'Humans are easily swayed, we cannot entrust them to mantain peace.'
Extract of the first elven king's speech to the dwarfs-elves alliance.
Vanat woke up being still drunk.
He was in a cold and dark place.
Raising his head he searched, confused by the alcohol, for the only thing he could ever think of now.
It must have been hell, there was really none in that place.
Slowly he got on his knees, barely substaining his weight.
He could barely see a thing in that cold place as he tried to walk over the exit, tough he could not see that very exit.
Vanat had a blurry vision, his belly had got larger and his beard was uncultured.
Alcohol had destroyed a man, ruined a myth.
Barely holding on he tried to walk. One step.
.
.
.
Thump! He fell on the ground.
He could not stand straight for about a minute in a brighter place let alone walk in a dark place like that.
Now crawling, he reached for the wall with his right hand.
He had lost it.
He had lost sight of the wall and did not know where it was.
Vanat was alone now, alone with his thoughts. With his memories.
He remembered about his wife, who sacrificed him and their beatiful daughter to please that deviated blob of Phaal.
Oh, his beatiful daughter. She was his brighter light, the most beatiful and shiny jewel of the lands.
How could Phaal destroy such a pure and beatiful thing? To torture a child like that he deserved Vanat's fury.
But Vanat had no strenght in him.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw his daughter being played with right in front of him.
He was powerless then and even more now.
It was unlikely for him to even get to face Phaal, he would likely die at the guard's hands before he could even see the pervert.
How could he face an army alone?
Vanat stopped thinking about that for a brief moment to search for the wall again.
In that very darkness it seemed to him to see, in the shadows, his daughter.
Rage started to build on slowly as he tinked about what happened to him.
It was not long until all the excuses he had made fell apart.
Did it even matter how much he could get to that pervert?
How could that despicable being live a happy life after what he did!?
He could not allow that.
Phaal's very own tragedy began that day.
After some planning Vanat had almost got himself to sober up.
Now he could think more rationally.
He questioned himself, why was he acting only now?
It was really strange that he was so drunk all the time.
Well, he would gladly get a drink now, but to find alcohol in the undertown was quite the luck.
That luck had, moreover, lasted for weeks and was strong enought to let him get drunk with it.
It was no luck, it was the proof that Phaal feared Vanat.
Vanat managed to touch something.
It was a heavy wooden door. Closed, of curse.
Vanat stopped for a brief moment watching his very own hands.
They were... Fatty, he had gotten overweight for sure. No doubt that his muscles were in a bad shape, his fit shape completely gone.
Then, with his right hand, he trew a punch to the door with all the strenght he had. The door cracked open, it was not even closed with a lock or anything.
Vanat stopped for a moment.
His hand made him want to scream, why did he do that!?
Holding his hand he walked out in the open reaching a crowed market.
There merchants sold anything that could corrupt a human being: drugs, alcohol, aphrodisiacs, poisons, cheap jewels to show off riches you don't have, special 'toys', gaming sets and even more.
As young girls travelled the market searching for an easy prey Vanat's eyes got darker.
That was too much, Phaal had not only crossed the line, he had crushed it over and over until no soul could ever see it.
One step after the other he tried to walk over the market without killing anyone or breaking anything.
It was a difficult task given how many promotional posters of Phaal were there, so much that Vanat had to keep his head lowered to not see them.
But that was a mistake, walking without watching where he was going he bumped into one of the guards falling on the ground.
The guards of Vanatar where on edge to begin with since the burst of criminal activity that had followed Phaal.
"What do you think you're doing!?" Another guard screamed while Vanat was still rolling on the ground.
"Ehy! Arrest him!" The guard he bumped in screamed as Vanat got his face smashed on the ground.
Before he could do anything the two guards had blocked him on the ground pointing their blades at him.
"Sorry, i was not watching were i was going. My bad." Vanat said.
"Were you? Why should i belive you?" One of the guards asked.
"Is it even allowed by the law to sell what they sell here? And why are you so wary of the civilians!?" Vanat asked.
"Allowed? Well... I don't really know anymore." One of the guards responded.
"Look. The guy looks familiar, does he not resemble Vanat?" The other guard said.
"Do i? Well, i am honored to resemble such a honorable person." Vanat responded.
"Yes, he resembles him but it can't be him. Vanat is a warrior, he is... Well, not a warrior." A guard reasoned.
"But he does speak about honor, maybe he work with them regularly." The other guard added.
"So, what do we do now? Are we fine like this?" Vanat asked.
The ground there was not as bad es it could be.
It was made of stone slabs only slightly dirty, there were cuts on them tough.
"Yeah, i guess not. You're under arrest." A guard said before excorting him to a cell.
The cells of Vanatar's fort were never renowed for their hospitality, so much that the stench of blood was strong enought to make anyone vomit at the very least the first time.
He was forced to walk trough the dark hallways while the guards pointed the blades at him.
Walking he could see the cells of the low security branch filled with skeletons and blood.
"Geez. This place got even worse, how is this possible?" Vanat murmured.
But it was when they passed trough the last hallway of the low security branch that unrest began to grow in him.
The place had gotten darker, the long hallways were now made of obsidian reinforced with steel instead of common stone.
There weren't any torches anymore, now only magical lights barely illuminated the way as Vanat walked trough.
That was the medium security branch, something was off.
As he walked the stench of blood got weaker, there was barely anyone there.
Vanat had to keep up until they arrived in front of a giant door made with orichalcum.
It had the shape of a dragon and was more than ten meters tall with a lenght of about five of them.
Vanat got pale.
"No, this can't be..." He said in disbelief.
That was his final destination: Tartarus, the hightest security branch of the prison underneath Vanatar's fort.
Tartarus was divided in nine levels, entry floor excluded, and his security got thighter the more lower the level was.
The worst thing about it was that Tartarus had no guards but used golems instead, to keep up with the strong and fierce prisoners.
Magic security was at a state of art there: vision spells, magical tracking handcuffs, weakening talismans, top tier golems, magic traps and teleportation spells that worked only from the outside to the inside.
The very design was one of a pit, with no proper hallways and isolated cells on the upper floors.
"What's going on Vanat? Scared?" A guard asked.
"H-How!?" Vanat asked.
"Come on, did you think we didn't recognize your face?" The guard mocked him before handing him to a golem.
Vanat walked down the first floor, then the second, the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh floors.
At the eight floor he was thrown in a small cell near another one, way bigger of curse.
Landing on the ground with his face he heard the dark steel door closing.
No point in arguing, golems have no ears.
Recomposing himself Vanat sitted down muttering indecipherable words.
"So there is a new recruit in the pit, uh?" A voice told from the near cell.
"Who are you!?" Vanat screamed, his composture lost.
"Call me Wei, the Shadow of Windang." The voice responded.
"Ok, Wei, are you an elf?" Vanat asked.
"Dark elf, please. Still i find you quite... cute for trying to guess it." She responsed again.
"Mind to help me escape this place?" Vanat asked her.
"Phffft. Escape!? From the eight floor of Tartarus!? Look, you're funny but you should get in touch with reality." She laughted.
"I know how." Vanat said firmly.
"Sure, sure. Then get me out of here." She said triying to mock him.
Vanat stood still watching the door with a serious look in his eyes.
"This was my secret weaphon against the savant demon king." Vanat whispered.
Concentrating he accumulated mana in his chest and refined it then he made it circulate trought the body in a peculiar pattern.
Mana flowed in him trough his mouth, descended in his chest, was refined then circulated in his chest, moved trough his arms and legs and returned to the head before descending again to his chest.
That skill was his foolproof plan against Phaal, and as such he waited for the right moment to use it.
Nothing he had on him could restrain it.
[Skill: 'prime condition', make the user return to his 'prime' by circulating mana trough the body. Causes vulnerability during the process and is extremely hard to use.
Skill rank: unique]
Vanat's body mutated releasing many gasses and liquids from the pores.
His shape fastly shifted from the barely standing Vanat to the demon slayer Vanat.
Then he fell on the ground with a splitting heachache.