The duel with Godfrey had left Kael shattered, barely clinging to life, waiting for the inevitable embrace of death.
But he resisted.
His mind, fogged with pain and blood loss, whispered truths he could not deny:
"Blood fills my mouth. Rust. Chains. The stones beneath me are cold, but colder still are the eyes of the family who called me son, yet fed me scraps like a kennel dog.
So this is it. This is what the heavens had planned. Born with a noble name, but no talent. Born with a title, but no freedom. Born to be their hound….
I gave everything. I Swallowed humiliation, wore their leash, hunted their enemies. I trained until my bones cracked, my veins burned, my lungs begged for air and still the aura would not come. Still the magic refused me. They called me weak. They called me useless.
And the heavens? They watched. They let me crawl, let me hope. They gave me faith just to rip it away. Do you laugh up there? Do you take pleasure in this?
I could have been a son. I could have been a brother. Instead, I was a weapon—a dull one at that. Never their heir. Never their equal. Always the outcast. Always the stray.
But I'll claw my way back, and I'll burn every chain, every throne, every smiling god who thought this was justice."
Kael decided to grasp the one option left a forbidden, taboo ritual whispered in the darkest corners of the continent: Diablo torment.
The name alone made mortals tremble. Outlawed, erased from all records, it summoned forces beyond reckoning -'diablo' the god who was chased out of heaven,the King of Hell, scheming, ancient, malevolent.
Even dark mages were scared to invoke his name, fearing the price he demands
But death was waiting to claim him. The empire had already taken his home. His blood had already been spilled. What did he have left to fear?
Pain lanced through shattered ribs and raw muscles as he crawled to the courtyard's center. With trembling fingers, he traced blood along the fractured stones, forming the first line of a pentagon. The ritual demanded sacrifice, focus, and blood—the summoner's blood willingly given.
Each stroke of the pentagon burned through his veins. Pain flared in his chest, lanced into his skull, but he continued, gritting his teeth, tracing each line with painstaking precision.
The courtyard seemed to hold its breath. Smoke curled unnaturally, bending toward him, almost alive. Shadows lengthened, stretching across the ground, crawling like predators.
"I curse you all," he whispered through cracked lips. "I curse my brother, my father, the empire… my fate! I will not die discarded!"
Power lanced through the pentagon sharp, burning. kael gasped, staggering as pain intensified, every fiber of his being screaming.
And then a presence was felt.
Not human. Not mortal. Eyes of molten shadow pierced him beyond the veil, assessing his will.
"So, a discarded pup thinks it can summon me. Bold. Foolish", the voice rumbled in kael's mind.
Kael shivered, yet defiance blazed." I am not afraid. i am already facing death, i'll pay any price you desire"
The voice laughed. "Bold. Insolent. Interesting. Perhaps there is… you will be a fun play thing."
just as kael completed the final line of the pentagon. Shadows coalesced, forming shapes that should not exist: serpentine, clawed, faceless eyes blinking in the corners of reality. Fire leapt higher, drawn to the ritual's cursed power.
Pain, fire, and shadow pressed him to the brink of madness. Slowly, the presence resolved into something tangible the King of Hell. Enormous, jagged, eyes burning with molten cunning.
You dare summon me, child of tainted blood?
Kael fell to his knees, trembling but unbowed. "I dare".
Interesting… courage, desperation…, the King intoned. fine... "come to my palace lets see if you are worthy of serving me.. "commanded the king
suddenly the kael's entire body was engulfed by shadows.
soon he felt like he was being transported.. and as he opened his eyes....