The End Is Near

Amelia and Lazarus were locked in a desperate battle, struggling against their own soldiers—men who had once been their allies but now moved with an eerie, unnatural precision. Lazarus had noticed it first, the disturbing shift in their eyes. Where once there had been humanity, there was now something else entirely—red irises shaped like an eclipsed moon. His jaw tightened. This wasn't just Darius's doing. No, this was something far worse.

Cursing under his breath, he sprinted through the chaos, dodging blades and broken bodies, his only focus on retrieving the meal he had dropped while fighting Darius. He needed strength if he was going to survive this. Meanwhile, Amelia was fighting tooth and nail, her father's demonic sword slicing through one soldier after another. But her frustration grew with every strike—no matter how deep she cut, no matter how lethal the blow, they regenerated in an instant, their wounds closing before her eyes.

How is this even possible? She wondered, panting. Are they even human anymore? Or have they become mindless, undead slaves under Darius's control?

As she battled on, something caught her eye. High atop the burned remains of the castle, a lone figure stood against the backdrop of the ruined kingdom. Her breath hitched, and for the first time since the fight began, she felt a flicker of relief.

A tall man with golden hair, his single glowing yellow eye radiating an almost divine intensity. His aura was overwhelming, like a sun on the verge of consuming everything in its path.

Mikael.

Of course, it was him. Who else could stand in the face of such darkness?

Without hesitation, Mikael took his battle stance, gripping his mighty sword with unshakable resolve. His gaze locked onto Darius, who lounged comfortably amid the destruction, watching Amelia and Lazarus struggle with a smirk of quiet amusement.

But Mikael didn't give him a chance to enjoy it.

In the blink of an eye, he moved—faster than thought, his blade aimed straight for Darius's skull. It should have been an instant kill. And yet—

Darius, without even looking, threw a single punch.

The force of it sent Mikael hurtling through the air, smashing through the remains of several buildings before finally skidding to a stop near the ruins of a burned house. Debris rained down around him, but Mikael wasted no time. With an almost unnatural speed, he was already back on his feet, sprinting toward Darius once more.

Darius, still seated on a broken chair, let out a quiet chuckle, his amusement only growing. With slow, deliberate ease, he took one last drag from his cigarette before crushing it in his fist, reducing it to nothing but ash. Then, he stood.

And at that moment, the battlefield itself seemed to hold its breath.

Their auras clashed like colliding storms. Even Lazarus and Amelia, seasoned warriors in their own right, felt the crushing weight of their presence pressing down on them.

Mikael's golden flames erupted, his body glowing like a living inferno. Darius, in contrast, let his own power unfurl—a vast, monstrous force, deep gray and writhing like shadows given life. The impact of their unleashed power sent shockwaves ripping through the kingdom.

Walls crumbled. The ground split open. The very air seemed to distort under the pressure.

Then came the earthquake. A deafening crack as the land itself gave way, splitting apart beneath their feet. The wind howled, howling through the ruins, ripping trees from the earth and sending chunks of broken stone flying into the sky. It was as if the world itself was reacting to their power.

And yet, this was only the beginning.

Far from the chaos, aboard a massive warship on the edge of the destruction, a lone figure stood at the bow, watching with sharp, calculating eyes. He was tall, his crimson irises barely visible beneath the shadow of his half-mask. His traditional robes billowed slightly in the violent wind.

A smirk played at his lips as he watched the devastation unfold.

"It has begun," he murmured, his voice a quiet rasp, tinged with amusement.

Behind him, soft footsteps approached. A woman moved with unshakeable grace, her silver hair shimmering under the moonlight. Her golden eyes gleamed, half-hidden behind the mask that covered one side of her face. She was breathtaking, a vision of effortless beauty and danger combined.

She was Freiya, Queen of Syrax. And the man beside her—Lefu, the King. The strongest of all, feared across the world for their mastery of the dark arts.

Lefu didn't turn to face her. His gaze remained locked on the battlefield.

"Inform the troops," he said. "Summon the other five kings. It's time."

Freiya inclined her head, her voice smooth as silk. "As you wish, my king."

With a final glance toward the carnage, she turned and disappeared into the depths of the ship. But Lefu remained, his eyes glinting with anticipation. His dream was no longer just a dream—it was reality.

Slowly, he raised his hands, fingers spreading wide as a black aura swirled around him. The power crackled in the air, thick and suffocating. Then, with a grin of pure satisfaction, he clenched his fists.

"My dream…" he whispered, his voice dark with triumph. "It is finally coming true."

And with a single, commanding word, he spoke the incantation that would mark the beginning of the end:

"RAZE."

At that moment, an unnatural darkness spread across the sky, swallowing the moon in a black void. The world trembled, the sea roared, and kingdoms far and wide bore witness to the first act of an unstoppable war.