Back at the forge, the rhythmic clang of metal echoed softly — Alfred shaping a new blade, sparks dancing in the dim light. Sam stood nearby, polishing a half-finished sword, his face quiet but his eyes sharp, thoughtful.
Alfred paused for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the boy. He'd been watching him more carefully these past few days — the way his movements had grown faster, his senses sharper. This child… there's something in him. Something far beyond mortal hands.
He set the hammer down and sighed inwardly. I've seen power before — divine, demonic, forbidden — but nothing like his.
"Alfred?" Sam's voice broke the silence.
"Hm?"
"Yesterday you mentioned the Great War," Sam said, not meeting his gaze. "The one that ended the age of chaos. What… what really happened back then? And who exactly were the Elethels?"
Alfred's expression hardened. The question pulled memories from deep within him — memories he'd tried to bury long ago.
He leaned against the workbench, arms crossed. "The Great War… was no ordinary conflict, boy. It wasn't fought over land or greed, but survival itself. The Elethels came from beyond this world — a realm twisted by corruption. They fed on life, on magic, on souls."
Sam listened intently, his hands tightening around the sword's hilt.
"They couldn't be reasoned with," Alfred continued, his tone low and distant. "They turned men into ash with a touch, poisoned the skies with their breath. We fought them for years, until both sides were nearly wiped out. But among them…" He hesitated. "There was one none of us could stand against."
Sam's brow furrowed. "Who?"
Alfred's eyes darkened, the firelight reflecting in them like molten gold. "Veyrath. One of their generals — maybe their greatest. He wasn't just strong, he was cruel. The air around him turned to poison. Even armor forged from divine metals melted under his presence."
Sam froze. "Veyrath…"
"Yes," Alfred said grimly. "A walking plague. Entire legions vanished when he entered the field. It was said that his aura alone could twist the land itself. Even the gods feared to face him directly."
Sam swallowed hard. The name burned into his mind, matching the whispers he'd heard from the creature he'd fought on the mountain.
"What happened to him?" Sam asked.
Alfred's jaw tightened. "He was never killed. When the war ended, he vanished — along with the last of his kind. We believed he'd been sealed away… but I'm not so sure anymore."
The room fell silent, the only sound the crackle of the fire.
Sam looked down at his hands — the same hands that had unleashed the black flame. The power to erase anything.
If Veyrath truly had returned… then his encounter on the mountain hadn't been a coincidence.
Alfred noticed the change in Sam's eyes — that quiet, burning resolve. "Boy," he said sternly, "whatever foolishness you're thinking, stop it. You're not ready to face monsters like that."
Sam met his gaze, steady and cold. "Maybe not now. But I will be."
For the first time, Alfred saw not a child — but the beginning of a warrior.
Outside, the wind shifted. The clouds above the mountain darkened once more. Far away, deep beneath the earth, a monstrous voice rumbled faintly, as if laughing.
"So… the heir seeks strength"
That night, the village slept under a quiet silver moon. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the faint scent of rain and ash.
But Sam did not sleep.
While Alfred and Lisa rested, he slipped out of his window, landing softly on the damp earth. His pendant glimmered faintly — a reminder of the power sealed within. No more hiding, he thought. If monsters like Veyrath exist, I have to be ready.
He made his way deep into the mountains, past the broken stones where his earlier battles had scarred the land. The air there was still — unnaturally still — as if even nature feared what had happened before.
Sam stood in the clearing and closed his eyes. He could feel it — that strange pulse beneath his skin. His blood hummed with divine resonance and something darker, something deeper.
He extended his hand. Black mist began to coil around his palm, writhing like living smoke.
"This time," he whispered, "I'll control you."
The darkness swirled violently, fighting against his command, testing his will. Sam gritted his teeth, forcing his breathing steady the way Lisa had taught him.
"Shape it, not destroy," her voice echoed in his memory.
The mist trembled, compressing, shifting — until it formed a blade of pure shadow. Its edges rippled like water, humming with restrained energy.
But Sam wasn't done. He raised his other hand, willing another blade into existence — this one unstable, flickering between forms. The strain cut through his veins like fire.
His vision blurred, sweat pouring down his face. The darkness inside him screamed to be free, but he held it — barely.
The air around him distorted, pebbles rising from the ground as pressure built. His pendant flashed, desperately trying to seal the surge, but Sam pushed harder, his voice a growl.
"I… said… obey!"
A thunderous pulse exploded outward. The mountains trembled. The blades in his hands stabilized, their edges glowing faintly crimson — darkness fused with faint light.
Sam fell to his knees, panting. The ground around him was scorched, trees sliced clean by invisible force. Yet his eyes shone — not with fear, but pride.
He had done it. He had bent the darkness, if only for a moment.
Then — a whisper. Soft, cold, ancient.
"You walk a dangerous path, heir of ruin…"
Sam spun around — no one was there. Only shadows dancing across the stone.
But deep within his chest, the pendant pulsed once — faint, warning, alive.
He clenched his fists. "I don't care who you are," he said under his breath. "I'll keep getting stronger."
Lightning flashed across the sky. Far in the distance, unseen by him, a single eye opened — burning red within the clouds. Watching. Waiting.
The next morning, a gentle mist covered the village. Birds chirped faintly in the distance, but the calm carried a strange weight — as if the air itself was holding its breath.
Lisa awoke early, as she always did, to start the day's chores. But when she went to check on Sam, his bed was empty — the sheets cold.
A sharp unease crept through her chest. She had grown used to his occasional wanderings, but lately, she'd sensed something changing in him — a quiet determination mixed with something darker.
Grabbing her cloak, she hurried outside, following the faint trail of footprints leading toward the mountains.
As she climbed higher, the air grew heavier. The scent of burnt earth filled her nose, and soon, she reached the clearing.
What she saw froze her in place.
The ground was torn apart — deep cuts etched across the rocks, trees split perfectly in half as if by invisible blades. The soil shimmered faintly with traces of black energy, still humming with life.
Lisa knelt, her hand hovering over the ground. The energy pulsed, reacting to her touch — the same dark essence she had seen the night Sabrina gave birth.
"Sam…" she whispered. Her voice trembled. "What have you done?"
A gust of wind swept through, and for a brief moment, she saw the shape of a shadow — a towering figure of darkness fading into the mist. It wasn't attacking, only observing… and then it was gone.
Lisa's heart pounded. She could feel the aura — familiar, but stronger than anything Sam had ever released before. The pendant's power was weakening.
She looked around desperately and finally spotted something glinting beneath the stones. It was Sam's training blade — cracked down the middle, leaking faint black mist.
Lisa clenched it in her hand.
"He's pushing himself too far…" she muttered, fear tightening her throat. "If this continues, the darkness will consume him."
As she turned to leave, a voice echoed faintly through the wind — one she hadn't heard in years.
"The heir of shadow awakens once "
Sam was shocked to hear that and looked at Lisa but she was unfazed as if nothing happened, but Sam was still surprised where this voice came from.
The voice that Sam heard was same as the one who spoke yesterday, then that voice again said " only you can hear me".