The night is suffused with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. A young boy stands frozen in the dimly lit hallway of his home, his heart pounding in his chest. Shadows dance ominously on the walls as a terrifying creature looms over his parents. Its form is grotesque, eyes gleaming with malevolence, and in its clawed hands, a gleaming chainsaw.
His parents plead, their voices trembling with fear, but their cries are cut short as the creature strikes. The chainsaw slices through the air with sickening swiftness. Blood sprays, and the boy watches in horror as his father's head rolls to the floor, followed by his mother's.
Paralyzed by terror, he can do nothing but watch. The creature turns its attention to him, its eyes locking onto his. With a single stride, it is upon him, lifting him effortlessly by the neck. His vision blurs as the creature's grip tightens, and he feels a searing pain as blood trickles down his neck.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the pressure ceases. The creature releases him, letting him fall to the ground. He lies there, gasping for breath, consciousness slipping away. Through the haze of pain and fear, he sees the creature turn and disappear into the darkness. The last thing he sees before blacking out is the faint outline of its monstrous figure fading into the night.
Seventeen years have passed.
The sun hangs low over Ravenshade (A small town) High School, casting long shadows across the football field. The tension is palpable as the referee's whistle pierces the air, signaling a foul. A young man steps up, his eyes focused, his breathing steady. The crowd holds its breath as he positions himself for the freekick. The ball is struck with precision, sailing past the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper and into the net. The scoreboard flashes—3-2. His hat trick has secured the victory.
His teammates swarm him in celebration, their cheers echoing across the field. Amid the jubilant chaos, the young man, Ren, smiles but his thoughts are elsewhere. After the match, as the crowd begins to disperse, he heads to the bicycle parking area, where a girl waits, her face bright with excitement.
"Great game, Ren!" Zara beams as he approaches.
"Thanks, Zara," Ren replies, still catching his breath. "I couldn't have done it without the team."
The two of them retrieve their bicycles and start riding together, the cool evening breeze rustling through the trees. The streets of Islamabad are alive with the sounds of the city winding down for the day.
"You know," Zara says as they pedal side by side, "we should go watch that new movie this weekend. 'Nightfall' is playing at the cinema."
Ren nods, intrigued. "I've heard good things about it. Let's do it."
As they reach the junction where their paths diverge, they slow down and come to a stop.
"Alright, it's a plan then," Zara says, giving him a cheerful wave. "See you tomorrow!"
"See you," Ren replies, watching as she rides off into the distance.
Ren reaches home as the evening light fades into the twilight. His father is waiting for him in the living room, a warm smile on his face.
"How was the day, Ren?" his father asks, his voice filled with genuine interest.
"It was good," Ren replies, trying to keep his tone casual.
"And how's Zara?" his father continues, the question laced with a hint of curiosity.
"She's good too," Ren answers, offering a small smile before heading to his room.
Once inside, Ren shuts the door behind him and lets out a deep breath. He sits on the edge of his bed and takes off his shoes. His eyes narrow as he looks down at his foot—it's getting redder, the skin almost pulsating with a discomforting heat. His heart sinks as the thought crosses his mind again.
It's getting worse... day by day.
He hesitates, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts.
Should I consult a doctor? No, what if he says it's serious and I can't play football for a month or two? No... It will be fine. It'll heal itself. I need to play, even with this foot. Important matches are coming up.
Zara reaches home, the familiar comfort of her house offering a brief moment of calm after the day's excitement. She steps inside, looking around for her brother. Her eyes catch sight of the dining table, cluttered with ancient papers, scrolls, and books that seem to belong in a different era. Frowning, she scans the room, but Zaheer is nowhere to be found.
Curiosity and a hint of concern tug at her, so she heads outside to the backyard. There, under the fading light, she finds Zaheer, his eyes closed, fists clenched as he practices punching the air. Each movement is precise, as if he's fighting an invisible enemy, his face a mask of concentration.
"What are you doing, Zaheer?" Zara asks, her voice laced with a mix of confusion and exasperation.
Zaheer doesn't open his eyes, continuing to throw punches into the air. "I'm training… and trying to bring out the spirit," he replies, his tone serious, almost reverent.
Zara rolls her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. "Seriously, Zaheer? You still believe in those fairy tales?"
Finally, Zaheer opens his eyes, his expression intense, driven by something she can't fully understand. "Listen, Zara, I'm very close to finding out who killed our parents. It was most probably a spirit, something beyond what we know."
Zara's expression hardens, annoyance flickering across her face. She's heard this before—too many times. "Just let it go, Zaheer. It's been 17 years. You're wasting your life on this. Please, just move on."
Just then Zaheer has flashbacks of the scene when the creature was killing his parents. He thinks no i will kill that creature.
At night, that chainsaw creature is going towards a place in between forests. There, he meets 3 more creatures.
Rendrax stood nearly eight feet tall, his body a gaunt fusion of flesh and metal. His right arm ended in Soulrend, a blood-stained chainsaw pulsing with dark energy. A jagged metal mask covered most of his face, leaving only one glowing crimson eye visible through the shadows.
Malvoria was shrouded in swirling black mist, her violet eyes glowing with unnatural light. She wielded Soul Reaver, a dark blade that reflected trapped souls. Her sharp, partially obscured features gave her an eerie, ghostly beauty.
Torrath, a massive figure with granite-like skin, carried Earthshatter, a colossal warhammer adorned with glowing runes. His fiery orange eyes and stony face made him seem like a living statue.
Seraphyx, frosty blue skin glistened like ice. With leathery wings and icy blue slitted eyes, he wielded Frostbite, a soul-infused whip that crackled with freezing energy. His crystalline teeth gleamed in a sinister grin.
Malvoria brought forth a Shadow Orb, a spherical object about the size of a human heart, swirling with dark energy. The orb was made of obsidian-like material, smooth and glossy, with glowing runes etched into its surface. These runes pulsed with a faint purple light, growing brighter as more soul energy was stored within. At its core, a bright, eerie light glowed intensely, showcasing the vast amount of souls she had collected.
She held the orb high, and the chamber was briefly illuminated by its sinister light. "Behold," Malvoria said, her voice dripping with pride. "The power I have gathered. This is the essence of those I've claimed, stored and waiting for our ultimate plan."
Seraphyx followed suit, revealing his own device—a Venomous Chalice. The twisted, dark green goblet appeared to be made of living scales, with the cup filled with a glowing, bubbling green liquid. This liquid represented the essence of the souls he had drained, and the brightness of the glow indicated the considerable energy he had amassed. "I have done my part," Seraphyx hissed, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he gazed at the vibrant liquid within the chalice.
Torrath then produced his device, a Rune Stone—a massive, jagged piece of rock with glowing orange veins running through it. The stone seemed to pulsate with an inner fire, and as Torrath placed his hand on it, the glow intensified, revealing the immense energy he had absorbed from his victims. "The earth itself trembles at the power I've collected," he rumbled, his voice like grinding stones.
When it was Rendrax's turn, he merely chuckled darkly. "I no longer waste time with these devices," he growled. "Why store the energy when you can consume it directly? The souls I take strengthen me from within. I am my own vessel of power."
Malvoria's anger flares, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "We agreed to collect the energy, to store it for our ultimate plan! This was not part of the agreement, Rendrax!" she snaps, her voice laced with fury. The Shadow Orb in her hand pulses with her rising anger, the light within it intensifying.
Rendrax meets her gaze with a smirk, unbothered by her wrath. "Plans change. Adapt or perish, Malvoria. The power we seek should be within us, not locked away in trinkets."
Malvoria's anger boiled over, her eyes blazing with fury. Without hesitation, she lunged at Rendrax, summoning her weapon—the Soul Reaver—a dark blade that pulsed with malevolent energy. "You traitor!" she hissed, slashing at him with deadly precision.
Rendrax blocked her attack with his massive chainsaw, the screeching metal against metal echoing through the chamber. He laughed, a deep, menacing sound that resonated with cruel amusement. "Is this how you want to settle things, Malvoria?" he taunted, pushing back against her with the roaring chainsaw. Sparks flew as the two clashed, their immense powers causing the ground to tremble beneath them.
The clash between Malvoria and Rendrax was intense, each strike resonating with power that shook the very earth. Malvoria's Soul Reaver slashed through the air with deadly precision, but Rendrax, with a wicked grin, met her blow for blow. His chainsaw roared to life, the brutal weapon parrying her attacks with sheer force.
Malvoria pressed on, fueled by rage, but Rendrax was unfazed. With a sudden surge of strength, he deflected her strike and countered with a devastating blow. The chainsaw tore through the air, slamming into Malvoria's defenses and sending her flying back, crashing into a nearby tree. The impact shattered the trunk, and Malvoria hit the ground hard, dazed and momentarily stunned.
Rendrax stood tall, his crimson eyes gleaming with triumph. "You see, Malvoria," he sneered, "I've grown far stronger than you can imagine. I don't need your plans or your petty schemes."
As Malvoria struggled to her feet, Seraphyx and Torrath moved swiftly to confront her, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief. They could hardly comprehend the sheer power Rendrax had just displayed.
"He's... stronger," Torrath rumbled, his voice tinged with unease. "Much stronger."
Seraphyx's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. "This changes things," he hissed, watching Rendrax warily as the massive creature turned to leave.
Rendrax glanced back at them, his smirk widening. "I'm done with this plan," he growled. "I've found my own way to power, and I don't need any of you holding me back." With that, he walked away, disappearing into the shadowy depths of the forest.
As the echoes of his departure faded, Seraphyx and Torrath turned to Malvoria, who was seething with anger but also shaken by the encounter. "We can't let him go unchecked," she muttered, her pride wounded.
Seraphyx's expression darkened. "We don't need him now," he said, his voice cold. "In fact, I don't even need you both now." Torrath and Malvoria exchanged confused glances, unsure of what he meant.
A sly smile spread across Seraphyx's face as he spoke, "There are two swords, far more powerful than any of us alone. They are the ancient blades, the mightiest weapons ever forged by two lineages—the Blackwood and the Sterling families."
His voice deepened with a sense of reverence, laced with a dangerous anticipation. "These swords hold the power to destroy entire nations. If we can claim them, nothing will stand in our way. We don't need Rendrax.
Malvoria and Torrath exchanged glances, the gravity of Seraphyx's words sinking in. The stakes had just been raised, and the prospect of wielding such power ignited a dangerous ambition in their hearts.
Seraphyx's grin widened as he revealed, "I've figured out where one of the swords is hidden. We can fulfill our plan."
Malvoria scoffed, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. "That's a useless plan, Seraphyx. Those swords are imbued with the soul energy of countless powerful spirit users, including the leaders of the Blackwood and Sterling families. They're so strong that no ordinary spirit, or even a person, can wield them. To even think about using one, we'd need to drain its energy—but that's impossible."
Seraphyx rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. "No, you idiot," he snapped. "While you and the others were busy mindlessly killing, I spent my time wisely—researching, experimenting, and improving my Venomous Chalice. I've made modifications, enhancements that will allow it to drain the energy from the sword. I know it will work. After all, I am the smartest spirit in existence."
Malvoria's expression was a mix of irritation and resignation. "Fine," she muttered, turning away from him. "Do whatever you want. But don't come crawling back to me when your plan fails."
With that, she walked away, leaving Seraphyx standing alone, his mind already racing with the possibilities. He glanced at his Venomous Chalice, the glowing liquid within pulsing with potential. Soon, he would put his plan into motion.