The figure that crawled out of the chasm towered, nearly twice Lyna's height. Its skin was as black as a starless night, reflecting the faint flickering torchlight nearby. Hardened muscles seemed to shift like strands of steel as it fully emerged from the darkness. Two sharp, curved horns grew from its brow, pointing upwards like the jagged branches of a dead tree. Its eyes glowed with an unflickering crimson ember, a sea of fiery color that stared at Lyna with cold curiosity.
Vast wings, like those of an ancient bat, were folded on its back, appearing capable of engulfing the entire small area in shadow. Its long, barbed tail twitched behind it like a restless serpent. An oppressive aura of power emanated from it, making Lyna feel small and helpless despite her tightly gripped sword.
The winged demons that had previously threatened now cowered in fear on the ground, not daring to look at the creature more terrifying than themselves.
"What... what are you?" Lyna asked, her voice trembling slightly despite her attempt to remain calm. The two infants behind the tree seemed undisturbed, as if sensing that this greater threat was not directed at them.
The creature tilted its head, its burning red gaze unwavering. "A creature? An interesting term from a mortal race with its fleeting existence. I have borne many names in ages long past. Some called me Xarthos, others the Unshackler, and before the seals bound me, some trembled to call me the Scourge of the Depths." Its voice was deep and resonant, as if originating from the bowels of the earth itself, carrying the echo of ancient times.
Xarthos extended a large, clawed hand towards Lyna. "You, human. Your blood has freed me from ten thousand years of confinement. The power of the seals was tied to purity and sacrifice. Ironic, is it not? A desperate act to protect life has unleashed death."
Lyna stared warily at the hand, her sword lifting a fraction higher. "I know nothing of your seals or confinement. I only wish to protect these two infants."
A low, raspy laugh escaped Xarthos's throat, carrying a chilling note of surprise. "Protect? From them?" He glanced disdainfully at the demons still cowering. "They are mere bothersome flies. I could erase their existence with a blink."
He turned his gaze back to Lyna, his piercing red eyes fixed on her. "However, you are different. There is a burning resolve within you, a foolish yet admirable courage. And your blood... yes, your blood has an interesting resonance. Because you have been the catalyst for my freedom, I shall honor my word. One request. What is your desire, human?"
"Consider your request carefully, for this great Xarthos has never granted anyone a request. Be proud, weakling human, hmm... Who are you?" The demons, once arrogant, now trembled in fear at merely the presence of Xarthos.
"We are servants of the demon king..." Before they could finish speaking, Xarthos had already killed them. "Tch... I despise insects."
Lyna paused for a moment, her mind racing wildly for an opening in this impossible situation. Asking for the safety of all three of them was too simple, too predictable. This creature surely expected something more significant. Her eyes fell upon the two infants hiding behind the tree. The red-eyed boy stared blankly at Xarthos, without the slightest hint of fear, as if there was an invisible pull between them. A crazy and highly risky idea formed in Lyna's mind, a gamble of everything.
"I..." Lyna took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady despite her pounding heart. "I want you... to enter him." She pointed to the red-eyed boy. "Not to harm him, but to... become his absolute protector. You said the seals were tied to purity and sacrifice. This child... he inherits the royal lineage, pure blood. If your entire essence resides within him, no demon, no evil power will dare touch him. You will become his living shield, an invincible power from within. Consider it... a new vessel for you. You are free from your confinement, and in return, you have a strong and eternal connection to this world through a pure bloodline."
Xarthos froze, his crimson gaze fixed on the infant boy. A chilling silence enveloped the area, broken only by the faint crackling of the forest fire. The demons on the ground shrank back in terror, not daring to move an inch.
"My entire... being?" Xarthos asked slowly, his voice trembling with clear surprise. "You ask an ancient being such as myself to... reincarnate within this newborn mortal body? Why would I do something so foolish?"
Lyna continued, trying to capitalize on the creature's desire for freedom and offering a unique perspective. "You said you have been confined for ten thousand years. Now you are free, but you are still bound by your agreement with me. If you reside within him, you will have true freedom. You will become a part of this world, connected to a lineage with great potential. And again," Lyna added with an urgent tone, "you felt a resonance in my blood. This royal blood might be the perfect vessel, allowing you to interact with this world in ways you cannot now. You will no longer be bound to that chasm."
Xarthos was silent for a longer time this time, his red gaze continuing to observe the infant boy with burning intensity. He seemed to wrestle with the idea Lyna proposed, a concept that seemed absurd yet offered a freedom he had not known for millennia.
"A new vessel..." Xarthos murmured, his voice low and raspy, as if savoring the words. "True freedom... connected to this world..." He looked back at Lyna, and this time there was a dangerous glint of interest in his red eyes.
"You are truly mad, human. Asking a being like me to surrender my newfound freedom into the body of a mortal infant. But... there is a compelling logic in your madness. Power reborn... might indeed hold unforeseen potential."
Xarthos extended his hand again, this time moving slowly and cautiously towards the infant boy. An intense red light emanated from his palm, growing brighter as it drew closer. Lyna held her breath, her heart pounding. This was her last gamble.
"Very well, human," Xarthos said, his voice echoing once more, but with a heavier and more considered tone. "I will grant your mad request. I will reside within the body of your descendant. It shall be the absolute protection you spoke of. But listen to me carefully. Debts must be paid. Freedom has a very steep price, and now... you have raised the stakes." The red light from his hand enveloped the infant boy's entire body. For a moment, the baby's body glowed brightly with the same red light, and strange patterns seemed to pulse on his skin before vanishing.
Xarthos had entered the infant's body. He could leave, but due to his immense pride, he decided to wait for the child to grow and then seize the body for himself.
"Tch... This mortal body is so fragile. Are humans this weak now? They shame their predecessors." Xarthos said, recalling the past where he fought human heroes who eventually managed to seal him away.
[...]
Well, putting Xarthos into the baby's body was inspired by Kurama in Naruto... Hehe
Inspired, okay, not copying, let's get back to the story.
some time ago you were in the kingdom of aethelgard...
Dust and remnants of dark energy still swirled above the ruins of Aethelgard when the thunder of thousands of hooves finally ceased at the shattered gates. At the very front, a man in steel-colored war robes that shimmered faintly with ancient magical energy and a hardened jaw stared at the scene before him. This was King Theron, Artha's father, and behind him were arrayed the knights and mages of the Empire who had arrived too late, their magical auras pulsing in the air.
The sight that greeted them was a nightmare come true, worsened by the lingering dark magic that scorched the land. Corpses lay scattered everywhere, humans and demons mixed in pools of blackened blood and viscous, purplish fluid that reeked of decay. Tattered remnants of Aethelgard's banners flapped in the wind that carried the stench of death and a strange ozone. Theron clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His usually calm blue eyes now blazed, searching among the dead, a small hope still flickering in his wounded heart, strengthened by the touch of protective magic that always accompanied him. His breath hitched at the sight of the devastation around him.
Then, amidst the smoking ruins of the palace, he saw him. Artha's figure lay motionless, surrounded by the piled bodies of his loyal knights and soldiers, some of whom still emanated faint remnants of their battle magic. Gaping wounds marred his son's body, yet a peaceful resignation was etched on his pale face, as if his spirit had merged with the surrounding flow of mana. A cold fury mixed with magical grief gripped Theron's heart, replacing the numbing sorrow. A wave of suffocating magical grief crashed over him.
"Artha..." he whispered softly, his voice choked by the magical resonance vibrating in the air. He dismounted his horse with a slow yet sorrowful movement, his protective aura pulsing stronger as he approached his son's body. The knights and mages of the Empire behind him fell silent, feeling the same grief and anger, their mana currents surging in response. Some among them lowered their heads, feeling deep sorrow for their prince.
Suddenly, a horrifying roar of victory that resonated with dark magic shattered the silence. From behind the smoking ruins that shimmered with the remnants of demonic energy, a large demon with dark scaly skin that exuded a corrosive aura and spear-high horns that pulsed with dark energy emerged, laughing uproariously. In its large, clawed hand, it held Artha's sword, stained with blood and the fading light of holy magic.
"Behold, weak humans! Your king has fallen! Even his magical power could not save him! Your kingdom has become ash!" the demon bellowed in a thunderous voice filled with dark magic and triumph. "You are too late! Your shining hope has been extinguished!"
Theron's anger exploded, unleashing a powerful wave of magical energy around him, causing the ground to tremble. Without uttering a word, he drew his sword from its scabbard. A blinding silver light radiated from its blade, forged with ancient holy magic. His eyes met the demon's glowing red eyes that shimmered with dark magic, and within them was only a burning resolve for vengeance with magic and steel. Every muscle in Theron's body tensed with rage.
"Imperial forces!" Theron roared, his voice filled with burning magical fury. "With magic and sword, avenge my son! Avenge mana-filled Aethelgard!"
Roars of magical anger and sorrow echoed from the knights and mages of the Empire. They surged forward, swords drawn that emanated protective auras and spells ready to be cast, their rage becoming an unstoppable magical and physical force. A fierce battle marked by flashes of magic and the clash of metal erupted once more upon the ruins of Aethelgard.
Theron moved like a war god possessed by magical fury. Each swing of his blessed sword tore through the dark energy and flesh of the demons, leaving trails of burning holy light. The mages behind him unleashed destructive spells, orbs of pure energy and lances of light slamming into the demon hordes. He sought the demon who had killed his son, sensing the lingering dark energy around the creature, and when his eyes met those of the large-bodied demon, there was no doubt in his mind. His focus narrowed to a single purpose: revenge.
The battle between Theron and the demon general was a devastating clash of magic and physical power, dark energy colliding with holy light. The demon general was strong and brutal, its dark magic corrosive and deadly, but Theron's rage and profound sense of loss granted him magical and physical strength beyond his limits. After a fierce and bloody fight marked by small magical explosions, Theron's radiant sword pierced the demon's heart, shattering its core of dark energy. The demon's final roar, filled with dying dark magic, ceased, and its body collapsed to the ground, its corrosive aura fading. Theron's breath came in ragged gasps, but his eyes still burned.
Seeing their leader fall and sensing the overwhelming wave of holy magic flooding the battlefield, the morale of the demon forces began to crumble. The pressure from the newly arrived and magically enraged Imperial forces was too much for them to withstand.
"Retreat! Retreat!" another demon general commanded in a panicked voice mixed with magical fear, realizing that the battle had turned due to the powerful holy magic. "We must return to the front lines before this holy power destroys us all!"
The demon forces began a chaotic retreat, leaving behind the charred corpses of their comrades, burned by holy magic. Theron stood amidst the battlefield stained with demonic blood and mixed magical energies, his breath heaving, his sword still dripping with demon blood and emitting a faint holy light. Victory had been achieved, but it tasted bitter and hollow, tainted by the stench of dark magic and profound loss. His son was gone, and the entire kingdom once filled with mana lay in ruins. He felt a cold emptiness in his chest.
He stared at the cloudy gray sky tinged with remnants of dark energy, tears finally streaming down his hardened cheeks, shimmering with a hint of leaking mana. "Artha... I will avenge your death with magic and steel. I will make them pay for all of this with every drop of their mana."
After the fierce battle that soaked the ruins of Aethelgard with demon blood and the remnants of dark energy, King Theron ordered his forces to secure the area. However, victory felt cold and empty on his lips. His eyes continued to search, no longer for the figure of his deceased son, but for signs of other life that might have survived this catastrophe. A faint glimmer of hope began to grow amidst his despair.
Accompanied by a few trusted knights and mages, Theron traversed the shattered corridors of the palace. Behind collapsed walls and beneath piles of stone, they found several groups of commoners hiding, terrified but alive. Tears of relief and gratitude greeted their arrival, but Theron knew that loss was still loss. Each frightened face he saw further strengthened his resolve.
In one of the relatively intact underground chambers, they found a group of women and children huddled together in fear. Among them lay a female warrior with a horrific wound in her abdomen, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood soaked the ground around her, and her face was deathly pale. Theron knelt beside her, a faint healing aura emanating from his hands.
"What happened here?" Theron asked in a soft yet authoritative voice, a look of genuine concern on his face.
The female warrior opened her eyes slowly, recognizing the steel war robes and the king's magical aura. A flicker of hope appeared in her fading eyes. "King... Your Majesty..." her voice was barely audible.
"Rest easy, warrior. We are here to help. Who is responsible for this?"
With great effort, the warrior tried to speak. "The... demons... they... stormed... the sanctuary..."
"Were there any survivors? Was anyone taken away?" Theron pressed, his heart sinking at the thought of the other women and children's fate.
The warrior nodded weakly. "Yes... there was... a woman... Lyna... she... took... the two infants..."
"Two infants?" Theron frowned, feeling a spark of hope he hadn't realized he possessed. "Whose infants?"
"One... the son... of King Artha... the other... his daughter..." The warrior coughed, pain evident on her face. "Lyna... she... a fighter... she... fled..."
"Where to?" Theron asked urgently, the hope in his chest growing stronger.
The warrior directed her increasingly blurred gaze eastward. "The forest... she went... towards the forest... to... keep them safe..." Her breath grew weaker. "Protect... them... Your Majesty..."
Before Theron could answer, the warrior's breath ceased. Her eyes closed tightly, leaving Theron with vital information but also a fresh wave of grief.
Theron stood, his jaw hardening. Lyna. A warrior woman carrying the last hope of his kingdom into the dangerous forest. A new mission was now etched in his mind, replacing the deep anger and sorrow. He had to find Lyna and the two infants. The hope of Aethelgard might not be entirely extinguished.
"Prepare the troops," Theron commanded his knights and mages. "We are heading into the forest. We have hope to find." His magical aura pulsed with newfound determination, an unspoken promise to his son and the shattered kingdom. The search had begun.
>
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Emperor Theron possessed a commanding and dignified presence, with a towering height and broad shoulders. His hair was jet black, often impeccably styled, and his eyes were a sharp, dark brown, radiating intelligence and decisiveness. His face featured strong lines, with a prominent nose and a firm chin, indicative of a powerful and seasoned leader.