Prologue: The Last Stand


    The soft glow of lanterns illuminated a modest home in the heart of the Lancaster estate.


    Kyra Lancaster, her long white hair cascading over her shoulders, rested one hand


    protectively on her swollen belly. The talisman hanging from her neck began to vibrate


    violently, its runes glowing a bright crimson—a warning.


    Patrick Lancaster, her husband and a renowned swordsman, was in danger.


    “No…” Kyra’s voice wavered as her fingers tightened around the talisman. Her sharp blue


    eyes darted toward the window, where the crescent moon hung in a starless sky. She could


    feel it—her husband’s life was slipping away.


    Without hesitation, she stood, despite the protests of her midwives. Summoning her mana,


    she traced intricate patterns in the air, opening a portal that connected her to Patrick’s


    talisman. The air crackled as the spell completed, and she stepped through.


    What she saw on the other side made her heart stop.


    Patrick was kneeling, his broadsword plunged into the ground for support. Blood poured


    from a gash on his shoulder, his once-powerful frame trembling. A portal swirled ominously


    behind him, its dark energy pulling at his body like a hungry beast.


    Standing a few feet away was one of their closest comrades, a fellow adventurer they had


    trusted with their lives. The traitor smirked, holding a magical device that kept the portal


    stable.


    “You…why?” Patrick’s voice was weak, yet filled with disbelief.


    “For power,” the traitor sneered. “With you gone, I’ll be the sole heir to our fame. You were


    always in my way, Patrick.”


    Kyra’s fury ignited. Her mana surged, filling the dungeon chamber with an overwhelming


    pressure. The traitor’s smug expression faltered as she appeared, her hand already forming


    a spell. She launched a barrage of ice shards at him, but he dodged, retreating further into


    the shadows.


    “Patrick!” she screamed, rushing toward her husband. But as she reached out to pull him


    away from the portal, its pull intensified.


    “No!” she cried, her magic flaring in desperation. Patrick gripped her hand tightly, his once-


    steady gaze now filled with sorrow.


    “Kyra…protect our child,” he whispered. Then, with a final push, he released her and was


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.swallowed by the portal’s void. It vanished with a deafening crack, leaving only silence in its


    wake.


    Kyra fell to her knees, her trembling hands clutching the air where Patrick had been. Tears


    streamed down her face, but her grief was cut short by the sound of footsteps. The traitor


    was still there, watching her with wary eyes.


    “You’ll regret this,” she hissed, her voice laced with venom.


    The traitor smirked, but his confidence faltered as she stood, her mana flaring once more.


    He reached into his pocket, pulling out a sealed container etched with dark runes. Before


    she could act, he threw it at her.


    A seed, dark and pulsing with malevolent energy, embedded itself in her chest. Pain unlike


    anything she had ever felt surged through her body. She screamed as her skin began to


    harden, dark bark spreading over her limbs like a curse.


    The traitor fled, leaving Kyra to her fate.


    Struggling against the curse, Kyra collapsed. She could feel her body changing, her mana


    fading. But she refused to give in—not yet. She placed a trembling hand on her belly and


    began chanting a spell, pouring all her remaining vitality into her unborn child.


    Her labor was swift but excruciating. As the curse consumed her, turning her into a lifeless


    tree, she held her newborn son in her arms. His tiny hand reached up, grasping her finger.


    Tears streamed down her face as she smiled weakly.


    “Kenji,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Grow up…and become strong.”


    With those final words, Kyra’s transformation was complete. Her body became a dark,


    gnarled tree, cradling her child in its branches.


    Hours later, deep within the dungeon, a nameless ogre queen stumbled upon the scene.


    She approached cautiously, her heart heavy with both fear and curiosity.


    The baby’s cries broke the silence. As she reached out, his small hand wrapped around her


    finger. In that moment, something within her stirred—a maternal instinct she thought had


    been extinguished with the loss of her own child.


    “This is destiny,” she murmured, cradling the baby against her chest.


    With the human child in her arms, the ogre queen turned and disappeared into the


    shadows of the dungeon, unknowingly setting into motion the rise of a legend.