Chapter 1 volume 2 : The Plan is in Motion
In a realm that existed outside the known dimensions, within a chamber carved from the heart of a solidified nebula, two beings sat across from one another at a simple, unadorned obsidian table. The air itself was still, a silent observer to a power so immense it was capable of bending reality to their will.
On one side sat the Demon Lord, his form a vortex of perfect darkness, a being of shadow and ancient malice. Opposite him was the God of Gods, a figure of blinding, incandescent light, whose presence was a symphony of serene, absolute authority. For eons, they had played a game with the mortal world as their board, moving races like humans, beasts, and dragonkin against each other in endless, meaningless wars. Every soul extinguished, every city burned, was nothing more than a move in their cosmic contest, a spectacle for their own divine entertainment. Their ultimate goal was singular: to find a way to eliminate the other and claim sole dominion over reality.
A subtle ripple in the fabric of the chamber announced the arrival of a lesser being. One of the Demon Lord's personal guards, a creature of nightmare and shadow, materialized near the entrance.
"Sir," the guard's voice was a low growl, "the 1st General wishes to see you."
"Let him in," the Demon Lord commanded, his voice a low rumble that seemed to emanate from the very shadows of the room.
The 1st General of the Demon Army, a towering figure clad in spiked, blood-red armor that seemed to writhe with captured souls, strode into the room. He moved with a brutal confidence, but upon seeing the two beings at the table, he immediately fell to one knee, bowing his head so low his horned helmet nearly touched the shimmering floor. His respect was born of loyalty,
He began to speak, his voice a strained rasp, never daring to lift his gaze. "Sirs," he began, addressing both impossibly powerful beings. "I bring grave news. General Valerius, the 6th Demon General, has been reported dead. He was killed in his own castle... fighting the mortal, Liam."
The General's fists clenched, the souls in his armor screaming in unison. "My Lords, grant me permission! Let me go and kill this 'Liam' myself! I will rip his eyes from their sockets and feed them to him before I extinguish his pathetic life!"
A heavy silence descended. The God of Gods remained motionless, a silent, radiant statue. It was the Demon Lord who finally spoke, his tone dripping with cold amusement.
"No."
The word was absolute, cutting through the 1st General's bloodlust like a shard of ice.
The Demon Lord leaned forward, the darkness around him deepening. "You will do nothing. Liam is not some rabid animal to be put down. He will come to us, in time. Do not be so alarmed by a mortal who has managed to win a single, insignificant victory." He gestured dismissively. "General Valerius's pride killed him. He possessed more than enough power to obliterate the boy, but he chose to fight 'respectfully.' A warrior's pride," the Demon Lord chuckled, a dry, grating sound, "is an almost amusing flaw. Valerius was killed for it. If he allowed himself to be defeated, then he never deserved to be a General in the first place."
The 1st General remained bowed, his rage now mingling with confusion. He could not comprehend their lack of concern.
He did not see the silent understanding that passed between the God and the Demon Lord. They both saw Liam not as a threat, but as the ultimate, unpredictable piece in their game. He was the weapon one could use to finally eliminate the other. If Liam, in his chaotic ascent, managed to kill the God of Gods, the Demon Lord would be there to strike him down and become the sole power. If Liam's path led him to slay the Demon Lord, the God would be there to erase the mortal and claim his own solitary victory.
They would not kill Liam now. His part in their divine, deadly game had only just begun.
Meanwhile, in Oakhaven, it was a beautiful day.
Princess Lyra stood on the balcony of her room, the warm sun glowing on her face as she smiled, watching the scene below. In a corner of the royal garden, the baby dragon, already much larger and bolder, was playing a spirited game of hide-and-seek with a few on-duty guards, who were laughing as the little creature failed to conceal his shimmering tail behind a rose bush.
A familiar shimmer of shadow and light coalesced on the lawn below. From it, Liam stepped forth. He wore a new, mythically imposing general's outfit—dark, regal armor identical to what Valerius had worn, but perfectly fitted to his form, its polished obsidian plates seeming to drink the sunlight.
Princess Lyra's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes lit up, and without a second thought, she turned and ran from the balcony, through the halls, and burst out into the garden.
"Liam!"
He turned just in time to catch her as she jumped into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck in a fierce, joyful hug. He held her close, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips.
After a moment, she pulled back, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes searching his. "You're back," she whispered, her voice filled with relief.
"I promised I would be," he said softly.
His expression then settled into a more serious one. He looked into her eyes, his own gaze intense. "Where are you in your research? Do you find anything?"
Lyra nodded, her expression turning serious as well, matching his. Her voice was barely a whisper. "I have. I don't know if this will help you or scare you... I'm scared for you."