Reibar's eyes fluttered open, greeted by suffocating darkness. A heavy, oppressive silence surrounded him, save for the faint sound of dripping water somewhere in the void. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. Panic began to creep in as he strained against his restraints, only to feel sharp pain radiating from his limbs. He glanced down—or tried to—and his vision adjusted just enough to see the cruel truth. His arms and legs were stretched wide, his body pinned against a cold, unyielding stone wall. Massive, rusted nails pierced through his palms, their jagged ends embedded deep into the rock.
A strangled sigh escaped his lips.
"I'm really screwed," he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse and dry.
Desperation clawed at him as he raised his voice.
"Hello? Anybody here?" His words echoed back, mocking him with their emptiness.
He slumped as far as his restraints allowed, the weight of isolation bearing down on him—until a chilling, all-too-familiar voice cut through the silence.
"Well, well, well… look who's awake."
His stomach churned. The voice sent shivers racing down his spine—it was her. The red-haired commander of the undead. The sound of deliberate, measured footsteps echoed off the stone, growing louder with each step as she approached.
"You're rare, you know," she said, her tone dripping with amusement. "I haven't encountered many who can resist my mixture. But look at you."
Reibar didn't respond.
"Oh, don't play coy." She stepped into his line of sight, her fiery hair catching the faintest glint of light. Her smirk widened as she leaned closer, brushing a cold finger across his face.
"I captured you after watching that dazzling little display of yours on the battlefield," she purred. "That valor, that fight… I thought, 'Surely, this one would make the perfect pet.' But here you are—three days later—and you're still yourself. Impressive, really."
Reibar's silence was not one of submission, but defiance. He had one last resort, a desperate gambit that might free him. Yet, the price of using it was almost too great to bear. He wasn't afraid of becoming one of the undead—no, his fear lay in the consequences of that final, irreversible choice.
"Come here, my pet," she commanded suddenly, her voice ringing out like a blade striking stone.
Reibar flinched, bracing for the worst, but the command wasn't meant for him. A shadowed figure stepped forward from the darkness, its slow, deliberate gait sending a chill down his spine. As the figure came into view, Reibar's heart plummeted.
No. Not him.
It was Gareth Windmere.
Gone was the proud lord who had led Willowfield's final stand. In his place stood a hollow, lifeless puppet, draped in the noble attire that once symbolized his honor. His face was pale, his eyes glazed with a dull, unnatural light.
"You see," the commander began, her tone gleeful, "you're not the only one I found… useful. This little lord fought to the bitter end, even managed to take down two of my precious ogres." She chuckled, a cruel, grating sound.
Reibar's teeth clenched, rage bubbling beneath his stoic exterior. To see Gareth reduced to this—a shambling mockery of the man he once was—ignited a fire of fury and sorrow in his chest.
But the nightmare wasn't over.
Another figure shuffled into view, this one older, draped in the tattered remnants of a mage's coat. Reibar's breath caught as he recognized the frail, decaying form of Eldrin, the elder wind mage of Willowfield. The light of wisdom and strength that had once shone in the old man's eyes was gone, replaced by hollow voids that stared without seeing.
"You see," the commander continued, spreading her arms theatrically, "I already have such wonderful pets. If you won't be useful to me…" She leaned in, her voice dropping to a cruel whisper. "Then perhaps I'll just kill you and be done with it."
She straightened, laughing as though this was all a game. Her words echoed in the chamber, and Reibar felt the weight of despair press against him. The stakes had never been higher—and his resolve, though battered, remained unbroken.
Seeing Gareth and Eldrin in such a pitiful, grotesque state, and with his own end looming closer, Reibar clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. There was only one option left—the final resort he had sworn to avoid. He would face the consequences later, and endure the wrath of him, but there would be no forgiveness for Lisanna or this red-haired commander. Not after this.
A memory flickered to life, distant yet sharp in his mind. It was the headmaster, standing before them years ago, his voice steady and full of authority as they prepared for the teleportation that would scatter them to different corners of the world.
"You, my children, are free to live your lives as you see fit. But there is one rule you must never break… You are not allowed to get yourself killed. No matter who you face or what happens. If you do…"* His voice had darkened, the warmth gone, replaced by a cold, unyielding tone. "…know this: I will not even let your soul find peace."
The weight of those words had stayed with Reibar ever since, haunting him. He knew what he was about to do would bring the headmaster's fury, but at least it would bring him salvation—for now.
He took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of strength left in him, and roared, "FATHER!"
The cave shook with the sheer force of his voice, echoing through the cold, dark void.
The red-haired commander smirked, stepping closer, her amusement barely contained. "What's this now? Calling for daddy?" she mocked. "Oh, how adorable. Do you really think someone's coming to save you? In my cave? With my army outside?" She laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. "Let me show you how naive you are—"
She stopped mid-sentence, the air itself seeming to grow heavy and cold. The shadows around them deepened unnaturally, and a faint hum, like a low, resonating note from an unseen orchestra, filled the cave. The commander's smirk faltered as pressure, like the weight of the heavens, descended upon the chamber.
Then, in the blink of an eye, he appeared.
A man dressed in pristine, formal attire, his figure immaculate and radiating authority. His dark, tailored coat fell elegantly to his knees, and a formal hat rested atop his neatly styled hair. His eyes shone red as he took in the scene, stepping forward with deliberate precision, the sharp tap of his polished shoes echoing in the cavern.
He stood between Reibar and the commander, his face to the wall-stuck warrior. His gaze was calm, but the air around him crackled with restrained power. He tipped his hat slightly, as though greeting an acquaintance at a social gathering, before speaking, his voice smooth and unshaken.
"My, my… what a mess you've gotten yourself into, Reibar," he said, His tone held a mix of frustration and a quiet threat of payback. "Didn't I teach you better than this?"
The commander took a hesitant step back, her earlier confidence wavering. This was no ordinary man. This was someone who had defied the rules of reality itself to appear here, and the look in his eyes promised chaos for anyone who dared challenge him.
Kaelith Valenhart had arrived.
The commander, regaining her composure from the shock of the unexpected arrival, unslung her spear and pointed it directly at the headmaster. "How did you find my cave?"
"Kneel." One word. The headmaster uttered it calmly, yet with undeniable authority. Instantly, the red-haired commander, along with the zombified Gareth and Eldrin, collapsed to their knees, powerless against his command.
The headmaster cast an indifferent glance at them, his tone as measured as ever. "Can't you see I'm speaking to my child after an entire year? Have some patience."
His words carried a subtle mockery, as though addressing pests beneath his notice.
"I… I'm sorry, Father. I had no choice but to call you," Reibar stammered, shame thick in his voice.
Kaelith's expression softened into a rare smile. "It's alright, my boy. Truthfully, I didn't expect you to hold out for an entire year without summoning me. And it seems you've gained some strength of your own along the way. Impressive."
The headmaster's calm demeanour only deepened the commander's unease. Hamira's mind raced to make sense of his power. What kind of sorcery is this? Gravity? Mind control? Dark magic? Her confidence faltered, but she forced herself to speak, her voice trembling. "You don't know who I am! If he finds out what you—"
Her words choked off mid-sentence. She gasped, unable to continue.
"Vermin," Kaelith snapped elegantly, not even sparing her a full glance. "Who permitted you to speak?"
With that, Kaelith raised his hand and snapped his fingers. In an instant, the rusted nails holding Reibar vanished, and he crumpled to the ground, free. His wounds, which moments ago had seemed fatal, were gone as if they had never existed.
"You see," Kaelith said, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve, "I raised my children with care and discipline. This level of disrespect is intolerable. Now, tell me your name."
The red-haired commander's voice trembled as she answered, compelled by his command. "Hamira… Hamira Beelzee."
"Ah, Beelzee. One of Beelzebub's countless bastard offspring, no doubt."
Hamira's thoughts spiralled in disbelief. How does he know of the Demon Lord Beelzebub? And to speak his name so casually, as if he were some old friend of his, Her mind reeled, her confidence shattered.
Kaelith turned to Reibar, his calm tone unchanged. "Come now, Reibar. Take up your sword and end the misery of these poor souls. They have no place in this world anymore." a sword materialized out of thin air and stayed afloat until reibar grabbed it.
Reibar hesitated, his voice breaking as he looked at his former comrades. "Father… can't we save them? Gareth, Eldrin—they were good men. I… I wanted to save them."
Kaelith shook his head, his gaze momentarily softening. "I'm afraid not, my son. Their minds are too far gone. There isn't even a shred of their former consciousness left."
The headmaster checked his pocket watch, as though even this grim task was cutting into his schedule. "We don't have time to linger."
Reibar knew better than to argue further. With tears streaming down his face, he lifted his sword. The blade shook in his hands as he brought it down, ending Gareth's tortured existence. The weight of his guilt bore down on him—first Eric, now Gareth. Then, with a single, decisive strike, he ended Eldrin's suffering as well.
Silence filled the cavern, broken only by Reibar's shuddering breaths.
Gathering his resolve, Reibar turned to Kaelith, his voice trembling but firm. "Father… may I keep this one?" He gestured toward Hamira. "I can't kill her yet. I need her—for revenge. I need her to help me find Lisanna."
Kaelith's brow arched slightly in surprise. "Revenge?" He smiled faintly, a flicker of approval in his eyes. "I'm glad to see you have a purpose, my son. Very well. You may keep her."
With another snap of his fingers, a glowing ring appeared on Hamira's left hand.
"She's bound to you now," Kaelith said. "Her consciousness remains intact, but she cannot disobey you. As for her so-called army…" He waved a hand dismissively. "They're of no use to you. Consider them gone."
Hamira shuddered, unable to speak. Her fate was no longer her own.
With a final glance at Reibar, And just like that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving no trace of his presence.
Reibar stood in the eerie stillness, his sword heavy in his grasp.