This was a land surrounded by darkness and drowned in crimson flames—boundless, like the will of the thing that created it. A land where even the gods hesitate to tread.
However, today was different. Forces in the dark lurked—forces that could decide the fate of entire realms. Today, those flames no longer seemed as boundless as they once did. Today… they were fading.
A war had begun, with heavenly forces of light and dark clashing for supremacy. The dark seemed to be protecting its stronghold—its towering obsidian castle—as the light relentlessly invaded. Otherworldly powers collided like fire and water. The collateral damage was catastrophic.
Lands were being torn apart. Seas, as red as blood, were being erased as if they had never existed. Pieces of the pitch-black sky fell like glass, as though the world could no longer contain the chaos within.
However, the large castle stood tall, proud, and unscathed—as if every attack had evaded it like a plague unwilling to infect its source. The chaotic warfare outside was unimaginable, but it was inside the castle where fate was being tested.
Drip, drip, drip.
Water fell one drop at a time, as if counting the precious seconds they had left. It was the only sound in the dim throne room it dwelt in—the only source of amusement for the cloaked figure on the lone throne. Perhaps some could say the water wasn't just falling—but marking time, like the element knew it wouldn't be long before something divine took place.
"Why are you fools hiding in the shadows? You boldly brought an army to my doorstep; it's far too late to run away now." A dark voice radiated throughout the room.
Suddenly, two other figures emerged, their presence casting light into the bleak room. Everyone could now be clearly seen.
The figure on the throne looked ominous. Its tattered obsidian robes floated around it as if there were nobody inside. A black substance dripped off the cloak like ink, forming an obscure pool that made the figure appear even more terrifying. It was hunched over, its dark, skeleton-like hands resting on the obsidian sword before it, which emanated a menacing purple aura.
What was more terrifying, however, was its face—or rather, the lack of one. The figure's head was a black doll bearing no features. Its crown-shaped halo floated proudly above. The figure was the essence of perfection—a sculpture where beauty and terror blurred.
The other two figures were just as divine, just as frightening. Unlike the figure on the throne, they hovered proudly in the air. One had an aura of control and calm authority, while the other radiated chaotic, uncontrollable energy that mirrored its wild grin. Standing side by side, their distinctions were impossible to ignore.
The being on the right looked like the embodiment of space itself. Its blue, cosmic skin brimmed with limitless energy and raw celestial power. Its naked form revealed a muscular physique—like a titan born from war. Its wild white hair flowed unnaturally in the air. Its face was a black void, reflecting no identity. A white core in the center of its chest glowed like a shooting star.
Next to him was the embodiment of chaos. Its wide, unsettling grin distracted from its lack of other facial features. Its skin revealed an even greater physique than its partner, outlined by searing violet energy coursing like veins. Its black, metallic skin seemed to hold back this internal energy, all resonating from the crimson, heartbeat-like core in its chest. Its hair, drenched in purple flames, violently swayed, casting flickers of light into the dark castle.
"Hey! Ruin! It's lovely to see you. Man, what a party we have out there, huh?" greeted the purple figure. Its voice was beautiful and playful—a stark contrast to its bloodthirsty smile.
The figure on the throne gazed at the being as if studying it.
"You are a long way from home. Pray tell… what brings you to my castle?" the dark figure's voice was husky and elegant—something only a spiritual creature could possess.
Before the being could respond, the cosmic figure interjected.
"We arrived in hopes you would reconsider our plan for Earth."
The black incarnate of destruction stood, hovering slightly in the air like an angel about to pass judgment.
"So, you are here on a fool's errand? And if I refuse, what then shall happen!?" the creature asked, more intrigued than angry.
This time, the purple being responded, his grin widening to impossible lengths.
"Well, you see our army feasting on your soldiers. What did you think that was for?"
"Think carefully about this, brother. This option is a gesture of respect, not an obligation. This is our destiny that must be fulfilled—and you know that."
"Respect? You talk to me about respect? You fools want to revive an incarnate of destruction that will reshape the world in its madness!" The room began to shake as the being's anger grew. "You brought an insignificant army to my kingdom to threaten me—and you want to talk about respect!?"
He picked up the obsidian sword, still buried in the ground, releasing a pulsing white aura that made even the walls crack. The beings before him barely flinched as they readied themselves for battle.
"So be it. If you are that desperate to die, then I shall grant your request."
The divine beings stared fiercely at one another. The intruders showed no concern for the powerful aura the dark being extruded. Suddenly, the ceiling glowed with orange fury, growing more intense by the second. It was as if it were barely holding back energy too immense to contain. The energy soon revealed itself—a giant sphere resembling the sun.
BOOM!
The castle exploded, and the ground shook, momentarily pausing the war. Cracks formed, and fire rose ferociously. Pools of magma drenched the area, reshaping the land once known.
A bright light enveloped the world, transforming realms and guiding destinies for over 100 years.
To many divine minds, a prophecy had been thwarted.
But prophecies do not end. They wait to be fulfilled by another.
And this one began afresh with the cry of a newborn baby… one hundred years later.
"Honey, the doctor said the baby is nice and healthy. He just told me it's a boy." A man entered a white, sterile room carrying a wailing baby. He looked at his wife, lying on the bed in the center of the room, and handed the baby to her.
She looked down at him with a gaze only a mother could give.
"A boy. Babe, look—he is so precious." Small tears formed at the corners of her eyes as she stared at her child. Immediately, the baby stopped crying and stared up at the strange new woman looking at him funny. The man chuckled.
"You decided on a name yet?" he asked.
The woman's eyes lingered on the child before turning to her husband.
"Malrik. Malrik Sukui."
With that name echoed into the universe, the baby started giggling as he played with the air. The mother and father looked at their child with joy.
"Looks like little Malrik loves his name. I can already tell he's going to be big and strong, just like his amazing fath—"
"Mitch! Rachel!" interrupted a woman dressed in white as she burst into the room. She stopped to catch her breath before clasping her hands together, a bright smile forming on her face.
"Congratulations on the safe delivery of your child."
Rachel chuckled. "It's thanks to you for helping us through the process, Kara. If not for you, my baby and I might not be alive right now." She then noticed Kara's intense gaze at her child. "You want to hold him?"
"Can I!?" Kara quickly rushed to the side of the bed and picked up Malrik. She rocked him gently and made faces in an effort to make the unimpressed baby laugh.
Mitch leaned over and whispered, "I called Dain earlier. According to him, Elara gave birth to a newborn girl around the same time as us."
Rachel frowned slightly before turning back to Malrik and Kara. "Don't worry about them. Let's just enjoy the birth of our baby."
"Yeah… our baby."
The new family said their goodbyes to the nurses and returned to their small wooden cottage on a mountain surrounded by forest.
"I'll go make food for the baby," Mitch said as he walked inside.
Rachel looked at the door. "Look, Malrik. This little cottage is where we're going to raise you. I promise you now—I will protect you from the cruelties this world can offer, with my life." She clutched her sleeping child tighter before entering.
Over the next four years, the family lived a peaceful life.
The days could get rough—sleepless nights, endless crying, and desperate feedings. One night, left alone, Mitch battled a wailing Malrik with everything he had. Funny faces. Rocking. Feeding. Nothing worked.
He flipped through Raise Your Child 101, sighing as the cries grew louder with every turn.
Mitch glared. "You're mocking me, aren't you?!"
Later, Rachel would come home to find the two asleep on the couch.
"Aww." She smiled.
Two years passed. Malrik continued to grow rapidly. His first words were proof.
"Honey! I think he just said 'momma'!" Rachel called in excitement, holding their 2-year-old who repeated the word over and over.
"Good boy, Malrik." She picked him up, rubbing her cheek against his.
"Aw, come on, Malrik—say dadda."
"Momma."
"Dadda."
"Momma." Mitch comically fell to the floor, fake-crying.
On his sixth birthday, Malrik and his mother visited a small city outside the forest. He wore a white sleeveless shirt and black pants with a blue belt. On his chest: a badge that read "6 years old." His pitch-black hair had grown longer and darker.
His mother wore a large green dress with a white apron. Her long brown hair flowed confidently behind her.
Malrik skipped into the building, smiling wide at the weapons on display.
"I'm finally going to get my first sword!!" he shouted.
"Oh, what a strong, big boy we have here," said the large man behind the counter. "Happy birthday, young man."
Rachel walked over. "Malrik, what do we say now?"
"Thank you." The child bowed.
"No problem, kid. I assume you're here to buy a sword for your birthday?"
"Yes. He hasn't stopped talking about it since his last birthday," Rachel chuckled. "I promised he'd get one for his next birthday—and now here we are."
"A sword can be a man's precious treasure," the man said, smiling. Rachel rolled her eyes inwardly.
Malrik was in front of a small, pitch-black sword. The metal was so dark it nearly blended into the background, yet it shone so brightly in the kids' eyes.
"Perfect!" he shouted, catching the adults' attention.
Walking back up the mountain, Malrik clutched his new sword with a bright smile on his face.
The day dimmed; the full moon was already up. The trip had taken longer than expected.
Rachel chuckled at her son. "Careful now. Don't hurt yourself."
"Champions don't hurt themselves, Mom." Malrik beamed. "And I'm gonna be the best one."
"I'm sure you will. Now let's hurry back. We've got to pick up your dad so we can all go out for din—"
Rachel suddenly stopped. Her eyes glowed green. She stared ahead at a sphere of golden energy, radiating from their house. The remnants enveloped them.
Malrik stopped too. "What's the matter, mo—hey!"
He ran after his mother, who had taken off.
'So much power! With this color of magic too? Honey, please, wait for me!' Rachel thought as she sprinted.
"Don't follow me, Malrik! Go back to the village and request help!" she shouted before vanishing into the forest.
"Wha—wait, what's going on?" Malrik whispered. He turned slowly to run back to the city—
BOOM!
A large explosion shook the land, trees bending from the force. Malrik was thrown into the dirt, groaning as he rubbed his back.
"That came from the house… Mum!" he gasped—and sprinted toward the blast.