There was a cave, ancient and forgotten, where silence and shadows coiled together like venomous snakes. Its air was damp, heavy with a suffocating darkness, and the only sound that echoed through its hollow belly was the faint dripping of water. At the far end, a faint glimmer of light revealed a figure seated on a chair. His posture was calm, relaxed even, as he casually lifted a glass and sipped his drink. But his eyes—sharp, chilling, and cold enough to kill with a glance—were fixed forward, as if expecting someone.
A man entered the cave, his boots crunching against the loose stones scattered across the ground. His figure was tall and strong, dressed in white garments that sharply contrasted against the suffocating dark around him. In his hand, he carried a heavy sword that shimmered faintly even in the absence of light. With measured steps, he walked deeper into the abyss until the dim glow fell upon the man seated on the chair. Only his legs were visible at first, yet his presence radiated power that made the cave itself feel alive.
Zeiris: "Look who we have here! Isn't this the man they call the Rock? Rogard."
Rogard lifted his coat, revealing his rugged features, before stepping forward and lowering himself into a chair across from Zeiris. His sword leaned against his knee as he finally relaxed his grip.
Zeiris: "So tell me, what brings you here, gentleman?" His voice carried a mocking sweetness, his lips curling into a smile sharp enough to cut.
Rogard: "I've come with news. They've discovered one of your signs… left behind by a man. And now, after the war, the higher council has ordered his release. As usual, Commander Trail was the one to push it through."
Zeiris: "Hah. Humans… pitiful creatures. Always repeating their mistakes. Always clinging to hope." His laughter echoed in the cave like cracks of ice.
Rogard: "Do not underestimate us. You cannot bring down the government, not while Luxorious is with them. That man, as I've heard, has slain two of the Whispering Deaths."
Zeiris leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing, his grin never fading.
Zeiris: "Ah, yes… Luxorious. A rather interesting man. Dangerous too. You may be right—he's no ordinary opponent." His smile twitched, a mixture of intrigue and menace crossing his face.
Rogard: "The boy is nowhere to be found. The blade has hidden its presence, and without it, he's harmless. This is the best time to strike. Kill him before he regains strength."
Zeiris: "The boy?" He leaned back again, amusement flickering in his tone. "No, no… he's not the threat. There were two Black Stones created—one sealed within that sword… and one, a gift."
Rogard: "A gift?" His eyes narrowed.
Zeiris smirked, his smile cutting through the air like a dagger.
Zeiris: "You humans will never understand. For you, power and money are all that matter. For us, power is survival, and survival is dominance."
Rogard shifted in his seat, uneasy. His voice lowered.
Rogard: "My job… I completed it. Just as you asked. Lockhead is dead."
Zeiris's expression darkened, though his smile remained.
Zeiris: "Yes, yes… you've done well. And as promised, I shall reward you. But first, loyalty must be tested."
He reached for a vial filled with a glowing red liquid. Its surface rippled unnaturally, as though alive. Zeiris held it out with a wicked grin.
Zeiris: "This is the Red Water. Drink it, and you will be blessed with the strength of Xeudeus. But do not be greedy, Rogard. For now, I do not trust you fully. Complete my missions, and more of this will be yours."
Rogard took the vial hesitantly, staring at the liquid as if it might devour him from within. Still, he lifted it to his lips and drank. The taste was bitter, burning as it slid down his throat. His heartbeat thundered violently, each pulse echoing in his ears like war drums. Pain surged through his veins, his body convulsing as his knees buckled.
He fell to the ground, gasping for air, his eyesight blurring.
Zeiris: "Hahaha! It seems the Red Water has quite the effect on you."
Rogard's eyes flickered weakly, catching the sinister grin of Zeiris before everything faded to black. His body lay limp as he lost consciousness.
Zeiris's expression hardened.
Zeiris: "So he faints. Typical. Now… matters grow urgent. Luxorious. Trail. If I don't eliminate them soon, they will become far too dangerous. And as for the boy… Lyoth will deal with him."
Elsewhere…
In the Kingdom of Hell, a throne carved from obsidian sat in a sea of shadows. Upon it rested a ferocious figure cloaked in a suffocating dark aura—Lyoth. His mere presence warped the air around him.
Before him lay the Black Reaper, wounded and broken. His once unyielding figure now sprawled across the ground, his strength stripped away. The mighty golem that once served alongside him had turned to stone, now a mountain at rest.
Lyoth: "Pathetic. My own brother, beaten by a human. How disgraceful." His tone dripped with venom, his crimson eyes burning.
The Black Reaper stirred, his voice hoarse yet defiant.
Black Reaper: "That human was no ordinary man. He was death itself. His blue eyes… they carried a scent of destruction. I tell you, Lyoth, until we reclaim our true power, we are nothing. And that man will hunt us down."
Lyoth's smirk faltered, his rage simmering beneath the surface.
Lyoth: "A shadow that fears a mortal… how laughable." Yet his fists clenched. His voice turned into a growl. "Damn it… damn it! What should I do?"
The silence of the throne room roared louder than his voice. Then he spoke again, quieter but heavier.
Lyoth: "If only Nemesis… our Void, were here. The outcome would have been different."
Elsewhere Again…
Inside a grand room of the capital, several commanders gathered, their armor gleaming under the dim lantern light. The higher-ups sat in stern silence as Commander Trail took his place at the front. His voice was commanding, echoing across the chamber.
Trail: "Quiet, everyone. This meeting has been called because something isn't right in Wingman City."
Murmurs fell silent. All eyes were on him.
Trail: "The death of Mr. Lockhead remains unsolved. We have searched every corner, yet no trace has been found. But evidence suggests that his killer may not have been an outsider. No… the killer may be among us."
At the back of the room, Rogard sat stiffly. His body trembled, sweat dripping down his temple. How do they always get so close to the truth? he thought bitterly.
Trail: "Yet there is a higher possibility his death was caused by shadows. The wounds were blackened—an unmistakable mark of a Shadow Blade or Dagger. Someone is targeting the higher ranks, attempting to dismantle this government. And if they succeed, they will have free access to everything we protect. And we all know what their true goal is…"
The room fell into tense silence.
Trail: "The Black Stone. The Stone of Extermination. A relic of death itself. If it falls into their hands, it will revive their master—the forbidden evil that sleeps even now."
The commanders shifted uncomfortably, but nodded in agreement. Notes were scribbled hastily as the urgency settled upon them like a storm cloud.
Trail: "Their next target will likely be Kella Morn. She must be protected at all costs. Tighten the guard around her. Nothing, I repeat, nothing must happen to her."
The meeting ended with a heavy atmosphere. Commanders dispersed, their armor clanking as they left.
Trail stepped outside, exhaustion weighing on him. He rubbed his face with a cloth, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.
Trail: "Luxorious… where are you?" His voice was almost a whisper, carried away by the night.
And thus, the shadows moved silently across kingdoms, while powers clashed in secret. The board was set, the pieces moving, and the war for the Black Stone had only just begun.
The End…