Chapter 2: Humiliated Knight
ACT 1. HUMILITY OF A KNIGHT
It was a beautiful morning in the castle courtyard, and the knights were gearing up for the day's training. Vaelthor, the lowest-ranked knight, was getting ready too, but he could feel the eyes of his fellow knights on him.
One of the knights, named Sir Gerrick, approached Vaelthor and said, "Hey, Vaelthor, are you ready to be beaten once again? I think you're the weakest link in the chain, hahaha."
The other knights started laughing at Sir Gerrick's joke. Vaelthor's face turned red, but he tried to ignore the mockery.
Another knight, Sir Lucian, joined in and said, "You know, Vaelthor, you should really consider a career change. Maybe you can become a jester instead of a knight. You're certainly good at entertaining us with your poor performance."
The knights laughed even harder, and Vaelthor felt humiliated. He had always struggled to keep up with the other knights, but he didn't deserve to be treated like this.
Vaelthor didn't know how to react, he felt powerless and defeated. He couldn't stand up for himself, and the other knights took advantage of his weakness. He wanted to leave and hide, but he knew he had to stay and endure the torment.
The knights continued to ridicule Vaelthor, mocking his every move and belittling him at every opportunity. Vaelthor felt like he didn't belong there, he felt like an outcast and that his dreams of becoming a great knight were slipping away.
As the training session ended, Vaelthor walked away, his head down and his spirit crushed. He knew he had to work harder to improve his skills, but the mocking words of the other knights echoed in his mind, making him feel more hopeless than ever before.
ACT 2. BROTHERHOOD HUG
Vaelthor walked through the door of his small, rundown home, his armor clanking as he went. His brother, Thormor, was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book. When he saw Vaelthor, he stood up and rushed over to him.
"Vaelthor, what's wrong? You look so helpless," Thormor said, his face full of concern.
Vaelthor tried to shrug it off, but Thormor persisted. "Tell me what happened. Did something bad happen at the castle?"
Vaelthor finally gave in and confessed, "I was bullied again today. The other knights made fun of me and my performance."
Thormor put his hand on Vaelthor's shoulder and said, "I'm sorry, brother. I know how much being a knight means to you, and it's not fair that they treat you like that."
Vaelthor sighed, "I just feel so powerless. I try so hard, but it's like I'll never be good enough."
Thormor looked at his brother with compassion, "Don't say that. You are amazing in your own way, and I believe in you."
Vaelthor looked at Thormor with tears in his eyes, "I just wish things were different. I wish I could make a name for myself and get us out of this poverty."
Thormor smiled, "You will. I know you will. And until then, I will always be here to support you, no matter what."
Thormor worked as a blacksmith, but his income was barely enough to put food on the table. The two brothers had been surviving on their own for ten years, ever since their parents died.
Thormor's job required him to work long hours in a hot, noisy forge, but he never complained. He did everything he could to provide for Vaelthor and make sure he had a good life.
As Vaelthor hugged his brother, he wiped away his tears, he realized how lucky he was to have a brother like Thormor. He knew that no matter what happened, Thormor would always be there for him, and he was grateful for that.
ACT 3. THE SEED OF EVIL
In the palace, a group of servants was whispering among themselves as they cleaned the halls.
"Did you hear about King Radamir? He's not really in control anymore. King Mordrath is the one pulling all the strings," one of the servants said.
Another servant shook their head, "It's a shame. Our kingdom used to be so strong, but now we don't have the resources to compete with our neighbors."
Vaelthor overheard their conversation as he walked by, and he couldn't bear the thought of his king being controlled by someone else. He knew that something needed to be done, but he also knew that he wasn't strong enough to take on the other knights who had the same desire.
As he walked away, Vaelthor's mind raced with desperation. "I need to do something. I can't just sit here and watch as our kingdom falls apart. But what can I do? I'm just a lowly knight with no power or influence."
That's when an idea struck him. "I need to seek out King Mordrath and earn his trust. Maybe he can help me reign the throne," Vaelthor thought.
But before he could do that, he knew he needed to become more powerful. He needed to beat the other knights who also had the same desire as him.
ACT 4. A SIP OF AMBITIOUS PLAN
Vaelthor was sitting alone in a dimly lit tavern, nursing a mug of ale and brooding over the state of his kingdom. A stranger walked in and took a seat beside him. The stranger was a tall, dark-haired man with piercing green eyes.
"Is something troubling you, mate?" the stranger asked, his voice smooth and soothing.
Vaelthor glanced at the stranger, surprised by the sudden interruption. He shrugged and took a sip of his ale. "Just thinking about the sorry state of our kingdom. Our king is powerless, and we're at the mercy of our enemies."
The stranger leaned in closer, a sly smile spreading across his face. "I couldn't help but overhear you. You seem like a man with ambition. Someone who wants to make a change."
Vaelthor looked at the stranger with suspicion, but the stranger's words were enticing. "Yes, I do want to make a change. I want to take back our kingdom and make it great again."
The stranger nodded. "I can help you with that."
Vaelthor raised an eyebrow. "And who are you?"
The stranger's smile grew wider. "Call me Zrythexen."
Vaelthor was taken aback by the strange name, but something about the man intrigued him. "And how can you help me?"
Zrythexen pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket and secretly slid it across the table toward Vaelthor. "This parchment will summon the Book of 100 Demons to this world. Within its pages lies the power to summon a demon of your choosing, one that will serve your every whim."
Vaelthor's eyes widened in amazement. "This is incredible. How can I repay you?"
Zrythexen waved a hand dismissively. "Consider it a gift from a friend. All I ask is that you use your newfound power to achieve your goals wisely."
Vaelthor nodded eagerly, already planning his next move. "I will not disappoint you."
Zrythexen stood up from the table, his cloak swirling around him. "Good luck, my friend."
With that, Zrythexen disappeared out the tavern door, leaving Vaelthor alone with his thoughts and the parchment in his hand. Vaelthor couldn't wait to summon the Book of 100 Demons and claim his rightful place as the most powerful warlord in the land.
ACT 5. THE INITIAL WARNING
Vaelthor burst through the door, his face lit up with excitement.
"Thormor! You won't believe what just happened! I met a stranger in the tavern who gave me a way to become the most powerful knight in the land!"
Thormor looked at his brother with pity in his eyes. He knew that Vaelthor had been struggling with his self-esteem, but he also knew that magic was not the answer.
In his mind, Thormor carefully considered his words before replying. "Vaelthor, I'm happy for you, but I don't know if magic is the solution. Remember what father used to say about the dangers of seeking power through the use of the supernatural."
But Vaelthor was not deterred. He pulled out the parchment that Zrythexen had given him and showed it to Thormor. As soon as Thormor saw the ancient symbols on the parchment, horror gripped his heart.
"Vaelthor, please listen to me. This is dangerous. You don't know what kind of power you're dealing with here."
But Vaelthor was already angry. "You don't understand, Thormor. You never have. You let those knights mock me every day. Is that what you want? Huh? Is that what you want?? No Thormor, no. I won't live like this anymore!"
Thormor was desperate to convince his brother not to go through with this plan, but he knew he had no other choice. He reluctantly gave in and watched as Vaelthor prepared to summon the book of 100 demons.
ACT 6. DRAWING ON THE SAND
Vaelthor took a deep breath as he prepared to summon Centa Vormyndar. He was filled with doubt, wondering if this was really the right thing to do. But then, he remembered the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of Sir Gerrick and Sir Lucien, and the desire to be a respected man burned within him.
"I can't keep living like this," he thought to himself. "I have to do something to change my fate."
With his resolve strengthened, Vaelthor followed the instructions on the parchment, drawing the sigil on the ground and chanting the incantation. As he spoke the words, he could feel the energy in the air shifting, and the sigil began to glow with a bright, otherworldly light.
Vaelthor's eyes widened in amazement as he watched the sigil pulsate with magical energy. He had never seen anything like it before. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the sigil faded, leaving behind a small hole in the ground.
With trembling hands, Vaelthor dug into the earth, feeling the cool soil on his fingertips. And then, as he reached down, his fingers brushed against something hard and smooth.
He pulled it out of the ground, and his heart raced as he saw that it was the book of 100 demons. Magical energy surged through his body, and he felt more powerful than he ever had before.
"I've done it," he whispered to himself, feeling a mix of excitement and fear.
Vaelthor knew that he was about to embark on a dangerous path, but he was determined to see it through to the end. He had summoned a demon, and he would use its power to become the most powerful knight in the land.
ACT 7. CHOICE OF FATE
Vaelthor spent countless hours studying the Centa Vormyndar, poring over its pages to learn all he could about the demon he was about to summon. Finally, he found what he was looking for - the demon that would serve him was Vexxator. Vaelthor was ecstatic to know that Vexxator could help him gain the respect he so desperately craved.
He meticulously prepared for the summoning ritual, gathering chalk and rare herbs to light the incense. The setting was a desolate, abandoned castle in the middle of the night, the moon casting eerie shadows across the stone walls. Vaelthor drew the summoning circle, carefully inscribing Vexxator's sigil within it. He cleared his throat and began to recite the spell:
"Vexxator, tundri fluxio, Skyndrosh, falovornio, Aerix, ventri entonox, Gladumax, kryonix Vexxator. By the power of the winds and the Lord of the Skies, I summon thee, Vexxator, to come forth and grant me thy aid."
As the last words left his lips, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the castle. A strong wind began to blow, and Vaelthor felt his hair whipping around his face. Suddenly, there was a loud clap of thunder, and a figure materialized within the summoning circle.
Vexxator, the demon of the winds, had arrived.
"What do you wish of me, mortal?" Vexxator asked, his voice deep and powerful.
"I wish to be respected," Vaelthor replied meekly, feeling small in the presence of the demon.
"Is that all?" Vexxator scoffed. "You could have asked for power beyond measure, wealth beyond your wildest dreams, and yet you ask for something as trivial as respect?"
Vaelthor hung his head in shame, but quickly spoke up when he realized his mistake. "I also wish to be King, to rule over all the lands and be feared by my enemies."
Vexxator's face twisted into a grin. "Now that is a wish worthy of my time," he said, and with a flick of his wrist, a sword materialized in his hand.
"Take this sword, mortal," Vexxator said, offering the weapon to Vaelthor. Vexxator gave him a plain but invincible sword. Vaelthor was amazed to receive it, feeling the magical energy surge through him as he grasped the hilt. "This sword cannot be broken by anything except magical power with the fire element and some conditions," Vexxator said. "If the sword breaks, it means you are about to die. And if you continue living with a broken sword, you will be humiliated even worse than before."
Vaelthor took the sword, marveling at its plain yet invincible appearance. "My utmost gratitude, Vexxator," he said, bowing deeply. "I am forever in your debt."
With that, Vexxator vanished into thin air, leaving Vaelthor alone in the abandoned castle with his new sword.
ACT 8. SHOWCASE OF UNWAVERING DIGNITY
Vaelthor held the sword tightly and could feel the magical energy coursing through his veins. He swung the sword experimentally, and as he did, he felt a gust of wind whip up around him. It was as if the sword was calling forth the power of the air itself.
Excited, he began to practice his swordplay, experimenting with the different ways he could use the magical abilities of the sword. With a flick of his wrist, he could summon a bolt of lightning that crackled through the air and struck his opponent, sending them reeling.
He could also use the sword to create whirlwinds that would send his enemies flying or blast them with a gust of wind that would knock them off their feet. Vaelthor had never felt so powerful, and he couldn't wait to test the sword against a real opponent.
Days turned into weeks as Vaelthor practiced his swordplay with the magical sword. He had become faster and more agile, and the sword had become an extension of his arm. He was ready to face his enemies with newfound confidence.
Finally, the day arrived when Vaelthor would have the chance to test his sword in battle against some bandits as the King had ordered him to do. As he faced his opponent, he raised the sword high and called forth the power of the winds. The air around him began to swirl, and a bolt of lightning shot out from the sword and struck his foe, sending them tumbling to the ground.
With a triumphant grin, Vaelthor advanced, his sword crackling with magical energy. He swung the sword in a fluid motion, and a gust of wind blasted his opponent off their feet. They struggled to stand, but Vaelthor had already closed the distance between them, and with a final strike, he defeated them.
Vaelthor sheathed his sword, feeling the weight of his newfound power. He had never felt so alive, and he knew that with the magical sword in his hands, nothing could stand in his way.
One day, he found himself surrounded by a group of knights who had been mocking him and challenging his authority as a captain he earned from the King after the last battle with the bandits. Vaelthor tried to reason with them, but they were unrelenting and insisted on a duel to prove his worth as a knight.
"I will not be provoked into a senseless duel," Vaelthor said calmly, "I have nothing to prove to you."
"Ah, the coward is afraid to fight!" one of the knights taunted.
Vaelthor drew his sword and stepped forward, "I accept your challenge, but know that I fight not out of fear, but to defend my honor."
The knights drew their swords and charged at him. Vaelthor unleashed the power of his sword, calling forth bolts of lightning and gusts of wind to strike at his opponents. The knights were no match for his skill and magic, and one by one they fell before him.
Vaelthor stood victorious, his sword glowing with the power of the elements. He sheathed his sword and turned to the remaining knights, "I hope you have learned your lesson. I will not tolerate any further insults or challenges to my authority."
The knights bowed their heads in defeat and apologized for their behavior. Vaelthor accepted their apology and left them with a warning, "Remember this day, for I will not hesitate to defend my honor again if necessary."
ACT 9. THE FIRST ASSIGNMENT
Vaelthor was in his room when he received a message from the palace that King Mordrath wanted to meet him. He was surprised and nervous, wondering what could be the reason for the summon. But he knew he had no choice but to attend. He put on his finest attire and arrived at the palace, where he was greeted by a group of guards who escorted him to the throne room.
"Welcome, Vaelthor, the mighty knight with magical power," said King Mordrath, "I have heard a lot about your bravery and the way you overthrew the humiliation that people had put on you. I believe you can serve me well."
"It is my honor to be able to serve you, Your Majesty," replied Vaelthor with respect.
King Mordrath then led Vaelthor to a secret chamber inside the palace. As they sat, King Mordrath began to speak.
"I have a mission for you, Vaelthor. The kingdom of Arandor has been a threat to us for a long time. I want you to lead our troops to attack their border near King Radamir's territory, Ardalind. The reason I have to maintain Ardalind the territory of King Radamir is to block our enemy from Arandor. If Arandor's troop attack Ardalind, they will be trapped, and we will have much time to prepare for the incoming enemy. I promise you that if you succeed in this mission, I will grant you a large number of troops to serve you."
Vaelthor listened attentively to the King's explanation and felt excited about the mission. "I am ready to take on this mission, Your Majesty. I will serve you with all my strength," he replied confidently.
King Mordrath smiled and said, "I knew I could count on you, Vaelthor. Now go and prepare yourself for the battle. I believe you will not disappoint me."
Vaelthor bowed to the King and left the secret chamber, feeling determined to prove himself to the King and earn his respect.
ACT 10. SERENOVA INTO FLESH
The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a golden hue on the abandoned castle. Inside, Thormor was alone, lost in thought as he sat in front of the fireplace. Suddenly, he felt a strange energy coursing through his body, and a bright light emanated from his chest. Thormor gasped as he saw the glow, then watched in shock as it spread to his eyes. He felt a powerful presence within him, one that he couldn't resist or control.
The energy inside Thormor grew stronger, and he stumbled to his feet as he felt his body being taken over. He tried to resist, but it was no use.
As the dusk settled, Thormor sat alone in his chamber, staring out the window with a sad expression on his face. Vaelthor noticed his brother's mood and approached him, "What troubles you, my dear brother?"
Thormor turned to face Vaelthor and sighed, "It's the sword, brother. I have a feeling that it will bring you to your death."
Vaelthor chuckled, thinking that his brother was just worried about him. "Don't be silly, brother. The sword has only brought me strength and victory."
Thormor shook his head, "I'm serious, Vaelthor. Please, return the sword to the giver or else, you will lose your brother."
Vaelthor was touched by his brother's concern, but he didn't want to give up his powerful weapon. "I can't return the sword, Thormor. It's too valuable to our kingdom. But I promise that I'll be careful and come back to you safely."
Just then, another knight called out to Vaelthor, urging him to depart for the battlefield. Vaelthor grew frustrated and snapped, "I have to go, Thormor. I'll see you when I get back."
Thormor reluctantly let his brother go, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen. And he was right. As Vaelthor led the charge against the enemy, the sword's power proved too much for him to handle, and he fell in battle.
Little did Thormor know, the sword's power was amplified by the demon Vexxator, who had been lurking in the shadows all along.
As Thormor sat alone in his room, he heard a whisper that seemed to be coming from nowhere. "Thormor," the voice said softly, "your brother's life is in danger."
Thormor was startled and looked around, but he saw no one in the room with him. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Serenova," the voice replied. "I am the spirit residing in your heart."
"What do you want from me?" Thormor asked.
"I must let you know," Serenova said. "Your brother is in grave danger. If he continues to wield the sword, he will be enslaved by a demon. You must take the sword from him and throw it into the river to set him free."
Thormor was taken aback. He couldn't imagine taking the sword from his brother, but he knew he had to do something to save him.
"But how can I do that?" Thormor asked. "My brother will never give up his sword willingly."
"You must find a way," Serenova said. "Your brother's life is at stake. You must act quickly."
Thormor knew what he had to do. "I will do it," he said. "Even if it means risking my own life."
ACT 11. VICTORIOUS DEFEAT
As news of Vaelthor's victory spread, the people of Ardalind celebrated their hero's return with great fanfare. The streets were lined with cheering crowds as Vaelthor rode his black stallion through the city gates, his magical sword glinting in the sunlight. The sound of trumpets and drums filled the air as the people hailed him as their savior.
King Mordrath himself had come to Ardalind to greet Vaelthor and offer his congratulations. He stood at the city gates, flanked by his loyal knights, as Vaelthor rode up to him. "Well done, Vaelthor," the king said, his voice booming with pride. "You have proved yourself a true champion."
Vaelthor smiled, his eyes shining with satisfaction. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said. "I am honored to have served you in this way."
As the crowd continued to cheer, Thormor watched his brother from a distance, his eyes filled with relief and joy. He had been so worried about Vaelthor's safety during the battle, but now he could see that his brother was unharmed and had returned home victorious. Thormor ran to meet his brother and embraced him tightly.
"I knew you could do it, brother," Thormor said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I am so proud of you."
Vaelthor smiled and hugged his brother back. "Thank you, Thormor," he said. "It means a lot to me to have your support."
As the two brothers walked through the city together, the people continued to cheer and celebrate Vaelthor's victory. For the people of Radamir, Vaelthor had become a true hero, a symbol of hope and strength in troubled times.
On his arriving home, Vaelthor took a rest. He slept like a baby.
After sleeping, Vaelthor suddenly woke up to a dream where Vexxator warned him that his brother had thrown his sword into the river. He immediately searched for his sword and heard Vexxator's voice again, telling him to find his brother by the river cliff. In a rush, Vaelthor ran towards the cliff and saw his brother throwing the sword into the river.
"What have you done?!" Vaelthor shouted at Thormor, his anger evident in his voice.
"I did it to save you, brother," Thormor replied, trying to reason with him.
"You fool! You have no idea what you have done!" Vaelthor retorted, his voice rising in anger. "How could you do this without even asking me? You could have gotten me killed!"
As they continued to argue, the tension between them rose until they got into a physical fight. In the heat of the moment, Vaelthor pushed Thormor down the river cliff.
"Oh no!" Vaelthor cried, full of regret as he realized what he had done.
As he grieved over his actions, Vexxator's voice spoke to him again. "You were foolish to get angry with your brother. The sword will always return to where it belongs."
Filled with a sense of hopelessness and sorrow, Vaelthor returned home, convinced that he had lost his brother forever. But when he entered his room, he found the sword lying there, wet but safe.
ACT 12. THIRST OF POWER
King Mordrath summoned Vaelthor to his palace and invited him into a grand room adorned with golden ornaments and rich tapestries. The room had high ceilings, a roaring fireplace, and a large oak table in the center, surrounded by plush chairs.
Mordrath sat at the head of the table, and Vaelthor took a seat across from him.
"What are you going to do with the troops I've given you?" Mordrath asked, his voice echoing through the room.
Vaelthor leaned forward, his eyes meeting the king's. "My ultimate goal is to serve you better, my king. I believe that in order to do that, I must first secure the throne of Radamir."
Mordrath raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"
Vaelthor leaned back, a small smile playing on his lips. "I have a few ideas, your highness. But I assure you, whatever I do, it will be for the good of our kingdom and to strengthen our alliance."
Mordrath considered Vaelthor's words, his fingers drumming on the table. "I see," he said slowly. "Well, I trust you, Vaelthor. But remember, you serve me, not your own interests. Just do as I tell you in the meantime."
Vaelthor nodded solemnly. "Of course, your highness. I would never forget my duty to you and our kingdom."
King Mordrath said convincingly, "Vaelthor, I have a proposal for you. If you can keep Xythor, the closest village to the border of Arandor, powerless for two years, I will give you the throne of Ardalind."
Vaelthor's eyes widen in surprise, "The throne of Ardalind? That's a generous offer, my king. But why Xythor?"
King Mordrath frowned, "We have received reports that the village may be leaning towards Arandor. If they rebel, it could be detrimental to our plans. We need to keep them poor and powerless for the next two years while we prepare our forces."
Vaelthor nodded thoughtfully, "I understand, my king. I will do my best to keep Xythor under control for the next two years."
King Mordrath smiled, "Good. I have faith in your abilities, Vaelthor. Remember, if you succeed, the throne of Ardalind will be yours."
After his conversation with King Mordrath, Vaelthor returned to Ardalind and began his duty as the highest military official. He sent people to collect taxes from every village in the kingdom, including Xythor. However, Vaelthor found out from his messenger that Xythor had the most gold among all the villages.
Vaelthor ordered his people to ask for more taxes from Xythor, but they refused. Seeing the situation, Vaelthor decided to visit the village himself to meet with Acturion, the head of the village.
"Good day, Acturion," Vaelthor said kindly, "I hope everything is well in Xythor. I've come to ask you to pay more taxes to the kingdom."
"I'm sorry, Vaelthor," Acturion replied. "We simply cannot afford to pay more taxes. Our village is barely getting by as it is."
Vaelthor was taken aback by the refusal. He had expected some resistance, but not to this degree. "But Xythor has more gold than any other village. Surely you can afford to pay a little more?"
"Gold does not equal wealth, Vaelthor," Acturion said firmly. "We may have more gold, but we have other expenses to consider. We need to keep our village running and our people fed."
Vaelthor was about to argue back, but Acturion's words unintentionally hurt his pride. "I understand," Vaelthor said tersely. "I suppose it's too much to ask for some gratitude from a village that we protect."
Acturion looked at Vaelthor sternly. "We are grateful for your protection, Vaelthor. But do not mistake that for blind obedience. We will pay what we can, but we will not be pushed beyond our limits."
Vaelthor stood up and slammed his fist on the table, "You dare defy the king's orders? Do you want to face the consequences?"
Acturion stood up as well and looked straight into Vaelthor's eyes, "We will not be threatened or bullied anymore. We will not be treated like second-class citizens in our own land. We will fight for our rights and for our freedom, no matter the cost."
Vaelthor's face turned red with anger, "You foolish man. You have just sealed the fate of your village. I will make sure to collect every last bit of gold from you, even if I have to take it by force."
Vaelthor and his men forcibly took the gold and valuables from the villagers who refused to pay the increased taxes. Those who resisted were met with force, and unfortunately, some were killed in the process. The village was left in a state of chaos and despair as the once peaceful and prosperous community was now left devastated by the actions of the Vaelthor's soldiers.
ACT 13. KEEP THEM SUFFERED
As the villagers of Xythor continued to resist paying more taxes, Vaelthor grew increasingly frustrated. He knew that he needed to find a way to get the gold he desired without any further resistance.
One day, he called upon his most trusted advisors and strategized a plan to take what he wanted by force. They planned a surprise attack in the middle of the night, catching the villagers off guard.
Vaelthor and his men ransacked the village, taking anything and everything that was of value. They emptied the villagers' homes of their belongings, looted the village's treasury, and even stole sacred artifacts from the village temple.
As the villagers cried out for mercy and pleaded with Vaelthor to stop, he turned a deaf ear to their pleas. He was determined to get what he wanted, and he would stop at nothing to get it.
When the dust finally settled, Vaelthor gained a significant amount of gold and riches. But at what cost? The once peaceful village of Xythor lay in ruins, and many innocent lives had been lost.
Despite his victory, Vaelthor couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for what he had done. But he quickly brushed it aside, knowing that in his position, he couldn't afford to show any weakness. His job was to make sure the village stayed poor and suffered.
However, Xythor strangely recovered soon, less than a month. Vaelthor sent his spy for this, but they found not much evidence. There was still a mystery about how they got gold to recover their village. Were they financed by Arandor to flip over?
ACT 14. DISORIENTED KNIGHT
Vaelthor found himself standing at the edge of a riverbank. He saw a figure in the distance that looked like his brother, Thormor. As he ran towards him, tears streaming down his face, he felt overjoyed that he finally found his long-lost brother.
But as he got closer, the figure suddenly moved away and spoke to him. "I am not Thormor. I am Serenova, the one who told Thormor to steal your sword," said the figure. Vaelthor's expression turned from joy to confusion and anger.
"Why did you do that?" he asked.
Serenova replied, "Thormor knew that you loved your sword more than him. He would be disappointed to see what you've become, treating your people so cruelly."
Vaelthor was overcome with guilt and shame. He realized that he had lost sight of what was truly important and had become obsessed with power and wealth. He left the dream feeling remorseful.
Not longer after Vaelthor woke up from his remorseful dream, The messenger of King Mordrath arrived at Vaelthor's camp.
"The King has ordered you to remain vigilant, Sir Vaelthor. The enemy is approaching, and we cannot afford to lose any ground. There were intensifying forces of Arandor near Xythor. You must take extra measures to ensure that the people in Xythor remain loyal to Ardalind and do not fall into the arms of Arandor. You must be prepared to face the incoming enemy and protect our kingdom," the messenger said.
Vaelthor, being the loyal knight that he was, replied promptly, "I understand the King's order, and I will do everything in my power to protect our kingdom. I will make sure that the people in Xythor remain loyal to Ardalind and that our borders are secure. Thank you for bringing this news to me, messenger. You may go back to the King with my assurance."
As Vaelthor listened to the messenger's words, he felt a strange sensation in his chest. It was a feeling he couldn't quite place. He had always been excited to receive orders from the king, eager to prove his worth as the highest military official in Ardalind. But now, after the dream he had the night before, something felt different.
He tried to push the feeling aside, to focus on the task at hand. But as the messenger finished speaking and left the room, Vaelthor couldn't shake the sense of emptiness that had settled within him.
He stood there for a long moment, lost in thought. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
"What's wrong with me?" he muttered to himself.
He knew he should feel a sense of duty, a desire to protect his people and his kingdom. But after everything that had happened in Xythor, he couldn't help but feel like he had lost his way.
With a heavy heart, Vaelthor prepared to carry out the king's orders, but a small part of him couldn't shake the feeling that he was no longer the same knight he had once been. He was so disoriented.
ACT 15. TURN THE TABLE
At dawn, it was dark and chilly as Vaelthor and his men prepared for their march toward Xythor. Torches and bonfires illuminated the camp, casting a flickering orange glow on the soldiers' armor and weapons. Horses were being saddled, and supplies were being packed onto carts. The sound of clanging metal and horses' hooves echoed through the camp, filling the air with a sense of urgency.
As the preparations were being made, Vaelthor walked among his troops, checking on their armor and weapons. He looked stern and focused, but his eyes betrayed a sense of sadness and regret. He knew that what he was about to do was not honorable, but it was necessary to protect Ardalind.
Once the preparations were complete, Vaelthor stood before his men, holding a torch in one hand and a sword in the other. His voice boomed across the camp as he delivered a stirring pep talk to his troops.
"Brothers in arms," Vaelthor began, his voice strong and commanding. "Today, you march to Xythor, not as plunderers, but as defenders of our land. You will settle in the village and wait for the army of Arandor to arrive. You will be their first line of defense, and we will not falter in our duty."
The troops cheered at Vaelthor's words, their spirits lifted by his passion and conviction.
"But I must warn you," Vaelthor continued, his voice lowering to a more serious tone. "If the villagers resist us, we must clear them from the village. We cannot let them become a liability when the enemy arrives. Even if you have to kill them all, don't let guilt cloud your heart. Think of them as traitors. This is for the sake of the beloved people of Ardalind. Imagine if they allow Arandor's troop to enter Ardalind and kill our people. Can you bear the pain of seeing our people slaughtered by Arandors because of the traitors?" The troop screamed disagreeably. "But let us hope it doesn't come to that. Let us hope that the villagers see the wisdom of our cause and join us in our fight."
The troops shouted their agreement, ready to march to Xythor and defend their land.
As Vaelthor watched his men depart, he couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that lingered within him. He knew what they were about to do was necessary, but he couldn't help but wonder if there was a better way. Nonetheless, he put aside his doubts and prepared to wait for the next wave of the army to arrive.
That morning, the sun rose and painted the sky with a beautiful hue of red and orange. Birds chirped and flew from tree to tree, and the scent of blooming flowers filled the air. It was a wonderful morning that brought joy and peace to the hearts of the villagers in Xythor.
Suddenly, the peace was broken by the sound of horses galloping and the clanging of metal. The villagers looked up to see Vaelthor's men riding towards them, armed and ready for battle. They were flooding the road to the village with an immense number of troops. Panic and fear spread through the village like wildfire, and people ran in all directions, seeking protection and hiding places.
But Acturion, the chief of Xythor, appeared before the horde of Vaelthor's men. They laughed and mocked him, telling him to go away and leave them alone.
Acturion stood his ground and calmly said, "I will not leave until you do. This village belongs to us, and we will defend it with all our might."
The men laughed again and two of them charged towards Acturion with their swords raised high. But Acturion used his magical powers and burned them instantly, reducing their bodies to ash. Instead of being scared, the villagers clapped their hands and cheered. The rest of Vaelthor's men got angrier, but Acturion was too powerful for them. He fought them with all his might, using his powers to burn and destroy them.
The enemy tried to throw spears, and some of them killed some villagers. The chaos erupted as villagers screamed and cried for help. But Acturion's wrath was invoked, and he pulled the flaming fire from the ground that the Vaelthor's men stepped on. The fire burned them, and some of them managed to escape.
On their arrival at the camp with horror-stricken expressions, Vaelthor was preparing to settle in Xythor. Vaelthor immediately approached them and asked, "What happened? Why do you look so terrified?"
One of the men stammered, "Acturion... his magical power... he burned most of the army. We barely escaped with our lives."
Vaelthor's face turned grim. "How is that possible? Acturion is just a village head. How could he have such power?"
Another soldier chimed in, "We have no idea. We thought so."
Vaelthor's mind raced as he tried to come up with a plan. He knew that facing Arandor's army with a weakened force was not an option. "We need to regroup and come up with a new plan. We cannot let Arandor take Ardalind. We have to find a way to defeat Acturion and his magic."
The men nodded in agreement, and Vaelthor took charge, issuing orders to start preparing for battle once again. However, this time, the stakes were higher, and the enemy was more formidable.
ACT 16. DECISIVE MOMENT FOR PEACE
Vaelthor paced back and forth in his tent, his face creased in worry. He had just received word that Acturion had unleashed a devastating display of fire magic on his troops, and many of his men had been burned alive.
As he muttered under his breath, he suddenly heard a deep, rumbling voice behind him. "What troubles you, mortal?"
Vaelthor spun around, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and found himself face to face with Vexxator, the demon he had summoned months earlier.
"It's Acturion," Vaelthor said, his voice shaking slightly. "He has fire magic that we can't fight against. He's burning my troops alive."
Vexxator's eyes narrowed, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. "Fire magic, you say? That is not something to be taken lightly. Perhaps you have bitten off more than you can chew."
"I can't do this anymore. You said I can never defeat fire magic. I think I'll just give up. My guilt over my brother's death has overweighted my hope and my sanity." Vaelthor said helplessly.
Vexxator's face twisted in anger at Vaelthor's words. "What did you just say? You would give up? Pathetic mortal!" he spat.
Vaelthor felt a pang of shame at the demon's words, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "What's the point of all this if I can't find peace?" he muttered, his voice barely audible.
Vexxator's eyes glinted dangerously as he stepped closer to Vaelthor. "You think death is peace? Foolish mortal, death is simply the end of life. There is no peace in death."
Vaelthor shook his head. "You don't understand. I've lost everything. My brother, my honor, my soul. What else is there for me?"
Vexxator growled, his patience wearing thin. "You are a disgrace to your brother and your people. How dare you give up so easily? You have a responsibility to your kingdom, to your people, and to yourself. You cannot simply give up because things are hard."
"But what can I do?" Vaelthor asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am just one man. I cannot defeat Acturion with his fire magic. I cannot bring my brother back. What is the point of all this?"
Vexxator shook his head in disgust. "You are weak, mortal. You have let your guilt and despair consume you. But I will not stand by and watch you waste away. I curse you to a slow and painful death. Your sword will break soon, and if you dare not die by then, I shall take my delight to torture you with shame worse than any mortal can treat you."
And with that, Vexxator vanished into the shadows, leaving Vaelthor alone with his thoughts and his curse. "Fine. I've defined my own peace." Vaelthor muttered.
ACT 17. THE LAST BLOW
As Vaelthor was checking his weapons, he suddenly heard a soft voice. He looked around, but he didn't see anyone. The voice was familiar, but he couldn't recall who it was. Suddenly, the voice became clearer, and he heard a woman's voice.
"Vaelthor, it's me. Serenova," the voice said.
Vaelthor was surprised to hear that name. He had heard that name in his dream, but he didn't know who she was.
"Who are you?" Vaelthor asked, looking around.
"It doesn't matter who I am," the voice said. "What matters is that you listen to me. You can't fight against Acturion. He is too powerful for you. He will kill you, and your men will suffer."
"I have made up my mind," Vaelthor said, determined. "I will fight Acturion first, alone without my men. Man to man."
"You don't understand," the voice said, more urgently. "You will die. You can't win this battle."
"I don't care," Vaelthor said, his voice trembling. "I want to find peace. I can't live like this anymore. I just want to end this. I've killed an immense number of men. Those men might have children or a beloved one waiting for them at home. Just as my brother and I waited for our father, who died at war."
Serenova's voice became happier, "You have made the right decision. You have repented from your sins, and you will be forgiven. After your death, you will be given peace. "
Vaelthor was surprised to hear that. He didn't know what to make of it. But he felt relieved, knowing that he would find peace after death. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and ordered his man to march soon.
As Vaelthor and his men arrived at Xythor, the sun had already set. The sky was painted in hues of orange, pink, and purple, creating a breathtaking view. Vaelthor was wearing a black armor suit with a red cape, which fluttered in the wind as he rode his horse. His men were marching behind him, their weapons at the ready. They thought that with Vaelthor leading them, they would finally be able to defeat their enemy.
Vaelthor, however, knew that this would be his last night. He had made peace with his fate and was ready to face his death. He looked around at the village he had once plundered and felt a pang of regret. He knew that he had done terrible things in his life and was ready to pay the price for his sins.
As they entered the village, Vaelthor could see the fear in the eyes of the villagers. They knew that the army was here to take over their village once again. Vaelthor raised his hand, signaling his men to stop.
Vaelthor dismounted from his horse and walked towards Acturion, the leader of the village. "Acturion," he sneered, "I have come to claim what is rightfully mine. Your village is in my territory and I will not tolerate any defiance."
Acturion stood tall unshakably. "You will not take what is not yours, Vaelthor. I will defend my people and my land with my life."
As Acturion and Vaelthor faced each other in the heat of battle, they both knew that this would be a fight to the death. Vaelthor's lightning sword crackled with energy as he charged towards Acturion, but Acturion stood his ground and prepared his powerful fire magic.
Acturion summoned a massive ball of flame that roared toward Vaelthor, engulfing everything in its path. But Vaelthor was not to be outdone, and with a flick of his wrist, he called forth a bolt of lightning that struck the ball of flame and split it in two.
Acturion was amazed by Vaelthor's lightning sword, which crackled with energy as he swung it through the air, creating an electrified field that made it impossible for Acturion to get close enough to use his fire magic.
But Acturion was not one to be defeated so easily. He concentrated all of his power into a single massive burst of flames that shot toward Vaelthor with incredible force.
Vaelthor braced himself and met the attack with a fierce blast of lightning, causing the two elements to collide in a massive explosion of energy that sent shockwaves through the entire battlefield.
As the dust settled, Vaelthor stood panting and injured, but still determined to fight. Acturion could see that the battle was taking its toll on both of them, and he knew that it was time to end it once and for all.
With a final surge of power, Acturion unleashed a massive wave of fire that should consume Vaelthor and his army, leaving nothing behind but ashes and the memory of their once fearsome power. However, it was not absolutely as it was wished to be. Vaelthor was left on his knees; he was protected by his broken magical sword. That is the sign of his incoming death.
Acturion turned to the villagers and declared, "Flursindra, my daughter, will have the honor of beheading the villain leader."
The villagers cheered and encouraged Flursindra to take up the task, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She moved closer to Vaelthor and saw the fear and desperation in his eyes. The desperation that Vaelthor actually bore before the battle.
"Father, please don't do this," Flursindra pleaded with Acturion. "Killing him won't stop the suffering of the villagers. It will only make things worse."
Acturion replied, "This is the way we stop the suffering of the villagers. We need to make an example of him."
Flursindra's eyes filled with tears as she said, "I may be fine losing my purity, but I can't lose the more precious one, my father. You have changed, and it makes me sad to see you like this."
As she spoke, Vaelthor suddenly grabbed her head and threatened to break it if anyone came closer. He could have ended Flursindra easily, but he did this to end his life soon. Otherwise, Vexxator would torture him if he continued living. Flursindra managed to escape from his grip and backed away, fearing for her life.
Acturion, seeing his daughter in danger, summoned his magical power and burned Vaelthor with a fierce flame. Vaelthor was painfully burned, but the heat was less painful than the pain of losing his brother. Flashing in his last seconds of breathing, the memories he had with him in childhood.
ACT 18. THE REUNION
Vaelthor found himself in a realm that was unfamiliar to him. The tunnel he had just traveled through was dark and suffocating, but he had followed the voice of Serenova, and it had led him to light at the end of the tunnel.
As he stood there, Vaelthor heard a voice calling out to him from somewhere beyond the fields. It was Serenova, and her voice was soft and gentle, like a lullaby. She beckoned him to follow her, and he began to walk toward the sound of her voice.
As he walked, the light grew brighter and the fields began to fade away, replaced by a blinding white light. And then, suddenly, the light faded away, and Vaelthor found himself standing before two figures that he knew only too well.
It was his mother and father. They were both dressed in white robes, and their faces were glowing with joy.
Vaelthor felt himself transform into a child, and he felt a sense of peace and comfort that he had never known before. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of his mother's hair, felt the warmth of his father's embrace, and he knew that he was finally home. He looked up into their faces and saw the love and pride that they had always had for him. His mother stroked his hair gently, and his father ruffled it playfully, just like they used to do when he was a child. He felt tears streaming down his face, but they were not tears of sadness or despair, but tears of relief and gratitude.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be lost in the moment, basking in the warmth of his parents' love.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Vaelthor felt truly happy. He had found the peace that he had been seeking, and he knew that he would be with his parents forever even though he did not see… his brother around.
THE END
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NOTE: Thank you for finishing my second chapter. As I said before, you can find out the human side of a monstrous Vaelthor. Where did the gold in Xythor come from? Who was behind the scene? The answer will be presented in chapter 3.
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Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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