The Return of Darkness

Chapter 9: 

The world did not stop moving after the fall of Darius. The Royal Palace celebrated, and the high-ranking nobles drank to their so-called victory. But beyond the festivities, beyond the walls of the palace, the land of Eldoria had begun to shift.

The balance had been disturbed.

The moment Darius fell, the power he once held did not vanish—it merely waited, watching, biding its time for the right vessel to carry forth its wrath.

Days had passed since that fateful night, yet Krish and Kishore remained hidden within the depths of the forest, their father's last command still echoing in their minds. The two brothers sat in silence, their stomachs empty, their spirits shattered.

But no matter how much Krish tried to reassure himself, he knew the truth—his father was not coming back.

Something inside him refused to believe it, yet the longer he waited, the colder reality became. Finally, Krish could not take it anymore.

"We need to find Father," he declared, his voice hoarse but filled with newfound resolve.

Kishore, still weak from the extraction of magic that had happened days prior, looked up at his brother with tired eyes. "Will he… be okay?"

Krish forced a smile and ruffled his younger brother's hair. "Of course. He's strong. But if he's in trouble… we have to help him."

And so, the two brothers left the safety of the forest, venturing into a world that had long since abandoned them.

Hours of walking led them to a small village on the outskirts of the kingdom. The air here was different—heavy with the stench of decay. As Krish walked past a desolate road, something caught his eye.

A body.

At first, he paid it no mind. Many corpses lay abandoned in times of war, left to rot under the sun. But something about this one made his steps falter. His gaze lingered, his breath shallow.

Then, realization struck him like lightning.

"No… no, no, no…!"

He stumbled forward, his legs weak, his mind screaming in denial. The body was bloated, its skin discolored and covered in pests. But even in its decayed state, Krish recognized the familiar frame, the hands that once held him, the scars that told the story of countless battles.

It was his father.

A scream tore from his throat, raw and filled with agony. Krish collapsed beside the corpse, clutching his father's cold hands. Tears streamed down his face, his body trembling as the weight of loss crushed him entirely. Kishore, barely understanding what was happening, began to cry as well, his small hands clutching his brother's clothes.

They had hoped to find their father.

Instead, they had found his grave.

Krish did not know how much time had passed before he finally gathered the strength to move. With trembling hands, he dug into the earth, determined to bury the man who had sacrificed everything for them. With each handful of dirt, his pain deepened, but so did his resolve.

When the burial was complete, Krish wiped his tear-streaked face and stood tall, looking toward the village ahead.

He had to know the truth.

Dragging his exhausted body forward, he entered the village. He did not expect kindness, nor did he seek it. But what he heard made his blood turn to ice.

"Good riddance! That monster finally got what he deserved."

"I heard the rankers did a splendid job eliminating him."

"If only they had finished off his children too. If they grow up, they'll only seek revenge. Best to snuff them out now."

Laughter. Mockery. Celebrations.

These people—these pathetic, wretched creatures—were rejoicing over his father's death.

Krish clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. His entire body shook, not with sadness, but with something far darker. His vision blurred, his breath became ragged, and as he whispered to himself, his voice was no longer that of a boy—but a force of vengeance.

"There is no place in this world for those who killed my father."

He needed strength. He needed power.

And he would find it.

That night, under the veil of darkness, Krish made his way to the Royal Palace. He and Kishore covered their faces, concealing their identities as they crept through the towering gates. His heart pounded in his chest as he reached the palace's magic circle—an ancient artifact that measured one's magical potential.

If he was to avenge his father, he had to know the truth about his own strength.

Without hesitation, Krish stepped onto the circle.

Nothing happened.

The glowing runes remained still, unresponsive, as though he were nothing more than an ordinary child. His heart clenched in frustration, doubt creeping into his mind.

But then—

Kishore, still weak and unaware, wandered onto the circle as well. The moment he entered, a black mist erupted from beneath them. The magic stones that powered the circle cracked, shattering into fragments as a pulse of dark energy surged through the air.

The entire palace trembled.

Kishore collapsed instantly, the overwhelming force draining his small body of energy. Krish caught him just in time, panic flashing through his anger-clouded mind.

The palace guards had sensed it. Footsteps thundered through the halls, growing louder by the second.

Krish gritted his teeth. "Not yet… I can't be caught yet."

With Kishore on his shoulders, he sprinted through the palace corridors, evading detection with every shadow that flickered under the moonlight. By the time the rankers arrived, all that remained was destruction—shattered magic stones and a lingering darkness in the air.

The guards stared at the wreckage, their faces pale.

"What… what happened?"

"Someone triggered the circle… but that magic—it's not normal. It's… dark."

"Could it be? Has a dark magic user been reborn?"

Fear spread among them. The world had long since abandoned the idea of dark magic, believing it to have died with its last wielder.

But now… it had returned.

And it was only the beginning.