The battlefield was soaked in blood, the air thick with the stench of death and smoke. The once-majestic kingdom of Pennsylvania was crumbling before their very eyes, its grand castles now nothing but towering infernos, illuminating the darkness of the night with an eerie glow. The sky, painted with the tragic hues of war, bore witness to the carnage below.
Lazarus and Amelia, both wounded and fatigued, lay on the scorched ground, gasping for breath. Amelia's hands trembled as she gripped the hilt of her father's demonic holy sword, her mind still reeling from the sheer impossibility of what had just transpired. Darius, the man she had cut down with a weapon blessed by the divine, stood before them—unharmed, transformed, and stronger than ever.
"How… how the hell is this possible?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her violet eyes wide with horror. Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to comprehend the monstrous power that Darius now possessed. Even Lazarus, a man of immense strength and willpower, could not mask his shock. The sheer resilience and regeneration Darius had displayed were beyond comprehension.
Darius exhaled a long cigarette drag before crushing it effortlessly between his fingers, letting the ashes scattered in the wind like the remnants of a forgotten past. He took slow, deliberate steps towards them, his boots pressing into the blood-soaked earth. The closer he came, the heavier the air became, as if his presence weighed down on their souls.
He finally stopped before them, towering over their fallen forms. His cold, piercing gaze sent shivers down their spines. Then, in a voice as chilling as the void, he spoke:
"Do you know what's worse than this?" His lips curled into a cruel smirk. "If you think this is terrible… then I will have to show you a true nightmare."
A deathly silence followed his words before he raised his arms and commanded with a thunderous voice, "Come forth, my loyal subjects! Show your devotion to your new king—Lord Darius Lookman!"
Almost instantly, thousands of soldiers emerged from the shadows, their armour glistening under the crimson moonlight. They knelt before Darius in unwavering loyalty, their voices rising in unison as they chanted,
"All hail Lord Darius! Glory to our new Lord of Pennsylvania!"
Lazarus and Amelia's blood ran cold at the sight. The overwhelming force of soldiers was too much—there was no possible way they could fight them all. Fear flickered in Lazarus' eyes as he turned to Amelia, grasping her hand tightly.
"No matter what happens," he whispered urgently, "you must run. I know a secret underground passage. It will take you to the Red Forest, far beyond the kingdom's borders. You'll be safe… for now. But you must find help. You have to promise me, Amelia. You must go."
Tears welled up in Amelia's eyes as she clutched his hand, shaking her head furiously. "No… I can't. I can't leave you behind, Lazarus!" Her voice cracked as she sobbed. "I won't!"
Lazarus wiped her tears away gently with his bloodstained fingers. "Everything will be fine, sissy," he said with a soft smile, though pain flickered in his eyes.
Meanwhile, in another corner of the kingdom, Prince Mikael fought fiercely against an onslaught of demons, vampires, and werewolves. The battlefield was a chaotic symphony of war cries, clashing steel, and the agonized screams of the fallen. Mikael, drenched in sweat and blood, wielded his blood-demon sword with fierce determination. His exhausted voice rang out above the battlefield, "Fall back! We need to fall back now!"
But as he turned to see his soldiers, his heart froze. They were not listening. Their eyes—once filled with resolve—had turned into eerie red eclipse-shaped moons.
Terror gripped Mikael's soul. "No…" he whispered in disbelief. Before he could react, creatures lunged at him, but he swiftly countered, unleashing a devastating flame-extinction attack. Fire erupted around him, consuming the approaching enemies.
Just as he steadied himself, two figures leaped from the shadows—Aunt Rozy and Uncle Alex. They conjured a powerful magic shield, protecting Mikael from further harm.
"Run, Prince Mikael!" Rozy commanded in a firm voice. "Find Lazarus and Amelia and escape the kingdom immediately!"
"But—"
"GO!" Alex roared. "We will hold them off!"
With no choice, Mikael ran. As he sprinted through the crumbling city, his heart shattered at the sight before him—the kingdom was in ruins. Homes burned, bodies littered the streets, and the wails of the dying echoed through the air. He saw civilians being torn apart, some burned alive, others desperately trying to scale the walls in futile attempts to escape, only to be cut down mercilessly. There was no humanity left.
When he finally reached Lazarus and Amelia, his breath caught in his throat. His siblings were on the verge of death—beaten, bloodied, and barely conscious, surrounded by thousands of Darius' soldiers. Rage surged through Mikael's veins as he clenched his fists, his aura darkening with overwhelming fury. He was about to attack when—
A deafening horn blew across the battlefield.
Mikael froze. He turned his gaze toward the horizon and saw something even more terrifying—thousands of massive ships moving towards the kingdom, their sails bearing the insignias of the Six Great Continents. The armies of all six kings were advancing rapidly.
His blood ran cold.
"There's a traitor…" he muttered, realization dawning upon him. Someone from within the noble kingdom had betrayed them. Someone close.
And this…
This was just the beginning.
The real nightmare had only just begun.