Elrianon stood frozen before the shadowy figure, his heart racing with the weight of his decision. The figure's voice echoed through the void, dark and commanding.
"You are now a vessel for my power... your new name is Seth. Now go... get your vengeance."
With those words, the air around Elrianon thickened, the shadows coiling like serpents, latching onto his skin, his soul. He gasped as the dark magic pulsed through him, seeping into every fiber of his being. It wasn't just an invasion—it was a transformation. The ancient curse, the blood magic, now fully awakened and binding him in ways he could never have imagined.
His veins turned black, pulsing with the energy of the dark magic as it surged into him, twisting his flesh and mind. He could feel it—its hunger, its desire for destruction and domination. It wasn't simply power—it was a living, breathing force, insidious and relentless. The tendrils of shadow wrapped around his arms, his chest, his face, digging deeper and deeper into his body as if the darkness was feeding off his very essence.
Elrianon's breath quickened as his vision blurred, the world spinning around him. His hands trembled as the black tendrils slithered under his skin, merging with his blood, his bones, his soul. His mind screamed in resistance, but it was futile. The dark magic latched onto him with an iron grip, a parasite that fed on his every thought, his every emotion.
The pain was excruciating, a searing agony that shot through him like fire. His flesh burned, his heart pounded with unnatural force, but through the pain came power. He could feel it coursing through him, bending to his will. A monstrous power that filled the void left by his despair.
His eyes, once filled with pain and rage, now glowed with a deep crimson light, his pupils narrowing to slits as the magic twisted his very soul. His skin paled, his veins pulsed black like the roots of an ancient, cursed tree.
The transformation was complete.
Elrianon was no more.
He was Seth.
And with a blink of an eye, he was back.
The battlefield reappeared before him, but it was different now. The air crackled with malevolent energy, dark and ominous, as if the world itself was recoiling from his presence. A blast of red shadows exploded from him in every direction, an eruption of raw, chaotic power that swept across the battlefield like a storm.
Zorath, who had once looked so confident, so assured of his dominance, now froze. His eyes widened with confusion and—something he had not felt in eons—fear. The dark lord tilted his head, studying the transformed figure before him.
"What are you?" Zorath's voice, usually laced with mockery and arrogance, trembled with uncertainty.
Seth stood tall, his crimson eyes gleaming beneath the shroud of shadows that now cloaked him. The dark energy coiled around his form like a living thing, writhing and whispering, feeding on the death and suffering that surrounded him.
Zorath's forces, who had been mercilessly slaughtering Elrianon's men, suddenly faltered as they too felt the shift. But before they could react, Seth raised his hand, the shadows swirling around his fingers like serpents.
With a single gesture, the battlefield was drowned in screams.
The shadows shot out like tendrils, latching onto the soldiers—Zorath's warriors who had once seemed unstoppable. The dark magic burrowed into their flesh, ripping through their bodies like a plague. Their eyes bulged, their mouths gaped in silent horror as the very life force was torn from them, their skin shriveling as they collapsed to the ground in grotesque heaps.
Their agony echoed across the valley as their bodies withered into nothingness, their souls consumed by the unrelenting hunger of Seth's magic. The ground beneath their feet turned black, the life drained from it, leaving nothing but death and decay in its wake.
Zorath took two steps back, his face contorted in disbelief as he watched his army fall. This power, this... monstrosity... should not have been possible. It was beyond anything he had seen before.
"That... that's not possible..." Zorath stammered, his voice lacking the confidence it once held.
Seth turned his gaze to Zorath, his crimson eyes locking onto the demon lord. A cold smile spread across his face, one devoid of any warmth or humanity.
"You took everything from me," Seth said, his voice low and dripping with venom. "And so will I."
With every word, the darkness around him pulsed, feeding off his rage, his grief. Seth was no longer just a man. He was a force—a vessel for something far darker than even Zorath could have imagined.
As Seth stepped forward, the shadows writhed at his feet, his presence suffocating, terrifying. He was no longer the Elrianon who had once fought for honor and duty. That man was dead, consumed by the curse. What remained was something far more dangerous. Something that craved vengeance.
Zorath, for the first time in his long existence, felt a flicker of doubt. He had faced countless enemies, conquered entire realms, but this... this was something different. Something unnatural.
But Zorath was no coward. His lips curled into a sneer, though the flicker of fear still danced in his eyes.
"So... you've become a monster after all," Zorath growled, summoning his dark magic once more. His hands crackled with black energy as he prepared to strike.
But even as he did, there was a part of him that wondered—had he unleashed something he could not control?
Seth continued his slow, deliberate approach, his crimson eyes glowing with an eerie light, locking onto Zorath. The demon lord, now visibly rattled, struck with black spikes that shot out from his hands, their dark energy tearing through the air and piercing Seth's skin.
But Seth didn't flinch. The spikes embedded themselves in his flesh, but there was no reaction—no pain, no acknowledgment. He kept walking, the black tendrils writhing and pulsing within him, almost feeding off the attack. Zorath's face twisted into a smirk, convinced his power was absolute.
"You think you're so strong," Zorath sneered, his voice filled with malice. "I'll show you what true power is."
In an instant, Zorath teleported, his body shimmering with dark energy, ready to strike from a distance. But before he could fully vanish, Seth moved with impossible speed, his hand snatching Zorath out of mid-teleport as if tearing him from the very fabric of reality itself. With a violent thrust, Seth hurled Zorath across the battlefield, sending him crashing through a massive boulder that shattered under the force.
Zorath groaned as he straightened up, his body bruised and bloodied from the impact. His face, once so sure and confident, was now filled with disbelief. This shouldn't have been possible—no one should have been able to stop him mid-teleport, let alone with such ease.
"That's... not possible..." Zorath muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "How...?"
Seth stood still, his gaze cold and unyielding. His voice, deeper and more sinister than before, rumbled through the battlefield. "I am not an elf."
As those words echoed through the air, dark red tendrils emerged from Seth's back, slithering and twisting like living extensions of his will. The tendrils were sharp, glistening in the dim light, and they crackled with the raw, dark energy that coursed through his veins.
Seth's transformation was complete. He was no longer bound by the frailty of his former self, no longer constrained by the limits of elven magic. The dark power that had latched onto his soul had taken root, and now, it was thriving, turning him into a being of pure, relentless force.
Zorath's eyes widened as he took in the sight of Seth's grotesque power. For the first time in centuries, true fear crept into his heart. This was not just a man with vengeance on his mind—this was something far darker, far more dangerous.
"You..." Zorath's voice trembled as he tried to summon his strength, his dark magic flaring up once more. "What have you become?"
Seth's tendrils writhed menacingly, stretching out toward Zorath like the arms of death itself. He took a step forward, his deep voice rumbling through the earth, causing the very ground beneath them to tremble.
"I am vengeance."
With those words, the battlefield erupted in a storm of dark energy, the shadows bending to Seth's will. Zorath could feel it—the overwhelming force of Seth's new power pressing down on him, suffocating him. His magic, once so formidable, seemed insignificant in the face of this monster he had helped create.
Seth raised his hand, and the tendrils surged forward with blinding speed, slashing through the air toward Zorath. The demon lord barely had time to react, his dark shield forming just in time to deflect the first wave. But Seth was relentless, the tendrils striking again and again, their force shaking the very earth with every blow.
Zorath staggered back, his once unshakable confidence now crumbling as he realized the truth: he was outmatched.
Zorath, the once invincible lord of darkness, now found himself on the defensive. He kept dodging and weaving, evading Seth's relentless assault, but for the first time in his long existence, he felt powerless. Each attack Seth launched was unstoppable, and no trick, no dark magic, seemed to work against this new incarnation of vengeance. Zorath was throwing everything he had—blasts of shadow, black tendrils, bolts of dark energy—but Seth tanked them all, his monstrous form unyielding.
With every blow Zorath delivered, Seth continued forward, his steps unwavering. The ground trembled beneath him, his presence a force that consumed the battlefield. The dark magic that once fed Zorath now felt like nothing but a flicker in comparison to the abyss Seth had become.
Then, without warning, Seth stopped. Zorath stumbled back, gasping for breath, his body drained from the immense toll of his magic. His hands trembled, his dark aura flickering like a dying flame. He could feel it now—his own mortality creeping in, the power he once wielded slipping through his fingers like sand.
Seth's glowing eyes pierced Zorath's soul, a cold, unforgiving gaze that sent shivers down his spine. "Now you know," Seth said, his voice calm yet filled with a chilling menace, "how it feels to be mortal."
In a flash, Seth's tendrils shot forward, piercing Zorath's body with brutal precision. They stabbed through his chest, his abdomen, his limbs, pinning him in mid-air like a broken puppet. Zorath screamed in agony, black blood pouring from the wounds, his once-proud form now writhing helplessly under Seth's control.
Seth lifted Zorath effortlessly, the demon lord's body dangling in the air, his cries echoing across the battlefield. The dark magic that once sustained Zorath was leaking out of him, swirling in the air like smoke, as if his very essence was unraveling.
With slow, deliberate movements, Seth pulled out the broken sword that Zorath had shattered earlier, the same blade that had once belonged to Elrianon. Its jagged edge still glimmered with power, now infused with the dark magic that coursed through Seth's veins.
A wicked smile spread across Seth's face. "It ends now."
With a brutal thrust, Seth drove the broken sword deep into Zorath's heart, twisting it as dark energy swirled violently around them. Zorath's eyes widened in horror as he felt the ancient blade tear through him, the magic within it breaking the very core of his being.
And then, with a swift motion, Seth commanded his tendrils to tighten. The black, writhing tendrils ripped through Zorath's body, pulling him apart with merciless force. His screams filled the air, and in one final, grotesque display of power, Seth tore Zorath in half, his body splitting into two as black blood sprayed across the battlefield.
The once-great demon lord, the terror of Aeloria, was no more.
As the last remnants of Zorath's dark magic faded into the ether, Seth stood amidst the carnage, his crimson eyes glowing in the darkness. His tendrils receded, and for a moment, the battlefield was silent—save for the sound of Zorath's lifeless halves hitting the ground.
Seth stood victorious, his transformation complete, but the darkness that now consumed him was far from sated.
As Seth stood amidst the carnage, his once terrifying form began to fade. The monstrous tendrils retracted into his body, and the red shadows that had swirled around him dissipated into the air, leaving only faint traces of dark magic lingering in the atmosphere. His breathing slowed, and his crimson eyes, once burning with an eternal glow, began to dim.
The battlefield was silent now, save for the crackling of dying fires and the distant rustling of leaves in the wind. Seth turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the sun was setting behind the mountains, casting a golden light over the blood-soaked earth. He closed his eyes, feeling the last warmth of the sun touch his skin—a fleeting reminder of the world he once knew.
As the final vestiges of his curse receded beneath his flesh, melding into his very being, a voice broke the silence.
"My lord... is that you?"
One of the surviving soldiers of the elven army, battered and bloodied, stood at a distance, his eyes wide with uncertainty. The glow in Seth's eyes dimmed further, and he turned slowly toward the soldier, his expression unreadable. The soldier, despite his loyalty, took two cautious steps back, his fear evident in his trembling voice.
"My lord..." the soldier stammered, his fear creeping through every word.
Seth looked at him for a moment, his gaze piercing yet calm. "I am sorry," Seth said, his voice low and somber, "that I had to resort to this. It was the only way."
The soldier hesitated, his eyes flickering with a mixture of awe and terror. "My lord, thank you... but..."
Seth interrupted, his tone softened by resignation. "But you fear me." He sighed. "I can smell it... the fear, the doubt. I understand."
Without another word, Seth turned away from the soldier, his steps heavy with the weight of what he had become. The soldier watched in silence, unsure whether to call out or let him go, but his fear kept him rooted in place.
Seth walked toward the nearby woods, his figure blending into the shadows of the trees as dusk settled over the land. Just as he began to disappear into the forest, a faint, eerie laughter echoed in the distance. He paused, glancing over his shoulder, but the battlefield remained still, lifeless.
With one last look toward the world he had fought to protect—and the darkness he had embraced to do so—Seth stepped into the forest, vanishing into the shadows.