[This is the story of how a knight and the Dark Lord began an adventure into the unknown...]
Long ago, in the distant lands of Nocturne, a fierce war raged between the forces of humans — led by the legion of knights and priests of the church — and the demonic armies commanded by their feared leader, the Dark Lord. After hundreds of years of ceaseless battle and generations of bloodshed, it seemed the war was finally nearing its end.
In the farthest and most desolate corner of the kingdom of Nocturne, a massive castle loomed in the distance. The fog was so thick that it was nearly impossible to distinguish the enormous, seemingly endless stone steps from the withered forest surrounding them.
Metallic footsteps echoed through the mist — calm, yet imposing — as they approached the castle gates. The doors creaked open slowly, releasing from within a chilling and malevolent aura.
—At last, the moment I've waited for all these years has come —said a knight clad in heavy armor that concealed his face completely.
Before him, a line of lizardmen knelt obediently upon the carpeted hall, parting to reveal a shadowed figure seated upon a throne. With long, disheveled black hair, dull eyes, and a penetrating gaze, the figure's macabre grin twisted across his face.
—Heh... So you came after all.
The knight raised his greatsword, making the air around him tremble, and pointed it firmly toward the figure. White and black auras clashed, scattering through the hall like a storm of restrained energy.
—Your end has come sooner than you expected... Dark Lord.
The dark silhouette rose from his throne with a smirk.
—Ha! Don't make me laugh, knight —he said, as the air turned crimson and enormous runes flared to life from the ground, vibrating with ancient power—. Prepare to die!
The runes expanded, glowing brighter and brighter, as if they were about to detonate. The knight took a step back, sword in hand.
—You're a fool if you think you can kill me that easily... —He stood tall, eyes unwavering—. But before we begin, I have a question.
The Dark Lord scoffed arrogantly.
—Heh, go ahead. You won't live long enough to tell anyone anyway.
—Since I arrived here, there's something that's been bothering me —said the knight, pointing at him—. I want you to tell me exactly... WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING!?
A chilling silence filled the hall as the Dark Lord froze in confusion.
—Huh? What are you talking about? These are normal clothes.
The Dark Lord sat cross-legged on his throne, wearing a giant straw hat, a white tank top, short black shorts, flip-flops, and holding a cup with some writing on it and a straw.
—I don't want to be the one to say it, but... honestly, you look incredibly ridiculous in that —said the knight.
The Dark Lord fell silent, took a sip from his cup through the straw, and replied with total calm:
—Ridiculous your grandma!
—He's absolutely right! Hammer smash! —shouted one of the lizardmen, while murmurs spread among the ranks—: "Has he even seen himself?", "The Lord's aesthetic is divine", "He's just jealous", "What kind of example is this for the children?"
The Dark Lord raised his finger, and the air began to swirl with energy as the runes spun faster.
—Knight, I'll send you to rest in a very dark place!
The knight made a disgusted sound, lifting his head. Even through the armor, one could sense his expression of absolute revulsion. He gagged slightly —glup— and said, holding up a hand as if to stop him:
—Sorry, I'm not into that kind of stuff.
—Wait, what the hell are you imagining, you idiot!? —the Dark Lord snapped, grimacing—. Whatever! It's time for you to vanish from this world!
—I summon you... interdimensional void! —The Dark Lord began chanting his spell. Energy surged around him, and the world itself seemed to tremble.
The knight stood firm, bracing himself for his apparent doom. Suddenly, he frowned and murmured:
—Wait... Joaquín?
The Dark Lord froze.
—What did you just say?
The knight chuckled softly.
—Joaquín. I saw it written on the mug sitting on your throne's armrest. Is that your name?
The Dark Lord turned slowly to look at a mug that read "Property of Joaquín with an N" and began to stiffen. Then he turned toward his army and shouted:
—WHICH ONE OF YOU BRAINLESS IDIOTS WROTE THAT ON MY CUP!?
The lizardmen began looking around at each other, shrugging and scratching their heads. Then one hand timidly rose from among them.
—Oh right, that was me.
—OF COURSE IT WAS YOU, JOAQUIM! —roared Joaquín, the Dark Lord, facepalming.
—I'm sorry, my Lord! It's just that we kept mixing up the cups, so I wanted to label yours to avoid confusion —said Joaquim nervously, gesturing with his hands.
—Pft —snorted the knight.
—WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT, DAMN YOU!? —shouted Joaquín, a vein popping on his forehead.
—Pft I'm not laughing... Joaquín.
—S-shut up! —Joaquín snapped, losing focus on his spell. The runes began to flicker erratically, and the darkness around them started turning pink.
A flash of light engulfed them both.
Plop
[And so, what was meant to be their final battle... became the beginning of their fall into the unknown.]
To be continued in Chapter 1...