The Wind.
Kael closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.It was the first time he'd felt open air in years.
And yet, even here, the scent of dust, ash… and emptiness lingered.They stood atop an ancient rocky trench, a remnant of a long-forgotten battlefield.
Before them stretched the Plain of the Forgotten: a land with no name, no lord, no faith.No nation dared claim sovereignty over it.
Too close to the dead borders. Too dangerous. Too useless.For Kael, it was perfect.
— "This is where you plan to build your empire?" Lyssara asked, skeptical.
Kael gazed at the horizon. The sky was grey, veiled by a persistent toxic haze—leftover from some ancient magical conflict.— "Yes. Where no one looks. That's where monsters are born… and legends."
He turned his head toward her.— "And I intend to become both."
They walked for hours across the plain. The ground cracked beneath their feet, littered with the bones of forgotten beasts and soldiers.
Here and there, broken mana pillars still pulsed erratically.
Kael watched them closely.— "This place is saturated with failure," he said.
— "Then why build your throne here?"
— "Because I was born from failure. And I intend to make it a foundation."
By dusk, a shadow emerged from the mist.
A camp.Improvised, poorly kept. Animal-hide tents, flickering fires, drowsy sentries.
— "Bandits," Lyssara murmured. "Thirty, maybe more. Well-armed. Organized."— "Roots with no trunk," Kael replied. "Perfect."
He raised his left hand—the one marked by the Void. A subtle vibration tingled through the air.
— "You're going to attack them?!" she whispered in surprise.
— "No. I'm going to offer them a choice."
Kael walked into the camp alone.The men noticed him almost immediately. Some drew their weapons.A larger one, shirtless with a scar across his scalp, stepped forward.
— "Who the hell are you, beggar? Lose your coffin?"
Laughter.
Kael remained motionless.— "I'm Kael Virell. And I'm here to offer you a truth."
A heavy silence fell.
— "What truth?" one man scoffed.
Kael raised his hand.A black sphere appeared—and the ground beneath their feet vanished.
Three men fell into an abyss of nothing.No screams. No blood.Just… nothing.
Kael stepped to the edge of the void.— "Serve me, or disappear. There is no third path."
The leader's smile froze. He backed away.— "W-what the hell is that… you some kind of Void mage?"
— "No. I am the Void that learned to walk."
A decision was made that night—not from loyalty, but from instinct.The bandits knelt, one by one.
And the fire… changed color.
Hours later
Kael stood on a small rise, overlooking the now-silent camp.Lyssara approached.
— "You just converted criminals."
— "No. I just redefined their use."
He looked up at the sky.— "They need a master. Not a king. A purpose. Not a flag."
Lyssara watched him quietly.Something was changing within her.
She had fled a sick nation.And now she followed a man—or perhaps an idea.
An idea that was terrifying.But also… calling.
— "And me, Kael?" she asked. "What am I to you?"
He answered without hesitation.— "You're the first who saw my march… and didn't run. You're free to leave."
She lowered her gaze.Then simply said:
— "Then I'll stay."
That night, a banner was raised.
Black. Symbol-less. Empty.But from that moment on, rumors began to spread through the plains.
Whispers of a nameless lord.
A man with forgotten powers, who could bend shadows.
A builder of empire…at the heart of the Void.