The change: A King is born.
Chapter 1. Life after Death.
"Shit, shit, shit, what the hell!" Uriel looked over his shoulder as he ran away, the monster chasing him was a bilt, it wasn't anything special, in fact it was common, but to his dumbass it was like a monster beyond imagination.
Uriel's left leg had deep gouges, likely from a trap or from the bilt chasing him, the wounds stunted his strength and speed making him slower.
Uriel's appearance wasn't special, in fact it was average, maybe even lower than average, he had medium length black hair, was about five eight, but what was surprising was that he had blue eyes, with a broken sword in his right hand, and light leather armor made for speed rather than durability.
Callouses and scars covered his hands and body, likely from training and fighting, you could tell he had toned muscles under his leather armor, Uriel looked like he was trained for battle and high stress, high adrenaline jobs and fights.
For people like him, he had a higher chance of being a mercenary than a royal knight or guard. He ran through the cave at around fifteen miles an hour, even though he was injured and tired, his adrenaline and training was saving his ass right now.
The cave was dark and barely lit, jagged pieces of angel metal were sticking out toward him from the walls and ceiling, some short, some long, the floor damp underneath him. Uriel was scouring the cave for exactly this, and was looking to see if any other valuable metals were down there, but all he found was the bilt.
The bilt that he was being chased by looked like a big, rat demon from someone's nightmares.
It had dark grey and black fur made for blending into the surroundings, sharp long teeth made for territorial fights and biting flesh, short, sharp, and dense claws for digging that were around five inches long and three inches thick.
Bilts had an average length of around nine feet, with an average height of around five feet, and a width of around four feet, with their weight being around one thousand to two thousand pounds.
They had colonies but mostly lived with around three to five others in small groups, this one was a loner, its colony lost in a fight against a bigger, stronger one, and it so happened to stumble upon him.
Uriel's mind raced with how he could either die to the bilt, kill, or get away from the bilt, as he turned the corner on the right.
He remembered how to get out but that wouldn't really matter since the bilt could still chase him, he realized he either killed the bilt, or died to it, and he wasn't one keen on dying.
He stopped and turned around he was around fifteen feet away from the bilt so he had merely seconds to block the Bilts attack, he raised his broken sword in a last stand, the bilt lounged at him but was deflected barely, uriel couldn't have been over twenty, the bilt slid to the right after being deflected and made a low guttural sound, its eyes blazing with hunger and fury.
"Damn it, I'm too tired for this shit." He said as he panted heavily, blood still coming from his gouging wounds, he faltered as his left leg almost completely gave out, the bilt noticed and lounged at him aiming for his head.
Uriel knew this was his last chance of survival, he charged with the last bit of strength, tears falling out of fear, pain, and annoyance at his predicament, the sword was aimed at the Bilts mouth.
As he stabbed the bilt through the ceiling of his mouth, sword going into its skull hitting the brain, "ahhhhh!" he roared with the last of his strength. The Bilts eyes went dead instantly as its brain was pierced, it fell to the ground dead, his sword was still stuck in the bilts mouth.
He let go of his sword as he looked down feeling something in his stomach.
His eyes widened as his hand instinctively went to pull whatever was inside him, it was the Bilts claws, barely in but just enough to cause damage that could kill him, he lost, even though he killed the bilt, he still lost.
He was going to die alone, cold, and pissed. If only those idiots didn't send him here alone while they gambled, drank, and had fun with the women in town, he would have survived.
He pulled out the dead Bilts claws and blood came out in profuse amounts, his guts were coming out also.
He swiftly put his hands to his stomach to prolong his death, agony like none he had ever felt swept over him in droves, he shivered and sweated like he was in a furnace and the northern unholy lands.
His vision blurred and came in and out of focus, he said to himself. "Damn it, damn it, damn it," the words barely came out in a forced whisper, his eyes dimmed as he was fading away into death's embrace.
He was dying. Nothing could save him now, the only thing that could was if a master or grandmaster level healer came and saved him, unless that happened he was dead.
But no such miracles had ever occurred for him once in his life, his dead family, his burned village, and the only one he had ever loved hanged for something she never did.
His life flashed through his mind from start to finish over and over again, breaking down every little detail. Blood gushed from his stomach even more, he choked on his own blood as it filled his lungs and throat.
He closed his eyes ready for death as he heard footsteps, they were light but authoritative, he looked up as his head laid on the ground, he saw, heels? Why were there heels in a dungeon? And who was wearing them? His mind raced with these thoughts forgetting he was dying.
His adrenaline raced faster as hope sprung back into his mind and heart, was someone there to heal him? Or at least bandage him up and bring him to a healer? His left hand crawled at the ground as gurgling sounds came from his mouth, he had hope again, hope he would survive.
Instead the person with the heels said. "Ugh, so there's scum dying here." Her tone conveyed a sense of uninterested. His eyes widened a little as fear crawled through his body, he managed to barely speak up. "W-wait, h-help me, please," his voice was desperate now, blood splattered onto the ground from the edges of his mouth.
She turned back to him and said. "Why are you asking me for help? I'm not able to help dying scum," She sighed, and continued. "It's just not part of my job description, I'm not a healer," her voice was normal, too normal, as if his death meant nothing.
Uriel seethed with pain, regret, burning anger and rage, and fear of his death. He knew he was going to die now, his body was getting cold, his mind drifting away all while she stood there looking down on him like he was a roach clinging to life. Uriel spat out bitter words as his final, clawing at the ground as dirt embedded itself into his nails.
"You bitch," his voice seethed with rage, trembling with regret. Tears ran down his face as his eyes closed, darkness seeping in like a disease, while also like a cold embrace.
"Death, it's weird you know? It's something humans can't comprehend yet they know so much about it, yet so little." The unknown voice was soft and calm, like it had seen and experienced death many times over.
Uriel was floating in unending darkness, yet it wasn't dark, there was nothing yet everything, what had he become? And what was that voice? Who's voice was that? He called out. "Who's there?!" The voice replied in a casual tone. "Come see me for yourself."