Kaelen stood atop the outer walls of Verdalis, his sharp gaze fixed on the horizon.
A strange, oppressive energy spread across the plains — dark, ancient, and filled with a sinister pride.
> "This power… it isn't human," he murmured.
The air trembled, and the ground cracked in the distance.
From that fissure emerged a tall, slender figure wrapped in a black cloak. Its crimson eyes gleamed with malevolent light, and its very presence made the wind howl.
Kaelen's servants stirred uneasily, sensing the danger.
> "Hold your positions," Kaelen ordered calmly. "No one moves without my command."
The figure advanced slowly, each step echoing like a threat.
Then it raised its head, revealing a cruel smile.
> "So… you're the guardians of this realm," the stranger declared in a deep, resonant voice. "I am Morvath, one of the Eleven Demon Kings. We have come to claim these lands."
His words hung heavy in the air.
Kaelen's golden eyes glimmered faintly — not in fear, but in silent assessment.
> "Demon King…" he repeated softly. "So the tales of the ancient dragons were true after all."
His aura began to shimmer faintly — a warning, not a threat.
> "You shouldn't have come here," he said evenly. "This kingdom already has a master."
Morvath's smile widened.
> "Then tell your master this — Verdalis will soon belong to the Demon Kings."