The winds howled through the craggy peaks as a storm brewed above the desolate plains of Reazora. Darkness clawed at the heavens as if eager to descend upon the earth itself. Jackeal stood alone at the edge of the great cliffs, his gaze fixed on the swirling abyss far below. He clenched his fists, muscles tense with both conviction and desperation.
The prophecy weighed heavily on his mind—a vision of the end. Flames devouring the skies. Beasts of unimaginable power rampaging across the land. And a lone figure standing against the tide. He had foreseen it, yet none believed him. The elders scoffed, dismissing him as a deranged zealot. The villagers cast stones, calling him a liar and a fraud.
But he knew. He had seen.
---
The village of Elderspire was restless that night. Torches blazed with eerie intensity as an assembly of armed villagers gathered in the central square. At their helm was Elder Kaelen, an imposing man with a silver-tipped staff and a gaze as sharp as any blade.
"We will tolerate this blasphemy no longer!" Kaelen roared. "Jackeal has cursed our land with his delusions! If the gods will not judge him, then we shall!"
The crowd erupted in deafening approval. Fear fueled their anger—fear of the unknown, of the dark omens, of the possibility that Jackeal's prophecy might be true.
---
Far from the village, Jackeal's silent meditation was shattered by a sudden pulse of searing energy that radiated from deep within the earth. His vision blurred as celestial fire ignited in his mind's eye—a massive fissure ripping across reality, and a monstrous form clawing its way through.
Before he could comprehend the magnitude of what he had witnessed, distant war cries pierced the storm's howl. He turned to see the villagers marching toward him, their faces twisted with rage and terror.
"Seize the false prophet!" Kaelen commanded. "His words bring only ruin!"
---
As the villagers surged forward, a crackling bolt of lightning split the heavens, bathing the cliffs in ghostly white light. For a moment, all were frozen in awe. Then, reality shattered.
The skies split open, revealing a churning vortex of dark, celestial fire. From its depths, a colossal, demonic figure was hurled downward—its obsidian wings torn and flames spiraling in its wake. The earth quaked with every second of its descent.
Jackeal fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what was unfolding. His destiny was no longer a distant vision—it was here, and it was real.
From the abyssal storm, a deep, malevolent laughter echoed—cold and mocking—as Lucifer plummeted toward his prison, unaware that his fall was only the beginning of something far worse.
---
As the last echoes of infernal laughter faded, Jackeal's body convulsed, suffused with burning, celestial energy. His veins glowed with radiant mana as an ancient, commanding voice whispered through the storm:
"Rise, chosen one... your time has come."
To be continued...