"Why do you hold back!"
"Murderer!"
"Evil soul, cursed to doom!"
"Kill him!"
Abaddon lay restless in bed, his body twitching as haunting voices echoed through his mind. The specters of the dead condemned him, dragging him into fiery depths, their faces twisted in anger and sorrow. Ever since he embraced the path of a necromancer, the souls he consumed had become relentless tormentors. Even in sleep, his agony was visible—his brow drenched in sweat, his expression contorted with pain.
Jane entered the room unexpectedly, her face a mask of worry. Quietly, she approached and sat beside him. Lifting his head gently onto her lap, she began wiping the sweat from his brow, her touch soothing the torment etched across his face.
Her thoughts swirled as she looked at him, her concern deepening.
'I don't know if it's stubbornness or foolishness, Ab'bao. Why do you keep sacrificing your happiness for such a brutal life? I wish all of this would end… just so I could see you smile again.'
The quiet moment was interrupted by Fatty, who entered cautiously, his expression matching Jane's concern.
"I guess I came at the wrong time"
He murmured, glancing at Abaddon's restless form.
"He's suffering, Sis. You and I can't begin to understand the weight he carries. I used to think nobles lived in paradise. I admired Lord Kaedryn as a hero, but who would've thought his son's life was built in a hell of expectations and burdens? Let's just stay by his side and help him see this through."
The room fell silent, save for the sound of Jane tightening her grip on the bedsheets.
"Orin"
She said softly, her voice trembling.
"You don't know how much it hurts to see him like this. The way he fights, the way he kills, without humanity in his eyes… I'm terrified he's losing himself. I don't want to watch him suffer anymore. Please, help him."
Fatty sighed, his normally cheerful demeanor replaced by rare solemnity. He noticed the tears welling up in Jane's eyes, though she quickly wiped them away when Abaddon stirred. With a heavy breath, Abaddon woke, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he was jolted back to consciousness by the morning clang of swords outside.
"Jane…"
He muttered, his voice groggy as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. He attempted to sit up, but the comforting touch of her hand brushing his hair left his body reluctant to move.
-She's beautiful…'
The thought flitted across his mind before he dismissed it.
'Now isn't the time to get comfortable.'
His gaze shifted, and he noticed Fatty standing nearby with a mischievous grin. Alarmed, Abaddon straightened immediately.
"Oh, come on, Boss! Why didn't you stay there a little longer?"
Fatty teased, his laughter filling the room.
Abaddon's face reddened, though he remained silent. Before he could respond, Jane's fierce glare turned murderous, and she launched herself at Fatty, who barely dodged her first swing, fleeing around the room.
Meanwhile, Abaddon moved to the window, letting out a sigh as he gazed at the scene below. The rhythmic clashing of swords echoed from the training grounds, where knights honed their skills. Servants bustled about, hauling crates and supplies into his quarters.
His expression grew pensive.
'It seems the old man is truly restoring this place. Named after my mother, Elyssia, the Elysium Quarters used to be filled with warmth and joy when she was alive. But now… it feels so empty.'
He leaned against the frame, closing his eyes briefly.
'Sigh… I need to see him. The ancestor spoke of something important—something tied to the heart mantra source of the Keep. The Sacred Flames…'
'Before I had the chance to rest my body yesterday, a surge of indescribable pain crashed through me, nearly forcing my insides to rebel. The wound is worsening day by day, and soon, I might not even have the strength to muster a single skill. That's when the Ancestor revealed a secret to me.'
The continues thinking triggered the memories of the event of the previous day, when he was having a conversation with the Ancestor....
"Wait...Ancestor, you're telling me there are weapons capable of harming the gods?"
Abaddon asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
'Yes'
No'el replied firmly.
'These weapons are called the Sacred Elements. They are the only things beyond the control of the gods because they weren't created by them, the Primogenitors, or even the Primordials. They simply exist. I only discovered their origins after my death. These Sacred Elements were forged by the Outer Gods—entities beyond the concepts of existence, time, creation, or destruction.'
'You, Abaddon, carry a fragment of one of them within you—the most chaotic of all, the Asura who created the Sacred Flames. Their rivals, the Neigh Angels, crafted the Sacred Law. The True Demons forged the Sacred Shadow Darkness. The Weavers shaped the Sacred Primeval Lightning. Other Outer Beings created other elements as well. These elements were deemed failures by their creators and discarded. But while useless to them, for us, they hold immense power.'
Abaddon's brows furrowed as he processed the revelation.
"I've heard whispers of the Outer Beings from Kaelar. But now you're saying they dwarf the Primordials, the Primogenitors, and even the Erythrians?"
'Exactly'
No'el confirmed.
'Compared to the Outer Beings, the so-called great forces of our reality are like children playing with toys.'
"What's the strongest Sacred Element, then?"
Abaddon asked, intrigued. No'el sighed heavily.
'The Sacred Eternal Flames and the Sacred Primeval Lightning. These two are more destructive and powerful than any others. There are thirty Sacred Eternal Flames ranked by their power, and forty-five ranked Sacred Primeval Lightnings. The Drakon family possesses one of the Sacred Eternal Flames—ranked twenty-seventh—the Sacred Volcanic Flames. I obtained it long ago during the ancient days, alongside two of my formal closest friends though not anymore. Arthur and Merlin. Arthur also acquired the Primordial Lightning ranked fortieth, Sky Thunder. Together, we passed these elements down to future generations.'
'Your body, Abaddon, was born with a natural affinity for fire. But not just any fire—Eternal Flames capable of burning even mortal fire itself.'
Abaddon leaned forward, his curiosity piqued.
"Ancestor, you mentioned Arthur. And how did you acquire the Sacred Flames? I want to know more."
No'el hesitated, his tone betraying a hint of reluctance. But he continued.
'During the ancient days, peace was a foreign concept. Unlike the comfortable lives of rulers today, every single day was a battle for survival. The Earth was ruled by myths. The gods walked among mortals. The Erythrians—before they ascended as cosmic forces—lived among us. We called them… the Barbarians.'
Abaddon's eyes widened in disbelief.
"You mean those Barbarians? That mad race?"
'Yes, though back then, they were giants'
No'el explained.
'They weren't the primitive beings they've become today. They were unstoppable, born with the ability to wield mantra from birth. They were the fifteen children of the Elder Elemental Giants, Primogenitors, and other ancient races. The Elves were still in their infancy, Dwarves were crude craftsmen, Frost Giants ruled the icy north, and the Beast Kingdom was under the Father of Monsters. Humanity and other weaker races could only run, hide, and hope to survive.'
'For countless generations, survival was a constant struggle. Until Mother Vitaria grew angry.'
Abaddon tilted his head.
"Mother Vitaria? You mean the Earth itself? Nature? She exists?"
'Yes'
No'el confirmed.
'Mother Vitaria is a Primordial. Angered by the chaos, she split the continents to separate the warring races. But even then, the myths and Erythrians waged endless wars. Other races joined the fray, and eventually, the First Abyssaroth War began. The Erythrians, having awakened their godly sides, sought to rule everything—even if it meant overthrowing their parents and grandparents.'
'Unlike their ancestors, the Erythrians were intelligent, creative, and cunning—traits that made them more dangerous than their brute predecessors. Their leader, Zuryxal, the so-called God of Creation, led a rebellion that plunged the world into chaos. With ruthless efficiency, they overthrew their parents, destroyed ancient shrines, and forced the weaker races to build temples for them. These temples fueled their divine power, allowing them to ascend as gods and abandon the Earth. Over time, their descendants grew weaker and smaller, becoming the Barbarians we know today.'
"Woah…"
Abaddon murmured, awestruck by the tale.
'After the First Abyssaroth War, Mother Vitaria rose again in anger, sending the wrath of the Primordials upon the Erythrians. But the Erythrians, now gods, struck back. Without Mother Vitaria, life itself would have perished. The Primordials, who embodied existence itself, were attacked and imprisoned, their power extracted for eons. The Primogenitors were slain during the war and casted into the tormenting flames of Naraka.'
'In her final act, Mother Vitaria gave humanity and the other weaker races a chance. From her will, the soul-ores were born, allowing mortals to rise from the ashes and fight back. From myths to colonizers, we battled our way to reclaim our lands. That was my era—the era where I became known as the Dragon God.'
Abaddon's voice softened.
"And what happened next?"
No'el exhaled deeply, his voice tinged with nostalgia.
'That name came from the first Dragon General I fought—Von Drakon himself. When the myths were beginning to lose their hold, the two Mythical Beast Gods decided to intervene. The first was the Cosmic Serpent, said to coil around eight universes in its slumber. The second was the Father of All myths, Astaroth, a Divine Myth who clashed countless times with the God of War, Thyronis.'
'These two gods sent their generals to reclaim and conquer the Earth. But by then, the weaker races had grown stronger, bolstered by the rich, pure mantra circulating the land from centuries of divine battles. This power birthed demigods across every race. The Barbarians, however, had gone into hiding, waiting for the right moment to reemerge.'
'The myths that arrived included Von Drakon, the dragon who wielded the Sacred Volcanic Flames; the Sky Dragon, who controlled the Primordial Lightning; the Sun Phoenix, with its unique Sacred Flame; the Earth Dragon; and another whose name has been lost to time.'
No'el paused before continuing.
'Among the weaker races, three human demigods rose to prominence—King Arthur, wielder of Excalibur, the Holy Sword; Merlin, the Warlock who mastered every branch of magic; and myself, No'el Rheinheart. Alongside us were the elves, who produced three demigods; the dwarves, with two; and the Frost Giants, with four. Together, we clashed with the Myth Generals in a war that lasted a year and a half.'
'It was a victory, but the cost was devastating—we lost nearly the entire world. By then, I had reached the level of a thirty-star demigod. I personally fought Von Drakon in a fierce battle that claimed my left eye, but I ultimately prevailed. I adopted the name Von Drakon in his honor. The place where his body fell is now called Avalon. From his remains, I took his heart, which contained the Sacred Volcanic Flames. That heart now serves as the mantra-gathering formation powering the Drakon Keep. However, it still holds Von Drakon's dangerous soul, which prevents us from fully utilizing its potential.'
'Arthur and Merlin subdued the Sky Dragon, adopting the name Pendragon, and claimed the Sacred Primeval Lightning. This power has been passed down through Arthur's lineage. The elves defeated the Sun Phoenix and became the Phoenix Elves. The dwarves defeated the Earth Dragon and became Dragon Dwarves. Together, we severed the connection between Earth and the Myth Gods. The myths that remain now despise us but are few in number.'
Abaddon exhaled deeply before asking
"Why did you refer to King Arthur Pendragon as your former friend?"
No'el hesitated before continuing.
'After the war, peace was restored, and Arthur and I co-founded the Avalon Empire. We welcomed other groups who had defeated myths and bore special bloodlines, uniting them under the empire. Together, we built Avalon, with Arthur leading the Empire's knights while succession of the imperial throne passed through my direct bloodline. My brothers ruled the branch families.'
A memory clicked in Abaddon's mind.
"Is that why there are three Drakon estates in the empire? My uncles and their descendants still bear the Drakon name, but my father and the current emperor always rule. I never quite understood."
No'el nodded.
'Exactly. When I claimed the Sacred Flames, the dragon tattoo marking our lineage appeared only on me and my direct descendants. While the branch families may look like us, they lack the tattoos, marking them as distant relatives.'
'Now, back to Arthur. After peace was restored, another war broke out—this time from the Barbarians. They saw the rapid rise of races they had once deemed insignificant and feared losing their dominance. A massacre began, coinciding with the Barbarians producing their first two demigods—a divine shaman and a dual-axe wielder known as the Demon.'
'Remember when I told you the Erythrians were fifteen in number but only twelve ascended? The remaining three became Demon Gods, opposing their siblings and teaching the Barbarians techniques like Barbaric Martial Arts, Berserking, and Blood Arts. These techniques reopened the severed connection to the Myth Gods. A crack in the veil appeared, giving the myths hope for a resurgence.'
'At that point, I was at my limit from multiple scared injuries. The battles had worn me down. But I couldn't allow the Barbarians to succeed. I took my blade—the Dragon Tooth, the very one your father now wields—and led an attack on the Barbarians before they could reach us.'
The room fell silent, the weight of No'el's tale hanging heavily in the air. Abaddon's heart raced as he asked.
"What happened next?"
'Before I launched my attack, I sought Arthur and Merlin's help," No'el began. "But they refused, arguing that the Barbarians were targeting other races, not us. They failed to see that we might be next. Despite countless arguments, Arthur insisted on avoiding further conflict. He no longer wanted to fight. Left with no choice, I went alone with a small army.'
'I single-handedly slaughtered the two Demigods of the Barbarians and wiped out half their race, crushing their hope for world dominance. But my actions came at a cost. The Erythrians were enraged. When I returned, I found my people—my brothers—being massacred mercilessly by the Pendragons. The other noble houses, too afraid to face a Demigod, stood by and did nothing.'
'This betrayal consumed me with fury. When I demanded an explanation, Arthur and Merlin revealed the truth: they were ordered by the Erythrians to eradicate my generation in exchange for a place among them as gods. It was then I realized… I was truly alone.'
No'el's voice grew heavy with emotion.
'In my rage, I clashed with my two closest friends. Though I was battle-worn from my fight with the Barbarians, I prevailed. I killed them with my own hands, though it cost me my life. I passed on the leadership to the next Patriarch and entrusted them with all my secrets for survival.'
'After my death, I was sent to Naraka without judgement or need to pay any gold crown, I was immediately condemned to eternal torment for defying the gods. Arthur and Merlin, however, ascended, granted a second chance in the Upper Realm. That is why I need you to grow strong, Abaddon. I want you to become the me of this era. The pain you've endured will not be in vain.'
No'el paused, his words laced with regret and determination. Abaddon remained quiet, a mix of betrayal and hope swirling within him.
"I will not disappoint you, Ancestor"
Abaddon said at last, his voice steady.
"Even with my birthrights stolen, the prophecy broken, and the constant weight of this power. Even if I am haunted in my dreams every night, I will carry this burden and these sins until my last breath."
"Good!, that's a real man of the Drakon lineage "
No'el's voice thundered in approval.
The scene shifted to Orlan standing atop a rain-drenched peak with a wide wasteland before him as Ryn stood by his side.
Wiping tears from one of his eye. Abaddon couldn't help but chuckle, seeing the old man still as emotional as ever.
'Rise'
No'el commanded.
"I'll guide you to the Sacred Flames."