The village square was drowning in a sea of pitch-black darkness and glowing red eyes. The roar of demonic monsters mixed with the sound of shattering bones and clashing metal in a terrifying symphony of death. Amidst this black flood, Julian was panting heavily, his eyes darting in panic across the endless numbers, cold sweat rolling down his forehead and mixing with his blood despite the freezing air.
He shouted with a hoarse voice as he swung his blood swords to block a sudden attack from one of the beasts: "Commander! They are like locusts... their numbers are endless! No matter how many we kill, more appear. What do we do?"
On the other side, the Ice Lord, Hyuga, stood like a statue carved from glacial rock. His cloak fluttered with an eerie calmness that did not suit the chaos of the grinding battle. He did not look at Julian; instead, his cold blue eyes swept the horizon with the precision of a surgeon searching for a disease.
Suddenly, his gaze froze on five specific points surrounding the village, and a look of sheer determination crossed his face. He raised his right hand slowly and said with a calm voice that resonated like thunder across the square: "I have found the source... Squad, I need a human shield around me for just fifteen seconds."
The members of the Ice Eagles Squad shouted with a single voice, the thrill of bloodlust igniting in their veins: "As you command!"
The soldiers formed a defensive ring of steel, while the Ice Lord closed his eyes and focused his energy. The temperature suddenly dropped below freezing, and a thick white mist emanated from his body, forming five identical ice clones of himself.
The clones launched like piercing arrows toward the five hidden gates. With perfectly synchronized movements, they shattered strange magical stones that throbbed with a demonic crimson light.
As soon as the stones shattered, the influx of monsters stopped entirely, and the gates collapsed. But thousands of them were still wreaking havoc in the square. The Ice Lord opened his eyes, a lethal gleam shining within them. He whispered with the chill of death: "Thin Ice."
The air around him turned into microscopic, invisible ice blades. With a speed unseen by the human eye, the air stormed through the demons, and the beasts began to fall to the ground like dead leaves, their bodies precisely shredded from the inside out in a terrifying display.
Shadow and Betrayal
While the battle raged outside, the situation was entirely different inside the royal tent of the tribe's chief. The candlelight flickered in fear. On the ground lay the old tribe leader, Zephyr, drowning in his own blood, his chest rising and falling with extreme difficulty, his broken spear cast aside.
Standing directly over him was Maurice, holding the glowing infant in his arms with complete coldness, his eyes watching the agonizing death of the chief with sick amusement.
Suddenly, Maurice felt a slight prick in his chest, and the black magical barrier surrounding the tent dissipated. He narrowed his eyes and said with a mocking smile, gently stroking the child's head in a terrifying manner: "So, they destroyed the summoning stones... faster than I expected. Not bad for a bunch of amateurs."
Maurice looked down at the fallen leader with disdain, adjusted his collar with the vanity of a victor, and said: "Anyway, I got what I came for."
With a swift, fluid motion of his hand, the black shadow swallowed him and the child, and they vanished into nothingness.
The Bereaved Mother and the Knight's Vow
Outside, after the massacre had ended, Julian and the Ice Lord were inspecting the piled corpses of the beasts. Julian kicked a corpse and said, wiping sticky black blood from his blade: "Sir, this energy... it is cursed and familiar. How did these monsters get here so suddenly?"
The Ice Lord furrowed his brows with obvious concern: "I do not know. But the stench of a foul conspiracy fills the air, and these monsters were merely a distraction for something worse."
Their conversation was interrupted by a soldier running toward them, panting, his face pale as a corpse, screaming in terror: "Commander! Chief Zephyr is fighting for his life in his tent, and the child... the child has disappeared!"
Everyone froze in their places for a moment, then launched like an angry storm toward the tent. Inside, the chief was covered in blood and bandages, with the remaining healers whispering in despair about his critical condition. But what shattered this deadly silence was a heart-rending scream.
The mother of the kidnapped child rushed into the tent, her hair disheveled, her face pale, and her eyes red from hysterical crying. She saw no one in the room; she searched frantically in the corners of the tent, screaming: "Where is he? Where is Ken? Where is my son?!"
Her husband tried to embrace her to calm her down, but she trembled in his arms like a slaughtered bird, beating his chest as she searched for her baby.
The Ice Lord stepped toward her with heavy footsteps, kneeling with dignity and humility before her grief. He placed his cold hand on her trembling shoulder, looked directly into her eyes with a gaze that carried a vow of death, and said: "Madam... I swear to you upon my honor and all that I possess, the perpetrator will not escape. I will bring him back to you, even if I have to freeze hell itself looking for him."
Evil in the Cup
Far away, in a dark, damp cellar reeking of mold, Maurice sat on a dilapidated wooden chair. In one hand, he held a bottle of warm milk for the baby, and in the other, a small glass vial containing a viscous, malevolently glowing purple liquid.
Very slowly, with a wide demonic smile revealing his teeth, he dropped droplets of the cursed purple liquid into the milk. He watched the droplets dissolve, slowly tainting the pure whiteness.
Maurice brought the tainted bottle close to the infant's mouth, whispering in a soft, terrifying tone like the hiss of a snake: "Come on, little one... drink. It is delicious, and it will give you power you cannot imagine."
His pupils dilated with madness as he continued speaking to himself: "Oh, I cannot wait to see the faces of those foolish heroes when my grand plan is complete... but the most enjoyable and thrilling part will be seeing their faces when they see the monster you will turn into, you light of the tribe!"
The False Truth and the Demonic Whisper
Four days, heavy as mountains, passed over the village. In the chief's tent, the old leader Zephyr finally woke up from his coma. Volak's face lit up with joy; he threw himself beside his father's bed, grasped his rough hand, and kissed it with tears of joy: "Father! Thank God... I thought I lost you forever."
The father tried to smile, but his eyes were suspiciously empty and cold, unlike his usual warmth: "I am fine, my son... but tell me, what happened to the tribe in my absence? And where is the girl... I mean, the child?"
Volak fell silent, bowing his head in deep sorrow as he fought back a lump in his throat. The father understood that the child had been kidnapped and tried to rise with violent anger, but Volak and the others gently pinned him back to his bed.
Away from them, Andre stood leaning against the tent's entrance, watching the scene in silence. As he watched, a harsh, rough, and mocking voice echoed inside his head... it was the dark demon residing within him:
(You dead old man... are humans really this naive and stupid? Maurice... you are truly a genius and quite interesting. It is true that I am a demon, but you are the living embodiment of human malice and cunning. I am so looking forward to the next show!)
The Confrontation on the Mountain and the Tears of Ice
While Andre was combing the rugged, snow-covered mountainous terrain looking for any trace of the kidnapper, he suddenly felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He stopped in his tracks. It was that aura... the malicious aura of the person he had sworn to kill and tear apart. Maurice's aura!
Anger ignited in Andre's chest like an erupting volcano, and the dark memories of his past rushed back like a painful cinematic reel: the face of his dead sister Olette, the body of his friend Albert lying in the orphanage, and Dave's haunting screams.
Andre ran, tracking the aura with blazing eyes, until he reached the cold mountain peak. There, he found a person standing with his back turned to him. The person slowly turned around, and the shock that struck Andre left him speechless... It was the tribe's chief, Zephyr!
Andre took a step back and said with astonishment mixed with suspicion and confusion: "Tribe Chief? It is good that you are here... and surprising that you recovered so quickly! I have tracked the perpetrator's aura near here; I will go after him immediately."
The chief did not reply. A heavy, suspiciously suffocating silence prevailed, and Andre felt his instincts screaming, warning him of imminent danger. Finally, the chief spoke with a voice devoid of any human emotion: "So you found the trail... I will inform the others."
Andre turned to leave quickly, but his ears caught the sound of violent air friction behind him. Thanks to his swift reflexes and brutal training with Volak, he drew his sword and spun around in a fraction of a second to block a treacherous, lethal strike from the chief's staff!
Sparks flew between the two weapons, and Andre shouted, his eyes wide with shock and betrayal: "What are you doing, man? Have you gone mad?!"
The chief replied with icy coldness and a malicious smile that did not suit his old face: "I will tell them that you died a brave hero while searching for the missing child."
A fierce battle commenced. The chief was entirely different; his movements were faster than a young man's, and his staff was charged with lethal, deadly blue lightning. The chief struck the ground with his staff, sending high electrical currents through the ice, shocking Andre with a force that sent him crashing to the ground, screaming in agony.
Andre fought through the excruciating pain, the smell of his own burning flesh filling his nose and fueling his rage. He gathered every ounce of remaining mana in his legs and launched like a projectile, ignoring the thunder and lightning. With a desperate, swift move, he knocked the chief to the ground, pinned him, and placed the sharp blade of his sword against the old man's neck.
Andre screamed, the veins in his neck bulging and sweat covering his face: "Answer me! Why are you doing this? Are you a traitor working with Maurice?"
Suddenly, Andre's magical sword glowed with a strange black color, and it began absorbing a cursed dark energy from the chief's body lying beneath him. And then... something terrifying happened. The chief's features changed, and his old, warm, and tired voice returned, forcing its way out of his throat with difficulty: "Andre... if you can hear me... kill me... kill me right now."
Andre's hand trembled as he gripped the sword, and he asked in sheer disbelief: "What are you saying?"
The chief continued, tears streaming from his old eyes, with a heart-crushing tone: "This is not my body... that bastard Maurice killed me in the tent... and took my body as a puppet controlled by his magic! My soul is trapped here in agony, and my body is a filthy weapon in his hands killing my children... Please, Andre, free me from this torment!"
Andre froze in place. His sword shook violently. His mind completely refused to kill his ally, Volak's father, and the father of Rose, who had sacrificed her life for them.
In that decisive moment of fatal hesitation, a mocking, evil laugh echoed in his head: (Foolish and weak... humans and their petty emotions make me sick. Step aside, boy, I will do the dirty work as usual.)
And suddenly... Andre completely lost control of his right arm! The sword moved with a massive, ruthless force that was not his own, and with one brutal, irreversible motion... Chief Zephyr's head flew through the air, and blood splattered, staining the white snow crimson red.
At that exact moment, as if fate were writing his worst nightmare... Volak reached the peak, searching for the source of the sound and the fighting.
Time stopped in Volak's eyes. He saw his father's headless body lying on the ground... and he saw Andre standing directly over it, the sword in his hand dripping with hot blood.
Volak's sword dropped from his hand. His scream shattered the dark heavens, a scream filled with brokenness, sheer terror, and absolute madness: "Fatheeeeeer!!!!"
Meanwhile, inside the mind of the shell-shocked Andre, the dark demon muttered with boredom and indifference: (Oh, another fool has arrived and started screaming... how annoying.)