Ian stood still for a moment, his fists quietly clenched at his sides. The throne room was silent, save for the low hum of power that still lingered in the air from earlier. His eyes, bright and sharp, stared into the distance.
"They died for me…" he muttered.
The Grand Elder watched him carefully. "You miss them."
Ian nodded slowly. "I do. And I won't let their sacrifice be for nothing."
There was a long pause.
Finally, Ian spoke, voice firm and cold. "Prepare the army."
The Grand Elder blinked. "What?"
"I'm going to the Dark Races," Ian said. "If they want war, I'll bring it to their doorstep. I'll make them regret ever speaking my name."
The Grand Elder's expression turned serious. "Ian, are you sure? The leaders of the Dark Races have grown stronger over the years. They've allied with ancient powers that even I don't recognize."
Ian smiled coldly. "Then I'll just have to wipe them all out."
A few hours later…
