Rumors of a prophecy foretelling a universal reset had been circulating for untold eons.

The mana that flowed through the ten thousand realms had dwindled to a mere trickle.

It was said that once the reset button was pressed, a dense and powerful surge of mana would be released, providing a rare opportunity for the beings of the ten thousand realms to reach their highest potential.

But with the return of mana comes a price: beasts will arise, and dungeons connected to other realms will open, allowing different races to interact.

The possibility of war looms over everyone in the ten thousand realms.

Fiorel Kingdom, one of the surrounding kingdoms governed by the Emperium empire.

The Asura race had always been infamous for their macabre taste in architecture, and this massive castle, constructed entirely from the bones of their fallen enemies, was no exception.

The mere sight of it was enough to make even the bravest of souls shudder in fear.

As one entered the colossal door, their eyes would be immediately drawn to the trail of fresh blood that stained the ground beneath their feet.

The slick crimson liquid glistened under the dim light, reflecting a haunting image of the horrors that lay ahead.

In the center of the castle's grand hall, a massive throne chair loomed, adorned with bones and other gruesome ornaments.

Upon the throne sat an old, wrinkled figure, his face etched with the lines of a lifetime's worth of experience.

His eyes blazed with a fierce intensity as he surveyed the room, his regal presence commanding the attention of all.

"You have brought great disgrace upon our race," the old monarch seethed, his voice heavy with anger and disappointment.

He leaned forward, his bony fingers gripping the armrests of his throne, as if ready to strike.

Despite his advanced age, the monarch still possessed a formidable presence.

Massive horns, worn with the passage of time, jutted out from his head, while his pointed ears were tinged with a faint red hue, betraying his fury.

"I allowed you to live peacefully amongst our people, believing that you would not bring harm to our kind," he continued, his voice rising with each word.

His words echoed through the grand hall, each syllable carrying a weight of disappointment and betrayal.

Yet, despite his outward display of anger, there was a calmness to his face that spoke of years of experience.

"And yet, what have you done?" he thundered, rising from his throne.

The massive chair creaked and groaned under the weight of his anger.

"You have betrayed our trust, and for that, you must answer."

Seated beside the throne, a young man's imposing figure caught the eye.

His taut muscles rippled beneath his skin, and his broad shoulders hinted at the strength he possessed.

The air around him buzzed with his palpable aura, radiating a tangible force that seemed to emanate from his very being.

With a confident smile playing on his lips, he turned to address the person on the throne, his voice low and menacing.

"Father," he said, his words punctuated by a deep growl.

"We should have thrown him from the start. He dared to fight back, showing no regard for consequences, despite the approaching universal ten thousand cycle realm reset."

As he spoke, his teeth gleamed in the light, a stark contrast to the shadows that danced across his chiseled features.

His two horns, perched atop his forehead, seemed to blaze with an otherworldly power, casting an eerie glow on everything around him.

His eyes narrowed with a steely determination, betraying the intensity of his emotions.

The two of them gazed down at the horned figure standing before them.

He stood on a blood-red carpet, his piercing gaze fixed on them with a look of death.

Despite the strong, massive clothing that covered him, he bore the unmistakable marks of a beggar, his body riddled with scars and bleeding cuts that dripped onto the carpet below.

The man's face had lost all color, drained by the loss of blood from the numerous wounds that covered his body.

Even his two horns were in disarray, one of them broken and jagged.

As he shifted his weight, the movement caused him to wince in pain, and a low groan escaped his lips.

Despite his appearance, there was an undeniable air of authority about him, as if he were used to commanding respect and obedience.

"You were aware that the universal ten thousand realms reset would soon arrive, yet you couldn't resist seducing the maiden we had been preparing for years. You've jeopardized everything we've worked so hard for."

The old Asura on the throne spoke with a voice that rumbled through the walls and echoed in the ears of everyone present.

"Now that the emissary of the Emperium empire is on their way, we are all in grave danger," he said, his tone grave.

"The maiden we had prepared for so long has already been wasted by someone as useless as you. Your actions could cost us everything we hold dear."

The broken horned Asura person who was injured glanced to the side and saw a group of nobles whispering amongst themselves, their eyes fixed on him.

Some looked at him with pity, while others regarded him with disdain or hatred.

Their emotions were all too clear.

The person's attention shifted back to the two figures in front of him, and his expression slowly softened into a smile of resignation and acceptance.

"Prophecy? I seduced her?" he repeated, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness and anger.

Despite his emotions, his words were quiet and subdued, as if he lacked the energy to fully express his frustration.

"There is no proof of that cycle prophecy or whatever, and you could easily replace the maiden," he accused, his broken horn adding to his already menacing demeanor.

"Whatever reason you have, I know both of you just want to get rid of me. So do it...I can't do anything to resist anyway. Don't tell anymore lies, just do it!" he declared.

His voice filled with a sense of defiance that seemed to come from deep within his soul.

As he stood before the throne, he felt a heavy weight in his chest, a sense of hopelessness that threatened to consume him.

It was all because of the unknown prophecy, the emissary from the Emperium kingdom, too distant resemblance and his own perceived lack of talent.

Was it fair that he should be punished in this way, for circumstances beyond his control and something he didn't do?

As the broken horned Asura spoke, a sudden glimmer caught in his eyes, as though a ray of hope had pierced through the darkness of his despair.

His spirit stirred, and a plea escaped his lips before his pride could stop it.

"Before you punish me, may I speak with my mother for this one last time?"

His voice trembled with a mixture of fear and desperation, as though he already knew the answer he would receive.

The throne King only shook his head, denying his request, and the broken horned Asura's entire body seemed to freeze.

His eyes widened with realization.

"Oh," he uttered, understanding the futility of his plea.

But then, to everyone's surprise, he managed a small, sad smile.

"Even in my last breath, my mother refused to speak with me," the broken horned Asura said, his voice barely above a whisper.

It carried a note of resignation, as though he had long given up on the hope of finding love and acceptance from his family.

"Such a sad life," he continued, his eyes now fixed on the person beside the king – his brother – with a gaze full of envy.

It was as though he could see all the things his brother had that he himself had been denied: love, acceptance, and the chance to live a life without fear of punishment.

The broken horned Asura began to speak to himself, recounting his life.

When the broken horned Asura was young, a devastating plague swept through the Fiorel Kingdom, taking the lives of his ten brothers and six sisters.

Only his sixth brother and he survived, and even then, we were left broken and scarred. But despite our shared tragedy, his brother was always the favored child.

He had inherited our parents' striking features and commanding presence, while he was does not share resemblance and was marked by the disfigurement of his broken horn.

As the years went on, he watched as his brother was showered with gifts and praise, while he was all but ignored.

His family gave his brother treasures beyond measure - rare jewels, magical artifacts, and other priceless trinkets - while he received nothing but scraps.

It seemed that no matter what he did, he could never measure up to my brother's shining image.

As the gap between my brother and him widened, so did the pain in his heart.

His brother had soared to the rank of 9th order knight and become a 3rd order Warlock, while the broken horned Asura remained a lowly 3rd order knight with a broken horn.

Their parents showered his sibling with love and attention, refusing to even give the broken horned Asura a book to train in magic and become a Warlock.

The neglect and favoritism of their parents left the broken horned Asura to suffer in a living hell that they endured day after day.

He grew up in a constant state of longing, forever yearning for the love and acceptance that had been denied them from birth.

But even in the face of such emotional turmoil, the broken horned Asura did not harbor any hatred towards his family.

He longed for a normal life, free from the agony and loneliness that had plagued him for so long.

It was then that the broken horned Asura met a girl who changed everything.

She captured his heart instantly, and they formed a deep connection.

For a time, he felt as though he had finally found a glimmer of happiness in my otherwise bleak existence.

He cherished every moment we spent together, savoring the warmth of her embrace and the sound of her laughter.

But their happiness was short-lived. News came that she had been chosen to become an emissary's maiden.

The royal family, the broken horned family had offered her a tempting allure of wealth, and when that failed, they had even threatened to harm her loved ones.

In the end, she had no choice but to leave him behind.

The loss shattered his heart.

The pain of rejection and betrayal cut the broken horned Asura to the core, leaving him adrift in a sea of despair.

He wondered if he would ever find love and acceptance in this cruel world or if he was doomed to suffer in silence forevermore.

His heart ached for her, for the warmth of her touch and the sound of her laughter.

As the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months, he tried to move on.

But the pain of her absence lingered like a constant ache, a reminder of all the love and happiness he had lost.

The broken horned wondered if he would ever find someone who could love him for who he was, broken horn and all.

As he tried to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart, the girl disappeared without a trace.

No one knew where she had gone, and the mystery of her sudden departure haunted him day and night.

But the worst was yet to come.

In the aftermath of her disappearance, his world came crashing down around him.

The broken horned Asura was suddenly captured, interrogated, and tortured, accused of crimes he did not commit.

The pain of the physical abuse he suffered was nothing compared to the agony of being blamed for the girl's disappearance.

Rumors began to circulate that she had been killed, and he was the prime suspect.

Despite his vehement protests of innocence, no one believed him.

The broken horned was branded a criminal and cast out from society, his hopes of a normal life shattered once again.

The weight of the injustice he had suffered was almost too much to bear.

"Throw him in the dungeon of that beast," the king commanded, his voice cold and emotionless.

The broken horned Asura person was carried and their destination was the dungeon where the beast was contained.

His heart filled with dread, he knew all too well the horrors that awaited him there.

He had heard rumors about the beast, and knew that it was the source of the plague that had devastated his family.

As he began to protest and shout, "No-" his father's hands shot out and grabbed the air, before pointing accusingly at him.

An invisible force seemed to bind him, preventing him from moving or speaking.

He struggled with all his might, but it was futile.

His limbs were useless, and he felt the darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision.

With a sickening thud, the broken horned Asura person fell to the ground, his body limp and as if lifeless.

As he lay there, broken and alone, he could only wonder what had become of the girl he had loved, and whether she was still alive.

As the hours passed, the castle was filled with people and the sound of laughter, as though nothing had happened earlier.

But deep below the castle, at the front of a massive, rusty door, a group of guards slowly opened it, their expressions filled with fear and apprehension.

They carried the limp body of the broken horned Asura person, and without a word, they threw him into the darkness beyond and hurried away, hoping to avoid the attention of the creature inside.

Suddenly, a dark tentacle appeared from the darkness, wrapping itself around the unconscious broken horned Asura person before pulling him into the void.

It moved with lightning-fast speed, and in the darkness, a mechanical voice could be heard, speaking in a language unknown to any living being other than the broke horned person.

Ding!

[ Soul was compatible. ]

[ Player name: Martis Greyhour. ]

[ Race: Asura. ]