After a grueling struggle, Andre stood tall amidst the ruins of the Demon Lord's defeat. Burdened by the weight of his past, he demanded to know whose hand had scorched his orphanage and slaughtered his village. A sinister smile played upon the Demon Lord's lips, as if Andre's ignorance was his final amusement.
"O descendant of the First Hero," the demon sneered, "do you truly believe your wounds are limited to those two tragedies? You have barely scratched the surface of your own misery!"
The Demon Lord began to weave the tale of the conspiracy, each word striking like a blade: "It started with the orphanage, followed by the assassins who hunted your shadow. Then came the bear incident that nearly claimed your life and the soul of the one you call sister. Have you forgotten the Pit of Ghouls? Or the beast raid and the abduction of the child? I forced Maurice to drink the potions to turn him into a demon, and Volak was nearly lost to the same fate had he not refused to drink."
The demon's voice grew sharper, more piercing: "Even Volak's father... his body was torn asunder in silence, bound by a magic that stifled his screams of agony. He was resurrected as a twisted puppet only to be slain by your own hand—to make you the catalyst of chaos! And finally, the transformation of your village into demons, led by Emily... the one you once cherished as a sister."
The Eruption of Rage
The words fell upon Andre like molten lead. Rage consumed his mind, and his grip on his sword tightened until the veins in his hands bulged like serpents. Amidst his roar of "Who did this? Tell me!", the demon laughed triumphantly: "Raise your voice, Hero! The echo of your wrath cannot reach me!"
Andre struck the ground with his fist, the hall trembling under his might. "Tell me!" he bellowed, "Who is responsible for all this destruction?!"
In Andre's eyes, the Demon Lord saw a flicker of dark energy—wild and untamed. "There are two," the demon answered. "The first is Maurice, an outcast whose trail is easy to follow. The second... is Death himself. To reach him is to challenge oblivion."
When Andre questioned the nature of this foe, the demon replied: "You have cleaved Maurice in half once before, but he toys with time to stitch his flesh back together; my remaining power within him will guide you. As for the other... he is the Lord of the Dead."
As the name was uttered, the walls shuddered and light fled the room. Sensing Andre's shock, the Demon Lord spoke with newfound gravity: "He is no ordinary being; he is the terror of all souls. He commands an army so vast that the worlds cannot contain it—an army that neither I nor the First Lord would ever dare to face. I tried once, and the outcome was decided before it even began."
When Andre asked how, the Demon Lord only smiled: "You will learn, Andre... you will learn when you face him."
The Oath and the Ice
Without hesitation, Andre unsheathed his blade and swore a solemn oath: "I, Andre, swear here and now: I will bring an end to Maurice and the Lord of the Dead, no matter the cost." The demon looked at him with pity, muttering to himself: "Ignorance is a blessing one only realizes once it is lost."
The scene shifted to the Ice Lord, who listened to Andre's tale. He rose with solemn dignity, grasping his frost-laden sword. "So, Maurice was in that forest... that must be why the Demon Lord attacked him. He must have provoked him somehow. No matter. We must find this Maurice. Prepare yourself, Andre; we set out immediately to decapitate the serpent and end this nightmare."
"As you command, Captain," Andre replied obediently. But in the depths of his soul, he whispered: "Forgive me, Captain, for I did not tell you of the Lord of the Dead. He is my destiny, and I am the one who will kill him."
The Den of Oblivion
Meanwhile, in a dimension draped in eternal darkness, the Lord of the Dead let out a cold, hollow laugh. "The boy thinks he can kill me? How ignorant the children of this age have become!"
He turned to his Observer and asked of Maurice's state. "He is paralyzed with terror," the Observer replied.
"Terrified, is he? Then let us bolster his heart," the Lord of the Dead commanded. He turned to his lieutenant, "Tell me, how many legions do we command?"
"As many as you desire, my Lord," the lieutenant answered.
"Then choose the weakest of our fleets and send it to Maurice. I wish to see how long this boy lasts against my shadow."
Back with Maurice, who sat trembling in the shadow of death, the Observer appeared. Maurice drew his sword in fear, but relaxed upon recognizing the messenger. "What are the Lord's orders?"
"You are to face the Frost Legion," the Observer stated coldly.
"How?!" Maurice cried in despair. "I have no army! Has the Lord of the Dead sacrificed me?"
"Simply say the word," the Observer replied flatly. "Say: 'Come forth.'"
As soon as Maurice uttered the words, the earth split open. Armies of dragons, armored juggernauts, sorcerers, and phantoms surged forth, blanketing the mountain until not a single stone could be seen. Stunned by this display of might, Maurice whispered, "Is this boy truly so important that all this was sent?"
"Guess for yourself," the Observer replied.
Regaining his confidence, Maurice laughed bitterly. "Then I shall not disappoint my Master. Oh, Andre... I know not why he is obsessed with you, but I promise: when you arrive, I will make you taste death long before it takes you!"