*Damian's Perspective*
"I am dead, aren't I?"
The atmosphere surrounding the castle was dense, almost stifling, reminiscent of the tension before an impending storm. It was daunting, and there I stood—merely a man with an official title—before the imposing gate. The whispers of the castle seemed to carry centuries of history: the legacies of heroes and the dark echoes of terrors long past, a testament to countless victories and agonizing defeats.
The monumental gate appeared to swell with each of my steps, growing more intimidating. Its surface was adorned with intricate carvings of mythical battles and ancient creatures, each of them seemingly scrutinizing me, assessing whether I was worthy of passage. As I approached closer, I caught sight of a lone guard—she was no ordinary sentinel. A vampire countess, majestic and commanding, clad in dark armor that shimmered with an almost unnatural luster. Unlike humans, inhumans like her had no need for anti-magic armaments—their very nature afforded them inherent resilience. She stood stoically, her face obscured by the cold gleam of her metal helmet, yet her aura was unmistakable. It made my skin crawl. It wasn't just her appearance but the sheer presence she exuded—something that felt both powerful and ancient.
My body acted before my mind could catch up, and I took a step backward. My throat was parched as I forced myself to meet her gaze through the darkness of her helmet's visor. Her voice, echoing from beneath, was deep and almost otherworldly, resonating as if it came from deep within the earth.
"State your purpose," she commanded.
"I... I am Damian, envoy of the Holy Kingdom," I managed to stammer, my voice betraying my unease. "I am here to meet with Lord Charlie."
She continued to stare, her silence amplifying my pounding heartbeat. After what seemed like an eternity, she nodded slowly, stepping aside. With her movement, the colossal gate began to open, seemingly of its own accord, groaning with the weight of ages, a sound that seemed to resonate beyond the physical plane.
Fear coiled around my chest like a vice. My thoughts whirled—this was it. I hadn't even begun to negotiate, and I already felt the creeping inevitability of fate. As the gate creaked open, I could hear footsteps echoing from within the castle—a sign I was not alone. My heart pounded violently in my chest, teetering on the brink of panic. But instead of succumbing, I smirked, holding onto the bitter irony that characterized my situation.
"Not quite," came a voice—low, measured, with a hint of amusement. I turned and found myself face to face with a figure cloaked in deep red. Her features were obscured by the shadow of her hood, yet her eyes glowed faintly with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. Her grip on my shoulder was firm, almost as if to remind me that I held no power here.
"The First Hero is expecting you, Damian," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. The words struck me like a blow. The First Hero—Lord Charlie, the one who had defied even the gods, who had rewritten the natural order. My throat went dry; words eluded me. I simply nodded in acknowledgment.
She led me through the entryway, and my eyes widened at the grandeur of the castle's interior. It was vast, and yet there was a hollowness to it. A grand hall stretched before us, its dark stone walls illuminated by the cold flickering of blue flames. The ceiling loomed impossibly high, disappearing into shadow, and everything about the space suggested it existed beyond conventional notions of time and space.
Eventually, we reached what I assumed was the grand chamber. Instead of a grand throne, a raised platform held the Heart of the Titan King—the Titan of Fate—serving as a makeshift throne. It was nothing opulent, more akin to an enormous, irregular cushion, which Charlie used as his seat. Sitting there was Charlie, the First Hero. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, yet the energy that radiated from him was anything but. His eyes, sharp and filled with an unsettling depth, conveyed the knowledge and power of countless lifetimes.
He looked at me as if I were an interesting curiosity, perhaps something to be evaluated and dismissed.
"Ah, the envoy arrives," Charlie said, his voice controlled yet unyielding. He did not move from his seat, yet his gaze rooted me in place. "Let us get straight to business, Damian. I need you to account for your Kingdom's recent actions."
The weight of his words shattered the silence, and I was reminded, more than ever, of how different he was from us. He was beyond human, beyond anything I had ever encountered. Steeling myself, I tried to recall why I was there in the first place.
"Lord Charlie, I—" I began, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I come on behalf of the Holy Kingdom to—"
"Negotiate," he interjected, his tone flat. "Explain why your Kingdom is distributing anti-mana weaponry and destabilizing the balance. Do you truly believe that your words carry weight here, Damian?" He leaned forward, his elbows resting lightly on his knees, his gaze piercing into mine.
I hesitated, carefully choosing my response. "We want to avoid further conflict—"
"Enough of the niceties," Charlie interrupted, his tone now sharper, his patience thinning. "Your Kingdom's actions—flooding the market with anti-mana weaponry—pose a direct threat. You're cornering those whose survival depends on magic, and this cannot stand." He paused, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Tell me, what measures are you prepared to take to rectify this?"
My heart sank, the enormity of the situation weighing on me. But I knew I couldn't let myself be seen as weak or powerless. Despite the fear gnawing at my insides, I gathered my mana, letting it swell within me, a flicker of my own power pushing back against the overwhelming force of Charlie's presence. I hoped it would at least demonstrate that I wasn't entirely helpless. The energy shimmered around me, a faint aura of defiance. What could I possibly offer that would appease someone like him—someone who had faced and bested deities? My throat tightened as I searched my mind, desperately trying to find a solution.
"Our Kingdom... we are willing to contribute all our resources—technology, allegiance. We would stand by your side, should you need—"
Charlie's laughter sliced through the room, chilling and resonant. "Do you think I need your allegiance? Your resources? Your technology is nothing more than a trinket to me." He rose from his chair, and though the movement was fluid, it commanded all attention. The air seemed to shift, growing colder, acknowledging his ascendancy. The blue flames along the walls flickered erratically, as if bending to his will.
An unseen force began to emanate from him, his mana spreading like an oppressive weight across the room, increasing the gravity of the very air. It pressed down on me, each particle demanding I acknowledge his superiority. My knees buckled, and I struggled against the mounting force, sweat forming on my brow. Breathing became labored, as though the simple act of drawing air was an impossible feat. It was not just magic—it was the sheer magnitude of his presence, an assertion of his dominance. He wanted me to understand how small I was in comparison, and I did. The flickering flames pulsed like a heartbeat, and time itself seemed to distort under the pressure. Despite the crushing weight, I focused, forcing my mana outward in an attempt to steady myself. It wasn't much compared to his vast ocean of power, but it was something—an ember of resistance against the storm.
"Do you honestly think your anti-mana weapons would be effective against me?" he asked, his tone almost amused, though it was edged with something darker. "These devices might pose a threat to those who lean entirely on magic, but I am beyond such vulnerabilities. They are nothing but trivial distractions." His gaze narrowed, and the pressure intensified, bending the room to his will. My muscles ached, each breath harder than the last. Even the blue flames seemed burdened by the sheer force of his power. I knew that this was an assessment—a measure of my worth—and that my survival depended on how well I endured. My mana continued to pulse outward, a subtle but firm statement that I would not crumble without resistance. I could only hope that this show of resolve would be enough to earn his begrudging respect.
"You amuse me, Damian," he said, his gaze colder now. "But amusement alone is not enough. I require action. Your Kingdom must implement changes—immediately." He descended the platform, every movement deliberate, his presence commanding the entire space between us.
I stood there, instincts screaming at me to flee, but my feet refused to obey. "What, exactly, do you require of us, my lord?" I managed, forcing my voice to remain steady.
Charlie nodded once, curtly. "It's simple. I expect action, Damian. Cease the production of anti-mana weaponry at once. Furthermore, I demand the blueprints for these weapons be surrendered to me. If your Kingdom desires peace, then compliance is not optional." His eyes bore into mine, unblinking, making certain I comprehended the gravity of his demand.
His words were not a negotiation; they were an edict. The pretense of diplomacy had evaporated. It was clear that my task was to ensure the Holy Kingdom complied failure was not an option.
Taking a deep breath, I found some strength in my voice. "I will ensure that the Kingdom meets your demands, Lord Charlie."
The edges of his lips curved slightly, but not in a smile. He waved a dismissive hand. "Good. Now go. Relay my message and ensure that production halts immediately. I have no tolerance for delays or for excuses." He turned away, already losing interest in me, his attention drifting to matters far beyond my understanding.