The cold night air wrapped around him like a shroud. The flames of the campfire flickered weakly as he sat beside it, eyes fixed on the dancing light. The words of the dragon echoed relentlessly in his mind. The chosen one. Chosen by the gods to fight Gruter. His body, bruised and battered, throbbed with pain, but it was the weight of those words that bore down on him, suffocating any sense of comfort.
The Demon Officers watched from the shadows. There were three of them—silent, imposing figures cloaked in black armor. Their faces were obscured by hoods, eyes glowing with faint, unnatural light. They had appeared shortly after the dragon's message and had whisked him away to this secluded spot. They had said nothing, merely kept watch as though they knew something he didn't.
Suddenly, the officer with glowing red eyes stepped forward, breaking the silence. His voice was low and gravelly. "The time has come."
Without warning, the earth beneath the Drake's feet began to tremble, and a sharp pain stabbed at his chest. He clutched at his shirt, gasping as a searing heat began to radiate from within him, intensifying with each passing second.
"What's happening to me?" he groaned.
The officer remained impassive. "The blade is awakening."
His knees buckled as the heat surged through him, turning his blood to fire. He dropped to the ground, every nerve in his body alight with pain. The officers stood around him, their expressions unreadable. Just as the pain became unbearable, a flash of blinding light erupted from his chest, and in his hands, a weapon began to form.
The light dimmed, and there it was—a blade, unlike anything he had ever seen. Its surface was black as midnight, with silver veins pulsing through it as though it were alive. He could feel the power coursing through it, an extension of his own soul.
"That is the Blade of Shadows," the red-eyed officer said, his voice filled with a strange reverence. "It is your birthright. You are the one who will wield it to strike down Gruter."
Drake stared at the weapon in disbelief. The pain subsided, replaced by a strange calm, as though the blade had fused with him. He stood slowly, feeling the weight of the weapon in his hand.
"This… this is what the dragon meant," he whispered.
But before he could process what was happening, the ground beneath him shifted again. Dark tendrils of energy rose from the earth, circling him and the officers. Something was coming.
"The demons are here," the officer growled. "You must fight."
Drake raised the blade, his heart racing. He wasn't ready for this. But as the first of the demons emerged from the shadows, snarling and twisted, something in him snapped into focus. His hands tightened around the hilt of the blade, and without hesitation, he charged into the fray.
The Blade of Shadows came alive in his hands. With every strike, it sliced through the demonic creatures with ease, cutting through their thick, scaly skin as though it were paper. The power of the blade coursed through him, amplifying his strength, his speed, his instincts. He moved like a blur, dodging attacks, countering with deadly precision.
As the last demon fell, he stood panting, his heart racing in his chest. The blade still hummed with energy, but the battle had taken its toll on him. He dropped to one knee, clutching the weapon to steady himself.
"You've taken your first step," the red-eyed officer said, stepping forward. "But the true challenge lies ahead. Gruter will sense your awakening soon. There is no turning back."
Drake looked at the blade in his hand, its dark surface glinting in the firelight. He knew now—his destiny had begun.