Kalix, whose real name was Kaala when he was a child, was always a mischievous and playful boy. He was an orphan, living alone in a small wooden shed just outside the town. Despite having no family, Kaala never let sadness show on his face. He was always full of energy, always running around, always causing a bit of harmless trouble here and there. People of the town didn't mind his antics. In fact, they loved him for it. His laughter and his games brought life to the quiet little town.
Even though he was mischievous, Kaala was hardworking. From the time the sun rose till the sky turned dark, he ran errands, carried goods, helped farmers, and cleaned stores. He did everything he could to earn some coins so he could survive. He never begged. He worked with pride. His biggest dream was simple: to save enough money to buy a house of his own, marry a beautiful girl, and raise a happy family. To many, that might have sounded silly or childish, but to those who truly knew him, it was touching. All Kaala ever really wanted was a family—a real home.
As Kaala grew older, he never lost his honesty or kindness. The town grew with him, and so did its love for him. He had become the heart of the town. There wasn't a single house where he wasn't welcome. Yet, he always chose to stay in his little shed, which over time had become a small house. He said it was his safe space, his own little world.
But peace never lasts forever.
A great war had started in the lands beyond. At first, it seemed far away. The town was peaceful and small, and no one thought it would be touched by the war. But slowly, the effects of war began to creep closer. Injured soldiers passed through. Refugees came looking for food and shelter. The people of the town, kind and open-hearted, helped everyone. They fed the hungry, cared for the injured, and gave homes to the homeless, no matter what nation they came from.
The town was located in the center of three large nations. Its kindness, its resources, and its perfect position made it a key location. One by one, officials from the three nations came to the town with offers. Each offer was better than the last. They wanted to turn the town into a base for their armies.
But the town refused.
They didn't want war. They didn't want to pick a side. They just wanted peace. The people stood firm, and they chose Kaala to be their voice. They trusted him. And Kaala, now older and known as Kalix, stood strong. He refused to sell the town to war. He wanted to protect their way of life.
But power does not like to be denied.
The rulers of the three nations met in secret. For once, enemies agreed on something. They agreed that the town had become a problem. If none of them could have it, then no one should. They decided to destroy it.
And one night, Kalix woke up to the sound of a scream… followed by the sight of flames rising into the sky, consuming the village he called home. He ran. His feet barely touched the ground as his heart pounded with dread.
When he reached the center of town, the horror struck him like a dagger to the chest—blood everywhere, cries of pain, loved ones lying lifeless. His breath caught. His vision blurred. His body felt paralyzed.
Fear. Sorrow. Rage.
A storm of emotions surged inside him. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. His people...his friends, his family, were being hunted, slaughtered.
Before he could process anything, a hard blow landed on the back of his head. Darkness. He awoke in chains. Bodies piled around him, some dead, some barely clinging to life. Soldiers of a foreign banner laughed, stomped, and crushed whatever remained of the once peaceful village.
He looked to his right. Women screamed in agony, treated like mere objects of lust. He looked to his left. Men were tortured, broken like animals. Children cried, dragged around like burdens. And then, rage. Pure, unfiltered rage.
Kalix gritted his teeth as he trembled, not with fear, but with helpless fury. "Is this... what peace gives us? Is this what I chose?"
Suddenly, a flash of light engulfed the area, so blinding it halted everything. A thunderous roar followed. The army braced for impact, but nothing happened to them.
They chuckled.
Smoke began rising from Kalix's body. "Pfft... suits him," one sneered. But then Kalix opened his eyes, only it wasn't him anymore.
---
In a place between worlds, his soul stood face-to-face with the Thunder Deity.
The deity's voice echoed, ancient and commanding. "You can save your people. But in return, you shall be bound by fate, to serve a Dungeon Boss whose decision will one day shape the world. You will know who they are when you meet them."
Kalix didn't respond. It wasn't a question. It wasn't a choice. It was destiny.
---
The moment ended. Kalix opened his eyes again, truly, this time. The smoke faded from his body, replaced by glowing thunder-shaped patterns running down from his head to his legs.
"Hey! That guy's gone!"
"No way, he probably turned to ash, ha! Just ignore and enjoy the youth of this village."
Zinggg.
The man's head flew into the air, then fell to the ground with a dull thud.
Everyone froze.
There stood Kalix. Lightning crackled across his arms. In one hand, he held the soldier's severed head.
One rushed him. Shhk! In an instant, his hand fell to the ground, severed cleanly. Kalix turned slowly. His eyes, burning with fury, met every soldier's gaze. And within minutes... the army was gone. Slain.
The Thunder Deity's gift didn't just give him power, it resurrected his fallen people. But even that wasn't enough. Not for Kalix.
He stood in front of his reborn town, whispered one word "Sorry…" and vanished into the skies.
He headed straight for the rulers. One by one, he hunted down those responsible. Each met a brutal end, their heads hung publicly with a message: Peace cannot exist while evil rules.
---
After justice was served, Kalix became a wandering storm. He roamed from dungeon to dungeon, seeking the one fate had tethered him to. He challenged Dungeon Bosses one after another, defeating most, ignoring those who felt unworthy.
Until one day... He met some Dungeon Boss.
Something about him was different. Carefree. Detached. Almost indifferent to the world. Kalix couldn't explain why, but deep inside, something pulled him toward this man. He challenged him. But to his shock... he was utterly defeated. Crushed. The difference in strength was unimaginable. Kalix, chosen by the Thunder Deity, bearer of divine rage, lost. And yet, without hesitation... he knelt.
The Dungeon boss didn't ask him to. But Kalix knew. "Even if he doesn't care about the fate of this world… I'll make sure he will." From that day forward, Kalix became his right hand, his apprentice, not just to serve, but to learn from the one who changed his fate, who was Zortheus...