Lyrian se detuvo, dejando que el pesado silencio del gran salón llenara el espacio a su alrededor. Los ecos de su confrontación con el Rey Demonio aún reverberaban en las paredes desgastadas, como si el castillo en sí estuviera tratando de recordar la intensidad de los acontecimientos recientes. Con una última mirada al cuerpo inconsciente de Khael, Lyrian se dio la vuelta.
"Es suficiente" dijo fríamente cuando comenzó a caminar hacia la salida. Sin mirar hacia atrás, se movió hacia la pequeña figura de Azara, quien, con pasos vacilantes y cortos, lo siguió como tirado por una fuerza invisible. La niña, atrapada en el miedo y la incertidumbre, no pudo evitar echar un último vistazo a su padre, cuya figura inerte permaneció en el suelo.
Lyrian, notando la mirada de Azara, habló con indiferencia controlada:
"Cálmate a ti mismo. Podrás visitarlo más tarde." Sus palabras no tenían consuelo, solo una frialdad calculada que profundizaba el miedo de la niña.
Mientras caminaban por los oscuros pasillos del castillo, Lyrian comenzó a reflexionar en silencio.
"Demonios, creo que me moví demasiado rápido." Su mente, afilada como una espada, trazó paralelos a los héroes de las historias que recordaba de su vida pasada.
"No recuerdo ningún protagonista despertando e inmediatamente derribando a un Rey Demonio."
Los recuerdos de esas historias lo llenaron de desdén.
"Siempre lo mismo" pensó, con una sonrisa torcida no se molestó en esconderse.
"APPEAR en algún lugar al azar, conocen a una hermosa chica que inevitablemente se convierte en su pareja, se unen a un gremio y, con el poder de la amistad, se fortalecen. Bla, bla, bla." Su expresión cambió, su ceja surcó cuando el disgusto comenzó a filtrarse en sus pensamientos.
"Qué patético. Solo pensar en ello me enferma. No seré como ellos."
Deteniendo sus pasos, Lyrian levantó la mirada hacia el cielo nocturno. A través de las grietas en el techo y las ventanas rotas, las primeras estrellas comenzaron a brillar, iluminando el horizonte con una indiferencia tranquila al caos que se había desarrollado en el Reino Escarlata. Cruzó los brazos, su mente pesaba opciones mientras disfrutaba de la frescura de la noche.
"Afortunadamente, Eryndor implantó varias habilidades y hechizos en mi mente" pensó con un aire de satisfacción.
"Todo lo que necesito está a mi disposición. La pregunta es...¿qué viene después?" Sus ojos rojos brillaban intensamente mientras se hundía en el pensamiento. Finalmente, su voz rompió el silencio:
"Mañana por la mañana, iremos al Reino Humano."
Azara, startled by the declaration, looked up at him. Her gaze was full of confusion, but before she could speak, Lyrian turned his face toward her, his eyes locking onto hers as if he could see directly into her soul.
"Tell me, little one," he said with an inquisitive tone that made the air between them tremble,
"How many men or monsters make up your father's army?"
Azara hesitated, her mind clouded with confusion and fear. For a moment, her eyes sought an escape, but there was no avoiding Lyrian's piercing gaze. Finally, she replied with a trembling yet clear voice:
"More than a million. My father's army consists of giants, undead, orcs, demons, withers, and… two giant earthworms."
Lyrian listened attentively, his smile growing slowly. It was a dark, sinister expression, one that didn't hide his satisfaction. The intensity of his gaze made Azara instinctively step back, clenching her tiny fists to suppress the growing fear inside her.
Noticing the impact he was causing, Lyrian cleared his throat lightly, softening his expression as if not wanting to frighten her too much… yet.
"Well, that's enough talking." He tilted his head slightly toward her and added:
"Now, little one, do you want to see something interesting?"
Azara blinked, still unsure, but her curiosity briefly outweighed her fear. Lyrian took her silence as affirmation and walked a few steps forward, extending his hand. From his palm, a beam of dark energy emerged, pulsing and vibrating as if chaos itself had taken form.
With a swift motion, he launched the beam into the sky, where it ascended like a spear of pure destruction, illuminating the horizon with an ominous glow.
Azara watched the spectacle with a mix of awe and fear. The beam's glow faded, but before she could form a question, Lyrian's aura erupted, sending out a chaotic shockwave that shook the castle's foundations.
Azara panicked, but before she could move, a magic circle appeared around her, encircling both her and her father's unconscious body, shielding them from the devastation.
Meanwhile, Lyrian ascended into the sky, rising until he stood atop the castle's highest point. From there, his figure stood silhouetted against the stars—a formidable and terrible sight. With a powerful voice, he spoke
"The Demon King has been dethroned. I, Lyrian, will now be your king. My first order is that tomorrow at dawn, everyone must gather in the capital. We will march to the Human Kingdom and put an end, once and for all, to this war that has lasted far too long."
As he finished his words, he raised a hand toward the horizon. A massive dome began to form, extending from the castle to encompass the entire demon territory. The dome, an imposing and dark barrier, stood as a symbol of his absolute rule, sealing the fate of all who lived within the kingdom.
"No one will escape," Lyrian thought, with a faint smile as he descended slowly.
"This is only the beginning."
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Lyrian's mind was restless as he slowly descended from the sky, returning to the castle grounds. The chaotic dome he had created expanded like a dark shroud, sealing the Scarlet Kingdom and declaring his absolute dominance. Despite the decisiveness of his conquest, his mind analyzed every possible future move.
"A king is useless without a loyal army. For now, I must stabilize this kingdom… turn it into the base of my dominion and use it as a weapon against the Human Kingdom."
As he walked toward the shadows cast by the castle's ruined walls, his gaze fell on Azara. The girl, still trembling, stood several steps behind him, her eyes darting between fear and confusion. Though she remained terrified of Lyrian's imposing figure, something within her was beginning to awaken.
"Why couldn't my father stop him? He was always so strong… and now?" Her thoughts were filled with doubts and a growing sense of helplessness.
"What if this is the end? What if there's no more hope?"
Lyrian, as if sensing Azara's inner conflict, shot her a quick glance.
"It's fascinating to watch her spirit fracture," he thought, letting out a satisfied smile. Yet, he knew there was something different about her. Despite her fear, she still followed him.
"This child might be more useful than she appears," he thought, his eyes gleaming with a spark of interest.
Stopping once more, he gazed back at the stars adorning the night sky.
"Tomorrow, we march to the Human Kingdom," he declared aloud, his tone cold and absolute. Turning his gaze toward Azara, he added:
"But first, tell me, little one—why didn't your father's forces try to stop me here? There was potential in his army, wasn't there?"
Azara, still uncertain, hesitated before replying:
"My father wasn't prepared for someone like you… no one was." Her voice carried sadness, but also a flicker of curiosity.
"What do you plan to do with our army?"
Lyrian turned fully toward her, crossing his arms as a mocking smile spread across his face.
"Your army, as you call it, is mine now. I will use it to end this absurd war that humans and demons have prolonged for centuries." His tone, though calm, was weighted with crushing authority.
"And yes, I will use it to destroy the human hero. It's time this world learns who is in charge now."
Azara looked down at the ground, her mind swirling with questions.
"Why my father, why our kingdom…?" But she had no time to voice those thoughts, as Lyrian continued toward the ruins of her father's throne, his mind fully occupied with what was to come.
<--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->
From the starry skies above Eryndor, a supernatural phenomenon continued to echo awe and terror throughout the world: the Tree of Judgment, Yggorath, extended its gigantic shadow. This colossal entity with infinite roots had emerged alongside Lyrian's rebirth, a sign that the balance of the world was about to change forever. Its colossal branches rose beyond the clouds, and its trunk, as vast as a city, seemed to pulse with an ancient energy that defied nature itself.
In the Human Kingdom, news of this Tree had arrived along with reports of the Demon King's fall. Leaders and commanders were unsettled.
"What does the appearance of this Tree mean? Is it a weapon of the demons? Or something even more dangerous?" The war council descended deeper into chaos as rumors about the Tree intertwined with reports of the attack on the border.
The Saint, whose connection to the goddesses maintained her divine authority, remained serene as she spoke:
"This is no mere natural event. The World Tree does not appear without purpose. Its arrival, coupled with the fall of the Demon King, marks the beginning of something the gods themselves have permitted. We must act carefully."
But her calm did not pacify everyone. One of the commanders, unable to contain his frustration, retorted:
"And what do you suggest, Saint? Wait? Let this new enemy destroy everything we've built?"
The Saint held her steady gaze upon the commander, her tone firm yet respectful:
"I'm not saying we shouldn't act. But underestimating this phenomenon and whoever caused it would be our greatest mistake. This is no common enemy, and whatever the Tree of Judgment represents, it is not here to silently observe."
Before the debate could continue, Lyrian's ray struck, shaking the hall.
A dark ray, charged with chaotic energy, had hit the Human Kingdom's border walls. The wall, a colossal structure that had protected the kingdom for centuries, lay in ruins. From the council chamber, the sinister glow of the flames that burned after the impact could be seen. Fragments of stone flew through the air, and a massive fissure marked the spot where the ray had struck.
The leaders were speechless, their faces pale as they processed what had just happened.
"Is it possible?" one of them murmured, their voice trembling.
"That wall has withstood all kinds of attacks for centuries… What kind of power can destroy it like this?"
Arden clenched his fists, his jaw tight as he stared into the horizon.
"This wasn't a casual attack," he thought, with a mix of anger and awe.
"It was a message. A warning."
The Saint slowly approached the window, her gaze fixed on the distance where the flames still burned. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if seeking answers beyond the earthly realm.
"The World Tree," she murmured softly, enough for Arden to hear.
"And this new leader… they are connected. This energy comes from him, and his actions are not impulsive. He is challenging us."
Arden nodded, his mind working frantically to plan the next move.
"Prepare yourselves," he said loudly, turning to the gathered leaders.
"The impact on the wall was not just an attack. It is a declaration of war. And if this enemy is coming for us, we cannot face him divided."
The leaders began issuing hurried orders, sending scouts to the border and summoning troops stationed in the closest cities. But even as they moved quickly, fear was palpable. Each of them shared the same question in their minds:
"How do we face an enemy who can destroy our strongest defenses from so far away?"
Meanwhile, in the Scarlet Kingdom, Lyrian watched the horizon. His sinister smile remained intact as he could feel, even from a distance, the chaos his ray had caused.
"This is exactly what I needed," he thought with satisfaction.
"A reminder for all of them that the rules of this game have changed."
Lowering his gaze, he saw Azara, who kept close yet distant enough to avoid drawing his unwanted attention. But Lyrian was not someone who ignored his followers. He turned to the girl, his voice calm yet resonating with an intensity that forced her to meet his gaze.
"Tell me, little one," he began, his tone a blend of curiosity and authority,
"What do you know about the slaves of this kingdom? The elves, the dwarves, and the other creatures who are not like you. What role do they play here?"
Azara lifted her gaze nervously, trying to maintain composure. She knew any wrong answer could provoke his wrath.
"My father kept them as prisoners," she finally said.
"He used them for forced labor… and some were used as entertainment for the demon nobles. They have no rights. They only obey or suffer."
Lyrian let out a brief laugh, but there was no humor in it.
"How primitive," he said, crossing his arms as he slowly paced back and forth.
"A kingdom that doesn't understand the value of unity is a kingdom destined for failure. But don't worry…" He stopped and looked directly into her eyes.
"That will change soon. Not because I am merciful, but because their loyalty will be more useful under my command."
Azara swallowed hard, her thoughts confused and her heart heavy with fear.
"What is this elf really planning?" she wondered. Though raised under her father's ruthless rule, something about Lyrian's words made her think he was even more dangerous… and far more calculating.
<--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->
Lyrian walked slowly toward the castle's throne, his steps echoing with authority. The throne, carved from obsidian and adorned with demonic symbols, seemed to have lost its meaning under the shadow of the newcomer. Upon reaching it, Lyrian paused for a moment, surveying his surroundings. The blackened walls, the remains of the fallen generals, and the unconscious figure of Demon King Khael stood as witnesses to his victory.
"This place is mine now," he thought, as a cold smile formed on his lips.
With absolute composure, Lyrian sat on the throne, letting his presence take over the space completely. Closing his eyes, he allowed his essence to begin expanding, merging his own chaos with the Tree of Judgment that still stood tall on the horizon.
"Yggorath," he murmured in his mind, as he felt the roots of the Tree begin to stretch, traversing the land and connecting deeply with the Scarlet Kingdom.
"Now, you and I are one. This kingdom will be shaped under my will and your ancient power."
The roots of the Tree of Judgment moved as if responding to his call, emerging from the castle floor and spreading to the borders of the Scarlet Kingdom. Its dark branches began to envelop the skies, creating a direct connection between Lyrian and the kingdom's essence. From his throne, he could feel every corner, every being, every fragment of energy within the demonic territory.
"This is how a true kingdom should be," he thought, satisfied with the union he had just established.
Azara, watching from a corner, felt a shiver run through her body. The roots of the Tree emerging from the ground seemed to breathe with life, and Lyrian's power felt more overwhelming than ever. Her heart raced as she tried to comprehend what was happening.
"What kind of being is this elf?"
Lyrian opened his eyes and directed his gaze toward the girl.
"Tell the servants hiding to come out and resume their duties," he ordered firmly.
"The kingdom's routine must not stop just because its king has changed."
Azara nodded quickly, though her mind was flooded with doubts.
"Why would he let things continue as they were? What is he really waiting for?"
Without hesitation, Lyrian raised his right hand, and from it burst a torrent of chaotic energy. The power began to flow through the walls and floors of the castle, reorganizing and reconstructing everything to his liking. The blackened stones transformed into more imposing structures, the demonic symbols were replaced with marks of pure chaos, and the rooms expanded, becoming more majestic and functional. The entire castle began to morph, reflecting the essence of its new master.
Azara watched with wide eyes, her small body trembling as the castle changed around her.
"It's incredible," she thought, though her fear continued to grow.
"If he can do this so easily, what else could he do?"
When the castle's transformation was complete, Lyrian turned his gaze to Khael, who remained unconscious near the throne. His body, weakened and marked by the battle, was a symbol of the old power that had been surpassed. Lyrian rose from his seat and approached the Demon King.
"Your time as ruler is over," he murmured as he extended his hand toward the floor.
Thick, living roots emerged from the ground, wrapping around Khael's body. The roots gently lifted him, forming a dark cocoon pulsating with energy from the Tree of Judgment. Azara, witnessing this, felt a shiver run down her spine.
"What is he doing to him?" she thought, her hands gripping the edge of her dress as she watched silently.
Lyrian noticed the girl's reaction and, in a calm voice, said:
"Don't worry. I'm only sending him to a place where he can recover. He is not dead, nor will he be… at least not for now."
Azara swallowed hard, unsure whether to feel relief or fear at Lyrian's words.
"What does he really want from my father?"
Lyrian, satisfied with the cocoon now protecting the Demon King, returned to the throne and sat down once more. Ignoring the girl's question, his gaze drifted toward the bodies of the fallen generals, and a slight smile crossed his face. "I have other plans for them. But that will be tomorrow."
The connection between Lyrian, the Tree of Judgment, and the Scarlet Kingdom was complete. From his throne, the elf could feel every corner of the territory and every being under his command. While chaos continued molding the kingdom to his will, the remaining inhabitants began to grasp that they weren't just facing a new ruler, but an unstoppable force that would change Eryndor forever.
The Next Day
Dawn broke over the Scarlet Kingdom, but the light brought no comfort to its inhabitants. In the heart of the capital, the air was heavy, and every corner of the city was steeped in an atmosphere of fear and disarray. The demons, who had always lived under the iron rule of Khael and his generals, were accustomed to the imposing power of their leaders. But what they encountered that morning was completely different.
In the center of the main plaza stood the bodies of the fallen generals, impaled by living roots piercing through their forms and raising them toward the sky. The roots, emerging directly from the ground, seemed to breathe with life, pulsing with a dark energy emanating from the Tree of Judgment. The imposing figures that had once commanded armies and instilled fear in their enemies now served as symbols of defeat and humiliation.
Demons gathering around the scene observed in silence, their eyes filled with terror. Some instinctively backed away, unable to look at the grotesque display for too long. The message was clear—the old order had fallen, and a new power was in control.
While panic and uncertainty spread among the crowd, the castle itself felt different.
Inside, Lyrian's ordered chaos began to take shape, heralding the dawn of a new era. From atop the castle, Lyrian calmly surveyed the unfolding scene, evaluating every detail. Beside him, Azara stood nervously, her new servant's attire fitting awkwardly on her small frame.
The uniform—a black ensemble with silver accents reflecting Lyrian's chaotic yet refined style—accentuated the girl's innocence and vulnerability. The skirt was simple enough to allow for movement, paired with an immaculate white apron tied at the front and gloves that concealed her trembling hands. A modest cap atop her head symbolized her newfound role as Lyrian's personal servant.
Noticing Azara's unease, Lyrian cast his gaze downward at her and let out a faint smile.
"I see you've adopted your new role, little one," he said, his tone a mix of mockery and curiosity.
"The attire suits you… adequately."
Azara looked up at him, her face a blend of shame and discomfort.
"I didn't ask for this," she muttered, clenching her fists beneath the apron.
"It's what you gave me."
Lyrian chuckled softly, his voice echoing through the castle's grand hall.
"And did you expect something else? Consider this a privilege. Not everyone can walk alongside me, let alone serve someone like me. You should be grateful."
Azara felt a lump in her throat but chose not to respond. She knew any challenge to his words would not end well for her.
"If only I could understand what he's planning," she thought, trying to steady herself.
"Let's go," Lyrian ordered as he began walking toward the castle doors.
"The army awaits us, and we have no time to waste."
Azara nodded and followed closely, trying to adjust to the weight of the uniform and the role that had been imposed upon her. Yet, a part of her couldn't help but wonder if she was truly destined for this—or if there was still some way to change her fate.
The march was beginning. In the center of the capital, Lyrian and Azara approached a black horse, patiently waiting among the rows of the army. Azara, in her new servant's uniform, caught the attention of some demon soldiers, who couldn't help but murmur among themselves.
Lyrian mounted first, his imposing figure dominating the steed. Then, he extended a hand toward Azara, beckoning her to join him. The girl hesitated for a moment, but upon seeing Lyrian's expectant gaze, she had no choice. Carefully, she took his hand and climbed onto the horse, sitting in front of him and feeling the overwhelming presence of the elf behind her.
"Is it really necessary for me to ride with you?" Azara asked in a quiet voice, trying to hide the tremble in her words.
Lyrian smiled, leaning slightly toward her.
"Of course. If you're going to learn to serve a true king, you'll need to stay close to me. Besides…" His tone turned playful.
"I want you to see firsthand what's about to happen. This won't be a simple journey, little one. It will be the beginning of something much greater."
Azara didn't respond, but her mind was filled with doubt and fear.
"Why does he insist on keeping me close? What does he expect me to learn from all this?"
The main plaza was filled with tension and awe as Lyrian and Azara rode through the rows of soldiers. The impaled generals remained a silent reminder of the new era that had begun, and the roots of the Tree of Judgment enveloped the city like a living web.
From his position, Lyrian raised his voice.
"Today begins our march to the Human Kingdom! A kingdom divided by its arrogance and false sense of power. Today marks their fall."
The roar of the army was deafening, and the roots of the Tree seemed to react to the clamor, moving with greater intensity. From her place on the horse, Azara stared in awe at the size of the army. She had never seen such an organized and fearsome force.
"This is nothing like what my father used to do," she thought, a shiver running down her spine.
Noticing her expression, Lyrian whispered to her:
"Look closely, little one. All of this is under my command now. And you will be here to witness it all… and to learn."
Azara swallowed hard but didn't reply. As the army began to march and the roots of the Tree of Judgment stretched toward the horizon, she knew she was being dragged into a destiny she could barely comprehend.
El Reino Humano había sido advertido. Ahora, el caos avanzaba hacia ellos—unstoppable.