When YozaRu opened his eyes, all he saw was the ceiling of rough gray stone.
His chest felt as if it had been crushed under rubble; even breathing burned.
Black veins crawled up his arms and neck, as if his blood had turned to ash.
He turned his head and saw Sentarion sitting silently in the corner of the cave.
The older being's eyes reflected the faint glow of the rocks.
"You're alive…" Sentarion said quietly.
YozaRu tried to remember what had happened, but his mind was foggy—nothing but the memory of unbearable rage and blinding light.
"What… did I do?" he whispered.
Sentarion stood up slowly.
"It's not what you did," he said. "It's what you are."
YozaRu frowned. "What I am?"
Sentarion pointed to the ancient carvings on the cave wall—stone figures of towering beings holding swords, humans kneeling beneath them.
"Long ago, there was one voice that ruled this land," Sentarion said.
"That voice brought both order and ruin. We called him the King.
Humans called him… the Demon."
YozaRu's breath caught. "A demon?"
"Yes," Sentarion said softly. "And the blood of that king flows through you."
YozaRu laughed bitterly. "That's impossible. I'm just a survivor from a burned village."
Sentarion's tone darkened. "That explosion wasn't something a human could create. When it happened, even the old spirits of the Underworld trembled.
That power—no one has felt its echo in a thousand years.
Only one bloodline could cause it."
YozaRu stared at the floor. "Then I'm… a monster?"
"No," Sentarion replied. "But you could become one. If you don't control that power, it will consume everything—your mind, your soul, your humanity."
Silence filled the cave again. Only the faint wind echoed through the cracks.
Finally YozaRu whispered, "Then tell me. How do I control it?"
Sentarion looked at him with something between respect and pity.
"In time. But first—you must survive."
The ground trembled. Dust fell from the ceiling, pebbles rolling at their feet.
Sentarion's calm face shifted to alarm. "They've found us."
"Who?"
"Those who felt your power," he said grimly. "Every strong creature in this land now knows you exist. We can't stay here."
But before they could move, a deafening roar filled the cave.
From the shadows crawled a massive Feral One, its breath a cloud of black smoke.
Behind it came two more.
Sentarion drew his sword, blue energy tracing along its edge.
"You must go."
YozaRu shook his head. "No! I can fight!"
"Not yet!" Sentarion roared. "That power will burn you alive!"
YozaRu raised his hand instinctively. The black veins pulsed; his eyes flared red again.
But his body convulsed from the strain—he fell to his knees, gasping.
Sentarion stepped forward, his voice low and firm.
"I've waited thousands of years for this moment.
The bloodline of kings was never lost—only hidden.
That's why you must live."
The Feral Ones charged.
Sentarion met them head-on, his blade singing through the air.
One creature fell in two, but another's claws tore into his side.
Blood spilled across the stone floor.
YozaRu crawled toward him, trembling. "No! We can fight together!"
Sentarion coughed blood but smiled faintly. "Maybe one day… but not today."
He plunged his sword into the ground.
Light burst from the cave floor, forming a glowing seal.
"Go," he said, his voice fading. "This spell will carry you far from here—toward the safe zones.
There are humans there… live among them.
Learn. Grow.
But never tell them what you are."
"Sentarion!" YozaRu shouted, but light engulfed him before he could move.
The next thing he knew, he was lying in mist and silence.
The air was cold and heavy.
Far in the distance, he saw a faint glimmer of light—a settlement.
YozaRu forced himself to walk.
Each step sent pain through his body, the black marks on his skin burning like fire.
Then, a whisper echoed in his mind—a deep, familiar voice:
> "They lie to you, child… embrace the power before it fades."
YozaRu clenched his fists. "I won't bow to you."
Days blurred together.
The same gray sky, the same endless ground of ash and ruin.
At last, he reached the outer walls of a settlement—small, protected by weak magical barriers.
"Who goes there?" a guard shouted, raising his spear.
"A traveler," YozaRu said calmly, lifting his head. His clothes were torn and burned, his eyes hollow but sharp. "I seek shelter."
They hesitated, then allowed him through.
Inside, people stared—suspicious, curious, some afraid.
He ignored their looks and walked until he found a quiet place, near a tavern's worn steps.
YozaRu placed a hand over his heart and lowered his head.
> "Sentarion… I swear, your sacrifice won't be in vain.
This world will change. I'll make sure of it."
The wind rose, carrying dust through the narrow streets.
Thunder rumbled far away.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, two shadows turned to each other.
One smiled faintly.
> "He's returned."
The other's voice was colder.
> "And this time… he's not alone."