---
The platform cracked beneath Yaman's boots. Zeldaris loomed in front of him, cloak snapping in the heat, his eyes twin embers of hell. The commander's aura was suffocating, like tar filling the lungs.
"Too slow," Zeldaris sneered. His arm swept, and a blade of shadowfire erupted from his hand, cleaving across the platform. Yaman blocked with his shotgun, sparks exploding, but the sheer force hurled him backwards. He slammed against the wooden post, ribs screaming.
Get up. Don't show fear. Don't—
But Zeldaris was already upon him, moving like liquid darkness. A kick crushed into Yaman's gut, folding him in half. His vision whitened. The crowd roared in bloodlust.
Zeldaris leaned down, voice soft, venomous. "Child… you thought you could blind me? You're nothing but kindling."
The commander's hand rose, black magic swirling into a spear of molten shadow. The weapon pulsed, alive, ready to strike through Yaman's chest.
And then—
The square collapsed inward.
A roar, deeper than the volcano's, burst across the arena. The torches bent toward a single point: Fernando.
From his feet, a colossal black magic circle spiraled outward, glyphs writhing like serpents. The darkness bled upward, swallowing light, swallowing sound. The air grew heavy, gravity itself dragging every body toward the ground.
Yaman's eyes widened, terror and awe crashing through him. "F… father?"
Fernando stood with his scar glowing faint, his black eyes bottomless pits. His voice was a low thunder:
"Get away from my son."
He clenched his fist. The magic circle flared, and the shadows answered. Tendrils of living dark lashed upward, coiling around the platform. Wood splintered, stone groaned, gamblers shrieked as they were yanked screaming into the void, crushed into dust by the imploding dark.
Zeldaris turned, face lit by the storm. And then—he smiled.
"So… it is true," he purred, almost reverent. "The Magic Council's cursed knight… the King of Darkness himself."
The crowd gasped in unison, some spitting, others chanting in fear.
Zeldaris' grin widened, showing teeth. "Every guild whispers of you, Fernando. The man who stains the Rune Knights with shadows. The one sorcerers curse in their prayers." His eyes blazed, delighted. "To think… you were hiding as a father."
Fernando said nothing, only raised his hand. The shadows writhed, shaping into a sphere of crushing black.
Yaman trembled, heart rattling. He had never seen his father like this. This wasn't the man who had carried him through mountains, who had called him "my son" for the first time. This was something else. Something the world feared.
The square shook as Fernando's abyss and Zeldaris' flames collided—darkness swallowing fire, fire tearing through void. Magic circles clashed overhead, shattering into fragments of light. Each impact sent shockwaves ripping through the crucifixions, bodies snapping loose like broken puppets.
Zeldaris laughed, wild, enthralled. "Yes! Show me! Show me why the Council chained you in legend!"
Fernando's voice was calm, cold as a blade. "You'll regret standing between me and my son."
---
---
The arena shuddered like a dying beast. Sparks rained from the volcano's throat, and the explosions from Yaman's bombs still painted the air with smoke and blood.
From their throne-like chairs, the Three Disasters rose. Kur's scorched scar glowed as flames coiled in his fists. Plague twisted the cap off a vial, green fumes curling like snakes. Einar cracked his neck, wind shrieking around him as meat still dripped from his jaw.
Kur spat, voice rough as iron scraping stone.
"Zeldaris. Enough playing with rats. We'll crush them here and now."
Plague chuckled, his grin warped behind the gas mask dangling in his hand.
"Mmm. The scent of fear is delicious. Let me spread it. Let me rot them."
Einar slammed his palm down, the platform shaking.
"They're already prey. Just say the word."
The crowd howled approval, chanting for blood.
But Zeldaris lifted his hand. A command. A promise.
"Stand down."
The Disasters froze, their auras snarling but restrained. Zeldaris' grin widened, the glow of his ember eyes fixed only on Fernando.
"This is my battle," he said, voice ringing through the carnage. "Do you not smell it? Do you not feel it? The abyss finally answers my fire." His smile bent darker, feverish. "The King of Darkness… I want to see it myself."
Fernando's aura deepened, the magic circle beneath him flaring. Black glyphs spun like chains of a prison only he commanded. The darkness coiled around his arm, thick as smoke and heavy as gravity itself.
Yaman stared, trembling. Father… the Dark King?
Zeldaris spread his arms, cloak tearing in the volcanic wind. "Rune Knight… Council's cursed shadow… I've heard stories whispered in every dark tavern from Bosco to Bellum." His laughter cracked like thunder. "They call you blasphemy. They call you nightmare. They call you the one who devoured even his own comrades' light."
Fernando's eyes narrowed. His voice was ice.
"They call me what they fear. And you'll understand why."
The ground ripped apart between them.
Zeldaris surged forward, wreathed in shadowfire blades that tore the air like screaming banshees. Fernando answered with a sweep of his arm, and the void swallowed light—a dome of darkness that pulled Zeldaris' attack into itself like a black hole.
The collision shook the square. Torches blew out, crucified bodies rattled on their nails, gamblers clutched their heads as their eyes bled from the clash of magic.
Zeldaris burst through, laughing mad, slashing downward with a blade of molten night. Fernando caught it with his hand—bare skin meeting impossible flame. The shadows around him surged, devouring the fire inch by inch.
"Impossible!" a guard gasped, watching the duel.
Fernando's eyes burned black. "Your fire burns men. Mine consumes worlds."
Zeldaris' grin only grew. "YES! Show me more!"
He roared, blasting Fernando back with a wave of burning pressure that shattered half the platform. Yaman clung to the butcher's daughter, shielding her as splinters flew like arrows.
But Fernando stood, cloak torn, aura endless. Another magic circle erupted under his feet, this one layered and vast, stretching across the entire square like a brand. The crowd screamed as shadows crawled from the ground, dragging screaming dark mages into the abyss.
The Disasters bristled, their own magic flaring, but Zeldaris raised his hand again, never breaking his grin.
"No. Do not touch him." His voice was reverent now, fanatical. "I want to kill the Dark King with my own hands."
And the duel escalated.
Zeldaris, a god of flame and abyssal wrath.
Fernando, the Dark King of the Rune Knights, his forbidden void spilling across the world.
Father and son caught between gods and monsters.
---
---
The volcano's roar echoed like a beast awakened. Ash and sparks rained down, lightning-like in the molten sky. Yaman clutched the little girl tightly, boots skidding across the blackened slope. Behind him, Fernando's dark aura shimmered like a living shadow, creeping over the mountain's peaks, bending the air around him.
"Yaman… leave! Now!" Fernando's voice was low, commanding, yet heavy with emotion.
"I… I can't," Yaman shouted, chest heaving. "I won't leave you, Father. I… I will fight by your side!"
Fernando's eyes softened for a moment, but the black magic thrumming around him intensified, cracks forming in the volcanic rock beneath his feet.
"You do not understand, son… this is not your fight. Not yet." His voice grew sharper, almost pleading. "Leave for the last time!"
Yaman's teeth clenched, fear and stubborn pride warring inside him. Tears welled in his eyes, shimmering in the fiery light. "I… I can't! I won't!"
Fernando exhaled slowly, then unleashed his full magical power. A wave of shadow surged outward, trembling across the slopes and shaking the volcanoes themselves. Rocks tumbled. Lava fissures spat sparks. The mountain groaned as if the earth itself feared his command.
Yaman's eyes widened. His body trembled. The little girl gasped. He stumbled, terror clawing at him — but in that moment, he realized he could not stand still. With a shuddering cry, Yaman finally ran, dragging the girl with him, boots kicking up ash and stone.
From the scorched square, a voice rang out — smooth, cruel, and mocking:
"You bad father, Dark King!" Zeldaris laughed, his silhouette framed by fire and smoke. "Scaring your son with your magical power? Hah! Do you think he'll run away? This boy… he's the type to die early. Perhaps he'll even bring the girl back to us."
Fernando's lips curled into a grim, silent roar. He did not flinch, even as Plague and Einar closed in on his son, their laughter piercing the chaos. He planted his sword deep into the volcanic ground. Shadows snaked outward, curling around the cratered arena.
"Dark Trench!" he bellowed.
The ground shuddered. The arena split violently in two, a jagged chasm opening beneath the feet of the chasing Disasters. Lava hissed from the newly formed fissure, glowing red and orange like the eyes of a demon. Yaman's breath caught as he glimpsed the abyss — but Fernando's dark aura marked the safe path for him.
Plague snarled, fury boiling over, and leapt to cross the trench. Einar followed, wings cutting the air, eyes wild with excitement. But the moment they passed the edge, the gravitational pull of Fernando's dark magic seized them. The earth itself became a trap, dragging them down.
Below them sprawled a sea of pure darkness. Red eyes glimmered like fireflies in a nightmare. Whispers and laughter of unseen demons slithered up the trench walls. Plague and Einar flailed, claws scrabbling, trying to grasp the rim, but the dark pull was relentless. They screamed, bloodied and panicked, like mice in a predator's trap.
Yaman pressed the girl close, his chest heaving. Tears streamed freely, but relief and fear collided in his heart. He had escaped the worst — for now — yet the roar of his father's power and the screams of those swallowed by darkness would haunt the volcanic winds for a lifetime.
-
---
Yaman's legs carried him farther and farther, his lungs burning, the girl clutched tightly in his arms. The arena, the volcano, the hellish screams of demons and collapsing stone — all of it blurred behind him. He didn't look back. Couldn't. His father's command still echoed in his skull, heavy as thunder: "Leave for the last time."
At last, the shadows swallowed him from sight.
Fernando exhaled sharply, the sigh half relief, half exhaustion. His son was gone — safe, for now.
But then came the laughter.
Low, slow at first… then rising into a manic crescendo. Zeldaris stepped forward, unbothered by the loss of his followers, his voice rolling like velvet thunder:
"So… this is the fabled Dark Trench." His eyes gleamed, red and feverish. "The technique that swallowed whole guilds. That erased generations of dark mages. Hah!" He threw his head back, laughter tearing from his throat, sharp as a blade. "And tonight— it kills two of Plague and Einar's the tow of my My disasters ."
He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the carnage. "Oh, Dark King… I swear… I am burning with excitement!"
The volcano groaned violently as Zeldaris unleashed his aura. Magic rippled from him in devastating waves, distorting the air, cracking stone. The sky blackened, streaks of volcanic lightning tearing it apart. The mountain shook so violently, even Fernando braced his stance, sweat trickling down his brow.
But his pride held. His gaze never wavered.
Zeldaris smirked, then reached to his throat. He unfastened the heavy cloak from his shoulders, letting it fall. His chest was bare, carved with muscle and winding black tattoos that pulsed faintly with magic. Around his neck dangled a chain of bones, rattling with each movement. His savage smile widened, exposing teeth like a predator about to feed.
"So then, Dark King…" His voice was almost playful, dripping with madness. "Shall we begin?"
A flash of magic. In one hand, Zeldaris conjured his requip weapon — a monstrous club, its head studded with spikes glowing faintly with runes. The ground shivered beneath its weight.
Fernando's hand tightened on his sword. His blade quivered with dark energy, shadow coiling around it like smoke. Slowly, he raised it — a smile, sharp and dangerous, flickering across his face.
And then, in the blink of an eye—
They vanished.
Both figures blurred into streaks of power, and the world split with their clash. Sword met club, steel met rune. The collision thundered like a god's fist striking the earth. Shockwaves tore across the battlefield. The volcano screamed. Lava geysers erupted skyward, spraying molten fire into the storm. Bolts of black lightning crackled across the sky, turning night into a blood-red dawn.
Their faces were inches apart, both grinning savagely, locked in the thrill of combat. Two predators, one arena.
Far away, Yaman stumbled but kept running, his heart in his throat. The girl whimpered, hiding her face in his chest. His mind burned with the memory of the Dark Trench — the sea of darkness, the glowing red eyes, the screams of men swallowed alive. His father's shadow was no longer just terrifying. It was something unearthly.
Behind him, the volcano split with lightning and fire. Yaman tightened his hold on the girl, whispering, voice breaking but determined:
"Dad… I'll win this part. I trust you. I'll get her to safety."
And he ran, faster, away from the storm of gods clashing on the mountain.
---