That morning, before Aethel and Solara reached the zenith, Rael stood before Selie on the threshold of her cottage. The air still felt heavy with the memory of the heroes' visit, an echo that refused to fade. The scratch from the Cryowulf on his leg was almost healed, but his ego still smarted slightly.
"You're leaving again?" Selie asked, her voice softer than usual. She held a small, newly woven protective amulet, made of silver thread and kite bird feathers.
"Just for a few hours," Rael replied, attempting a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yesterday's fight... I was reckless. I need to prove to myself that I can do better." He gazed at the Frozen Ridge in the distance, its sharp silhouette challenging the sky.
Selie stepped forward and fastened the amulet to Rael's wrist. Her fingers felt warm against his cold skin. "Then promise me."
Rael looked into Selie's anxious green eyes. "Promise what?"
"Promise you'll return before sunset," she whispered. "And promise you'll become so strong that I never have to worry again when you go to places like that." Her eyes shone with a sincerity that pierced Rael's heart.
For a moment, all of Rael's recklessness vanished. He nodded solemnly, his voice clear in the crisp morning air. "I promise, Sel. This is the last promise you'll ever need to ask. I'll return, and I'll be stronger."
That was the last promise they made.
While Rael disappeared into the frozen forest, Velkarion stood alone in his study. The ominous map of Elyvion still lay on the table, a verdict he had written himself. The time for doubt was over. The time for heroism was past. The Council of Nine Eyes wouldn't wait forever.
With silent steps, he approached the cold stone fireplace. His hand pressed against a slightly protruding stone, and with a deep grinding sound, the entire fireplace wall slid aside, revealing a spiral staircase descending into utter darkness.
The air down there felt ancient, smelling of stardust and void. This was his secret chamber, a capsule of his true home, Velmoria. In the center of the room, on an obsidian pedestal, an object lay. It wasn't armor, but a second skin. A uniform.
Its color was pitch black, as dark as the void between galaxies, woven from a material that seemed to absorb light. Its design was simple yet intimidating, a single garment that hugged his perfect body like liquid shadow. On the chest, a symbol was faintly etched in dark gray: a cracked circle, the symbol of the brutal Velmorth "unification of will." Similar to the uniforms of conquerors in other worlds, but this one felt older, crueler.
Velkarion shed his simple human clothing, the coarse fabric he had worn for decades. He let it fall to the floor like shed snakeskin. Then, he donned the Velmorth uniform. As the black fabric touched his skin, it felt like coming home. A cold, powerful alien energy flowed into him, extinguishing the remnants of warmth and empathy that had grown in this world. The scar above his eyebrow, the only reminder of his human love, seemed to fade, swallowed by a greater power.
He stared at his reflection in the polished obsidian surface. His golden eyes no longer radiated the warmth of a father, but the cold fire of a god of destruction. The figure of Velkarion, the hero of Elberath, had died in that basement. All that remained was the Conqueror General of the Velmorth Empire.
And his mission would begin. With his own home.
Destruction came not with a roar, but with a terrifying silence. Velkarion appeared in the village square like a ghost. The villagers who saw him first smiled and bowed respectfully.
"Good morning, Lord Velkarion!" greeted Old Man Hrolf, the blacksmith, wiping sweat from his brow with his brawny arm.
Velkarion didn't answer. He simply raised his hand. A dense, black, pulsating ball of gravitational energy formed in his palm. Hrolf's face changed from respect to confusion, then to pure terror as the ball shot towards him. There was no explosion. Only a sickening crunching sound as the blacksmith's body and his shop collapsed in on themselves, becoming a shapeless lump of flesh and metal.
The first scream broke, tearing through the peace of Elberath. Chaos erupted. People ran, not understanding. "Hero Velkarion! What's happening?" a woman cried, before a flash from Velkarion's eyes ripped her in two.
He moved with brutal elegance. There was no anger on his face, only the cold efficiency of a destroyer. He walked through the village, and each step brought death. The once-warm wooden houses were now shattered into splinters by waves of absolute power. Children who had once listened to tales of his heroism now stared at him with wide, terrified eyes, before their world became dark forever.
He was a storm. He was a meteor. His defenses were as strong as steel, and his fists crushed anything he touched. The villagers who tried to fight—a few guards with spears, brave young men with rakes—were destroyed before they could even get close. It wasn't a battle; it was a massacre. A cleansing.
Amidst the horror, Selie Ardent ran. Not towards the forest to save herself, but towards Rael's house. She had only one thought: she had to warn Rael, somehow. She saw Velkarion, his body shrouded in darkness, standing atop the rubble that was once the village hall. Their golden eyes met for a moment.
Selie saw no goodness left there. Only an abyss of emptiness. She turned and ran with all her might, but she knew it was futile. A shadow flashed past her, and unimaginable pain exploded in her back. She was thrown forward, landing hard on the dirt road now soaked with the blood of her friends.
Far in the Frozen Ridge, Rael had just defeated a Cryowulf Alpha. The fight was fierce, but this time he was calm and focused. As he stood panting over his opponent's carcass, a warm sense of satisfaction enveloped him. He had fulfilled the first part of his promise. He was stronger.
That's when he saw it. A thick pillar of black smoke billowed into the sky from the direction of Elberath. The smoke was too dense for a normal fire. His heart felt like it stopped beating.
"No..." he whispered.
He ran. Faster than he had ever run before. He leaped over rocks, burst through bushes, no longer feeling the cold or the fatigue. Only fear burned in his veins. The closer he got to the village, the stronger the stench became: the smell of burning wood, strange ozone, and... blood.
Silence was the first thing that greeted him. A deafening, total silence. The village, always bustling with laughter and chatter, was now as quiet as a graveyard.
And indeed, the village had become a graveyard.
The sight that greeted him was hell. Houses reduced to smoldering rubble. Corpses littered everywhere, shattered in indescribably horrific poses. He recognized them all. Old Man Hrolf's mangled body. The baker's family, lying in front of their exploded oven. The children...
Rael stumbled, his knees weak. His stomach churned. This wasn't real. This was a nightmare. His head spun, searching for answers, searching for reasons. Who? What monster could have done this?
Then he saw her. In the middle of the road, lying in a pool of her own blood, was a figure with hair as bright as spring leaves.
"SELIE!"
The scream tore from his throat, hoarse and full of agony. He stumbled as he ran towards her, falling to his knees beside her. He lifted Selie's limp body into his arms. Her clothes were soaked in blood, and there was a horrific gaping wound in her back.
Selie's eyes flickered open, pale green and clouded. "Rael..." she whispered, blood bubbling on her lips. "You... returned..."
"I'm here, Sel. I'm here," Rael sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, wetting Selie's pale face. "I kept my promise. I returned."
As he held her, a series of memories flashed through his mind like lightning: Selie grinning as they stole pies from a window; Selie rolling her eyes at his jokes; afternoons they spent by the river; her promise this morning, the sincerity of her voice, the warmth of her fingers.
Selie tried to raise her hand, to touch Rael's cheek. "Y-your father..." she gasped, her breath growing shorter. "He... he..."
Her last words were lost in a trembling sigh. Her eyes lost their light, her gaze vacant, fixed on something behind Rael. Her body went completely limp in Rael's arms.
For a moment, Rael was silent, frozen. Then, a sound erupted from within him. Not words. It was a primal roar from a soul shattered to pieces, a scream of raw grief and anger that shook the surrounding rubble. His world, his perfect and simple world, had been burned to ashes in a matter of hours.
Still holding Selie's cooling body, he slowly raised his head, following the direction of the girl's last gaze.
And there, silently hovering in the bloody twilight sky, was his father.
Velkarion wore a pitch-black uniform Rael had never seen before. He floated with the majesty of a god, without a single stain or scratch on his body. He looked at Rael—at his weeping son cradling his childhood friend whom he had murdered—and in his golden eyes there was nothing. No regret. No sorrow. No anger.
Only a cold, unreadable gaze, without a single word. The gaze of a creator who had just erased his flawed creation.