the reluctant prince of rebirth

LordsKael'zor, the Blood Reaper, strolled into the Evil Forest, the ominous trees bowing under the weight of miasma that coated the air like a thick fog.

His crimson armor gleamed faintly, smeared with remnants of his recent battle in the Holy Kingdom. Soulrend, his ominous blade, rested across his back, pulsating faintly with dark energy, almost as if it was alive and satisfied with the carnage.

Ahead of him, nestled within the forest's heart, loomed a black spire draped in living vines and exuding an aura of dread.

This was the sanctum of Calyx, the Abyssal Lord of Strategy. He didn't bother knocking—formality wasn't his way.

Instead, he slammed the iron-banded door open, the force reverberating through the chamber.

The room was immaculate, as always. Maps of human kingdoms adorned the walls, marking territories, battlefields, and future conquests. In the center, Calyx sat at her long desk, sipping tea from a porcelain cup that seemed entirely out of place amidst the grim decor.

Her piercing black eyes, alight with intellect, didn't even flicker toward him.

Kael'zor stormed in, his hulking frame casting a shadow over her. Without ceremony, he grabbed the corner of her desk and, with a growl, flung it across the room.

The sound of wood splintering filled the chamber, but Calyx simply adjusted her teacup to avoid spilling a drop, entirely unfazed.

"You lied to me," Kael'zor snarled, pointing Soulrend at her.

"I don't lie," she replied smoothly, taking another sip.

Kael'zor slammed his fist into the wall, cracking it. "You told me it was just an 8-star Swordmaster.

Do you think I enjoy being played with, strategist?"

Calyx set her teacup down with a deliberate, almost painful slowness. "I didn't lie, Kael'zor. I said it was an 8-star Swordmaster. That is precisely what it was.

You were the one who rushed out of the meeting without even waiting for further details."

For a moment, Kael'zor froze. He vaguely remembered her words. Had he truly jumped into battle without listening? He scratched the back of his head.

"Oh… yeah. But it's still your fault!"Calyx's calm demeanor cracked for a split second.

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something about dealing with fools.

Then, she turned to him with a sharpness that could cut through stone.

"If you're done hurling accusations, leave at once.

I have strategies to refine and battles to plan," she said, her tone dismissive.

Kael'zor growled, but he respected her authority enough not to push further.

Instead, he stormed out, muttering under his breath about scheming demons and their endless tricks.

The Forest Strikes BackKael'zor stepped out of the spire, only to notice something odd.

The familiar forest clearing now seemed warped, and the trees, once menacing and alive, appeared twisted and shrunken as if they had been reduced to ash.

The ground beneath his feet crumbled, revealing fissures glowing with eerie light.

"What the—?" Kael'zor muttered, spinning around.

The spire was gone, replaced by a charred field of destruction. He blinked in confusion. "Wasn't I just in her office?"

He noticed a gnarled tree nearby and, without thinking, punched it in frustration. The tree exploded into a cloud of dust, scattering into the distorted air.

Realization dawned on him.

"Damn it… I was in her illusion the whole time," he growled, though there was a hint of reluctant admiration in his voice.

Calyx's voice echoed around him, a faint whisper in the wind.

"You're too predictable, Kael'zor. Learn to think before you act. I wouldn't need illusions if you weren't so impulsive."

Kael'zor sighed heavily, shaking his head. "She's improved, though.

Excellent." He glanced at his blade. "Maybe I'll have to teach her swordsmanship after all."

Her voice came again, sharper and more irritated this time. "No, you crazy fool. I'm never using a sword. Leave me out of your fantasies."

Kael'zor couldn't help but laugh, his booming voice echoing through the forest.

He began walking again, his mind wandering.

"When will I finally find a worthy opponent?" he murmured to himself.

A Gathering of BeastsFurther into the Evil Forest, Kael'zor entered the territory of Morgath, the Abyssal Lord of Necromancy. The landscape shifted into a grim wasteland of skeletal trees and blood-red skies.

In the distance, he could see Morgath's palace—a dark fortress surrounded by legions of the undead.

Morgath stood at the gates, his skeletal visage illuminated by an unnatural green glow. Beside him were piles of freshly risen corpses, human and beast alike, their forms twisted into grotesque monsters.

"I delivered the human corpses," Kael'zor said flatly, his voice carrying no warmth.

Morgath's hollow eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

"Good. They will serve their purpose. The Holy Kingdom should be reminded of their mortality."

Kael'zor stared at the necromancer's creations, his lip curling in disdain.

"You've outdone yourself this time, necromancer. But your puppets will never match the thrill of a true duel."

"Not everything is about your so-called 'honorable combat,' Kael'zor," Morgath replied. "Some of us fight to win, not for glory."

Kael'zor ignored the jab, his attention drawn to a massive, decaying beast—a twisted amalgamation of flesh and bone.

"And what is this abomination?"

"My latest experiment," Morgath said, a note of pride in his voice. "A fusion of human and beast, enhanced with miasma. It will lead the next assault on the Holy Kingdom."

Kael'zor chuckled. "If it can't hold a blade, it's worthless to me."

Morgath sighed. "Leave, Blood Reaper. Your narrow-minded obsession with swords has no place here."

Kael'zor smirked but said nothing, turning on his heel and heading deeper into the forest.

The Shadow of the Demon KingAs Kael'zor walked, the oppressive miasma thickened, and the forest grew darker.

He approached the heart of the Evil Forest—the domain of Azareth, the Demon King himself.

The air here was suffused with a power so overwhelming that even Kael'zor, with his immense strength, felt its weight pressing down on him.

The obsidian palace of the Demon King loomed ahead, its spires reaching into the storm-laden sky. Black flames danced along its walls, a reminder of Azareth's destructive power.

Kael'zor stopped at the gates, gazing up at the structure with a rare sense of reverence. "One day, I'll prove myself worthy to challenge him," he muttered.

"But not yet."With a sigh, he turned away and began his journey back through the forest, his mind churning with thoughts of his next battle.

Somewhere out there, he knew, was a swordsman who could match him—a worthy opponent who could finally give him the duel he craved.

Until then, the Blood Reaper would wait, sharpening his skills and seeking new challenges, all while the dark forces of the Evil Forest continued to plot their next move against the world.