Two armies were assembled for a standoff on a vast and barren plain under a dim morning sky. King Raaz of Meer had brought forth a massive army of 100,000 troops. They all were battle-ready veterans from his previous campaigns. In just five years, Raaz had subjugated two kingdoms and now his ambitions were set on the illustrious Ketu Empire. Raaz was a young ruler only in his late twenties but had many accomplishments under his belt.
But as he surveyed the opposing force, he noted a glaring disparity. Only about 30,000 troops had assembled to defend Ketu and all of them had heavy armours and shield as if they were prepared for defensive approach only. To the Meer’s soldier it looked like another easy win, but the actual situation was way different.
For King Raaz, Ketu was the biggest obstacle in his path of conquest. His ambitions had led him to victory after victory, toppling kingdoms that had seemed immovable. But Ketu empire was a formidable foe, they had brought many empires to their knees. Their influence extended far beyond its borders bustling with trade routes that linked distant kingdoms and brought the empire vast riches. Their military strength was said to be the strongest of all. They withstood twenty attacks over the past fifteen years, emerging victorious every time.
Ketu’s forces were believed to be led by a living legend known as Yodh. Humans usually lived for seventy-five to eighty years but Yodh was said to be alive for over two centuries. He was the firstborn son of one of the Ketu’s previous kings, King Kurlan. The origin of his extended life was still mystery—some speculated it was due to ancient magic while others believed he had made a pact with the gods themselves.
His legend had grown over the decades, it was said no opposing army had ever won in the battlefield when Yodh stood as Ketu’s defender. His strength was said to rival that of an entire legion. His mastery of the sword, mace and magic made him an unstoppable force. But there was more to this legend than his strength and skill.
He carried a legacy that transcended bloodlines. His life had been one of sacrifice and unwavering loyalty, dating back to his youth when he had been set to inherit the crown.
Yodh’s mother died shortly after giving birth to him. His father, King Kurlan had groomed him with relentless devotion. Under his father’s guidance Yodh not only honed his prowess in battle, but he also spent time with various scholars from different nations in order to become the prince deserving of the crown. But all of that changed with the arrival of a foreign princess in a royal visit from neighbouring kingdom.
When she arrived in Ketu, her beauty and charm ensnared Kurlan’s heart, He was so awestruck from her beauty and elegance that after spending few days with her he gave her father a marriage proposal. But both the king and the princess declined the proposal citing the inevitable succession issue. If she were to marry Kurlan, any children they bore would be deprived of the throne because of Yodh’s rightful claim. Disheartened by rejection Kurlan grew distant and troubled.
Seeing his father depressed was unbearable for Yodh, he had lot of love and respect for his father and was willing to do anything to help.
When he found the reason for his father’s sorrow, Yodh took matters into his own hands and approached the princess. There princess agreed to marry Kurlan only under two conditions. First, Instead of Yodh her children would be the ones to inherit the throne. The second was about his children, the princess was smart she knew that Yodh was already fifteen and even if he doesn’t ascend to the throne his children might cause succession disputes for her children’s children. So, in second condition she asked that his whole bloodline would lose the right to throne.
He instead pledged three oaths. The first was to renounce his claim to the throne, forever surrendering his birthright. The second was that he would never marry or father children, eliminating any risk of future disputes over succession. The third vow was his promise to protect Ketu and its ruling bloodline for as long as he lived.
The princess was awestruck by his loyalty and selflessness and accepted his proposal. She later became the Queen of Ketu and Yodh honoured his vows without faltering.
Through wars, political turmoil, and countless threats Yodh remained the kingdom’s stalwart protector. Decades passed, and then centuries, yet Yodh did not wither. He defended Ketu from invaders putting down insurrections and repelling foreign armies. That’s how he became a living legend, the ‘immortal guardian of the empire’.
Today in the cold light of dawn, King Raaz knew that the stories of Yodh were not mere legends. Raaz had heard the rumours that Yodh wielded the strength of 100,000 men and that no adversary who crossed swords with him had ever survived. Even after all of this king Raz decided to attack on the empire.
Why was that? Why was he so desperate to attack the empire? Surely it wasn’t a foolish reason like increasing his kingdom’s influence or extend its boundaries. Having friendly a relationship with Ketu empire would’ve been far more beneficial for them than making them enemies. The actual reason was far more foolish, to impress a woman.
Lady Irgis the ruler of Bahleeka was the epitome of beauty and strength. She could captivate the hearts of men with a single glance, she was easily one of the most beautiful women in all of the history. Her youthful charm and stunning features were unparalleled, but it wasn’t just her appearance that drew admirers. She was a warrior without equal, undefeated in both swordplay and magic in the entire kingdom of Bahleeka. Her legend echoed throughout the land and her mere presence was enough to spark dreams of grandeur in those who beheld her.
When King Raaz first laid eyes on her, he was consumed by infatuation. Determined to claim her as his queen, he approached her with a proposal of marriage. But Lady Irgis was no ordinary woman. She had no interest in being wooed by titles or riches alone. Her conditions were clear and uncompromising: she would consider marriage only if Raaz could prove his worth in real war.
His earlier victories against three smaller kingdoms had not been enough to impress her. Driven by desperation and blind to reason, he set his sights on the Ketu Empire. A victory against such a formidable foe would surely be proof enough of his prowess—or so he thought.
The king, his prime minister and his chief warrior along with the other nobles were having a discussion regarding the battle yet to come inside a tent close to the battlefield. All the nobles seemed rather arrogant and ignorant, each one of them was eager to prove their prowess in the battle in hopes of getting rewards for their contribution. One of them even said that he would behead the great Yodh. The prime minister and the chief warrior on the other hand knew the gravity of the situation.
The prime minister was a man of caution and wisdom. He proposed a contingency plan: if the battle turned against them, they should retreat. He reminded the council of an incident from years prior when the empire''s previous king had attempted to misuse Yodh’s power.
The story was a cautionary tale. The former king, seeking to expand the empire’s borders, had led an attack on a neighbouring kingdom, assuming that Yodh who was bound by duty to protect the king, would obliterate their enemies.
But Yodh’s loyalty was nuanced. His magic shielded the king from harm and killed only those who directly threatened him. Yodh refused to attack indiscriminately hence adhering strictly to his role as a protector not a conqueror.
The enemy forces recognised this limitation and shifted their focus to decimating the empire''s army instead of targeting the king. The result was a humiliating retreat for the king and a stark reminder of Yodh’s principles.
Despite the prime minister’s warnings, the nobles erupted into laughter. To them the suggestion of retreat was absurd. They were confident in their numerical advantage. Their army of 100,000 vastly outnumbered the empire’s 30,000 troops. “Even Yodh cannot overcome such odds,” one of them sneered, their arrogance blinding them to the lessons of the past.
On the other side of the battlefield, a man of imposing stature stood atop a chariot pulled by two magnificent white horses. Towering at 6 feet 8 inches, he wore full silver armour that gleamed in the sunlight, its pristine surface marred only by the faint traces of battles past. His physique was monumental—broad-shouldered and muscular. His fists were so large they could crush the heads of most men. He had an aura of a person who had seen countless battles and killed numerous people. Right now, he was staring at the battlefield as if he was lost in thought.
A rider approached him on horseback, armoured and ready for battle. The man addressed him, “Commander, are you ready for the war?”
“Mogh, is a man ever ready to commit the atrocities the war Gods require for their worship?” said Yodh calmly, his voice carrying the depth of a man burdened by purpose. “To murder the sons, husbands and brothers of thousands of families….no, a man can never be ready.”
“I should give them a chance to backdown at least” said Yodh while removing all his armours and weapons from his chariot. “Mogh hoist a white flag on the chariot, I will try talking to their king.”
Meanwhile within the opposing camp, the nobles and commanders gathered in the tent were engrossed in discussion. A soldier rushed in, his voice breaking through their chatter. “A chariot approaches from the other side of the battlefield—it bears a white flag!”
The room erupted with laughter. “What’s this? They’re surrendering already?” one noble mocked, his voice dripping with arrogance. Others joined in as well. “Bet that Yodh is probably shivering from fear.”
As King Raaz, his chief warrior and the prime minister stepped out with the rest of the nobles, the sight that greeted them silenced any laughter. Approaching them was a chariot drawn by two white horses with a white flag fluttering on top of it. Standing unarmed upon the chariot was a man who looked not a day over 40. He had short black hairs and was so huge that he blocked everything behind him.
The chief warrior instinctively stepped in front of the king, ready to shield him from any threat. But King Raaz raised a hand to signal his guard to stand down. “Be at ease,” the king said. His gaze was fixed on the approaching figure.
He looks like the Yodh from the description, thought Raaz.
Yodh was not known for deceitful tactics. Raaz knew he had come in good faith. But the king couldn’t help but wonder—why was Yodh here under a flag of truce?
When the chariot reached the distance Yodh stepped out from it and greeted the king. “Greetings King Raaz I am son of Kurlan, Yodh.”
“Greetings warrior Yodh” said the king “What is the purpose of your visit?”
“I have come to warn you,” Yodh began, his voice steady but firm. “You now stand on the boundary of the Ketu Empire. To advance further will invite severe consequences.”
“I am well aware of that warrior Yodh, in fact I am here to declare war on the empire, I thought this much was clear.”
“I know king Raaz. My purpose here is not to debate your decision but to offer you a final chance. No one has ever penetrated the Ketu Empire’s territory. If you turn back now, the empire will forgive your actions and forget this transgression.” He said with a firm voice.
“I am well aware of what I am doing warrior Yodh, and I am only attacking because I am assured of our victory. Your warning, though noble, is unnecessary.”
“Is that so?” then after a short pause he said, “Then I have another proposition for you King Raaz.” He began chanting an incantation, and before long and colossal gada (mace) materialized in his hand. The mace was golden in colour and glowing faintly with divine energy. He rested the mace on his shoulder this made the surrounding soldiers tensed. Their hands were instinctively tightening on their weapons.
Yodh moved deliberately, placing the gada onto the ground. The moment its head touched the earth, the surrounding area trembled faintly as if something immeasurably heavy had been set down. The top of the mace sank slightly into the soil and a palpable sense of gravity seemed to emanate from it.
“If any of the soldiers here can lift this mace, I will concede defeat,” Yodh declared, his voice carrying over the field. “Not only that, but I will also withdraw my army and grant you five meel of land from the empire.”
This offer intrigued King Raaz deeply. The prospect of Yodh admitting defeat and ceding imperial land was unprecedented, a potential triumph that could elevate his name into legend. Without hesitation, he ordered his ten best elite soldiers to step forward and attempt to lift the mace.
The soldiers surrounded the mace and together they grasped its hilt and pulled with all their might. They gritted their teeth, veins bulging in their arms, but the weapon remained unmoved. Its massive head seemed to be fused with the ground itself. Minutes passed as the soldiers strained and all their efforts were fruitless.
Seeing this, the chief warrior, along with several more soldiers joined the attempt. Even with combined strength, the mace did not budge. Few murmuring started to spread across the ranks especially among the nobles.
King Raaz turned to his prime minister who was a renowned magic prodigy. The minister had mastered all basic two tiers of magic by the age of eight and the king trusted his judgment. “Prime Minister, what kind of magic is he using to anchor the mace?”
The prime minister inspected the weapon carefully, his eyes narrowing as he studied it. Finally, he spoke. “Your Majesty… no magic is being used here.”
“What?” the king exclaimed with disbelief in his voice.
“It’s just…It’s just that heavy,” the prime minister replied. “Perhaps as heavy as a mountain. I can’t even begin to estimate its true weight.”
The king’s initial intrigue was now tinged with unease. He turned back to Yodh. “Is magic permitted in this challenge?”
Yodh nodded calmly. “Any means are allowed, so long as the mace is lifted.”
Determined not to let this opportunity slip away, King Raaz ordered the prime minister to assist with magic. The minister instantly began casting powerful spells to amplify the soldiers’ strength and reduce the weapon’s weight. He pushed himself to his limits—his nose and ears began to bleed from the strain—but even with 50 elite soldiers aiding him, the mace didn’t shift.
When all were exhausted, Yodh stepped forward. His movements were casual as if he were lifting a piece of paper. Gripping the mace with one hand, he effortlessly hoisted it onto his shoulder. The soldiers and nobles could only watch in stunned silence.
Yodh turned to King Raaz, “Now, do you see the vast difference in our strength? Your attempt to challenge the empire is futile. My first offer still stands—turn back, and we will forget this ever happened.”
Though shaken, King Raaz’s pride and determination refused to yield. “Lifting a heavy mace and fighting a war are two different things, warrior Yodh. We are here to win and will settle for nothing less.”
The king obviously now knew the strength of the mighty warrior Yodh, but he refused to back down and said “Lifting a heavy mace and fighting a war are two different things warrior Yodh. We are here to win and won’t settle for anything else.”
The king was right, no matter how mighty and powerful a warrior is, a war is a war. Battlefield is a place where even the mightiest have fallen either from carelessness or from good tactics. A war is a place where even a foot soldier can kill the strongest of the opposition. Even though this time the instincts of the king were shouting to retreat instantly.
Yodh’s expression shifted, a flicker of disappointment passing through his eyes. “So be it, King Raaz,” he said softly. With a wave of his hand, the summoned gada vanished back into his armoury.
As he reached the other side, he said to Mogh to prepare for the battle. The soldiers moved swiftly, forming a defensive phalanx with shields and spears anchored firmly into the ground. Behind them, archers readied their bows and mounted warriors stood poised to charge.
After an hour, Yodh stood still in the middle of the battlefield with his towering figure calm and resolute amidst the chaos. With hands clasped in prayer, he murmured solemnly, "Forgive me, God, for the lives I am about to take. May their souls find salvation."
The air was thick with tension as the kingdom’s battle horn echoed across the field. Yodh’s eyes opened and his deep commanding voice began an incantation. "Oh, extraordinary fire with your radiant glaze and glorious heat, I summon you from the power of my prayer—burn them with Fire Wall."
In an instant, a massive wall of flames erupted before him which stretched across the battlefield. The fire crackled with an almost otherworldly intensity, creating an impenetrable barrier of heat and light. With the aid of sound magic Yodh''s voice boomed across the field, heard clearly by every soul, "DEATH LIES BEYOND THIS LINE. IF YOU WISH TO DIE, THEN COME AT ME."
The chief warrior of King Raaz’s army, undeterred by this warning commanded the first wave of 10,000 soldiers to advance.
War cries erupted as the troops charged forward. They strengthened themselves with magic and mages behind them casted spells to quell the flames. Few moments after crossing the line their war cries faded, swallowed by an ominous silence as they disappeared beyond the fiery line. No one could see what had occurred, but the absence of movement told all they needed to know: the first wave was no more.
Undaunted, the chief ordered the second, third and fourth waves to attack. Each wave charged forward, only to meet the same fate.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The battlefield quaked as enormous boulders rained down from the heavens, crushing soldiers and carving massive fractures into the earth. Those who managed to cross the wall of fire found themselves face-to-face with Yodh, wielding two immense maces that he swung with devastating precision.
The few who survived his onslaught were swiftly dispatched by the disciplined imperial soldiers stationed behind him.
In mere minutes, the battlefield was littered with the corpses of 40,000 soldiers—men seasoned in war, masters of magic and skilled fighters, all reduced to silence and stillness.
King Raaz who was watching this from afar felt his blood run cold. He had known Yodh to be formidable, but this... this is a massacre, a slaughtering on an unimaginable scale. As each wave was commanded forward, the weight of their inevitable deaths bore heavily on the chief warrior’s shoulders. When the fifth wave met the same fate, the line of fire suddenly vanished. The thing that was revealed now shocked even the most gruesome warriors: mountains of corpses piled high; the dead sprawled in every direction. In the middle of it all stood Yodh, blood-soaked and unyielding, his eyes burning with a fearsome resolve.
It was clear he had removed the fire as an act of mercy, offering one final chance to retreat.
The battlefield fell into an eerie silence. King Raaz, his mind reeling from the sheer devastation, finally broke, shouting, "RETREAT! EVERYONE, RETREAT!"
The order sparked a frantic exodus. Soldiers abandoned their positions, fleeing in every direction. Those on horseback galloped at full speed while the foot soldiers sprinted desperately away from the battlefield.
Amidst the retreat, Yodh remained standing drenched in blood. His face had an expression of sorrow. He clasped his hands once more, whispering a prayer for the lives he had claimed.
……….
Far away within the imperial palace, Emperor Shyok of the Ketu Empire observed the battle through a magic mirror. His younger brother Mayu, stood beside him with an expression of mild disdain.
“I told you sending 30,000 soldiers was overkill. Last time when we sent those 50,000 troops the supplies and food wasted on them impacted our budget. Not to mention few who fell ill and died from injury to assemble the artillery.” Mayu remarked dryly. “Ten, maybe twenty thousand would’ve sufficed.”
Shyok replied calmly, “It’s not about how many soldiers are necessary, Mayu. It’s about showing that, beyond Yodh, our army is a force to be reckoned with. Also it gives our soldiers a little practice for future.”
Mayu shook his head, gesturing toward the mirror. “With Yodh around, I doubt we’ll ever need an army. I can’t imagine anyone defeating him.”
Shyok nodded slightly, his tone reflective. “Neither can I. If there’s someone out there stronger than Yodh, even our entire army would be powerless against them.”
Mayu hesitated, his voice lowering. “I heard from the old man once… there was someone who came close.”
“Yes,” Shyok acknowledged, a flicker of unease crossing his face. “But that was forty years ago. If he hasn’t been seen since, he is likely dead.”
Mayu sighed, his expression pensive. “I just hope there aren’t others like him.”
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In a picturesque valley within the dark forest where wildflowers bloomed in vibrant waves and the breeze carried a hint of ancient magic, a battle of epic proportions was unfolding.
There stood a young man clad in midnight-black armour who was getting ready to attack his target. He gripped a massive, enchanted axe whose blade was glinting ominously with magical enchantment. The air around him was charged with energy as he swung around his axe at his opponent tirelessly.
His target was none other than Croxeus, the Ancient Archmage—a legends known throughout the Meleroma kingdom. He was said to wield powers vast enough to shape reality itself.
The young man exhaled, bracing himself he decided it was time to end the fight with his most powerful technique, one he was certain would secure his victory. Calling upon the magical forces he shouted, “[Disintegration Beam]!” Instantly the skies responded to his command, parting as a blinding beam of pure and golden light descended from above. The ground started trembling and an intense flash engulfed the area, vaporizing everything in its path. Rocks disintegrated, flowers turned to ash, and even the very earth seemed to tremble and recoil beneath the power of the spell.
As the dust settled and silence fell, the young man smirked who was certain of his triumph. He raised his axe in victory, laughing loudly into the empty air. “I came here merely to gather blue rose herbs for the king,” he sneered, his voice dripping with overconfidence, “and yet, it seems I’m strong enough to defeat a legendary Ancient Archmage as a side task! HA Ha HA! Surely there is no one in the kingdom who can rival me.”
But then, just as his laughter echoed through the valley, a low and calm voice rumbled from beneath the rubble. “Cut me some slack, young man,” Croxeus’ voice was steady, almost like he was amused.
“I’ve been alive for thousands of years son, I don’t exactly warm up quickly. In fact, most of the battles I fight last years, not minutes. And this little show?”
The rubble began to shift, and the stones and dirt started crumbling away as a figure began to rise from the wreckage. “It’s only been twenty minutes.”
Croxeus now stood tall, brushing off the last bits of debris from his robes. His eyes were gleaming with a mix of amusement and indifference. The young warrior’s confidence flickered as he took a step back and his fingers started tightening around the axe. Croxeus rotated his shoulders, stretched his neck and flexed his fingers with an audible crack. “Let’s see how long you can last” (That’s what she said).
After what seemed like an eternity, the young warrior was finally exhausted. His exhaustion etched into every movement. He tried to finish it with one final blow but after successfully hitting his opponent with every energy he had, his axe dropped from his hands. His armour was dented and scorched, and he fell to his knees gasping for breath.
Croxeus shook his head, visibly disappointed, let out a heavy sigh. “Guess he was all talk,” he muttered with mild disdain. “Couldn’t even last two hours.” (that’s also what she said). He glanced down at him with disappointment. “I can’t even call this a battle—more like a warm-up… or, rather, a waste of time.” ………………………………..
…… . . . .
Croxeus’ eyes slowly fluttered open, revealing a bright and cloudless sky stretching endlessly above him. A groggy sigh escaped his lips as he shifted on the coarse desert like ground. “Ahhhhh… was that a dream?” he murmured, his voice tinged with exhaustion.
The last remnants of the catastrophic event that had consumed their reality still lingered in his mind. He stood up and started surveying his surroundings. The sand stretched infinitely in every direction and the faint mirage of heat rippled in the distance. “Now that I think about it... I suppose we died. Is this the afterlife? Why do I still look like my avatar?”
His gaze fell on his unconscious companions who were lying still but seemingly unharmed. The memories of their final moments came rushing back—his desperate attempt to shield them with barrier magic as the deletion wave erased their world.
The last thing I remember is… everything getting deleted, he wondered. I tried to stop it, that failed, and then… we were deleted too, right? So, where the heck are we? Did the guys outside notice something?
Or... was the data reused and somehow, we ended up in another simulation?
Pushing his questions aside, Croxeus tried to use his interface panel, but he didn’t get any response. Interface panel isn’t working at all, what about... [Fly] he used his flight magic and ascended into the air. “At least my magic is still functioning,” he mused.
As he ascended higher, he began scanning the endless desert from above. The rush of magic coursing through him felt oddly reassuring. the monotonous sands eventually gave way to a small cluster of structures—a village? Curiosity stirred within him.
He used [Unseen] to hide his presence. Carefully, he approached the settlement, observing its inhabitants closely. He spotted a group of children playing joyously in the dusty streets. One of them extended a hand and created a shimmering water bubble out of nothing.
Croxeus’ eyes narrowed, is he using magic? Moving his gaze to the adults, he saw similar magical feats—one levitated a crate of supplies with ease, while another used flames to ignite a cooking fire.
This... doesn’t make sense Croxeus thought, perplexed. A new simulation where APCs can use magic? Why would they ever create something like this? Maybe this place... He hesitated. Maybe it’s not a simulation at all. Could this be another server? Are these people humans using VR? No that can’t be why would they cosplay as villagers doing dirty work.
Another world? No... I’m just overthinking things. Taking a steadying breath, he resolved to regroup with his comrades and assess the situation calmly.
Returning to where his friends lay unconscious, Croxeus knelt beside Ard, whose face reminded him painfully of his brother. I wonder what he’s doing now… I wish I could see him again.
He sighed and glanced at the others. They were alive, at least. As he turned to other direction, he began summarising. The Interface panel is not working. Without the panel I can’t get any more information. And it seems like we’re transported to some kind of new simulation... or perhaps another world? Even as he said those words, it felt surreal. Another world… Is that even possible?
As he was lost in thought Ard woke up, his groggy voice breaking the silence. “What happened, Lord Croxeus?” His words carried a mixture of reverence and confusion. The others soon began to rouse, their disoriented faces scanning the desolate surroundings. Croxeus turned, towards them, maintaining an air of authority. “I wasn’t sure about it at first,” he lied, “but it seems I was able to transport us all to another universe.” He kept his tone measured, confident—anything to quell the chaos swirling in his own mind.
Croxeus looked little pale and exhausted, noticing this Ard’s expression softened and he nodded. “I understand, my lord.”
Croxeus exhaled internally, relieved that no one pressed him further. I just hope they don’t ask me anything else. I can’t explain what I don’t know myself.
Croxeus watched their expressions with a heavy heart as all of them wore faces of quiet despair. The weight of what they had witnessed hung heavy in the air. They had watched their universe crumble, their entire reality extinguished.
The hope that Croxeus might have saved their world flickered briefly in their minds, but the truth was undeniable now: this wasn’t their home. It was entirely a different world.
The weight of their loss—their world, their people—was etched into their every movement. It gnawed at him. He couldn’t undo the past, but he could try to lift their spirits, even if only for a moment. An idea struck him. With a flick of his hand, he conjured an entire castle [Spire of Crimson Shadows].
Suddenly, towering from the endless sand, a massive structure erupted into existence—a castle so breathtaking it seemed otherworldly. This was no ordinary fortress; it was the castle once conjured by Croxues’ mother the Demoness Queen. Croxeus had ‘stolen’ this castle from his mother in the stories written by his brother, a piece of their shared creativity now brought to life.
Avin had poured countless hours into designing every intricate detail of this version—a tribute to his brother and a testament to his own creativity.
The castle was a masterpiece. Its dark crimson and black walls shimmered like polished obsidian, glinting like jewels under the desert sun. Golden accents wove through its design, adding an air of royalty. Its sharp spires and jagged turrets pierced the sky, their edges glinting with a menacing beauty. Though it was compact in area, the castle’s majesty rivalled palaces from legends.
Croxeus stood back, admiring his work with the satisfaction of a proud artist. The rest of them also turned to behold the towering castle, their expressions shifting slightly from sorrow to muted awe. But the spark was brief, their grief too fresh to fully appreciate its grandeur. Croxeus’ shoulders sagged slightly as he sensed their lingering despair. He was no less burdened by their shared loss, but he had resolved to press forward. There was nothing he could do to prevent any of that.
He turned to them and said with calm but firm voice, “I think it’s better to rest today before we see what this world has to offer. I’ve used a significant amount of magical energy reaching here, so I’d like to rest as well.”
It was a lie, of course—his reserves were hardly depleted—but his concern was for them. They needed a safe place to recover, and perhaps the castle’s comfort could provide that.
Before leading them inside, Croxeus casted two protective spells over the area: [Eka-Plutonium Barrier] and [Invisible Barrier]. The air shimmered faintly as the layers of magic settled into place, ensuring their safety and concealment.
As they approached the grand doors, they swung open on their own. The interior of the castle was as magnificent as the castle’s exterior. The hall was vast, lined with gleaming black marble that reflected the golden light of ornate lamps. Velvet drapes of deep crimson adorned the walls, their rich folds giving the space a luxurious warmth.
Overhead, a chandelier crafted from countless golden crystals hung from the ceiling, its light casting a soft glow that adjusted subtly with the time of day. It was an enchantment Croxeus had painstakingly designed—brighter during the day, softer and more soothing at night, surpassing even modern LED technology.
When they all stepped inside, their footsteps echoed in the vast and silent space. Despite their fatigue and sorrow, the sheer splendour of the castle couldn’t be ignored. Croxeus watched them to see their reactions. “Pick any room you like,” he said, gesturing to the grand staircase that branched off to corridors leading deeper into the castle.
The atmosphere remained subdued, but Croxeus knew this was a start. They need time, safety, and perhaps a hint of beauty to rekindle their hope, he thought. As the doors closed behind them, he silently vowed to protect them like his own family.
As the castle settled into an uneasy quiet, everyone went to their rooms to process everything that had transpired.
A few minutes later, Tiya hesitated outside Ard’s room before entering. When she came Inside, she found him pacing furiously. His face was a tempest of anguish and rage. She stepped closer, concern written all over her expression.
“Are you alright, Ard?” she asked softly.
He stopped and took a deep breath before answering. “No, I’m not”, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. He looked away, his fists clenched. “I thought that was the end. I didn’t expect… this. I don’t even know what to think.”
Tiya nodded, “I understand. None of us were prepared for this, but maybe fate—or rather, Lord Croxeus—has given us another chance. We can’t waste it.”
Ard’s gaze snapped to hers, and a flicker of resolve sparked in his eyes. “You’re right. He has given us another chance, and I won’t let it slip away.”
Tiya tried to offer reassurance. “He even spent most of his magical energy bringing us here. Without his real body, he must have weakened so much…”
But her words seemed to fuel Ard’s fury instead of calming him. His jaw tightened and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Those fiends. Those devils.” He slammed his fist into the wall. “I’ll kill them all.”
Tiya flinched but quickly recovered. “You just said we’ve been given another chance. Why let your life be consumed by vengeance?”
Tiya knew Ard more than anyone. She knew he wouldn’t let anyone off the hook for wronging him. He would go to any lengths to make sure they face consequences. That is what worried her.
“Vengeance?” Ard’s voice rose in incredulous. He turned to face her fully, his eyes blazing with intensity.
“Tiya, you don’t understand. Do you know what’s been taken from us? Everything. Everything we ever built, worked for, or achieved—wiped out in seconds. Gone. Erased, like it never existed. And you want me to just move on? To forget? Start over? Only for it to happen again someday, whether in a hundred years or a thousand?”
He stepped closer, his voice shaking with both anger and pain. “What about those billions of people who died? Erased completely from existence. Who’s going to bring justice to them? Who’s going to make those monsters pay?”
Tiya’s voice was quiet but firm. “You never cared about people, Ard.”
He shot her a sharp look. “Just because my sense of morality is grounded in judgment not emotion, doesn’t mean I don’t care. Don’t mistake my pragmatism for apathy Tiya”
“But what you’re planning—what you’re dreaming of doing—is impossible,” she argued. “You can’t even reach them, let alone defeat them.”
Ard’s voice grew louder, filled with unrelenting determination. “This goal might seem unachievable, but it’s the only one that makes sense. The only one that matters. Even if I’m facing 48 impossible enemies, I have a god behind me—a real one.”
“A god whose real body is destroyed,” Tiya countered. “A god who is magically depleted right now. Ard, we’re powerless.”
“No.” His voice was like steel. “We’re not. We can and we will, one day. For even the Gods are bound to slip. Just like they made the mistake of leaving Lord Croxeus alive, they’ll make others. And when they do, we’ll be ready. We’ll capitalize on them.”
“Ard…” Tiya tried again, her voice wavering. “Please. What you’re thinking is—”
“Where is your rage?” Ard’s shout cut through her words. “Billions died, Tiya. BILLIONS. And you act like nothing happened! I refuse to stand by and let history repeat itself. If no one else will act, then I will. I’ll do whatever it takes, because if I don’t, no one will.”
Tiya’s words faltered as Ard stormed past her, leaving the room without a backward glance. She knew his rage came from a place of pain and loss, but she also knew that such unbridled fury could destroy him.
In the dimly lit living room of the castle, RictRex and Ronny sat together. Their expressions were a mix of exhaustion and contemplation. As Ard joined them, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken emotions. RictRex sat silently and observed everything.
“My family…” Ronny began, his voice subdued. “They were really annoying, you know? Always texting and calling me, more than five times a day, just to check on me. I used to ignore them because I was so immersed in my work—creating tools, working on projects. I was obsessed with achieving something, with leaving a mark. So, I pushed them away.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “If only I’d spent more time with them. I kept thinking, ‘I’ll have plenty of time after I’ve accomplished something.’ Guess I was wrong.”
Ard frowned, his voice low with regret. “If only I had told you about the fate of the world sooner…”
Ronny shook his head, interrupting. “No, Ard, it’s not your fault. I was the one who pushed them away. A week or two of effort wouldn’t have fixed what I’d broken. I was selfish, stupid… and now, it’s too late. Sorry for being so pathetic goys. I know… I’m not the only one who’s lost everything.”
“It’s okay, Ronny,” RictRex said softly, breaking his silence. “We’re all having these thoughts. We just don’t know how to express them.”
Ronny let out a bitter chuckle. “I just don’t even know why I’m alive anymore.”
Ard’s tone turned resolute. “There’s only one thing we have to do. We’ve been given this chance to prevent something like this from ever happening again.”
“But can we really do that?” Ronny asked, doubt creeping into his voice. “Those are gods. We don’t stand a chance against them.”
“It’s not about whether we can or can’t,” Ard replied, his gaze steady. “We have to. I’ve made my decision. What about you? Can I count on you two?”
Ronny hesitated but then nodded. “I’ll try to do everything I can.”
“Me too,” said RictRex. He sensed some change in Ard as he was quietly observing both of them
As their conversation unfolded, Croxeus entered the room. His presence seemed to fill the space, and all three of them turned to look at him.
“I see you’ve all gathered here,” he said.
The moment Ard heard Croxeus’ voice, he dropped to his knees, bowing his head to the floor. Croxeus blinked in surprise, unaccustomed to this display of reverence.
While this is the proper way to address a god but when Croxeus and others spent few days together especially the last week, Ard became a little casual in front of him. Seeing Ard’s renewed faith, Ronny and RictRex kneeled as well with their heads bowed low.
Until now they had treated Croxeus like another fellow hero, but now that they knew his real identity, they couldn’t continue to treat him with same familiarity. With no experience in protocol for interacting with gods, they chose to mimic Ard’s behaviour.
“Y-yes, I think that’s enough,” Croxeus stammered, visibly uncomfortable.
Ronny and RictRex lifted their heads, but Ard remained in his position, speaking with deep conviction. “My lord, I know you are humble, but you are a god, and I am merely a human.”
Croxeus said gently, “But it’s okay. You can lift your head now.”
Ard’s voice grew more determined. “It’s not just reverence, my lord. I have a request to make of you.”
Croxeus tilted his head. “Of course. Is there something you need? Perhaps food? The cafeteria down there provides any kind of food made with magic. You just need to think about it, and it will be made.”
“No, my lord,” Ard said firmly. “It’s something far greater. I want to stop those 48 gods.”
You could only stop them if they existed in the first place….
His whole world was wiped out of course he is going to be angry, but I should stop him before he figures out that I am actually lying about everything, he thought grimly. But aloud, he said, “I don’t believe it’s possible, Ard. You know their power. They are gods, far beyond your reach.”
“I know, my lord,” Ard admitted. “But still, I want to try.”
Croxeus sighed internally, searching for a way to redirect him. “How do you plan to do it, Ard? You’re in an unfamiliar world with no knowledge of it. Even survival here will be a challenge. And yet, you plan to take on the creators of this world? I would surely help you in anything you want but how do you plan to match their strength?”
Ard’s eyes lit up with renewed determination. “I see my lord. You want me to prove my strength first, to show that I am capable.”
I think this better for now, at least he won’t nag me more questions about those fake Gods. I better come up with good stories and excuses in the meantime, “Precisely.”
Ard’s resolve hardened. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself, my lord.”
Whether it’s conquering this world, creating an intergalactic empire, or anything else, I’ll go to any lengths to show I am capable of destroying them, he thought.
Croxeus felt a pang of unease at Ard’s fanaticism but nodded. “Very well. But be cautious. This world is dangerous, and we know little about it.”
Ard asked, “My lord, is this world created by you?”
“No,” Croxeus said truthfully. “Even I know very little about it.”
“In that case, allow me to gather information about this world,” Ard requested. “It would be my honour.”
“Yes, of course. Just be careful,” Croxeus said. This place looks a little dangerous should I give him some gear from my inventory.
“And please my lord I want to do this on my own, I have to prove that I am capable.”
Then, considering Ard’s determination, he added, “[Tongue of Gods]. This spell will allow you all to understand any language here. Just a small gift.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Ard said, his voice full of reverence. “We are forever grateful to you—for saving our lives and giving us a new one.”