Weeks had bled into months since the public shaming and condemnation of Elias.
In the grand, bustling capital of Veridian, the incident of the "false hero" had faded into a hushed, distasteful rumor, a mere whisper amidst the escalating clamor of war. Elias was a forgotten stain on their gilded history, erased by the passage of time and the relentless march of a more pressing, terrifying reality.
At the heart of Veridian, within the sprawling, increasingly grim confines of the Royal Palace, sat King Valerius. He was one whose reign had soured into a chilling tyranny. His word was absolute law, enforced by loyal brutes like Captain Hektor, who oversaw increasingly draconian decrees.
Valerius's grip on his populace tightened with each passing day, his pronouncements sharper, his demands for resources more rapacious. His eyes, once merely stern, now held a glint of paranoia and an unsettling, cold ruthlessness.
Princess Seraphina, the daughter of King Valerius and the Crown Princess of Veridian, moved through this volatile court with a practiced grace, her emerald eyes missing nothing. Her position was unassailable, her cunning intellect a formidable tool.
Possessing three magic powers, a rarity even among powerful mages, she was not merely a figurehead but an active force in her father's court, deeply complicit in the frame-up of Elias. She watched the unfolding chaos, assessing opportunities, her ambition burning bright.
Grand Arch-Mage Lysander, his purple robes rustling softly, stood as Valerius's chief magical advisor. He was complicit in the frame-up, a powerful mage whose own arcane pursuits and political influence thrived under Valerius's increasingly absolute rule. His counsel often steered the king towards decisions that consolidated power, regardless of the cost to the common people or the other kingdoms.
He spoke now, his voice a low murmur, confirming the dire reports. "Majesty, the eastern front buckles. The Shadow Hounds are breaching Eldorian lines with a terrifying consistency."
Valerius merely sneered. "Let them break. Their King Theron relies too heavily on old Phalanx Shield Wall formations. Weakness invites destruction." He ignored the subtle implications of Lysander's words, the true architect of the continent's suffering, Demon Lord Malakor, remained unseen, yet his influence was palpable.
For it was Demon Lord Malakor, not King Valerius, who commanded the vast, terrifying legions now pouring forth from the Abyss.
Malakor was a being of ancient, malevolent power, a grotesque fusion of darkness and primal might. From his dark domain, he orchestrated the relentless advance, his Rank 20: Imp Scourge swarming like pestilence, his Rank 19: Shadow Hounds hunting with chilling precision.
Across Aethelgard, the other kingdoms reeled under Malakor's onslaught. King Theron's Eldoria fought a desperate, bloody defensive war, Princess Lyra's potent Fire and Water Magic holding lines where mortal steel faltered, yet their resources dwindled, and and their populace suffered from the encroaching famine.
The verdant forests of Sylvani, home to the elves, were slowly choked by the pervasive Miasma that seeped from the very ground, a precursor to Malakor's legions. Their Guerrilla Tactics and Earth and Wind Magic bought them time, but the ancient trees themselves began to sicken, their leaves withering under the blight.
In the towering mountains, the Dwarven kingdom of Khazad-Dum found their famed Defensive Warfare Tactics pushed to their absolute limits. Their Heavy Armor and fortified halls, once thought impregnable, now faced an endless tide of evolving demons that sought to undermine their very foundations.
Even the reclusive Wildfangs, masters of Spirit Magic and Hit-and-run Tactics, reported a profound disquiet in their deep jungles. The spirits of the land cried out in agony, and mutated beasts, twisted by the intensifying Miasma, roamed where once only pure nature thrived.
Unseen by human, elf, or dwarf, Lilith, Demon Lord Malakor's Rank 1 daughter, watched the continent's agony from a vantage point only she and her father knew. Her pale eyes glowed with a cold, almost detached amusement as she observed the frantic struggles of the 'lesser races.'
Her father's grand design was unfolding perfectly, the world slowly succumbing to chaos, paving the way for the Demon Kingdom's ultimate, unchallenged reign.