The air crackled with tension. Beneath the swirling clouds of the Abyss, the Ten Great Heroes of Flamguardia stood atop a scorched plateau.
Before them, the ancient Abyssal Giant roared, its voice shaking the very bones of the earth. Covered in obsidian armor, standing over sixty feet tall, the beast had eyes that glowed like molten gold.
"Form up!" Robert Flamesworth shouted, crimson cape whipping in the wind. "Vanguard in front! Mages to the flanks! Archers, cover us!"
Trent Steelguard hoisted his massive warhammer. "Already on it, boss!"
Alice Shard levitated, her staff humming with dark magic. "Let's see if the stories about this thing are true."
From the shadows, Marcus Vale blurred forward, dual daggers flashing.
The battle erupted. The giant swung tree-trunk arms, shattering mountain ridges and sending knights flying. Robert lunged, flames bursting from his sword Ashveil as he cut into the beast's ankle. "Its regeneration's fast," he muttered.
Elira Frostmoor chanted, frost-laced chains binding the giant's legs. Trent leaped, hammer crashing onto a knee. The giant roared and collapsed, the mountain still. Robert delivering the final blow.
The giant roared one last time and collapsed, its massive form crashing down to still the mountain's trembling. A heavy silence hung for a heartbeat, then cheers erupted among the heroes. They had done the impossible they had slain the ancient terror that had haunted Elyndria for centuries.
Breathing heavily, Robert sheathed Ashveil, its blade still warm with abyssal blood. "It's over." he said quietly, though a flicker of unease stirred deep within him.
The Ten Great Heroes gathered, battered but victorious, and began their march back to Flamguardia's capital. The kingdom awaited them with flags waving, and trumpets sounding in joyous fanfare.
As they entered the city gates, the streets thronged with cheering citizens. Fireworks blossomed in the sky above the castle spires, lighting the night with colors as vivid as the hope burning in every heart.
Inside the grand hall, the air buzzed with celebration. Lords and ladies toasted the heroes; music swelled and laughter echoed through gilded corridors.
Alice raised her goblet with a triumphant smile. "For years the Abyssal Giant has wrecked havoc in our country, the other kingdoms have tried to take it down, but we are the ones who defeated it. Flamguardia is the strongest kingdom of Elyndria."
Trent clapped Robert on the back. "We earned this."
But Robert stood apart, eyes scanning the crowd, the weight of victory mingling uneasily with shadows of doubt.
Yet Robert said little. His crimson eyes scanned his comrades as fireworks bloomed overhead. "Trent... you weren't on the frontline today," Robert said quietly.
Trent hesitated. "Didn't feel right. Alice said--"
Alice cut in, a smile too sharp. "Robert, darling, we just slayed a god of the old world. Celebrate."
Seraphina Lioren added, "We did what no one else could."
Marcus leaned against a pillar. "We've made history. Don't spoil the moment."
Still, Robert's gaze lingered. Darius Stoneveil whispered to his spirit hawk; Elira Frostmoor's breath frosted the air; Caelum Blackvale and Sylas Drenhart exchanged quiet nods; Aurelia Crestmoor hummed a distant spirit hymn.
He whispered to his crimson hawk familiar, "Fly to the King. Tell him to leave the keep. Now. Something's wrong."
Feeling uneasy he wanted to leave, Robert excused himself. "I'm checking on the King. Alone."
The royal keep was silent, guards missing. The throne room empty.
Then the nine heroes emerged from shadows, weapons drawn.
Alice's smile returned. "The King won't be seeing anyone tonight."
Robert's voice was low. "You've gone too far."
"No," Alice replied calmly. "You were always the one in the way. Stronger. Trusted. Admired. But no more."
Dark energy pulsed around her as the others stepped forward, eyes void and empty.
Steel rang and fire crackled as the Ten Great Heroes clashed in a brutal, unrelenting battle that lasted eleven days.
Walls shattered, steel tore, and strength waned. Robert fought like a dying star blazing, brilliant, desperate. Ashveil cut through six of his once-trusted comrades, one by one, each strike heavy with sorrow and resolve.
By the eleventh day, only four remained: Trent Valebreak, Marcus Duskbane, Alice Shard the Veiled Witch and Robert himself. Trent's stone-like defense and Marcus's ghostly speed made them nearly untouchable, while Alice's pale violet eyes gleamed with dark ambition.
"Trent, Marcus… .why are you still holding back?" Robert asked.
Trent's breaths came slow and measured, granite skin battered. He said nothing.
Robert lunged, Trent's hammer blocked with an earth-shaking clang, Marcus vanished into shadows, slashing with deadly precision. A stalemate, one against three, yet Robert's strategy held.
Suddenly, the battlefield burned. Screams echoed through the ruined halls of the royal keep. Robert, last of the unbroken, staggered back, armor cracked and breath ragged.
In a very unpredictable change of events, Alice finally snapped, the signs were obvious, even the naked eye can see it, the ominous aura surrounding Alice for the last 10 days finally revealed itself.
The colors of her eyes changed, her voices gets deeper, sort of like a demonic voice, she laughs and starts to chant, both her hands pointed at Trent and Marcus.
The mind-control spell went off, they are back in their usual self, fully aware of what happened you can see the frustration with both of them, for a brief moment Robert thought that the three of them would go against Alice.
Alice then proceeds to suck the life force from Trent and Marcus.
"Alice no!" Robert screamed but its too late.
Alice Shard stood transformed. Horns of shadow twisted from her head the demon lord seed she had hidden now fully bloomed.
"You're insane," Robert growled, sword dragging behind him. "Trent and Marcus… you sacrificed them."
Alice's voice was cold amusement. "They were weak. I needed more. Mephisto deserves a proper vessel."
She raised her hand, and hellfire erupted from the floor.
Robert seeing all of this, returns to a fighting stance, its a tired Robert Flamesworth going up against a newly awakened demon lord.
They charge towards each other one last time.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Pure silence.
A cry pierced the night.
Warmth. Smallness. A blanket.
"He's perfect," a woman whispered.
"His name'll be Cairo," said a man.
Robert Flamesworth had been reborn.
And in a world twisted by betrayal and ruled by the one who had once been his closest ally, the flame would rise again.