The battlefield stank of iron and smoke. Corpses littered the muddy ground, broken banners swaying like ghosts in the wind.
Kael Arden dragged his sword free from another mercenary's chest, his breathing ragged. His lean frame was covered in blood, half of it not his own. His golden eyes burned with stubborn fire, refusing to dim even as exhaustion clawed at him.
At the center of the carnage, the Warlord of Veynar loomed, a mountain of a man, veins pulsing black with the corruption of the fragment lodged deep in his chest.
His eyes were madness itself.
Each swing of his cleaver shattered stone, tore men apart like paper.
"Berserker…" Kael muttered, tightening his grip.
This wasn't his war. He had been hired, like always, just another blade for coin. But when the warlord's rampage had turned on his own men, Kael found himself alone, the last thing standing between the monster and the fleeing villagers.
The ground trembled as the warlord bellowed and charged. Kael raised his blade, teeth gritted. Steel met steel with a sound like thunder. His arms nearly snapped from the force.
"If I falter even once... it's over."
The warlord swung again. Kael dodged, slashing across the man's chest, only for black fire to hiss from the wound, knitting it shut. The fragment's power was keeping him alive, feeding his rage.
Kael staggered back, lungs burning. He had nothing left. No plan. No prayer. Just one final strike.
"COME THEN!" he roared, eyes gleaming as he surged forward.
The cleaver descended. Kael ducked low, thrusting his blade upward with every last shred of strength, driving it straight into the warlord's heart.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent.
Then...
The warlord exploded in black fire.
Kael was thrown to the ground, choking as the flames coiled around him. The warlord's corpse crumbled to ash, but the fragment, an obsidian shard, pulsing like a beating heart, hovered in the air.
It sank into Kael's chest before he could scream.
Darkness swallowed him.
Kael stood in a vast black plain, shadows stretching forever. Chains rattled. A figure emerged: tall, cloaked in tattered smoke, eyes like cold stars.
"...So. The warlord is no more."
The voice was calm, inevitable, like stone grinding in the earth.
Kael gritted his teeth.
"Who... what the hell are you?"
The figure's lips curved faintly.
"Hades. Lord of the Dead. And now, you are mine."
Kael staggered back, fists clenched.
"Not a chance. I don't belong to anyone."
A low chuckle echoed through the void.
"You already rely on me. You felt it, the fire, the strength. You cannot win without me. Every battle will bring you closer to surrender."
The darkness pressed in, suffocating. Kael's chest burned where the fragment pulsed, black fire licking at his veins.
He dropped to one knee, sweat dripping.
"He's right. That power... it's too strong..."
But then, he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to rise.
"No. I'll use this power... but I'll never bow to you. You'll see, I'll carve my own path, even if it kills me."
Hades' cold eyes lingered, unreadable.
"...Very well. Then let us see how long your defiance lasts."
The darkness shattered.
Kael jolted awake on the battlefield, golden eyes blazing with streaks of black flame. The warlord was gone. The world was silent.
And in the distance, church bells were ringing.
Hunters were already coming.