Villain's Requiem

As I walked out of the guild hall, the cool morning air hit me like a slap in the face. I took a deep breath, feeling invigorated, and set off towards the eastern district.

The streets were already bustling with activity, despite the early hour. People of all shapes and sizes hurried past me, each with their own purpose and destination.

The sound of hammering on metal, the chatter of merchants hawking their wares, and the clanging of pots and pans from the food stalls all blended together in a cacophony of noise.

I weaved through the crowds, dodging carts and pedestrians as I made my way towards the city gate. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, enticing me to stop and grab a bite to eat. But I resisted the temptation, knowing I had a long journey ahead of me.

As I walked, I noticed a group of soldiers on routine patrol, their armor glinting in the morning light.

They eyed me warily, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. I nodded at them in passing, and they returned the gesture, their faces expressionless.

The city was a hub of activity, with people working tirelessly to make ends meet. I saw a young apprentice, no more than ten years old, hurrying to deliver a bundle of freshly laundered clothes.

An old man, his face lined with age and hardship, sat on the sidewalk, his eyes closed as he played a mournful tune on his flute.

As I approached the city gate, the sounds and smells of the city grew fainter, replaced by the sight of the open road stretching out before me.

While I didn't really mean to, but I felt a sense of excitement at the thought of my first quest.

Whoosh

I summoned a map, I had bought on my way to the guild. The place I was going to, the Elshire forest according to the map was only a few kilometers from town.

Naturally I needed a map since the novel didn't cover much about the surroundings of Erantel.

Even the Elshire forest. The little the novel covered on it was that it was one of the largest forests in the federation, spanning the size of almost ten large cities.

Within the Elshire forests, countless monsters resided, including goblins, lizard men, ogres, even kobolds. Making it a very dangerous place.

Heck there were even dungeons there. The deeper you went into the forest, the stronger the monsters are. And at the center of the forest, it was rumored there was an [SS] rank.

Anyway, individually goblins are [G] rank monsters, with some being [F] rank, hence why they usually operate in groups. But even as a fully functional group at best they could take on an [E-] rank mage if he lets his guard down.

Otherwise they'd lose even in a group. Hence they'll be in the outer areas where the weaker monsters are.

Folding my map, I looked at the request again. [Kill ten goblins]. Yep definitely doable.

Then channeling my lightning mana into my legs, I bent low and leapt onwards.

*************

The throne hall was a grand, cavernous space with a high, vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate stone carvings.

The walls were lined with tall, narrow windows that allowed shafts of sunlight to illuminate the room, casting a warm glow over the proceedings.

At the far end of the hall, a raised dais supported the throne, a magnificent piece of furniture carved from a single block of black marble.

The throne was adorned with the sigil of the royal family: a proud lion's head, its jaws open in a fierce roar.

This was the throne room of the Dragoina royal family, the rulers of the land for generations.

But something was terribly wrong. The room was a scene of utter carnage. Dead soldiers and servants lay scattered across the floor, their bodies mercilessly slaughtered.

Even children, innocent and defenseless, had not been spared. The air was thick with the stench of blood and death.

And yet, amidst this scene of horror, a figure sat relaxedly on the throne. He was a young man, probably in his early twenties, with jet-black hair.

His eyes were an arresting feature, a deep, rich amethyst that seemed to gleam with an inner light.

He wore a simple black shirt and black trousers, but there was something about him that commanded attention.

He seemed utterly at ease, as if he were lounging in his own private parlor rather than sitting in the midst of a bloodbath.

BAM

Suddenly the door to the throne hall burst open as a figure with blonde hair, blue eyes and wore a golden armor.

The hero.

The figure on the throne grinned wildly as the armored figure entered.

"#$@$$#!" The armored figure screamed in rage upon seeing the carnage unleashed by the figure on the throne.

"Hi Aron. You're quite late, but then again it at least gave me time to prepare the welcome party". The figure on the throne said in a teasing slightly mocking tone.

The armored figure, Aron, unsheathed his sword. A golden longsword with runes shining on it's body.

"You'll pay for this you bastard". Aron said anger still flowing in his tone.

"Pointing your blade at a king is a capital offense just so you know." The mysterious figure, his amethyst eyes blazing with intensity said, as he stood up from the throne and vanished from his position, reappearing behind Aron in the blink of an eye.

Aron, his blonde hair disheveled, his blue eyes wide with alarm, spun around to face his opponent.

The mysterious figure struck at him with a swift, precise blow, his lean longsword slicing through the air with deadly precision.

Aron parried the attack with a swift, diagonal slash of his own sword, the powerful runes etched on its blade glowing with a faint, golden light.

The mysterious figure dodged the attack with ease, his movements fluid and almost ethereal.

The mysterious figure counterattacked with a series of swift, precise blows, each one aimed at a different part of Aron's body.

Aron parried each attack with a swift, economical motion, his longsword flashing in the light as he defended himself.

The battle raged on, the two combatants exchanging blow for blow. The mysterious figure leapt into the air, his lean longsword flashing in the light as he struck at Aron with a powerful, downward blow.

Aron raised his longsword to parry the attack, but the mysterious figure was too quick. He landed behind Aron and struck at him with a swift, precise blow.

Aron spun around to face his opponent, his longsword flashing in the light as he parried the attack.

The mysterious figure counterattacked with a series of swift, precise blows, each one aimed at a different part of Aron's body.

Aron parried each attack with a swift, economical motion, his longsword flashing in the light as he defended himself.

The throne hall echoed with the sound of clashing steel, the stone walls shuddering with each impact.

The air was electric with tension, the outcome of the battle hanging precariously in the balance.

In a flash of steel, the mysterious figure struck at Aron with a devastating combination.

Aron parried each blow, but the mysterious figure's attacks were relentless, pushing him back with each strike.

Aron stumbled backward, his golden armor dented and scratched. The mysterious figure pressed his advantage, striking at Aron with a powerful blow.

Aron raised his longsword, the runes on its blade glowing with a faint, golden light. He parried the mysterious figure's attack, but his opponent's blow was too powerful.

The two combatants clashed, their swords locked in a fierce, trembling standoff. The air was electric with tension, the outcome of the battle hanging precariously in the balance.

And then, in an instant, everything froze. The mysterious figure's eyes locked onto Aron's, a fierce, burning intensity blazing within them.

Aron's eyes widened, his face set in a fierce, determined grimace. He knew that the man before him was stronger than him. He wasn't going to be delusional at this point.

All he could do now was buy time for his companions to arrive. Hopefully.

The throne hall was silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of the two combatants. The air was thick with tension, the outcome of the battle hanging precariously in the balance.