Andre stood victorious, but at his feet, the Great Demon Lord lay shattered. It was more than a physical defeat; it was the total collapse of an ancient ego. The Demon Lord struck the earth with his brow in a fit of impotent rage, his voice a guttural rasp of despair.
"How? Why does fate conspire against me?" he howled. "In the past and the present, I am bested by him and now his descendant! And the ultimate insult—my own power... it has chosen him! Is this some cruel jest?"
He turned his eyes toward the heavens, screaming at the void: "Answer me, O cursed Fate! You saw my wretched childhood, my joyless youth. I have never known peace! Why won't you grant me my vengeance, just once?"
In a final, frenzied surge, the Demon Lord lunged for his blade, intent on slaughter. But the Judge struck his gavel with a sound like a mountain splitting. "Enough! The victory belongs to Andre!"
Golden chains erupted from the ether, binding the Demon Lord. The more he struggled to shatter them, the tighter they coiled, until he was rendered motionless—a monument to his own failure. The Judge turned to Andre, his expression clouded with a grim warning.
"You have won, Andre. But the union of the First Hero's light and the Demon Lord's shadow within you is an omen. The clock is winding for a darkness yet to come."
Andre recoiled, his face pale. "What do you mean?"
"A war is coming," the Judge continued, "one that will blur the lines between ally and traitor. The world will witness an Absolute Evil that will force enemies to stand as brothers. And that entity, Andre... it will possess a power identical to your own."
A cold shiver ran down Andre's spine. "Are you saying... that I am that evil?"
"I do not know," the Judge replied softly. "I only pray that you are not. But now, one final task remains before you return to the realm of the living."
The Judge struck the earth again, summoning the ancient stone monolith. "Sheathe the Demon Lord's blade within this stone. Order the Gates to recall the Seven Statues—the ancient Primordial Rulers. The weakest among them could level a kingdom in a heartbeat. And the most terrifying is the Dragon Rider; his power is the only force equal to the Demon Lord himself."
The Unfolding Nightmare
As Andre performed the ritual, the "Ice Squad" stood in the waking world, watching the Gates with bated breath. Chains emerged, dragging the monolithic statues back toward the portal. In the shadows, the Lord of the Dead watched with a serpent's grin. "Mortals," he whispered. "They think they can rewrite a destiny already etched in blood."
Suddenly, a manic laughter echoed in Andre's mind. It was the Demon Lord's voice, jagged and triumphant:
"You think you've won? You fool! Those statues aren't being imprisoned—they are being summoned! To return them to the void, you must first defeat them... and your Judge knows this. He is merely stalling the inevitable."
In a flash of dark light, the Gates vanished. The Seven Statues were scattered across the corners of the world. The Demon Lord's final words faded into a haunting whisper: "Enjoy your body while you can, Andre. The day will come when I reclaim it, and I shall turn this world into a searing hell. My loyal followers... wait for me."
The Awakening
Andre's consciousness shattered. He woke in the real world, his face swathed in heavy bandages where the flesh had been torn away. As the fog in his vision cleared, the first thing he saw was Emily. She was trembling, her eyes brimming with tears she couldn't hold back.
She reached out, her hand shaking as she touched his face—now miraculously healed by the surging power within him.
"Brother?" she whispered. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing with relief.
"I'm back, Emily," Andre murmured, holding her tight. "I'm back."
The Ice Squad burst into the room, their cheers masking their deep anxiety. "You bastard! You really had us worried," they joked, trying to lighten the heavy air. "And look at you—your face is back to normal!"
Andre managed a weak, cocky grin. "Well, someone had to bring this handsome face back to the world."
Emily gave him a playful punch through her tears. "Stop talking nonsense! It's the ugliest face I've ever seen."
A Vow of Steel
Three days of rest passed, but the peace was hollow. When Andre finally stepped out, the Ice Lord was waiting for him.
"Do you feel your strength returning?" the Ice Lord asked.
"I feel... ready," Andre replied.
The Ice Lord nodded. "Good. Since you are recovering, I will leave the heavy missions to the squad. For now, you can assist with the village repairs. We are still rebuilding."
Andre looked toward the horizon, his eyes burning with a new, cold determination. "No, sir. I'm not staying behind to fix walls while the world burns. I have one mission, and it is the only one that matters."
The Ice Lord raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?"
"I'm going to find the one responsible for all of this," Andre said, his voice as sharp as a blade. "And I am going to end them. Permanently."