, and the punishment had been swift and merciless. The fall of Elysium was inevitable the moment the Emperor had set his sights on the city.

The general turned to the crowd, his voice booming across the square. "Let this serve as a reminder to all who dare defy the Empire! Resistance is futile! King Aldric thought he could stand against us, and now his people will pay the price."

The people of Elysium trembled in fear, their hopes of freedom crushed. They had heard rumors of Hazama's ruthlessness, of how he had risen as the Emperor's favored champion after slaying Nyx. Now, seeing him in person, they understood the true extent of his power.

The general raised his hand, signaling the Imperial soldiers to take action. "Round up the survivors," he ordered. "Those who surrender will serve the Empire. Those who resist... will join their king."

As the soldiers moved to seize the captives, Hazama stepped forward, his eyes scanning the faces of the defeated. Despite the destruction and despair around him, he felt no remorse. His mind was consumed by a singular purpose—serving the Emperor's will. Every conquest, every kill, brought him one step closer to fulfilling the prophecy, one step closer to the inevitable clash with his sister, Alyssia.

Deep down, a part of him still remembered their shared childhood, the bond they once had before the Empire had claimed him. But that bond was nothing more than a distant memory now, buried beneath layers of loyalty to the Empire and the power he had gained.

As Hazama turned away from the crowd, the general approached him. "You have proven yourself once again, Champion," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "The Emperor's confidence in you is well-placed."

Hazama gave a curt nod. "What are the Emperor's next orders?"

The general smirked. "Valoria is next. The Queen has been stirring unrest, gathering forces. The Emperor believes it's time to remind her of the Empire's power."

"Then I will take her head as well," Hazama replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

The general clapped a hand on Hazama's shoulder, clearly pleased with the champion's determination. 

As Hazama descended from the dais, his thoughts drifted to Alyssia. He knew she was out there, preparing for their inevitable confrontation. The Empire had shaped him into the weapon he was today, and he would stop at nothing to see the Emperor's vision realized. His path was set, and no one—not even his sister—would stand in his way.