Chapter 3: Vengeance Upon Zerath the Butcher
The cold wind howled over the ruined city of Varthun, its once-proud walls shattered, its streets soaked in blood. Fires still smoldered in the remnants of homes, their embers glowing dimly beneath the twilight sky. The air carried the stench of death, a reminder of the massacre that had taken place.
Kael Atris stood at the edge of the ruined fortress, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He had seen his people slaughtered, his home burned, and his family taken from him. All of it—because of Zerath the Butcher, a warlord of Zerathia, who had led his monstrous warriors in a ruthless assault upon Varthun.
But fate had not abandoned Kael.
As he kneeled among the ruins, the heavens themselves answered his pain. A golden sigil burned into the ground before him, radiating divine power. And from it, ten figures descended from the skies—the Four-Winged Heavenly Soldiers, sent by Castellion Arisium himself.
The Heavenly Soldiers
They were unlike anything Kael had ever seen. Each stood nearly eight feet tall, clad in radiant armor that gleamed like the morning sun. Their four mighty wings spread wide, shimmering with celestial energy. Their eyes burned with divine judgment, and their hands wielded swords, spears, and halberds forged from pure light.
One of them stepped forward, its voice like thunder and silk.
"Mortal, you have been chosen," it declared. "By the will of Castellion Arisium, you shall bring judgment upon the wicked."
Kael felt an overwhelming force flow through his body—a power unlike any mortal should wield. He had been granted a divine gift, a blessing from the celestial god himself.
"I accept," Kael said, his voice firm, his heart burning with vengeance.
The heavenly soldiers raised their weapons. "Then we march to war."
The Hunt for Zerath the Butcher
Zerath the Butcher had taken refuge in a ruined fortress deep in the Blackfang Highlands, surrounded by his horde of monstrous warriors—beastmen, raiders, and bloodthirsty savages who worshipped war itself.
Normally, no single warrior could face such an army.
But Kael Atris was no ordinary warrior.
Empowered by the divine, he now held a unique ability: the power to absorb the essence of his enemies, their mana, their strength—everything they were, he could take into himself.
As the ten heavenly soldiers descended upon the fortress, the battle began.
The Battle of Blackfang Fortress
The enemy soldiers barely had time to react before divine light engulfed them.
One heavenly soldier swept its halberd, and a thousand warriors were torn apart in an instant. Another raised its hand, unleashing a storm of radiant spears that impaled hundreds more. Divine fire rained from the sky, burning the wicked to ash.
Kael rushed forward, cutting down his foes with newfound speed and strength. Each enemy he struck down, their essence flowed into him, their mana becoming his own. He felt himself growing stronger with every life he took.
The Zerathian warriors screamed in terror. Their battle cries turned into desperate pleas for mercy—but none would be given.
Facing Zerath the Butcher
Deep within the ruined fortress, Zerath the Butcher stood waiting.
He was a massive figure, standing nearly nine feet tall, his body covered in ritual scars. His armor was made from the bones of his enemies, and his weapon—a colossal war axe—dripped with the blood of a hundred battles.
Zerath let out a deep, guttural laugh as Kael approached.
"So, the last survivor of Varthun has come to die?" he sneered. "You think your little army of winged freaks can save you?"
Kael said nothing. He simply stepped forward, his eyes glowing with divine power.
Zerath roared and charged, swinging his massive axe with enough force to shatter stone. Kael dodged, moving faster than any human should be able to. He countered with a slash, his blade cutting deep into Zerath's side—only for the warlord to shrug it off.
"Not bad, whelp," Zerath growled, wiping away the blood. "But not enough!"
He struck again, but this time Kael caught the axe mid-swing. Power surged through his body—he had already absorbed the essence of hundreds of warriors. He now had the strength of an entire army within him.
With a single motion, Kael ripped the axe from Zerath's hands and drove his own blade deep into the warlord's chest.
Zerath gasped, his monstrous strength failing him. For the first time in his life, he felt fear.
Kael leaned in, whispering into his enemy's ear.
"This is for Varthun."
And with that, he absorbed Zerath's essence, taking all of his power. The Butcher's body crumbled into dust, his soul devoured by Kael's ever-growing strength.
A New Beginning
As the fortress fell silent, Kael turned to the remaining Zerathian warriors.
They dropped their weapons in terror, kneeling before him.
"Mercy, Lord Kael!" they pleaded. "We will serve you!"
Kael looked down at his hands, now burning with divine energy. He had been granted a power unlike any mortal before him—a power that could reshape the world itself.
The first step of his journey was complete.
But this was only the beginning.