The sun rose blood-red over Emberhold Fortress, bleeding light across the plains like the wound of dawn itself. The air trembled beneath the weight of iron and fear.
Beneath the towering banners of the Drakthar Dominion, an army the size of nations gathered — an ocean of steel and flame. Their armor gleamed like molten silver, their eyes glowed faintly from the runes carved into their skin, and their spears formed a black forest of death.
Drums thundered from the watchtowers. From archers cloaked in red flame to warlocks muttering in tongues that turned the air sour, every man stood poised to devour the world.
And above them, on the obsidian dais, stood King Kaelen Veynar.
His armor was dragonsteel and gold, forged from the bones of the last wyrm slain by his ancestors. The burning crown sigil blazed on his chestplate, casting his face in shifting crimson hues. His hair — silver-white — whipped in the wind as he raised his sword toward the rising sun.
"Men of Drakthar!" His voice boomed, sharp as steel striking an anvil.
"For years we have endured the decay of Osric's rule — a kingdom of poets and priests! But today, we reclaim the fire the gods stole from us!"
The army roared, their voices shaking the sky.
Kaelen grinned, eyes wild with hunger. "This day, we march not for land, nor gold — but for Dominion. For Immortality. Let the gods bear witness to the birth of a new age!"
The great black gates of Emberhold swung open, and with a sound like the earth itself sighing, the army began to move — a river of death flowing toward Osric.
---
Meanwhile, in Osric Court…
Lucifer sat upon his golden throne, fingers resting against his jaw as Morvain entered, his armor dusted with ash.
"My Lord…" Morvain's voice cracked slightly. "The Dominion has moved. Kaelen's banners stretch across the eastern plain. He means to take Osric by dawn."
Lucifer's crimson eyes lifted, calm and unreadable. "At last."
He rose, his cloak whispering against the marble floor. The torches along the throne hall flickered violently as if recognizing their master's temper. Ministers bowed low, faces pale.
"Let him come," Lucifer said softly. "The boy seeks to touch the heavens — he will learn what burns there."
He turned to Morvain. "Summon the generals. Seal the outer rings. And tell the priests to prepare the sanctum."
Morvain hesitated. "You intend to fight yourself?"
Lucifer's smirk returned, sharp as a blade. "I intend to remind the world who I am."
---
Days Later
The plains before Osric Fortress were drenched in stormlight — dark clouds coiling above like angry spirits. Across the barren field, the army of Drakthar waited, endless and unyielding.
Kaelen sat astride his black steed, eyes fixed on the silent fortress. His heart pounded, not with fear — but anticipation.
At last, the ancient gates creaked open.
From the darkness, a single figure stepped forward.
Lucifer.
His cloak trailed the earth like a shadow given form. His face was half-hidden beneath the hood, but his presence filled the field — heavy, electric, and cold. The soldiers murmured, their courage trembling.
Kaelen raised his sword. "Where is your army, Lucifer? Or do you think to fight a kingdom alone?"
Lucifer's chuckle was soft but sharp, slicing through the air. "You mistake me for a king who needs soldiers."
He raised one hand, and the clouds rippled as if the sky itself recoiled. "I am an army."
---
Kaelen's jaw clenched. "Valen," he said, without turning. "Prove that wrong."
From among the shadows, Valen the Whisperblade emerged — Kaelen's silent assassin, born of curse and shadow. His eyes glowed faintly blue, his body dissolving in mist as he drew twin daggers.
Lucifer tilted his head, amused. "Ah. A whisper from the dark."
Then the air moved.
Valen was already behind him — his dagger aimed for Lucifer's spine. The strike should have been perfect. But it hit air.
Lucifer's figure flickered, like smoke.
A voice whispered behind Valen's ear. "Too slow."
He turned — and the next instant, his dagger shattered in Lucifer's grasp. Black flame curled around Lucifer's fingers, hungry and alive.
Valen vanished again, splitting into five mirror images that darted in every direction — a dance of shadow and death. But Lucifer's eyes glowed like dying stars. He moved through them like a storm — each clone unraveling under his touch, each movement too fast, too quiet.
The last Valen appeared above him, daggers descending in an X-shaped strike.
Lucifer raised his palm.
The air froze. Shadows screamed. Valen's blades halted inches from Lucifer's neck — suspended midair by sheer force.
Lucifer's voice dropped to a whisper. "You wield darkness, yet you do not understand it."
The shadows twisted violently, dragging Valen to his knees. His scream was muffled as his own shadow tore away from him — absorbed into Lucifer's hand. The light dimmed; the earth cracked.
Then silence.
All that remained was a faintly glowing crystal core, pulsing weakly at Lucifer's feet.
He bent down, picking it up between two fingers. "Power wasted," he murmured, "on the fearful."
As the core dissolved into his hand, his aura expanded — dark lightning arcing across the plain. The soldiers fell back instinctively, trembling under the pressure.
Kaelen's eyes widened. For the first time, he felt fear.
Lucifer looked up, eyes burning red. "You wanted dominion?" His voice carried across the valley. "Then kneel before it."
Kaelen gritted his teeth. "Retreat!" he shouted. "Fall back!"
The great army — the pride of Drakthar — broke. Their formation scattered like ash in the wind, leaving their king staring at the lone figure in the storm.
Lucifer stood unmoving as the army retreated, the wind howling around him. His cloak flared, his silhouette framed by lightning.
He smiled faintly.
"The game has begun."