The wind howls across the quiet plains outside the kingdom. Draven's statue now stands taller than ever, weathered by rain and scorched by sun, but still holding firm a silent sentinel. The phoenix that landed upon it still nests nearby, watching the city with ancient eyes.
Inside the castle walls, whispers of a new era ripple through the air. Some believe Draven still lives, vanished into legend. Others mourn in silence. But within Luna's chambers, the truth weighs heavy.
The wind sweeps over a high cliff, where a tall man stands alone. His long coat flutters gently. A smooth, featureless white mask hides his face. He stands not with arrogance, but with silent reflection, arms crossed behind his back. The kingdom sprawls below him, bathed in morning light.
The Masked Man with a quiet and steady voice.
What doesn't kill me... just makes me stronger.
I was never meant to conquer.
I was meant to remind the world what it means to feel.
To bleed... to rise again.
He kneels, running a gloved hand over the soil beneath him. A single seedling sprouts near his palm.
Everyone wants strength.
Everyone desires power.
But few... few understand the weight it carries.
He looks to the sky, where a faint echo of wings perhaps a phoenix vanishes into the clouds.
Power does not shape a man. Sacrifice does.
He stands again, turning his back to the kingdom, walking away without a sound disappearing into the fog.
Inside the Castle, Kingdom of Cerevus morning light filters through stained glass.
The hall feels emptier now. Draven's throne remains untouched, draped in his cloak. A golden light pours in, catching the dust dancing in the silence.
Kael walks through the corridor, his small fingers brushing the edge of his father's statue. His eyes are wiser now, still carrying the spark of innocence, but shadowed with questions.
Luna stands near the window, watching the wind blow through the training grounds. Her hand rests over her stomach again still carrying the child who will never meet their father.
Midnight enters quietly, carrying scrolls and updates from the outer regions. His gaze meets Luna's.
He left us a storm... and a seed. The world only sees the storm.
Luna softly turned to him.
Then we show them the seed. We show them what he died to protect.
Kael walks up behind them, carrying a wooden sword.
I want to learn more. I want to protect this place like he did.
Midnight kneels in front of him.
Then we teach you the way. Not just the sword... but the burden behind it.
Luna places a hand on Kael's shoulder, her voice calm but resolute.
Draven wasn't perfect. But he believed this world could be. That belief… is now ours to carry.
Wind catching the banners of the phoenix crest reborn from fire.
The wind howls outside as the masked man walks calmly into the ancient stone tower. Lanterns flicker, casting shadows across the walls lined with scrolls and herbs. Royal Blue, now older and a bit weary, pauses mid-mix as the air shifts around him.
He turns slowly, eyes narrowing behind his spectacles, his voice trembles and almost like a whisper.
…That aura… I would recognize it anywhere.
He takes a slow step forward, heart pounding.
You're still alive… after all this time.
The masked man says nothing, simply looking toward him as the light from the fire reflects in the curve of his white mask.
The masked man steps further into the light. His presence is calm, yet commanding. Royal Blue's hands tremble slightly as he steadies himself.
The Masked Man's voice is cold but calm.
I need a favor from you.
Royal Blue cautions about what's coming next.
…What is it that you seek?
The masked man pauses, letting the words settle in the silence.
I need Draven's scythe.
Can you manage to get it for me?
Royal Blue's eyes widen stunned. He steps back, lips parting as if to protest, but nothing comes out at first.
…That weapon is sacred. A symbol. His legacy lives through it.
The masked man nods slowly.
And yet… I need it to fulfill what he began.
Royal Blue freezes.
As the masked man gently lowers his mask, just enough for a flicker of blue flame to escape from his eye socket, the room fills with a brief warmth… and sorrow. It's unmistakable. That flame Royal Blue had only ever seen it once before.
A moment passes.
The masked man covers his face again with silent precision. Then, voice low, almost pleading:
…Can you get the scythe for me?
Royal Blue's breath catches in his throat. His eyes shimmer with emotion. He bows his head slowly, holding back tears.
If what I saw was real… then yes. For you… I'll do anything.
The moonlight casts a silver glow over the statue of Draven, his likeness immortalized in stone scythe resting solemnly at its base. The phoenix still perches silently on his shoulder, wings tucked in, watching.
Royal Blue, hood drawn over his face, steps quietly into the square. His movements are careful, respectful like one approaching a shrine. He kneels before the scythe, hands hesitating just above its hilt.
Forgive me, old friend… but the world might still need you.
As his fingers brush the weapon a voice comes from the shadows.
Stop.
From the shadows, Midnight steps forward, his presence sharp, unreadable.
What are you doing, Royal?
Royal Blue slowly stands, the scythe untouched, his eyes meeting Midnight's with quiet conviction.
I was asked to retrieve it.
Midnight suspicious about who would be crazy enough to ask for something like that.
By who?
A tense silence.
Royal Blue hesitates, then answers cryptically:
…Let's just say… someone whose fire has not gone out.
Midnight's expression darkens slightly not with anger, but suspicion, a sense of something impossible stirring.
If this is what I think it is… then you better pray you're right.
I won't ask again, Royal. Who told you to retrieve the scythe?
Royal Blue's gaze shifts toward the statue then back to Midnight. He clenches his jaw, clearly torn.
I gave my word…
Midnight is a bit more furious now.
To who?
Royal Blue taking a step back knowing that it is not smart to play around with him.
To someone… someone who shouldn't exist.
Midnight steps closer, voice colder now.
You're playing with fire, old friend.
Royal Blue voice lowers looking around and then looking at Midnight.
It's not fire I fear, Midnight. It's what happens when the world forgets who kept it warm.
Midnight narrows his eyes.
That scythe is sacred. Draven's memory is still healing this kingdom. If you're desecrating it.
Royal Blue interrupts him.
I'm honoring it! Just not in a way you'd understand. Not yet.
A long pause.
If I told you who asked… you wouldn't believe me. Not unless you saw it yourself.
Midnight eyes on fire.
…Then show me.
Royal Blue remains still for a beat… then finally gives a slow nod.
Tomorrow. At the edge of the forest. Come alone.
The morning mist clings to the ground. Midnight stands alone, hidden beneath his dark cloak. Royal Blue steps forward from the trees, holding a large wrapped object in his arms Draven's scythe.
Suddenly, the sound of slow, steady footsteps echoes between the trees.
The masked man emerges from the fog tall, composed, his white mask expressionless. The wind stills for a breath.
Midnight narrows his eyes.
So... you're the one.
The masked man doesn't speak. Instead, he shifts his gaze toward the scythe.
Royal Blue softly.
He came to me in the dead of night... I felt that presence before. I couldn't say no.
As Royal Blue begins unwrapping the scythe, the air tightens. The second the steel glimmers in the light.
WHOOM.
A pulse of blue fire flares from the weapon, igniting along the blade for just a second. Midnight stumbles back slightly in shock. The masked man doesn't move.
The flame subsides but the scythe continues to hum faintly.
Midnight shocked.
That… it reacted to you.
Masked Man calmly his voice muffled by the mask.
Because it remembers.
Midnight his voice cracking, almost not wanting to have an answer.
Who are you?
The masked man reaches out with a gloved hand. As his fingers wrap around the scythe's handle, the hum grows louder… warmer… almost like the weapon is relieved.
A shadow. A whisper. A man once broken.
But not dead.
The wind stirs.
Midnight takes a breath, his voice barely above a whisper.
…Draven?
The masked man says nothing.
But he turns… and walks into the forest, the blue flame slowly flickering to life again around the weapon.
The masked man turns slightly, his voice calm, quiet and unmistakably familiar to Midnight.
When the time comes... you will know.
Until then... take care of our family.
Midnight remains frozen, watching as the figure disappears into the trees, scythe in hand, blue embers trailing behind him like memories refusing to fade.
The light breeze carries the faint sound of his footsteps... and then nothing.
Kingdom Courtyard – Same Morning
Luna stands on the balcony of the castle, her eyes closed. A light wind brushes her hair back gently.
She pauses when something feels… different.
Her hand instinctively goes to her chest, just above her heart. A sudden warmth, a tiny flicker of something powerful... familiar... old.
…Draven?
Kael runs up behind her, laughing with his wooden training sword, but stops when he sees her face.
Mom? Are you okay?
Luna doesn't answer right away.
She's still looking toward the forest, where the fog seems to pull back — like something watching from afar just turned away.
I'm fine… I just thought I felt…
She kneels, brushing his hair back and smiling gently.
…Nothing. Let's go back inside.
But as she walks away with Kael, a single blue ember lands gently on the balcony railing and fades.
Hidden Cavern – Deep in the Mountains
The masked man enters a vast, forgotten chamber carved into ancient stone, filled with glowing blue runes that pulse faintly as he walks past. The cavern hums with dormant power, reacting subtly to his presence.
He kneels at the center, placing Draven's scythe gently onto an altar carved with symbols lost to time. The weapon trembles slightly, resonating as if recognizing where it was meant to rest… or awaken.
The masked man speaks softly, more to himself than to anyone else.
The world isn't ready yet… but it will be.
Legends don't die. They simply wait to be needed again.
He stands, gazing at the scythe as it glows faintly blue.
Suddenly, one of the ancient runes on the wall flickers violently then bursts into flame.
From the shadows, a hooded figure steps forward, their voice deep and cold:
You shouldn't have come here, 'ghost.' They'll all know soon.
The masked man doesn't flinch.
Let them. But know this if they come for my family…
The cavern shakes slightly as his aura surges and the blue flame returns, wrapping him in ghostly power.
…I'll burn this world down before I lose them again.
The sun casts a warm golden hue over the once-bustling gardens. Now, silence lingers. Luna sits on a bench beneath the ancient silverleaf tree, watching Kael swing a wooden sword in the distance under Midnight's guidance.
She gently places a hand on her stomach, visibly further along in her pregnancy. Her eyes soften but carry a shadow of longing.
Luna's voice soft.
He would've laughed seeing Kael like this... reckless, stubborn.
He's becoming him. Piece by piece.
Midnight approaches, a towel slung over his shoulder.
You're still thinking about him.
Luna smiles faintly.
I never stopped.
But Kael needs more than a memory. He needs to grow… without chasing a ghost.
They both glance at Kael, who's now fallen, his wooden sword out of reach. He pounds the ground in frustration.
Kael frustrated.
Why can't I be stronger?! I'm his son, right?!
I want to protect people too!
Midnight walks to the boy and kneels beside him.
Strength isn't just power, Kael.
It's knowing when to rise again even when it hurts.
That's what your father did, over and over.
Kael looks up, his eyes burning with quiet resolve.
Then I'll keep rising… until I'm strong enough to make him proud.
Luna watches the moment unfold, her fingers tightening slightly over her belly.
You'll meet your father's shadow soon enough, little one…
The chamber is lit with tall crystal lamps, shadows flickering across stone walls etched with the history of wars past. Seated around the round obsidian table are the nobles, generals, and key advisors. The atmosphere is thick with unease.
We've received word. The banners of Valmyra have been raised. Scouts report troop movements near our southern border.
Gasps and murmurs ripple across the room.
They've been waiting for our weakness. They know Draven is… gone.
One of the council members coldly.
They don't fear us anymore.
Midnight calm but firm.
Then we remind them why they once did.
The room falls silent at his voice.
Councillor Loric scoffing.
And what, Midnight? You'll march with a boy who only now picks up a blade? You think memories of Draven will hold the walls?"
Midnight's eyes narrow.
No. But his legacy will. And if you doubt that step aside.
General Aelric after a moment.
We must prepare. If Valmyra marches, we need alliances. Supplies. Fighters. If they come… they won't come small.
Veida leans in, whispering like venom.
Then let's pray Kael is more than just a shadow.
A guard enters the room.
My lords… There's a rider approaching from the south gate. Says he carries a message from King Vaelor of Valmyra.
Everyone turns sharply.
A declaration?
Midnight standing.
No. A warning… wrapped in arrogance.
Luna stands in silence, eyes closed as the wind brushes through her hair. The air shifts, heavy like something unseen stirs in the distance.
Something's changing again... I can feel it.
Kael approaches, watching her closely.
Is it another battle?
Luna looking toward the horizon.
No…
It's the calm before a storm.
Royal Blue ties a small satchel, his blue robes now marked with dust. He turns to the masked man, who is staring into the distant valley, moonlight tracing the edge of his white mask.
They'll need you. Sooner or later, they'll need all of you.
Masked man quietly.
I'm not ready yet.
A beat of silence. Then the masked man turns to him with a calm, firm voice.
You should get back to them.
I'm not ready…
So until I am, they'll need all the help they can get.
And your healing knowledge may be the most valuable weapon they have.
Royal Blue nods slowly, shoulders heavy with duty, then exits the tower into the night.
In a quiet hill outside the city walls Moonlight filtering through clouds.
Midnight stands beside Luna, the wind rustling their cloaks. Below, the soldiers make final preparations. Luna gazes toward the horizon, silent, her arms crossed tightly. Midnight breaks the silence.
I need to tell you something… about the masked man.
Luna's eyes flick to him, a flicker of fear and hope all at once.
…What about him?
Midnight gives a deep breath before talking.
He knew things only Draven would know. He asked me to take care of the family. And the scythe.
It reacted to him, Luna.
Luna takes a step back, trembling. She looks to the sky, tears forming in her eyes.
He was pronounced dead…
There's no way he could've survived what he went through.
But years later, we heard whispers.
Rumors… they said he rose from the dead.
Some said he looked like a monster…
She wipes a tear, staring into the dark sky as if searching for a ghost among the stars.
If it really is him…
What kind of hell did he have to crawl through…
To come back wearing a mask?
The sky churns with dark clouds as war horns echo across the land. Thousands of soldiers line the slopes in perfect formation. Massive war beasts snarl behind barricades. Black banners flap violently in the storm winds marked with the sigil of the invading kingdom: a crowned serpent wrapped around a bleeding sun.
At the center of the enemy camp, a massive war tent glows with torchlight. Inside, a tall, scarred commander with glowing crimson eyes leans over a map, surrounded by generals.
They think they're safe behind their walls…
But walls crumble. Heroes fall.
By dawn, their kingdom becomes ours.
He turns to a shadowed figure kneeling beside him a silent warrior clad in black armor with golden etchings. This is no ordinary soldier.
Make sure their 'legend' stays dead.
The shadowed warrior nods once and disappears into the darkness, heading for the front lines.
The atmosphere is tense. Soldiers train in the background, sharpening blades and preparing siege defenses. Banners are raised. The sounds of drills, shouted orders, and clashing steel echo across the yard.
Kael stands in front of a formation of young recruits, wearing a trimmed version of his father's old armor. His hands tremble slightly, but his eyes are focused. Midnight approaches from behind, nodding with a small, proud smile.
Breathe, Kael. Nerves are good, they remind you that you care.
Kael takes a deep breath to calm himself.
How do I live up to him? To Draven. Midnight?
Midnight calmly answers him.
You don't. You carry the flame, not the shadow. You lead as Kael, not as your father's ghost.
Luna steps in beside them, placing a comforting hand on Kael's shoulder. Her eyes are calm but filled with the weight of grief and hope.
This kingdom doesn't need a replica of Draven. It needs you brave enough to feel, strong enough to rise.
Kael takes a deep breath, then turns to the troops.
Today we defend our home. Not for glory. Not for legend. But for the ones we love and the ones who can't fight beside us.
The recruits slam their weapons into the ground in unison, their voices rising:
FOR CEREVUS!
The map of the region is spread across the massive stone table. Red markers show the advancing enemy forces, a formidable army from the neighboring kingdom of Varyon. The room buzzes with murmurs and anxious tension. Luna, Midnight, Kael, and the remaining council members are gathered.
General Harros with caution in his voice.
They'll be at our gates in two days. They outnumber us two to one. Their war beasts are already crossing the northern ridge.
Midnight with his war experience and tactics adds.
Their numbers won't matter if we control the terrain. We narrow their movement near the Galedran pass. That's where we hold them
Luna is calm, but focused.
We've fortified Cerevus before. We'll do it again. The people believe in us and we must give them something to hold onto.
Kael is quiet, his fingers tracing the battlefield lines. Then he lifts his head.
Put me on the front lines.
Council Noble laughing and saying sarcastically.
You're a child playing soldier. This is war, not some legacy parade.
Kael doesn't flinch, but Midnight slams his fist onto the table.
He has more battle in his heart than half this room. He's not his father's shadow he's his own flame.
The noble silences himself, humbled. Luna nods toward Kael with soft approval.
Then you'll lead the first defense. But you listen to your men, and to your instincts.
Soldiers march in formation by torchlight. Blacksmiths work into the night forging new blades. Citizens prepare bundles of food and supplies. Children watch from balconies, some playing with wooden swords, mimicking Kael's stance.
On a rooftop, Kael looks over the city. Luna approaches quietly behind him.
You see it now, don't you? What he saw the weight, the fear... but also the hope.
Kael his voice low and full of worry.
I just hope I don't fail them.
Luna wanted to bring his hope up.
Then don't fight to win, Kael. Fight to protect. That's what your father did.
They stand together under the moonlight as distant thunder rumbles not of weather, but of war drums from afar.
The cold wind brushes across a vast, open field covered in a thin mist. The horizon glows with the rising sun, casting long shadows over jagged rocks and dead trees. In the distance, faint thuds echo steady, rhythmic, like a giant's heartbeat.
Then, they emerge.
The enemy army appears through the mist like a dark tidal wave. Thousands of armored soldiers in black and crimson move in unison. War beasts massive creatures with plated armor snarl and drag siege weapons behind them. Their banners flap in the wind, marked with the sigil of Varyon: a wolf biting the sun.
The glint of blades, the marching boots, the thunder of war drums. Their general rides at the front on a monstrous beast, his helmet shaped like a roaring demon. Behind them, battalions stretch as far as the eye can see.
A war horn sounds, long and deep, shaking the very ground. The front line slows... and then stops. Silence follows eerie, heavy. The enemy waits, just beyond the border of Cerevus.
The wind howls as the masked man stands alone, cloaked in a tattered black robe. His voice, quiet yet thunderous, breaks the silence as he stares down at the enemy forces below.
Masked Man to himself.
Why should I apologize for the monster I became? They never apologized for making me this way. I was pushed... broken. Betrayed and forgotten. They never acknowledged the pain, only the aftermath. But I survived. I rebuilt myself. I became something they could never control.
So no... I will not apologize. They created this. Now, they must face it.
Kael watches the enemy troops advance, their eyes filled with unease.
Why do they fear my father so much?
Luna somberly.
Because... before you were born, he wasn't just a man. He was something else... something inhuman.
Suddenly, a pillar of blue flame erupts in the middle of the field. The masked man stands at its center. The wind howls as soldiers draw back, terrified.
Kael in awe.
Who the hell is he...? Who could possibly be behind that mask?
Midnight softly, like recalling a nightmare.
The one behind that mask... is no longer a man. He was a dream once... a whisper of who he might've been. But the world burned that dream. What remains now... is not someone you can name. He's a presence. A reckoning.
With a heavy breath, the masked man removes his mask, revealing Draven his eyes ablaze with blue fire, hair wind-swept, face scarred and expression unreadable. The enemy army erupts in chaos, some scream, some growl, others tremble.
Kael confused.
Why do they hate him so much?
Luna with quiet grief.
Because he came back from hell.
Kael in awe.
How did he survive...?
Luna tears in her eyes.
He didn't just survive. He thrived. He walked through fire, let it burn away his weakness... and returned stronger."
Kael shocked.
But he lost everything... his name, his people...
Luna cleaning a tear from her cheek.
Exactly. And that's why he's unstoppable. No chains. No limits. No mercy. They always feared him... but now, there's nothing left to restrain him.
Draven begins walking. Each step ignites the earth in blue fire, his scythe dragging behind him, ringing like a bell of doom. Soldiers before him begin to tremble.
Enemy Soldier desperate.
Mercy... please...
Draven cold, his voice burning with joy.
Mercy...? I remember that word. It was the last thing I begged for... before I became something greater. I remember their faces... how they turned away. Let me suffer. Made me suffer.
Mercy... is for the weak. And I was weak. But not anymore.
You want mercy? Mercy died with the man I used to be.
Watching from a Distance.
Something's wrong. Look at him that warmth in his eyes… it's gone. Replaced by something cold… something dangerous. It's like he's slipping, changing. Becoming something else."
Midnight with sorrow.
That... that is not the Draven we knew.
The Draven we knew is gone, Luna. What stands there now… that is something higher. Not a man. Not a king. Not even a warrior...
...That is Draven reborn as the Reaper.
The enemy lines falter. Commanders shout, trying to restore order but all eyes are fixed on the flaming figure slowly advancing. The air itself bends around Draven, the heat distorting reality.
Enemy Commander yelling.
Stand your ground! He's just one man!
But no one moves. Because in front of them... is not a man. It's a myth walking, flame-wreathed and wrath-driven.
Kael, breathing heavily, watches his father walk alone.
Kael to Luna.
Why does he walk alone…?
Luna whispering.
Because even in life, Draven was a storm that no army dared to follow. Some men lead. Others... are the path itself.
Draven halts. The scythe spins once in his grip, blue fire roaring up its blade. His voice rises, carried by flame and fury.
Draven calling out.
You wanted power? You wanted control? Then come claim it! But know this...
You don't face a fallen king…
You face everything you feared I would become.
Then he moves.
Faster than the eye can follow.
Draven tears through the enemy's front line like a force of nature, a creepy laugh can be eared through every attack. Every swing of his scythe sends blue arcs slicing through the air. Bodies fall. The battlefield becomes chaos.
Flames rise like tidal waves, swallowing siege weapons and shattering shields. Even the bravest soldiers falter.
Midnight holds him back for a moment, but then he nods.
If you're going to be his legacy, now's the time to prove it.
Kael determined.
Then I'll carve my name next to his not in shadow, but with light.
Kael charges forward, Cerevus soldiers rallying behind him.
As Draven storms the heart of the enemy, Kael leads a flanking charge, his own sword glowing, clashing with enemy elites. The old and the new side by side, but worlds apart in presence.
Midnight and Luna oversee the battle.
Luna quietly.
He's burning through everything. The fire… it's consuming what little humanity he has left.
Midnight fist clenched.
Then we need to win fast before we lose him again.
As Draven lifts his scythe high, the battlefield splits with a roar. Blue flames erupt skyward like a beacon, a signal to gods and monsters alike.
A scarred, battle-hardened warlord stares from a high ridge, gripping the hilt of his obsidian blade.
General Varkas growling.
So… the Reaper walks again.
A young officer beside him stammers, trembling.
Sh-should we retreat, General? The men… they're breaking rank!
Varkas annoyed.
Let them break. If they feared him before… they'll learn terror today.
He unsheathes his blade, pointing it toward Draven's blazing path.
Ready the black hounds. If I am to kill a legend, let it be done with a blade soaked in ancient wrath.
The skies grow darker as if the gods themselves shade their eyes from the carnage.
The Reaper's Flames, once vivid blue, begin to flicker with darker edges. Shadows curl at the borders, whispering something… wrong.
Kael noticing.
His fire… it's changing.
Luna's heart skips a beat and with worry in her voice.
He's losing control.
Draven pauses amid the chaos, his scythe planted in the ground. Blue fire coils around him like serpents of smoke. He's breathing heavily. Alone, in the eye of the storm.
Suddenly a faint voice echoes in his mind. A child's voice.
Young Kael memory.
Father… do you think monsters know they're monsters?
Draven's fingers twitch. His grip tightens. His eyes flicker between human and void-white.
Draven low, tortured.
I never wanted this. I never asked to be made this way.
A sharp pain pierces Luna's chest. She gasps, clutching her heart.
Midnight rushing to her.
Luna?! What is it?
Luna barely.
I... I felt him slip. Just for a second. Like something... ancient… took his place.
From Varkas side, monstrous war beasts armored and glowing with cursed runes charge forward, heading straight for Draven. Screams echo as they trample their own men just to reach him.
Kael and the Cerevus soldiers witness the impossible. As the beasts near, Draven's body begins to levitate slightly, his scythe floating beside him eyes fully white, fire turning ultramarine, swirling like a star collapsing inward.
Then a whisper. Cold. Ancient.
Unknown Voice within Draven.
Shall I take the reins… again?
Draven whispers.
Not yet...
Kael screams his father's name.
The ground trembles.
The enemy halts.
And far above, thunder rolls.
Draven lifts his scythe, and time seems to stop.
The chaos stills for a breath. Amid fire and death, Draven turns eyes slowly shifting back from white to blue, if only for a second. He looks toward the hill where Kael stands, watching in awe and fear.
Their eyes lock.
Draven softly, with a tired smile.
I'm proud of you, little one.
He winks.
Kael's breath catches for the first time, he feels seen. Not as the son of a legend… but as a son.
Massive, armored in blackened steel with crimson runes glowing on his chest plate. A monstrous blade rests on his shoulder, jagged like a broken fang.
Varkas grinning.
So… the Reaper still clings to sentiment.
Draven turns, the fire around him surging like it remembers the war drums.
Draven quiet, almost amused-
And you still talk too much.
The battlefield clears around them as if the world itself doesn't dare to interrupt.
Varkas charges first a roar tearing the sky. His blade comes down like a meteor.
Draven side steps, scythe spinning upward with eerie grace, intercepting the blow in a flash of blue and crimson sparks.
Metal shrieks.
The ground fractures beneath them.
Each strike splits the wind.
The scythe coils like flame, responding to Draven's rage. Varkas counters with brute force, his blade glowing with cursed energy.
Draven kicks off a jagged rock, flipping over Varkas, slashing downward.
Varkas pivots, grabs Draven mid-air, and slams him to the ground stone cracks.
Draven coughs blood, laughs, and ignites his flame into a burst, launching them both backward.
Midair, they clash again. Two gods at war.
Kael to Luna.
How can someone fight like that... and smile?
Luna's voice is low, proud and mournful.
Because every hit he takes is for you. For us. That smile isn't strength… it's pain wrapped in love.
A slash across Draven's ribs. Blood sprays. The fire dims for a second. Varkas laughs.
You bleed like the rest of us, Reaper!
Draven grinning with bloodied teeth.
Yeah… but I burn differently.
The scythe ignites like a supernova, and Draven rushes forward.
Draven and Varkas are locked in a deadly dance of blue flame versus cursed steel. Every strike echoes like thunder. The ground between them is nothing but scorched earth and shattered stone.
Varkas roars and slams his blade down Draven catches it mid-air with the shaft of his scythe. The force sends tremors across the field. Troops on both sides are knocked off their feet.
Suddenly a blinding blue flare cuts through the sky.
It shoots above their heads like a beacon not destructive, but healing.
Wounded soldiers, both allies and innocents nearby, begin to stir as wounds mend and pain fades.
Kael gasping.
What is that...?
Luna lets go of a breath that she didn't know that she was holding.
Thats hope Kael, i wasn't expecting to see him here.
From a nearby ridge, surrounded by shimmering blue glyphs and magical sigils, Royal Blue stands cloak fluttering in the wind, hands raised to the sky as waves of arcane energy pulse from his fingertips.
Royal Blue yelling across the chaos.
You're not leaving us this time… not on my watch!
Draven glances over his shoulder. He's breathing heavily, blood running down his side, but when he sees Royal Blue, a grin spreads across his face through the flames.
Draven with a wink.
I knew I could count on you… old friend.
The moment injects new strength into Draven. The scythe pulses. His stance steadies. The fire intensifies.
Varkas with a big grin.
More tricks. More magic. You're still just one man, Draven!
Draven low and fierce.
Maybe. But I'm not the one who's outnumbered anymore.
Behind him, revived troops of the kingdom begin to rise battle-worn, eyes burning with resolve. The tide begins to shift.
Draven stands tall, surrounded by flickers of azure fire and loyal troops rising behind him. Varkas staggers back, his armor cracked, his blade trembling. But instead of fear, a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face.
Varkas laughing darkly.
You think this is the end, Reaper? You've only danced with my shadow...
He slams his cursed sword into the ground, and a pulse of black and red energy erupts, cracking the earth in all directions.
The sky darkens. The wind dies.
All goes eerily quiet.
Royal Blue suddenly tense.
This… this isn't normal magic. Draven, that sword it's a seal!
From beneath the ground, monstrous red glyphs ignite, and a massive demonic figure begins to rise, horned, skeletal, its body made of shadow and flame, a bound ancient entity once buried under the battlefield.
Varkas eyes glowing.
Let me introduce you to my salvation Khor'Zaleth, the Devourer of Light.
The entity lets out a guttural roar that shatters stone and sends a shockwave across the field. The skies twist above as a swirling vortex forms. Troops scream. Some flee. Others drop to their knees.
But Draven steps forward, planting the butt of his scythe into the ground. Blue fire spreads from his feet again, countering the shadow like a lighthouse in a storm.
Draven growling under his breath.
So… this is your ace. Good.
He tightens his grip, eyes burning with determination.
Because I've been needing something to test just how far I've come back from hell.
The air goes silent for a moment. Then…
Draven his voice low, steady, dangerous.
Never… ever put me in a position where I have to show you how cruel and ruthless I can be.
He steps forward. The ground beneath him splinters.
Draven his tone sharpening.
Don't test my patience. I might be the kindest, sweetest person you've ever met…
He lifts his gaze, eyes now glowing violently blue, filled with something ancient, something beyond rage.
But once I reach my limit...
BOOM.
An explosion of blue flame erupts from his body, surging in all directions. The ground CRACKS, crumbling beneath his feet. Soldiers shield their eyes, stumbling backward as waves of raw, unchecked power erupt skyward. Draven's cloak billows with the force, his armor glowing faintly from within.
…you'll see me do things no one thought I was capable of doing.
The battlefield freezes for just a breath as all eyes turn toward the glowing figure of Draven, standing alone in the storm of fire and fury, no longer just a warrior... but something greater. Something unstoppable.
From the smoke and blazing wind, a second presence emerges. Midnight walks forward calm, composed, resolute. His armor gleams under the storm-light, and as he reaches Draven's side…
Midnight quietly, to Draven.
If the whole world is against us... then it's us against the world.
He stands shoulder to shoulder with his brother-in-arms. Then…
BOOM.
A second explosion of energy erupts not blue, but a deep, burning red flame, roaring out from Midnight's core. The two powers swirl together blue and red, flame and fury lighting the sky like twin comets rising from the earth.
The air thickens. Even the enemy trembles.
Luna is proud of seeing her husband and her brother fighting side by side once again, an unstoppable duo.
Two forces… forged by pain, sharpened by battle, bound not by blood… but by purpose.
Varkas snarls in disbelief, his grip on his weapon tightening as the ground quakes beneath the twin titans now united before him.
Draven glances at Midnight, a grin breaking through the fire on his face.
Took you long enough.
Midnight smirking.
Couldn't let you have all the dramatic lines.
The flames around them rise higher blue and red, dancing like twin dragons. Together, they take a single step forward and the battlefield knows…
This is no longer just a war.
This… is judgment.
The battlefield holds its breath. The blue and red flames still crackle around Draven and Midnight as the storm of war looms. Just before they move, Midnight places a hand on Draven's shoulder.
Midnight firm, searching Draven's eyes.
Are you sure about what we're about to do?
Draven without hesitation, voice like steel and fire.
I would rather be hated for who I truly am… than be adored for someone I'm not.
Love based on a lie has no worth. I'd rather be rejected for being my true self… than embraced by the false side of me.
He turns, flames flickering across his face like ghosts of his past.
People don't have to like me. And I won't change who I am just to make them comfortable.
Draven to Midnight, steady.
What you see is what you get. I've done bad things. I've made plenty of mistakes. But I'll always stay true to myself.
No matter who you are with. No matter what new friends you make… Never change yourself to suit them.
Kael, watching them both, conflicted between fear and awe, steps forward.
Kael quietly.
Are you sure, Dad?
Draven turns to his son. The blue flame in his eyes grows brighter, the very heat around him shifting, a pulse felt through the ground.
He kneels slightly, meeting Kael eye-to-eye.
Draven soft, powerful.
If I say I've got your back… I've got your back.
You don't have to turn around to see if I'm still there.
I will be. Even if it kills me.
Kael swallows hard, trying to hold back emotion. Midnight looks at both of them, nodding. The bond is solid. The fire is real.
The battlefield is chaos incarnate. The wind howls, ash from past fires twisting in the air like ancient spirits. Enemy soldiers hesitate, their spears trembling. At the center: three figures Draven, Midnight, and the towering warlord Varkas.
Varkas grinning, voice like iron scraping on stone.
So… the Reaper returns. And brings a shadow with him. Fitting. You die in pairs now?
Draven his voice echoes like thunder.
You talk too much for a man about to fall.
Midnight red flame dancing in his eyes.
You'll wish death came quickly.
Draven and Midnight launch forward blurs of speed, fire, and fury.
The clash begins.
Varkas swings his colossal blade, creating shockwaves that split the earth open.
Draven meets it with his scythe, the two weapons colliding with a burst of blue and red energy that ripples through the sky. Clouds part. Lightning cracks. The gods hold their breath.
Midnight moves like lightning spinning, slashing, teleporting in red streaks around Varkas, his blades dancing through air like a storm of fireflies.
Varkas deflecting a blow, grinning.
You both hit hard… but is that all?
Draven says nothing. He raises his scythe and twists it through the air, forming an arc of blue flame. He SLAMS it into the ground.
A WALL OF BLUE FIRE erupts. A serpent made of flame coils into the sky, SCREAMING as it dives down onto Varkas.
Varkas roars, body tanking the hit, his armor melting and reforming with dark magic.
The sky darkens. The battlefield becomes a war of elements.
Draven eyes glowing white-blue.
Midnight. Phase three.
Midnight nods, leaping skyward, his red flame wings bursting from his back. With twin swords drawn, he dives like a comet toward Varkas.
Draven channels everything.
The ground splits around him in a glowing ritual sigil, ancient and divine. The scythe lifts itself into the air, spinning.
Blue Heaven—FINAL JUDGEMENT!
A beam of celestial blue energy EXPLODES from the scythe, vaporizing the earth, launching debris into the air like meteors.
Varkas activates his trump card—his body mutates, growing monstrous, his armor becoming bone, his power spiking beyond mortal limit.
I AM WAR ITSELF!
He leaps into the air, clashing directly with Midnight mid-descent. The shockwave vaporizes dozens of enemy soldiers. In the storm, Draven leaps above both of them.
You were never war. You were a tyrant pretending to be worthy.
He brings the scythe down. Midnight slams Varkas from below. The three collide.
A massive explosion. White light. Silence.
Through the smoke… Varkas stumbles. Bleeding. Weakened.
Draven and Midnight stand tall, side by side, cloaked in fire and fury.
Draven walking slowly to him.
This is for every name you erased. For every cry you silenced. For every hope you crushed.
Midnight cold.
You will not see tomorrow.
They both attack Draven sweeping low, Midnight spinning high. A perfect X of flame carves through Varkas.
Varkas screams, body bursting into dark shards, vanishing into the sky like dust.
The battlefield is silent. Enemy troops begin fleeing. The sky begins to clear. The war… is over.
Royal Blue arrives, healing troops with elegant sigils as a blue flare pulses in the sky.
Draven to Royal Blue.
Thanks old friend we couldn't have done this without your help, it's good to have you on our side.
He winks. The fire fades around him. But the legend only grows brighter.
The battlefield begins to quiet, the scent of smoke still lingering in the air. The last embers fade into the wind. Enemy forces retreat into the horizon, broken and defeated. The people of the kingdom once trembling in uncertainty now rise in hope.
Troops cheer, weapons raised in exhausted triumph. Kael, still wide-eyed from witnessing the power of his parents, rushes through the crowd.
Royal Blue tends to the wounded, his hands glowing with soft magic, pausing only to nod at Draven from afar with a knowing smile.
Draven, scorched and bruised but standing tall, turns his eyes lock onto Luna.
She doesn't wait.
She runs to him.
He opens his arms wide, catching her as she leaps forward. He spins her once, laughing a sound no one had heard from him in years. A genuine, unburdened laugh. The fire in his eyes softens, glowing not with rage, but with warmth.
Kael watches from a distance, a small smile on his face as he sees his family whole again.
The sky is clear in a tinged blue, a soft wind stirs the banners. A quiet voice carries on that wind, not a normal voice, but something deeper. The voice of the world itself.
Your life is your story.
No one else gets to write it, no one else gets to define it.
Every choice you make, every risk you take, every dream you chase it's yours.
People will doubt you, judge you, misunderstand you…
But it doesn't matter.
This is your journey, your fight… your legacy…
Own it.
You are the hero in your story.
You make the rules…
And you… shall fight for your future.