> In a world painted with light and joy, despair always lingers in the shadows.
From that despair, kings of evil are born.
Arkin walks a tragic road where no hand reaches for him — only darkness welcomes his soul.
As he surrenders to rage and grief, one question remains:
Will he rise as a lord of evil… or be devoured by the abyss within?
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Author's Note:
Hey everyone! It's your boy Arkin, a dark-fantasy lover writing from the heart. ❤️
This is my original story — if something feels similar elsewhere, let me know!
I hope you enjoy this journey through light and despair. 🌙
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Chapter 1: Arkin's Path
The sun rose over the majestic city of Elandor, casting golden light across its marble walls and glittering spires. The streets pulsed with life—merchants shouting their offers, children darting between stalls with laughter trailing behind them, and the warm scent of freshly baked bread drifting from busy taverns.
The nobles lounged on their balconies, sipping wine and basking in comfort. Music and chatter filled the air—after all, Elandor was a city blessed by Syrial, Goddess of Blessings.
But even the brightest light casts shadows.
Beyond Elandor's shining walls stretched lands untouched by divine grace—lands where hunger prowled, monsters ruled, and misery was the only companion.
To protect the realm, Syrial's chosen heroes trained in the Grand Academy, a towering fortress of magic and steel where gifted youths forged their dreams into blades of light. Within its walls, students imagined glory—imagined becoming saviors of the weak.
Yet far to the north, beyond the reach of Elandor's radiance, lay a forgotten village:
Nopheria.
A place where joy had long withered.
Houses sagged beneath broken roofs.
Children cried from hunger.
And hopelessness lingered in every breath.
At the very edge of this crumbling village stood a small hut—home to a boy named Arkin.
He was no hero.
No prodigy.
Just a boy doing everything he could to keep his family alive after his father's death.
His mother's cough echoed through the nights.
His little sister clung to his sleeve for comfort.
And Arkin's heart carried the weight of a family barely surviving.
Each morning, he ventured into the woods with a dull, chipped blade—his only weapon. He hunted rabbits, gathered herbs, and sold whatever he could in nearby towns, earning just enough to buy stale bread that never filled their stomachs.
Still, he refused to break.
If no hero will save us, he thought, then I'll become one myself.
But the world is cruel to those who dream.
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One night, thunder ripped through the sky. Rain poured for three days straight, flooding the dirt paths and drowning the weak crops. Their food vanished, and his sister's fever burned hotter with each passing hour.
Arkin couldn't wait any longer.
Gripping his dull blade, he stepped into the storm. Mud swallowed his boots as he pushed through the forest. Then—through the roar of the rain—he heard it.
A low growl.
Two red eyes gleaming in the darkness.
A beast—massive, snarling, its fangs sharp as daggers.
Arkin froze.
His hands shook.
His legs locked in place.
No… not now. Please…
The creature lunged.
Arkin screamed and swung with everything he had. Whether by miracle or desperation, his blade struck true. The beast crashed to the ground, howling in pain before falling silent forever.
Rain mixed with blood, splattering across his face. Arkin dropped the blade and collapsed, trembling.
When the villagers found him, he was barely conscious, covered in crimson. They carried him home, praising him as a hero. That night, they roasted the beast's meat and feasted for the first time in months. Laughter echoed beneath leaking roofs.
His mother hugged him, crying softly.
"You did well, my son…"
Arkin smiled faintly.
Maybe… maybe things would finally change.
But fate has a way of tearing hope apart.
---
In the middle of the night, shadows crept through the rain.
CRACKLE—FWOOOOOM!
Flames erupted.
Screams followed.
Bandits.
They showed no mercy—burning homes, stealing whatever they wanted, slaughtering anyone who begged or ran.
Arkin woke to his sister's terrified scream.
He rushed outside only to see his village consumed by fire. A sword flashed in the darkness.
Pain exploded in his chest.
He collapsed, choking on blood as the bandits laughed.
And far in their shining towers, the nobles of Elandor feasted—completely unaware that another nameless village had turned to ash.
Hours later, Arkin awoke among the ruins. Smoke suffocated the air. Bodies lay in the mud.
With shaking legs, he stumbled forward—until he saw them.
His mother.
His sister.
Lying lifeless.
His world shattered.
A scream tore from his throat—a raw, broken sound that echoed through the dying flames. He held their bodies, sobbing until his voice failed him.
By dawn, he buried them with trembling hands and whispered apologies into the dirt.
For days he wandered the ruins like a ghost.
No tears left.
No strength.
Only a hollow, empty stare.
---
Meanwhile, life thrived within Elandor's radiant walls.
Erin, blessed by Syrial herself, trained diligently in the Academy. His swordsmanship was sharp, his magic bright, his heart pure.
"One day, I'll defeat the Demon Lord," he promised with a confident smile.
His future glowed with hope.
---
One week later, Erin and his classmates were sent north on their first monster hunt. Laughter filled their carriages—until they arrived at the remains of Nopheria.
Silence swallowed them whole.
Ashes.
Charred beams.
Scattered bones.
"What… happened here?" a student whispered.
A teacher knelt, touching the blood-stained soil.
"A raid," he murmured. "Bandits… or something worse."
They buried the remains of the villagers. Erin stood quietly, guilt pressing against his heart.
How can a world blessed by the goddess allow this…?
As they prepared to leave, Erin felt a strange pull—like something calling to him from beneath the earth. But his teacher's voice snapped him back.
"Come, Erin. We're moving."
He followed, though the unease lingered.
---
Deep beneath them, in a lightless pit, Arkin stirred.
His body weak.
His lips cracked.
But his heart… still beating.
Days had passed.
Hunger became agony.
Agony became numbness.
Yet something inside him refused to die.
"Someone… please…" he whispered into the darkness.
No one responded.
Only the last flicker of hope burned faintly in his chest.
Whether it would become his salvation…
or the birth of something far darker…
remained to be seen.
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Author: "ITS ME ARKIN"
💀 Creation is hard, motivate me with your votes!
Your boy Arkin signing out — let's see who's worthy of the next chapter 🔥
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