"What have you done?!" Tharok roared, springing from his throne. A grim, panicked expression was plastered across his face.
He strode hastily toward one of the windows, his heavy robes dragging against the tiled floor. Upon reaching the glass, his eyes widened in horror. The courtiers followed suit, scrambling to see the horizon, leaving only the butler and Elara standing motionless in the center of the hall.
The butler reached out and touched Elara's neck. A heavy, gold metallic collar etched with glowing runes materialized there, acting as a binding seal. Without hesitation, he channeled aura into his hand and snapped the metal like glass with his pinky finger.
Elara's gaze turned flat and expressionless. 'I'll deal with the demoness,' she thought, her voice toneless when she finally spoke.
"Fang Rui is a resilient boy, but he is still young. Go to the east and assist him, then retrieve Leo," she commanded. "The remaining five should be fine on their own. I will meet you all back at the castle. But first..." She paused, her expression darkening with lethal intent. "Deal with our first enemy."
The butler's expression remained unchanged as he nodded. Almost immediately, Elara's form began to crumble. The sickening sound of snapping and crushing bones filled the chamber, and within seconds, she was gone, replaced by a heap of pale, discarded bones at the butler's feet.
Meanwhile, Tharok's fear and fury intensified. It was raining, not water, but a thick, crimson liquid. The eerie glow outside was fueled by a massive red orb hanging in the sky, casting a bloody shroud over everything it touched. He gritted his teeth and stepped back from the window. He knew what was coming.
'Curses,' he thought.
"Elara!" he bellowed. An otherworldly weapon coalesced in his grip.
The weapon was a nightmarish hybrid of a cleaver and an axe, forged from rotting flesh and jagged steel. The deep red muscle of the blade seemed to pulse, having partially consumed the original metal. Yellowish eyes studded the flesh, twitching and peering out at random intervals. At the edge, the meat split into several gaping maws filled with carnivorous teeth. While a dark rope lashed the handle to a metal collar, the living flesh was already slowly devouring the restraint.
The blade emanated a wicked aura that fed on Tharok's dark emotions. Around the room, the courtiers summoned their own armaments. Some donned ethereal armor while others drew glowing blades.
The butler, however, remained unshaken. Tharok glared at the heap of bones and snarled, "Where did she go? Answer me, Jean!"
When the butler offered no reply, the King turned to the frightened crowd. "I apologize on her behalf. But there is no time for apologies now. Eldrath will storm Primoria at any second. We must protect humanity!"
As they prepared to vanish or charge from the hall, an external presence slammed into them, snuffing out their aura manifestations like candles in a gale. Tharok's eyes burned with fury as he whirled toward Jean. The butler stood with his hands behind his back, a glowing, floating red grimoire hovering before him. In his left hand, a crimson wand had appeared.
"You think you can stop us with your petty spells?" Tharok spat. "Can't you see Primoria is about to be destroyed?"
Jean looked up from the book and swirled his wand. In a flash of light, the courtiers vanished. He had forcibly teleported them away, leaving only his true enemy behind:
...King Tharok, Scion of Sanguine.
Tharok roared and tried to dissipate into a mist of blood, but a foreign aura locked his molecules in place, canceling his teleportation.
"So that's how it is, Jean?" A wicked grin touched the King's lips. 'I don't know what your real motive is, but anyone who brings harm to Primoria is my enemy. And I love to kill my enemies.' He stepped forward, ignoring the transparent seal shimmering around the area.
Jean sighed softly. "Eldrath could destroy Primoria, I know. Aura is far too strong for most of humanity, I know. But there is something else I know."
He paused, his resolve unwavering. The wand elongated and transformed into a long jian. The book vanished. The sword was twice the length of a standard blade, slender and elegant. Jean gripped the hilt, which was wrapped in blue leather, and slashed the air. The atmosphere rippled in his wake.
"I know the difference between monsters who seek power and heroes who seek the good of humanity."
****
In a distant valley, a village sat shielded by a great mountain that split to allow a river and waterfall to pass through. Now, the lake was stained a deep crimson. The villagers were trapped in a living nightmare. Many had begun to transform into grotesque monsters, losing their sanity and turning on those who remained human.
This scene was repeating across the world. Millions were mutating. Some exploded into gore, while others were left to witness reality itself ripple. Transparent, golden hexagons etched with tiny sigils appeared before the survivors, hovering in the air.
'Who... who said that?' a man thought as he stammered, cowering behind a cottage. He tried to swat the floating hexagon away, but his hand passed through it like water.
Suddenly, the air split. A red void tore open, widening until its shadow swallowed half the village. It was a massive portal, the first of its kind. A deafening shriek echoed from the darkness.
A reptilian monstrosity lunged from the void. It was a four-legged beast with reddish-brown scales and bony spikes running down its back like armor. It lacked eyes, its head dominated by a massive jaw filled with needle-like teeth. Its long tail was a whip of bony protrusions.
The creature sniffed the air, moving toward the villager's hiding spot. The man pressed himself against the wooden wall, his breath hitching. Just as the beast opened its maw to feed, a long spear tore out of the portal at unimaginable speed. It struck the creature's head, shattering it instantly.
Then came the footsteps, uncountable and rhythmic. They were followed by the thunderous roar of war chants.
Thousands of beings poured from the portal. At the head of the army rode a green-skinned orc of massive proportions. His lower jaw was dominated by upward-curving tusks, and his dreadlocks were woven with bone and metal. He sat atop a black, armored beast, a cross between a lion and a goat, with murderous red eyes.
Behind him were orcs of all kinds, mounted on wolves and giant lizards, wielding brutal, heavy weaponry. They halted, parting their ranks to make way for an elegant female figure.
She was not an orc, yet she radiated absolute authority. Her skin was porcelain pale, and her eyes were glowing green orbs. She wore an outfit crafted from living leaves and twigs, appearing like a walking garden, with a yellow crown glowing atop her long green hair. Beautiful butterflies trailed in her wake.
She stopped before her army and extended her hands. A slender wooden rod shaped like a tree materialized in her grip. A demonic smile revealed two small fangs as she spoke in a guttural, foreign tongue.
"Primoria… Na'thar Sylen Daemora vhal'kesh."
Her smile faltered when she noticed one of her orcs convulsing. His bones snapped and rearranged, protruding through his skin in a spray of blood. The other orcs reached for their weapons, but the Demoness held them back with a sharp gesture.
The orc collapsed into a heap of bones, which then rose and knit themselves back together into a new shape.
Standing before the orc army and the startled Demoness was a young woman with purple hair tied in a ponytail. She was clad in armor made of polished bone, her hands encased in golden gauntlets. Chains snaked from her elbows to her wrists, ending in daggers made of vibrating, golden energy.
Elara looked at the Demoness with a nonchalant sigh. "Yes, yes, we know you're back. No need to go around announcing it."