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Flames spread over the village, burning the wooden houses. Such flames were not normal, but the powerful Divine Black Flames of the Flame Emperor, the tyrant that governed over half of the entire Continent of Muspelheim with his wicked and greedy ways.
In front of the village chief, all his men were on the floor, dead. The black flames burning them all, as the smell of roasted flesh and blood made him want to puke. Tears flowed from his old and tired eyes, as he glanced at the massacre.
Not only his men were dead, of course. Thanks to his grandson's divine powers, his men managed to kill many of their foes, making sure to at least take down a few of these bastards with themselves to Helheim…
Yet, at the end… They all knew their fate, and so did he.
