The tension in the subterranean chamber ceased to be a mere sensation and became a physical weight. The Dark Knight advanced, and with every step, his ornate armor creaked, shattering the deathly silence. His sword, composed of crackling energy, hummed with a lethal threat.
Kael was the first to break the paralysis of fear.
"Don't let him get near Biel!" the guide roared.
He unsheathed his old sword in a fluid motion. Upon contact with the air, the worn steel was transformed: an intense blaze enveloped the blade, illuminating the cavern with an orange glow that fought against the red light of the Seal.
"Get back!" Kael shouted, intercepting the Dark Knight’s charge.
The clash was brutal. Kael’s burning steel met the knight’s dark energy, triggering a shockwave that shook dust from the ceiling.
Acalia, Easton, and Xanthe reacted instantly. "Cover the flanks!" Acalia ordered, joining the offensive with rapid, precise thrusts.
Xanthe summoned tongues of fire that danced around the enemy to distract him, while Easton struck the ground, sending ice spikes lunging for the armor’s joints. However, the Dark Knight moved with a dexterity that defied his size. He blocked the ice with his forearm and dispersed Xanthe’s fire with a simple flick of his free hand. But when Kael lunged again, the Knight caught the flaming blade against his energy sword and froze, as if analyzing the impact.
"That technique..." the Dark Knight’s voice resonated, deep and metallic, ignoring the others to focus on the old man. "That steel sings a familiar song... but you are not him. I do not remember you, human."
Kael gritted his teeth, holding the parry with superhuman strength. "I'll tell you the truth, specter," Kael grunted, sweat pouring down his forehead. "This sword does not belong to me. It was an inheritance."
The Dark Knight tilted his helm slightly. "I see. The swordsman who originally wielded that blade was a formidable man... My memories are blurred, like shattered glass, but your stance... it is painfully similar to his."
Kael did not reply aloud. He pushed with all his might to separate the blades and gain distance, but his mind traveled for an instant to the past, laden with melancholy.
It's better this way... Let him not know who I truly am. Wasn't that what you wanted, friend Lorian? That your legacy lived on in silence...
The battle resumed with ferocity. The companions watched in awe; the old man who had guided them did not just know the way—he fought at the level of an ancient monster.
But Biel could not move.
He was paralyzed, not by the fear of battle, but by the intensity of what was happening in his own chest. While steel clashed and magic exploded around him, he had eyes only for the Seal on the pedestal.
The object hidden beneath his clothes—the mysterious necklace—began to heat up against his skin. It seemed to pulse at the same rhythm as the Demon King’s Seal, like two separate hearts beating in unison, calling to each other through the chaos. Its glow intensified with every passing second, demanding to be released.
"What... what is happening?" Biel murmured, his eyes glazed over, taking a hypnotic step toward the pedestal.
"Biel, get away from there!" Easton shouted, launching a blast of ice to try and block his path, but the attack shattered before touching the boy.
It was useless. Biel wasn't listening. His legs moved on their own, pulled by an invisible gravity only he could feel.
The moment his fingers brushed the cold surface of the Seal, the world exploded into silence.
A column of pure darkness erupted from the pedestal, enveloping Biel’s body in a whirlwind of violent shadows that howled like souls in pain. The force of the energy pushed Acalia, Xanthe, and Easton back, forcing them to cover their faces.
"Biel!" Xanthe screamed, tears of helplessness tracking down her face, illuminated by the black radiance.
In the center of the chamber, the combat stopped dead. Kael lowered his flaming sword, forgetting his defense, his eyes wide as he watched the dark vortex emanating from the boy.
"Hold on, lad!" the old man exclaimed, a mix of terror and reverence in his voice. "This is no coincidence... If the Seal responds to you like this, then the prophecies did not lie. You truly are..."
But the most shocking part was not Kael’s reaction.
The Dark Knight—that killing machine who seconds before had dominated them all—halted his energy blade in mid-air. Feeling the vibration of those specific shadows, the specter recoiled, trembling. Slowly, with a metallic screech from his armor, the guardian sank a knee to the ground and bowed his head, recognizing an authority superior to his own.
Acalia, her face hardened by worry but her mind working at a mile a minute, watched the scene helplessly.
"Biel... what on earth are you?" she whispered to herself.
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Inside the whirlwind, Biel’s consciousness was ripped from his body.
He opened his eyes. The cavern ceiling, his friends, and the knight had disappeared. He now stood on a vast spiritual plane. There was no sky, only a grayish mist, and the ground was covered by an infinite ocean of white ash that swirled around his ankles. The air was cold, static, dead.
Before him, the darkness began to condense until it took shape.
A tall and majestic figure emerged from the shadows. He wore black armor, ancient and worn by a thousand forgotten battles, and a cloak that seemed made of smoke. He wore no helmet, revealing a pale, severe face with two red eyes that glowed with an intensity capable of burning the soul.
"Finally, we meet," the entity said. His voice did not resonate in the air, but directly in Biel’s bones—deep and absolute like distant thunder. "I am Monsfil, the Demon King of Eternal Destruction."
Biel took a step back, feeling fear freeze his blood, yet his heart beat with a strange familiarity.
"Monsfil?" he asked, his voice trembling. "You... you’re the one who called me?"
Monsfil heard the boy’s claim, and a slow smile, laden with infinite melancholy, spread across his pale face.
"That is correct..." the entity whispered, his voice echoing like wind in a mausoleum. "I have been waiting for this moment for centuries."
"What do you want from me?" Biel asked, raising his voice to fight the fear chilling his bones. "Stay away! You’re a threat! I don't want anything to do with a monster like you!"
Monsfil let out a deep, dry laugh as he looked up at the cloudy sky of that spiritual plane, as if searching for stars that no longer existed.
"Ah... so that is the version that endured. 'The Great Villain.' Curse you, Hero... how well you have rewritten our history," he said, with a tone oscillating between resentment and a strange admiration. "Though... I cannot entirely blame him. If things ended this way, there was a reason. It is a pity my memories of that day are fragmented; the Seal did not just chain our bodies, it broke our memories as well."
The entity looked down, locking his red eyes onto Biel. The pressure in the air increased, forcing the young man back.
"Listen, boy. I want you to understand the truth before you judge me. I want you to know who I truly am."
Biel, though wary and trembling, gave a slight nod. "Fine. Speak."
Monsfil took a step forward, and the ashes beneath his boots parted as if afraid of him. His tone shifted, becoming solemn and ancient.
"Two hundred years ago, I was no butcher. I was a protector. My domain was Destruction, yes—but not as an end, but as a means to preserve. Incurable plagues, stagnant wars, the corruption that rotted the land... I destroyed what threatened the balance so that life could flourish anew. I was the fire that burns the diseased forest so a new one may be born."
He paused, his expression hardening with bitterness.
"But mortals are creatures of fear. They did not understand. They hated me." Monsfil closed his eyes for an instant. "In those days, I met a man... a Hero. To the gods, the eternal struggle between the Hero and the Demon King is their daily bread, a cyclical entertainment. But he was different. He did not see me as a monster."
Monsfil opened his eyes again, and for a second, the red light seemed to soften.
"He told me that the title of 'Destructor' was a necessary burden that only I could carry. He saw something special in me when the rest of the world saw only darkness. We were... comrades in loneliness. But there was an incident. A mistake that severed that bond and turned the Hero into my executioner. When I tried to defend my truth... I was sealed."
Biel listened in silence, feeling his own emotions split. Monsfil’s voice did not sound like deceit; it sounded like pure pain.
"Your story... is tragic," Biel finally admitted, lowering his guard. "But if you were a protector, if you were necessary... why didn't you prove it? Why does the world remember you as a nightmare?"
"How could I have proven it?" Monsfil replied, infinite sadness in his gaze. "When everything I did, no matter how just, was seen by the world as a necessary evil. History is written by those who fear power, not those who understand it."
The entity extended a hand covered in black gauntlets toward Biel.
"Now, the only thing I can do is trust you. I want to make a bargain."
"What kind of bargain?" Biel asked, stepping back, his voice thick with instinctive distrust.
"I want you to use my power to rewrite my legacy," Monsfil said firmly. "I could not use it correctly; I was impulsive, and for that, I was labeled a destroyer and locked away. But you... you have the chance to change that story. Be the destruction that saves, not the one that condemns."
Biel frowned, processing the offer. "And how do I know you don't plan to control me?" he questioned. "How do I know you won't try to take over my body as soon as I accept?"
Monsfil let out a brief, sincere laugh—a deep sound that made the ashen ground vibrate.
"I am not like my siblings, boy. I am serious. My physical essence is sealed, but my consciousness now resides in the fragment you carry around your neck. I can only be a voice, a guide to help you understand the burden you carry. The helm is yours."
"So... you’re inside my necklace?" Biel asked, surprised, bringing his hand to his chest.
Monsfil nodded slowly, and his figure began to fade into smoke.
"That is correct. And I trust that you will use this power with wisdom. Now wake up, Bearer. We will have time to talk."
Suddenly, the darkness exploded and dissipated like mist before a gale.
Biel snapped his eyes open, taking a desperate breath of air. He was no longer in the gray void; he was back in the subterranean chamber, standing and intact. The black whirlwind had vanished.
"Are you alright?" Acalia asked immediately, gripping his shoulders tightly to make sure he was real. "Speak, Biel!"
"Yeah..." he gasped, blinking as the colors of reality returned to his eyes. "I think so..."
The metallic sound of armor hitting stone echoed in the chamber, silencing everyone.
The Dark Knight—that war machine who had fought mercilessly against Kael and the others—dropped his energy sword, which dissipated upon touching the floor. Slowly, with absolute solemnity, the guardian sank both knees to the earth and lowered his head before the young man.
"The Seal has recognized its master," the knight said in a deep, reverent voice. "My watch has ended. You are the Chosen One."
The silence that followed was absolute. Kael watched with his mouth open; Acalia, with a furrowed brow; and Xanthe and Easton, completely stunned.
Biel—confused, exhausted, and not knowing how to process the radical turn of events—looked at the kneeling giant and blurted out the only thing his brain could formulate:
"W-What...?!"
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