Lucas panted, his chest rising and falling violently. Blood still dripped from the cuts on his arms, and the earth around him was drenched in the crimson of the fallen knights.

  Vaelin stood before him, expressionless, as if the scene of carnage meant nothing.

  He was a slender silhouette cloaked in black, his form blending seamlessly with the shadows around him. His long, silver hair swayed gently in the night breeze, catching the pale moonlight with an almost spectral glow. But the most unsettling thing about him—his eyes.

  Two glowing slits, like burning embers buried in ice, observed Lucas with something between fascination and expectation.

  He did not exude hostility. He exuded certainty.

  The certainty that everything happening had already been foreseen.

  “Who the hell are you?” Lucas growled, fists clenched.

  Vaelin tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something Lucas couldn’t perceive.

  Then, he smiled.

  “Kill him.”

  The voice inside Lucas was no longer a whisper. It was an absolute command.

  His body locked up—muscles tensing instinctively, ready to strike.

  Vaelin raised an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with genuine interest.

  “These voices… always so impatient.”

  Lucas felt something freeze inside him.

  Vaelin took a step forward, his presence suffocating, as if each word carried its own gravity.

  “Echoes of the power you awakened,” he said, his voice calm. “The same power that shaped the Demon King.”

  Lucas remained silent.

  Vaelin continued, his gaze dissecting Lucas like a puzzle missing its final piece.

  “But there’s something different about you.” He leaned in slightly. “You didn’t just receive this power...”

  A chill crawled up Lucas’s spine.

  Vaelin smiled.

  “You broke it.”

  The air around them grew heavy.

  “And now, it’s trying to fuse with you.”

  Lucas clenched his fists.

  “Does that mean I can control it?”

  Vaelin chuckled. Low. Hoarse.

  “It means that if you’re not careful...”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  He stepped even closer, his voice a razor-sharp whisper.

  “...you’ll be consumed before you even realize it.”

  Lucas’s throat felt dry.

  “I’ve heard this before.” He tried to sound in control. “You’re not saying anything I don’t already know.”

  Vaelin tilted his head, measuring his response.

  “No, you don’t know.” He corrected him. “You feel it.”

  Lucas didn’t answer.

  “When you fight, when you rage... have you noticed?” Vaelin continued. “Your body moves on its own. You dodge blades before your eyes see them. You strike before you decide to. You kill before you think.”

  Lucas swallowed hard.

  That battle...

  He hadn’t been thinking. He just knew.

  He dodged before attacks came. His blows were precise, brutal. As if—

  “That’s not reflex,” Vaelin interrupted his thoughts. “It’s not instinct. Not talent.”

  Something dark stirred inside Lucas.

  “It’s the power taking control.”

  Lucas clenched his teeth.

  “No...”

  Vaelin’s voice dropped lower. More dangerous.

  “The power you inherited is not human. It moves on its own. It guides you.”

  Sweat ran down the back of Lucas’s neck.

  “You’re not in control,” Vaelin concluded. “Not yet.”

  Lucas gritted his teeth.

  “What does that mean?”

  Vaelin watched him for a long moment, then sighed.

  “They called you a hero when they brought you here, didn’t they?”

  Lucas nodded slowly.

  Vaelin smiled.

  “They lied.”

  Lucas felt his stomach churn.

  “What...?”

  “The kingdom you destroyed,” Vaelin began, “had a revelation centuries ago.”

  Lucas narrowed his eyes.

  “They learned that the Demon King would return,” Vaelin continued. “And they panicked.”

  A shiver ran down Lucas’s spine.

  “They did everything to prepare,” Vaelin said, his voice cold. “They forged sacred weapons, sealed forbidden magics, sacrificed thousands to try and predict when the Demon King would awaken.”

  A weight pressed against Lucas’s chest.

  “And then,” Vaelin said, “they had a grand idea.”

  The air around him thickened.

  “They decided to summon a hero,” Vaelin whispered. “Someone from another world. The perfect weapon against the Demon King’s return.”

  Lucas froze.

  “And that’s how you ended up here.”

  Silence choked the air.

  Lucas blinked, his mind spinning.

  “But,” Vaelin took another step forward, “they made a mistake.”

  Lucas’s breath quickened.

  “They summoned the Demon King himself.”

  The ground beneath him might as well have vanished.

  “You are the candidate,” Vaelin declared. “The only vessel strong enough to house this power. From the moment you stepped into this world, your fate was sealed.”

  Lucas felt as if he was being crushed by an invisible force.

  “They called you a hero,” Vaelin said, his voice dripping with irony. “But you never were one.”

  Vaelin then pointed directly at Lucas’s chest.

  “You are the successor.”

  Lucas clenched his fists.

  “No...” he muttered.

  “Deny it all you want,” Vaelin said. “But the truth has already been written.”

  Lucas’s breath was heavy, his thoughts tangled.

  “And then?” He lifted his eyes, his rage burning like embers. “If I’m this so-called candidate... what happens now?”

  Vaelin smiled.

  “Now?” He turned. “Now you choose.”

  Lucas stood still.

  “You can keep running, pretending you still have a choice,” Vaelin said. “Or you can come with me.”

  Lucas didn’t move.

  Vaelin began to walk away but then stopped.

  “If you want to survive what’s coming...” he paused, not looking back, “I’ll show you where it all began.”

  Lucas hesitated.

  He looked down at his hands.

  And then, for just a fleeting moment, a vision flashed through his mind.

  Clara’s face.

  Her smile.

  He felt the warmth of her tiny fingers lacing through his.

  Then, the vision vanished like smoke.

  Lucas closed his eyes for a brief second.

  When he opened them again...

  He walked toward the abyss.