Chapter 1: Betrayal in the Throne Room

The great hall of Arkanor Palace blazed with the flicker of torches and the glint of gold. The air hummed with tension as Kael Ardentis, the Eternal Overlord, stood atop the dais overlooking his council. His long, obsidian cloak billowed lightly, a symbol of his absolute authority, as the murmurs of his generals and advisors echoed around the room.

Tonight should have been a night of triumph. The empire Kael had forged with blood and brilliance stretched across realms. His enemies whispered his name with fear, and even the gods seemed to bow to his will. Yet, beneath the surface of glory, an undercurrent of unease twisted in his gut.

"Your Grace, the northern front has reported victory," General Haden announced, his voice steady but lacking the usual fervor. "The rebels have been crushed."

Kael's sharp, crimson eyes scrutinized Haden, who stood rigidly at attention. There was no celebration in his tone, no pride in his stance. Kael had ruled for decades, his mastery over both strategy and people unparalleled. He could read loyalty—or the lack thereof—with unnerving precision.

"Victory," Kael repeated, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "And yet, you do not seem eager to bask in it, General."

Haden's jaw tightened, his gaze flickering toward the others in the room. Kael's advisors stood silent, their faces shadowed by the flickering torchlight. Something was wrong. 

Before Kael could speak again, the great doors of the hall creaked open. A figure stepped inside—a woman cloaked in silver, her face partially obscured by a veil. It was Lysara, Kael's most trusted advisor and confidant. Her beauty was matched only by her cunning, and for years, she had been his right hand in matters of court and war.

"My lord," she said, her voice like silk. "I bring troubling news," the other declared. 

Kael's gaze drove into her. "Speak."

A faint, nearly invisible trace of a smile creased Lysara's lips. "The trouble lies... here."

One word, and it had unleashed chaos. 

Steel was drawn before Kael had time to react. The guards retained their focus on him, weapons pointed at the high-ranking figure. The generals, his supposed allies, stepped back, their hands on their hilts. Even that poised demeanor of Lysara twisted into something cold and malicious.

Kael's instincts flared, his body tensing as his crimson eyes narrowed. "What is the meaning of this treachery?"

Haden stepped forward, sword drawn and glinting. "You've ruled long enough, Kael. The empire deserves more than one man's iron grip."

Kael's laugh was dark, bitter, it echoed through the hall. "And you think you can rule it better, Haden? You, who trembled before me not so long ago?"

"We think the empire will thrive without your tyranny," Lysara said, her voice sharp and mocking now. "Your reign ends tonight." 

Kael clenched his fists, the flames of the torches within the room raging brighter from the power welling in him. Tension swelled in the air as a crimson aura began coiling around him. 

"You overestimated yourselves," Kael growled, the voice a low rumble. "I am the Eternal Overlord. You dare challenge me?"

In short, it hung there like a thundercloud, but before Kael could pronounce his wrath, sharp, searing pain pierced his side. He staggered back, bottoming out at the sight of the blade deeply plunged into the abdomen. The wielder was one of his own guards sworn to loyalty by him. He twisted the blade cruelly. 

Kael's power went away, browed red aura glowed lesser. He turned to face the room full of betrayal in the cast of every face facing him. Bloodied he floored, yet his gaze flickered defiantly.

"You... will regret this," he spat, hissing acrid venom in his voice.

But the traitors did not relent. They swarmed him, their blades finding flesh despite his desperate attempts at summoning his magic. Lysara watched from a distance, her smile growing with each ragged breath for every time Kael fell to his knees.

As his vision faded and grew dim, Kael's mind raced. How had he been blind-sided? How was it that the empire he built had turned so completely against him? His power, his legacy-everything was slipping away from him.

Lysara came close and knelt beside him. "You were grand, Kael," she said, almost pitifully. "But even the greatest must fall."

With the last surge of his energy, she caught her wrist while his gory hand smudged on her white skin. "This... isn't the end," he rasped. "I will return. And when I do... there will be no mercy."

For the briefest moment, her face broke, then she pulled her hand away. "Goodbye, Kael." 

As he drove the final nail into his coffin, a blade was pushed to his heart. Darkness enveloped him, and the last thing he could hear was their laughter.

---

Kael woke, and there was silence. 

It was as if darkness had put a weight on him, and it was not like he was inside his body. The air itself had a strange chill which suggested that he was not within Arkanor but in some damned place. Through the black abyss, a mere flickering glimmer of red vein pulsed, illuminating the shadowy figure that loomed before him.

"You should have died," said the dark-and-guttural voice of the figure before him. "But the Abyss does not intend to allow that."

Kael tried to lift himself up, his body weak and alien; "What ... what is this place?"

"The Eternal Abyss," he said. "A second chance. It is not without cost."

A hallmark of Kael's presence was searing pain as the figure reached with his hand and darkly sigiled its imprint on his chest. Power coursed through him, raw and without formality, yet ominous.

"And this curse will give you strength," said the figure, "but will eat you if you fail to be careful. Stand, Kael Ardentis, and recover what hath been stolen from you."

Kael balled his fists. His crimson eyes shone once again. His voice, steady, contained cold determination. 

"I will rise. And they shall pay."

The wrath of any overlord is not something the mortals can comprehend, not to mention of the eternal one... though, not anymore.