Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: The Awakening Of Despair

Chapter 2: The Awakening

The cries of the crowd swirled through the ruined square, a storm of hatred and fear. They had gathered in droves, faces twisted with malice, clutching stones and torches, eager to watch their "hero" fall. At the center of it all, the hero hung suspended, his arms stretched wide by chains anchored to jagged stone pillars. The runes etched into the chains glowed faintly, pulsating with a sinister light designed to suppress even the faintest spark of magic. His once-proud form, now beaten and bloodied, slumped under the weight of betrayal and despair.

The firelight danced over his face, illuminating fresh wounds that joined the scars of a thousand battles. His body was a tapestry of war, each mark a story of survival against impossible odds. Yet none of those scars pained him as much as the betrayal that had placed him here.

Standing at the forefront of the crowd was Chancellor Alden, a thin man whose sharp features were made all the more menacing by the self-righteous grin on his lips. Alden had been one of the first to rally the people against the hero. "The beast in human skin," he had called him. "A devil hiding behind scars and false valor."

It was Alden's voice that rang out now, cutting through the jeers of the mob. "Behold your so-called savior!" he declared, his words laced with venom. "The monster who brought ruin to our enemies, yes—but at what cost? He has become the very thing he fought against: a beast! A demon in human form!"

The hero's head tilted upward at the words. His piercing eyes, though dulled by exhaustion, still burned with defiance. "And who," he rasped, his voice raw from days of torture, "was it who begged that beast for salvation when your kingdom burned?"

Alden's smile faltered, but only for a moment. "And we are grateful," he replied smoothly, "but gratitude does not excuse the danger you represent. You are too powerful, too... unnatural. Your very existence threatens the balance of this realm. You must be... removed."

As Alden turned to address the crowd once more, the hero's gaze drifted downward, to where the faint outline of his grimoire rested against his chest, hidden beneath the tattered remains of his armor. The Beast Grimoire—or so he had believed it to be—felt heavier than it ever had before. It pulsed faintly, almost as if it had a heartbeat of its own, and in the silence of his mind, he thought he heard a voice.

"They betray you. They fear you. Do you not see the truth?"

The hero's breath hitched. He had heard whispers from the grimoire before, fleeting and indistinct, but this was different. The voice was clearer, louder, and it carried a weight that sent a shiver down his spine.

"They call you a beast. Then become one. Show them the power they fear. Show them the truth of their betrayal."

"No," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if to banish the voice. "I won't... I can't."

But the grimoire was relentless. "You fought for them, bled for them, and this is your reward? Chains. Betrayal. Hatred. Unleash me, and they will kneel before you."

The crowd quieted as Alden raised a hand. "People of Velaris," he proclaimed, "tonight we rid ourselves of this threat once and for all. Let it be known that this is not an act of cruelty, but of necessity. For the safety of our kingdom, for the future of our children, this monster must be destroyed!"

A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd as a hooded figure stepped forward, carrying a ceremonial blade etched with ancient runes. The blade, known as the Severance Fang, was said to sever not only the body but the soul, ensuring that even the most powerful beings could never rise again.

The hero lifted his head, his jaw tightening as the hooded figure approached. He felt the grimoire's pulse quicken, its whispers growing louder, more insistent.

"They will kill you. They will erase you. But I can save you. Let me in."

"No," he whispered again, his voice trembling. "I... I can't..."

But as the hooded figure raised the blade, a wave of memories crashed over him—the battles he had fought, the comrades he had lost, the faces of the people he had saved, now twisted in hatred. And then he saw her—Aria, the one person who had believed in him, who had fought by his side until the very end. He had lost her, too, in the war. Her voice echoed in his mind, a faint whisper: "Don't lose yourself... no matter what..."

The blade descended. In that instant, time seemed to slow. The crowd held its breath, the torches flickering as if the air itself hesitated. And then—

BOOM.

The chains shattered, a shockwave of dark energy erupting from the hero's body. The hooded figure was thrown backward, the Severance Fang clattering to the ground. The hero fell to his knees, his chest heaving as the grimoire pulsed wildly against him, its whispers now a roar.

The crowd recoiled, fear overtaking their anger. "What... what is happening?" someone whispered.

The hero's hand moved almost unconsciously, reaching for the grimoire. As his fingers touched its rugged surface, he felt a surge of power unlike anything he had ever known. The beastly cover burned away, revealing something far darker beneath—a surface of blackened leather inscribed with crimson runes that seemed to writhe and shift like living things.

The grimoire opened on its own, pages flipping wildly until they stopped at a single spell, glowing with an eerie red light.

"Gates of Hell Open."

The hero's voice, low and broken, echoed across the square as he read the words inscribed on the page. "If they see me as a devil... then so be it."

The ground beneath him began to crack, fiery light spilling from the fissures. The sky darkened, the moon turning a deep crimson as a deafening roar echoed from somewhere far below.

The grimoire's voice laughed, triumphant and unrestrained. "Yes... YES! Let the heavens tremble and the earth fall. Let them see what their fear has wrought!"

The crowd screamed as a massive gate began to rise from the ground behind the hero, its surface covered in writhing chains and glowing sigils. From within the gate came the sounds of countless voices—screams, roars, and cruel laughter.

The hero's eyes, now glowing with an unearthly light, locked onto Alden. "You wanted a monster," he said, his voice resonating with power. "You'll have one."

And as the gates began to creak open, the first of Hell's beasts stepped through—a massive, shadowy hound with glowing red eyes. The crowd scattered, their cries of terror swallowed by the growing roar of the infernal tide.

To Be Continued...