The world was broken.

Kael Ardyn stood at the edge of a cratered wasteland, the ashen sky swirling with unnatural storms. Black clouds churned overhead, crackling with red lightning that split the sky in jagged arcs. The air smelled of sulfur and rot, and the ground beneath his feet trembled with the weight of unseen horrors lurking beyond the horizon.

This place—whatever it had once been—was now a scar upon reality, warped by Chaos.

Kael gripped his holy sword, Celestiarum, the blade's faint light casting long shadows across the desolate landscape. His armor, once gleaming with golden sigils of the Pantheon, was now scarred and bloodied, each crack and dent a testament to endless battle.

He stood alone.

The ruins of a once-great civilization lay scattered in the distance—collapsed towers, shattered statues, and broken altars to gods long forgotten. Wind howled through the rubble, carrying with it the whispers of the dead.

There was no one left to save.

Kael's steel-gray eyes scanned the horizon, searching for movement. He had been hunted for days—weeks, perhaps—but time had lost meaning in this forsaken land.

'How far have I fallen?'

Once, he had led armies in the name of the Pantheon. He had stood before kings and gods, a beacon of faith and strength, unwavering in his duty as an Apostle.

Now, there was only silence.

A distant rumble drew his attention.

From the cracked earth beyond the ruins, a shadowed figure emerged, towering and grotesque. Its twisted form writhed with chaotic energy, shifting between shapes—a humanoid figure one moment, a serpentine beast the next.

Behind it, more figures crawled forth from the abyssal depths. Horrors born of Chaos, their forms defying logic and sanity. Some resembled warped beasts, others were shapeless masses of limbs and eyes, their very presence a blight upon reality.

The lead figure's voice boomed, resonating across the wasteland like a chorus of broken screams.

"Kael Ardyn… Apostle of a dead faith. How long will you run?"

Kael stood his ground, raising Celestiarum. The sword's light flickered, but it held, a defiant spark against the encroaching darkness.

"I do not run," Kael said, his voice steady. "I endure."

The creature's many eyes blinked in unison, its mouth curling into a gruesome grin.

"Endure? Is that what you call this?" It gestured to the desolate landscape around them. "Your world is gone. Your gods have abandoned you. You stand alone at the end of all things."

Kael took a slow step forward, the earth cracking beneath his boots. "The gods do not abandon. Their will endures through me."

The creature chuckled, a sound like shattering glass. "Ah, yes. Faith. Such a quaint notion. Tell me, Apostle, how does it feel to cling to faith when there is no one left to hear your prayers?"

Kael ignored the taunt. His grip on Celestiarum tightened as he advanced, his gaze never wavering.

"I do not pray for mercy," he said. "I pray for strength. And I will fight until my last breath."

The Chaos horrors surged forward, their twisted forms moving unnaturally across the broken landscape. Clawed limbs and gnashing teeth came at Kael from all sides, a maelstrom of madness and death.

Kael met them head-on.

His blade cut through flesh and shadow, each strike leaving trails of holy fire in its wake. The abominations screamed as they fell, their warped bodies burning to ash beneath the sword's divine light.

A beast with six legs and a twisted maw lunged at him. Kael sidestepped, bringing Celestiarum down in a clean arc, severing the creature's spine.

Another monster—a winged aberration with tendrils of bone—dove toward him. Kael raised his shield, deflecting its strike before spinning to deliver a fatal blow.

For every monster he felled, more took their place.

Kael fought with the grace and precision of a warrior who had seen countless battles, his movements honed by centuries of experience. Yet, even he could feel the strain of the endless fight.

His breathing grew labored, and his steps slowed.

The creature that had spoken—the Chaos God's herald—watched from afar, its form ever-shifting, never staying still for more than a few moments.

"You cannot win, Kael Ardyn," it said, its voice laced with amusement. "Even now, your gods remain silent. Do you not hear it? The silence of the Pantheon?"

Kael raised Celestiarum, pointing the blade toward the creature.

"The gods are never silent. Their light endures."

The creature hissed, its eyes narrowing. "Foolish to the end. But no matter. You will fall, just like the rest of your kind."

Kael took another step forward, ignoring the pain that wracked his body. His armor was cracked and bloodied, but he held himself with dignity, like the king he once was.

'This is not the end.'

His faith remained unshaken, even as he faced impossible odds.

"I am Kael Ardyn," he whispered to himself. "Apostle of the Pantheon. Last King of Eredhyn. Faith is eternal."

The Chaos horrors surged again, and Kael stepped into the fray once more.

His sword sang with divine fire. His shield held against the onslaught. And though his body weakened, his spirit remained unbroken.

For he was the last light of his world, and he would fight until there was nothing left to fight for.

The storm of Chaos raged around Kael Ardyn, but he did not falter.

Monsters surged toward him, a tide of twisted abominations born from madness. Clawed limbs, jagged teeth, and formless shadows—all of them lunged for the last Apostle of the Pantheon.

Kael stood alone, surrounded by ruin. His body was battered, his armor cracked, but he remained upright. His sword, Celestiarum, glowed faintly with holy light, its brilliance dimmed by the oppressive darkness.

One by one, he cut them down. His blade moved with precision, each strike purposeful, guided by centuries of training. But even Kael, as skilled and unyielding as he was, knew that this battle would not end in victory.

There were too many.

The horde would never stop.

His arms trembled from exhaustion, his breaths came in ragged gasps, and the light of his sword flickered like a dying flame.

In the distance, the herald of Chaos loomed—a shifting, grotesque figure, ever-changing in form. Its many eyes watched Kael with amusement.

"You cannot endure forever, Kael Ardyn," it said, its voice a chorus of twisted screams. "You are the last. There is nothing left to fight for."

Kael's grip on Celestiarum tightened.

"I fight for the gods," he said quietly. "I fight because they endure through me."

The herald sneered. "The gods have abandoned you. Can you not hear it? Their silence. Their absence."

Kael did not answer.

Instead, he raised his sword once more, stepping forward into the fray.

The Chaos horde surged again. Kael met them head-on.

His sword flashed, cutting through shadow and flesh. He spun, blocking a clawed strike with his shield before delivering a killing blow to a beast that screeched in agony.

For every monster he felled, two more took their place.

Blood dripped from the cracks in his armor, staining the broken ground beneath him.

He fought with the grace of a warrior who had long accepted death.

'I will not fall here. Not yet.'

As Kael turned to face another wave of attackers, the sky above him split open.

A crack of golden light pierced the storm, blinding in its brilliance. The monsters recoiled, screeching as the divine light burned their twisted forms.

Kael looked up, his heart pounding in his chest.

The light grew stronger, widening into a rift in the sky. It shimmered with holy energy, unlike anything he had seen before. The power of the gods poured through it, but it felt… distant. Faint. As though the gods themselves were struggling to reach him.

And then, the voice of the Pantheon echoed in his mind, filled with sorrow and love.

"Kael Ardyn… our beloved child."

Kael's breath caught. His chest tightened with emotion he had long suppressed.

"You have not abandoned me," he whispered, his voice trembling.

The gods' voice, distant but unmistakable, resonated through the ruins.

"We could not save your world. But we will not lose you."

Kael fell to one knee, exhaustion finally catching up with him. His sword slipped from his grasp, and for the first time in centuries, he allowed himself to grieve.

"My people… my knights… all of them… gone."

The light from the rift pulsed gently, as if mourning with him.

"They are with us now, beyond the veil."

Kael closed his eyes, tears streaking down his bloodied face. His entire life had been devoted to protecting his kingdom, his people, and the gods he served. And now, all of it was gone.

The Chaos herald howled in rage, its form twisting violently.

"You dare interfere?!" it screamed. "This world belongs to us! He is ours!"

Kael opened his eyes, staring at the herald with unwavering resolve.

"You are wrong," he said softly. "I belong to the gods."

The light from the rift grew stronger, enveloping Kael in a warm, golden glow. He felt the gods' presence surround him, comforting and familiar.

"We could not guide you before. But now, we will send you away. To a world beyond this one. You will endure, Kael Ardyn. You will live."

Kael's heart ached. "And what of you?"

The gods' voice softened. "We remain. But we are far from you now. You must walk your path alone."

Kael bowed his head, tears mingling with the blood on his cheeks. "I will not fail you."

"You never failed."

The light consumed him, pulling him upward into the rift.

As Kael was lifted from the broken land, he whispered one final prayer.

"For Eredhyn. For the gods."

.

.

.

The rift carried Kael through the void—a realm of endless nothingness.

There was no sound. No air. No time. Only silence and light.

Kael drifted through the void, his body weightless, his mind detached from reality. He had no sense of how long he had been there. Hours? Days? Centuries? It was impossible to tell.

Occasionally, he saw visions flicker through the light—memories of his fallen world.

He saw the knights he had led into battle. The Grail Knights, Paladins, and Templars who had fought by his side. He saw the faces of the people he had sworn to protect.

All of them, gone.

'Faith is eternal.'

Kael repeated the words to himself like a mantra, anchoring himself in the endless void.

'I am Kael Ardyn. Apostle of the Pantheon. I will endure.'

And so he drifted. For how long, he did not know.

Eventually, the light began to shift.

Kael's eyes opened, and for the first time in centuries, he felt the pull of gravity.

The rift split open once more, spilling golden light into a snow-covered mountain range.

Kael fell from the sky, crashing into the icy ground with a dull thud. His armor cracked further, and he gasped for breath, his body aching from the strain of centuries in the void.

Snow crunched beneath him as he tried to rise, his vision blurred and his thoughts disoriented.

'Where… am I?'

The air was cold, biting at his exposed skin. He could hear the whistle of the wind and the distant sound of voices.

Kael staggered to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him. His sword, Celestiarum, lay half-buried in the snow.

As he bent to retrieve it, he saw figures approaching in the distance. They were dressed in strange armor, their weapons unfamiliar.

One of them—a woman with sharp eyes and a sword strapped to her back—raised her hand, signaling for the others to stop.

"Identify yourself!" she called out.

Kael blinked, his mind racing to process the foreign language. It sounded strange, but familiar enough to understand.

Slowly, he straightened, gripping Celestiarum tightly.

"I am Kael Ardyn," he said. "Apostle of the Pantheon and the Last King of Eredhyn."

The woman exchanged glances with her companions, confusion and unease etched on their faces.

Before Kael could say more, his legs gave out, and he collapsed into the snow.

As darkness overtook him, one final thought lingered in his mind.

'The gods have sent me here. But why?'