The air in the throne chamber of Kar'drozz was a poison—thick with sulfur, dried blood, and unwhispered curses. This was no mere palace. It was a sanctum carved between dimensions, nestled in the wound of reality itself.
At the heart of this void-scarred sanctuary sat the Demon King—Lucifer, Lord of Malice, Warden of the Void.
His form was a living abyss, tall and hulking, cloaked in crawling shadows. Veins of molten crimson pulsed beneath obsidian flesh. Twin horns crowned his head like jagged blades, and his burning gaze—eyes like collapsed suns—pierced every soul that dared breathe in his presence.
His throne, a construct of charred bones and voidsteel, pulsed with dark energy. It groaned with ancient whispers as he leaned back, clawed fingers cradling a chalice of soulwine. Around him, a thousand black candles flickered with reverse flame—lightless, devouring, cold.
Before the throne, the court of demonkind knelt—hundreds of demons, from lowborn fiends to baron-lords, groveling in silence. None dared raise their gaze. One breath out of rhythm, and they might be incinerated by a glance.
Hovering before Lucifer, suspended in crimson flame, was a rune—a death sigil. It pulsed a slow, haunting rhythm.
The mark of Pride, his First General.
Lucifer spoke, voice echoing like a dying world collapsing upon itself.
"So… Pride has fallen."
Not a word answered. The silence was unbearable, funereal.
Then—
A lithe silhouette slithered from the shadows.
Lady Gluttony.
Her skin was pale ash, eyes slitted and reptilian. Her lips, bloodstained. Chains of living shadow hissed behind her as she knelt.
"My King," she purred, voice velvet with venom. "Pride… overestimated the mortals."
Lucifer chuckled. It was an empty sound.
"He always believed himself invincible. Arrogance, ironically, was his nature and doom."
A second figure approached—clad in jagged black armor, his helm adorned with the golden tusks of slain Titans.
Envy. The Blight-Fanged Reaper.
He knelt beside Gluttony. "His death is a lesson. The ritual will continue. We move with greater care."
Lucifer rose.
The chamber trembled. Walls groaned. Shadows recoiled.
He loomed like a god of death, his every movement stitched with dread. The chalice in his hand cracked, melted, and crumbled to ash.
A blood-forged map of Eldoria appeared in the void above, traced in runes and ash.
"The Awakening of the Nameless God... is all that matters."
He raised a claw. Four blood-lit altars on the map began to glow.
"Pride oversaw the first site. Now it is lost. Three remain."
"Gluttony," he said without turning, "take the northern ruins. Begin the rite. Leave no witness."
"I will devour them all, my king," Gluttony whispered, licking her lips.
"Envy, take the Cradle Mountains. Drown the peaks in despair."
Envy grinned, feral. "They'll choke on fear."
From the opposite end of the chamber stepped the third—Greed. Unlike the others, he wore no armor. His robe was tattered and dull, but his eyes gleamed with ancient hunger.
He did not kneel.
"The sea stirs with secrets," Greed said coldly. "The altar beneath the Whispering Deep will rise."
Lucifer's fanged smile showed.
"Good. See to it. No more failures."
A murmur of agreement swept the court, though some demons trembled.
Then—
A cloaked seer, hunched in rags and rune-burnt skin, raised her head. Her eyes were wide, staring into the void above the throne.
"Rael…" she whispered.
Lucifer's eyes narrowed.
"What name is that?"
The seer shuddered. "A mortal… Rael. A prince of flame. He who slew Pride. A student at Arcane Academy… wearing the guise of weakness."
Lucifer tilted his head, amused.
"A prince? Then his blood will stain an altar well."
"He used an ancient magic," the seer continued. "A solar force. Not divine… but pure. A flame that cuts through shadow."
Lucifer's gaze sharpened.
"Solar magic… From where?"
"We do not know. It was sealed. Old as the gods themselves."
Envy stepped forward. "Shall we hunt him?"
Lucifer waved a dismissive claw.
"No. Let him chase shadows. Let him train, struggle, suffer. The path he walks ends at our altar."
Greed's tone was colder. "If he interferes again—"
"Then I'll kill him myself," Lucifer said, turning back to the throne.
"Until then… I have no time for nameless heroes."
He sat.
And as he did, the vortex above the throne deepened. A rift to the Outer Realms trembled.
Lucifer whispered—not to the court, but to something beyond.
"My lord Nameless… stir from your slumber. This world forgets the dark. I will remind them. I, your herald, shall prepare the altar of their end."
The candles flared blue.
The demons roared.
And the fate of Eldoria spiraled deeper into dread.