The saga continues. King Charles—once known as Jack—sat in his dimly lit war room, a thick cloud of cigar smoke swirling around him. His cold, calculating eyes scanned the digital map before him, where five nations pulsed like targets on a predator's radar.
He took a slow drag, exhaled, and then spoke with chilling precision.
"Nuke them. One by one."
The silence in the room was suffocating. His generals exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared to question him.
"And when the dust settles," he continued, tapping the ash off his cigar, "we loot their treasuries. Every last coin."
The weight of his words hung in the air like the calm before a storm. The countdown had begun—the world was about to witness its reckoning.
The world stood still as every leader, from the richest nations to the smallest territories, received the same encrypted transmission. Screens flickered to life in war rooms, parliaments, and palaces. The face of King Charles appeared—calm, ruthless, unstoppable.
A slow drag of his cigar. A cold exhale. And then, his voice echoed across the globe.
"We are leading to the end of the world."
Silence. Fear gripped every leader, every official, every person watching.
"Five nations have fallen. Their wealth is mine. Their lands are wastelands. Now, the choice is yours." He leaned forward, his piercing gaze drilling into the souls of those listening. "Obey, and you might survive. Resist, and you burn next."
The world had two options: kneel before a king or be erased from existence.
Every screen in the world broadcasted his message. The leaders of nations, military generals, and even the common people watched in frozen terror as King Charles exhaled a cloud of smoke, his expression unreadable.
His voice was calm, yet it carried the weight of an executioner's final verdict.
"I give you one year." He paused, letting the words sink in. "One year to kneel before me... or I will simply erase you."
The world listened, breathless. But then, his tone darkened, his eyes gleaming with something far more terrifying than power—certainty.
"And if any of you dare to stand against me, to challenge my reign, to fight..." He smirked, flicking the ash from his cigar. "You will never know what I am about to awaken."
A shiver ran through the world's most powerful rulers. Was it a weapon? A force beyond human comprehension? Or something far worse—something no one was prepared to face?
The countdown had begun. One year. And the world had no idea what nightmare awaited.
On the other side of the world, amidst the smoldering ruins of what was once a thriving kingdom, Daniel stood motionless. His city was nothing but ash and rubble, his people scattered—dead or dying. Smoke choked the air, and the once-proud banners of his kingdom lay tattered in the dust.
He had lost everything. His army, his people, his home.
And worst of all—William Shakespeare was gone.
The great mind, the poet, the man who had once inspired hope with words, was now lost to the fire of war.
Daniel dropped to his knees, his hands shaking as he clenched the dirt beneath him. His heart pounded with grief, anger, and something darker—a void where hope once lived.
King Charles had taken everything.
For the first time, Daniel felt what true defeat was. He was nothing now—a broken king with no kingdom.
Or was he?
As the wind howled through the ruins, something stirred within him. A whisper, a thought, a seed of something dangerous.
Maybe hope was gone.
But vengeance? Vengeance was still alive.
Kneeling in the ruins of his fallen kingdom, Daniel clenched his fists, his nails digging into his skin. The fires of war still burned around him, but the fire inside him burned hotter. His father's last words echoed in his mind—a promise, a duty, a destiny.
He looked up at the darkened sky, his voice a whisper but filled with unshakable resolve.
"I swear, Father... I will fight him alone."
The wind carried his vow through the wreckage, past the graves of his people, through the silence of a world too afraid to stand.
"King Charles will fall by my hands."
This was no empty promise. This was fate.
Daniel had lost everything. Now, he had nothing left to lose
As Daniel swore vengeance, a deep, commanding voice echoed behind him. He turned to see King Ravindra, standing amidst the ruins, his eyes filled with sorrow and pride.
"I know your destiny, son." Ravindra's voice carried the weight of centuries. "We will not stop you. This is your fight. It is time to end the war that has raged for 600 years."
He stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Daniel's shoulder. "But you will not go unarmed."
With a motion of his hand, the ground rumbled beneath them. Stone shifted, revealing an ancient vault—sealed away for generations. Inside lay legendary weapons, crafted for kings. But one treasure mattered above all.
The Serpent Eyes.
Ravindra reached for an ornate box at the heart of the vault, his hands steady as he lifted its lid.
Then—a sharp gasp.
The box was empty.
The Serpent Eyes were missing.
A cold silence filled the chamber. Daniel's breath quickened. His father's expression darkened.
"Impossible…" Ravindra muttered. "They were sealed here for centuries."
Daniel clenched his fists. If the Serpent Eyes were gone, then someone had taken them. And there was only one man ruthless enough to wield their power.
King Charles.
The war was no longer just about revenge. It was now a race against time.
A heavy silence filled the vault as Daniel stared at the empty box. His mind raced, but his resolve remained unshaken. The Serpent Eyes were missing—but they would not remain lost forever.
He turned to his father, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him.
"If I need your help, I will send my message through Nikola."
King Ravindra nodded, understanding the weight of his son's words. Nikola, the last remaining guardian of their ancient knowledge, would be the bridge between them if the battle required more than just Daniel's strength.
Daniel clenched his fist and took a deep breath. "I swear on my kingdom," he declared, his voice echoing through the ruins, "the Serpent Eyes will not fall into the wrong hands."
The war was far from over. But now, it wasn't just about avenging his people—it was about ensuring that true power did not fall into the hands of a tyrant.
And for that, he would fight to his last breath.
As the sun dipped below the ruins of his fallen kingdom, Daniel stood tall, his determination unshaken. The time had come.
He donned his armor—a relic of his ancestors, forged in fire, tempered in war. The metal gleamed under the dying light, carrying the legacy of those who had fought before him.
Before setting out, he walked through the sacred halls where the last warriors and monks of his people remained. Each of them, battle-worn yet unwavering, stood in silent respect as he passed. One by one, they stepped forward, offering him a piece of their strength.
A warrior placed an ancient blade in his hands. "This sword has drawn the blood of tyrants. Let it taste vengeance once more."An elder monk pressed a talisman against his chest. "May it guard your soul against the darkness that lies ahead."A blacksmith gave him a gauntlet, etched with runes. "This will not break, no matter the force. Let it be the fist that shatters your enemy."A healer tied a red cloth around his arm. "A reminder—no wound, no loss, no pain can break the will of a true king."Nikola stepped forward last, handing him a single golden feather. "If the path darkens, let this guide you back to the light."
With every gift, Daniel felt the weight of his people's hopes, their prayers, their unspoken words. He was no longer just a warrior—he was their last chance.
As he stepped beyond the ruins, his heart burned with one unshakable truth.
This war would end. And King Charles would fall.
As Daniel prepared to leave, the last figure stepped forward—Miyamoto Musashi, the legendary swordsman who had fought a thousand battles and never lost. His eyes, sharp as a blade, studied Daniel with quiet respect.
Without a word, Musashi removed his own samurai helmet, an artifact of honor, discipline, and unyielding strength. He held it out with both hands.
"This helmet is for the warrior who fights not for himself, but for his people." His voice was steady, filled with the weight of centuries. "And you, Daniel… you are the rising sun. Go, take our vengeance, and end this war."
Daniel bowed deeply, accepting the helmet with both hands. As he placed it over his head, he felt something shift within him—as if the spirits of warriors past now marched beside him.
With the blessings of all who remained, he turned and climbed onto his mount—a great saber-toothed beast, its golden eyes burning with the same fire that now fueled him.
Without hesitation, he rode forward, straight into the swirling energy of the ancient portal.
The kingdom faded behind him.
The final battle had begun.
On the other side of the world, deep within the White House, King Charles sat in his grand chamber, surrounded by his most trusted advisors. The air was thick with cigar smoke, the glow of digital war maps casting eerie shadows across the walls.
Then, the heavy doors creaked open. A figure, cloaked in darkness, stepped forward. The guards tensed, but Charles simply exhaled a slow breath of smoke, his eyes narrowing.
The stranger moved without hesitation, reaching into the folds of their coat and pulling out a small, ancient artifact—the Serpent Eyes.
A twisted smirk crept onto Charles's lips. "So, you have it."
The figure stepped into the dim light, finally revealing their face. It was no ordinary thief, no common spy.
It was none other than [famous historical spy—suggest a name].
Their reputation was legendary—a master of deception, a ghost that history had never truly erased. And now, they had brought King Charles the final key to ultimate power.
The world had no idea what had just been unleashed.
In the grand chamber of the White House, King Charles leaned back in his chair, exhaling a thick cloud of cigar smoke. His advisors stood motionless as the heavy doors creaked open.
A figure stepped forward, shrouded in a dark robe. The room fell into silence as the presence of the stranger commanded attention. King Charles smirked. He had been expecting him.
The man slowly removed his hood, revealing his ancient, calculating eyes—a gaze that had witnessed the rise and fall of empires. His face, though aged, carried the weight of wisdom and deception.
It was Chanakya.
The legendary strategist of the Maurya Empire. The man who had built the first great spy network. A mind sharper than any blade. And now, he stood before King Charles—not as a guardian of knowledge, but as the one delivering the Serpent Eyes.
Without a word, he reached into his robes and produced a small, ancient box. The moment he placed it on the table, a dark energy pulsed through the room. The Serpent Eyes were no longer missing.
King Charles leaned forward, his fingers tracing the box's edges. His smirk widened.
"So, even you, the great Chanakya, have chosen power over fate," he said, his voice filled with amusement.
Chanakya's eyes did not waver. "Power is neither good nor evil, Charles. It belongs to the one who knows how to use it."
King Charles let out a low chuckle. "Then watch as I reshape the world."
The Serpent Eyes had returned—but in the hands of the most dangerous ruler in history.
The countdown to the end of the world had begun.
As King Charles ran his fingers over the Serpent Eyes, a twisted grin spread across his face. Victory was within his grasp. Power beyond imagination was his to command.
But as he basked in his triumph, Chanakya turned to leave. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, echoing through the vast chamber. Just as he reached the towering doors, he paused.
Without looking back, he spoke—his voice calm, yet carrying the weight of prophecy.
"Beware, Charles. The warrior of your death is awake... and he is coming for you."
A chilling silence followed. The words hung in the air like an unbreakable curse.
For the first time, King Charles' smirk faltered.
Before he could respond, Chanakya stepped into the shadows and disappeared. The doors swung shut behind him, sealing the moment in history.
King Charles exhaled, shaking off the unease creeping into his mind. "Let him come," he muttered, gripping the Serpent Eyes. "Let him try."
But deep inside, a cold whisper of doubt had taken root.
The battle wasn't over.
It was only just beginning.
As Chanakya's warning faded into silence, King Charles rose from his seat. With a slow, deliberate motion, he shed his suit, letting it fall to the ground.
Stepping into his hidden chamber, he donned the robes of an ancient king, fastening his battle cloak and placing his crown upon his head. The weight of history settled over him, his reflection in the mirror revealing not a politician, but a ruler reborn.
Sinking into his throne, he smirked, gripping the armrest.
"I was always meant to rule. And now… I will rule again."
As King Charles donned his ancient robes and crowned himself once more, the world trembled. But a king does not rule alone—he needed an army, and not just any army.
From the depths of history, he called upon the most feared warlords, conquerors, and tacticians ever known.
At his side stood Genghis Khan—the brutal Mongol warlord who had crushed empires beneath his horsemen's charge. His eyes burned with the hunger for conquest once more.
Beside him, Napoleon Bonaparte adjusted his military coat, a smirk on his face. "The world underestimated me once," he muttered, "it will not happen again."
Behind them, a towering figure loomed—Vlad the Impaler, the real-life inspiration for Dracula, a master of psychological terror. He ran a gloved hand over his blade, whispering, "Let them know fear before they die."
From the shadows emerged Julius Caesar, the greatest tactician of Rome, his mind sharper than any sword. "Divide and conquer," he said coldly, "as I have always done."
Finally, standing apart from the rest, a silent yet deadly force—Alexander the Great, the man who never lost a battle, the one who once ruled the known world. He adjusted his armor, eyes locked onto the future. "One world, one ruler," he murmured.
King Charles surveyed his army—an unstoppable force of history's greatest warlords, strategists, and tyrants. He smirked, gripping the Serpent Eyes.
"The world belongs to us now."
And with that, the march for total domination began.
As King Charles and his army of resurrected warlords marched forward, their first destination was South Mexico—a land steeped in ancient power and dark mysteries.
There, in the heart of the dense, mist-covered jungles, they sought out Fray Tomás de Torquemada, the infamous Grand Inquisitor of Spain—the most feared and ruthless monk in history.
Torquemada, once the architect of the Spanish Inquisition, had burned thousands in the name of power. His cruelty knew no limits, his faith twisted into a weapon of terror. And now, he had been waiting, drawn by the call of the Serpent Eyes.
Inside the ruins of an ancient Mayan temple, the air crackled with dark energy as Charles approached the old monk, who sat in silence, his piercing gaze locked onto the glowing artifact.
"You seek to unlock its true power?" Torquemada's voice was raspy, yet filled with malice.
King Charles smirked. "I seek to rule the world."
The monk chuckled, his eyes gleaming. "Then let the serpent awaken."
As he reached out his skeletal fingers, a dark ritual began—one that would twist fate itself.
As the storm raged above the ancient Mayan temple, the air grew thick with a dark, pulsating energy. King Charles, Genghis Khan, Napoleon, Vlad, Caesar, and Alexander stood in a perfect circle around Fray Tomás de Torquemada, the twisted monk who now held the Serpent Eyes in his trembling hands.
The ritual had begun.
Torquemada chanted in a forgotten language, his voice echoing through the ruins. The ground trembled, the sky darkened, and the Serpent Eyes began to glow, their eerie light casting long shadows across the warlords' faces.
The moment was near.
Suddenly, Torquemada stopped. His sunken eyes met Charles's, a cryptic smirk creeping onto his face.
"You believe this power will bend to your will?" The monk's voice was eerily calm. "You are mistaken."
A sudden gust of wind tore through the temple, and the Serpent Eyes pulsed violently, as if resisting the ritual itself. A presence was awakening—something beyond Charles, beyond time, beyond all of them.
Torquemada took a step back, his tone shifting from confidence to something darker. **"If you awaken it, Charles… understand this—it will be your rule… or his."
For the first time, King Charles felt something cold creep up his spine.
A force older than empires had stirred.
And now, the battle for true domination had only just begun.
As the ritual ended, King Charles clenched his fists, his mind racing. Torquemada's words lingered in the air—"It will be your rule… or his."
For the first time, doubt crept into his thoughts.
The Serpent Eyes pulsed violently, as if something inside was resisting, awakening. This was no ordinary power—it was alive.
King Charles made a decision. They had to get rid of it.
The Journey to the Bermuda Triangle
With urgency, Charles and his army sailed toward the Bermuda Triangle, the most cursed and mysterious place on Earth. The ocean churned violently as they neared its heart, an unnatural storm brewing over the black waters.
As they reached the exact coordinates, the Serpent Eyes glowed brighter, almost as if it knew what was coming. The air crackled with unseen energy, whispers slithering through the wind.
Charles stood at the edge of the ship, the artifact in his grip, its power fighting against him.
The Drop
Torquemada watched from the shadows, a knowing grin on his face.
"Do you think you are destroying it?" the monk murmured. "Fool. You are only setting it free."
With a final push, King Charles hurled the Serpent Eyes into the depths of the ocean.
The moment it touched the water, the sea turned blood-red. The skies cracked with a deafening roar. The ship trembled violently.
Something had been awakened.
From beneath the waves, a monstrous golden eye flickered open. The ocean itself had begun to move.
Charles took a step back, heart pounding. Had he just made the biggest mistake of his life?
As King Charles and his army turned their ship away from the Bermuda Triangle, a deep silence filled the air. The ocean, which had once raged in defiance, now lay eerily still.
But something was wrong.
Behind them, the water did not settle. Instead, small ripples began to form—then grew. Slowly, they merged into rising waves, moving with a force that was unnatural.
Torquemada stood at the edge of the deck, watching with a twisted grin. "It has begun," he whispered.
The ship creaked as a low, rumbling sound echoed from beneath the waves—a sound not of this world. The sky above them darkened, the clouds spiraling into an abyss.
Napoleon clenched his fists. "What have we unleashed?"
Genghis Khan, usually fearless, narrowed his eyes at the horizon. The ocean itself seemed to breathe.
Then, in the distance, a single massive wave began to rise—slowly, steadily, unnaturally. It wasn't just water. It was a force awakening from the abyss.
King Charles tightened his grip on his sword, his voice steady, but his mind racing.
"We need to leave. Now."
As they sailed away, the wave grew higher and higher, its peak disappearing into the storm-filled sky. Something was rising. Something ancient. Something unstoppable.
And it was coming for them.
africaChatGPT said:The Awakening Begins
As King Charles and his warlords fled the cursed ocean, the storm behind them grew, and the waves kept rising. Whatever they had awakened was no longer sleeping.
Meanwhile, on the Other Side of the World…
Far from the chaos of the Bermuda Triangle, Daniel's sabertooth mount leaped through a swirling portal and emerged into the dense, untamed jungles of Africa.
The moment its massive paws touched the ground, it let out a deep growl, sensing something unseen in the thick mist surrounding them.
Daniel dismounted, his armor glinting under the faint light that pierced through the jungle canopy. His journey had begun.
But he was not alone.
The jungle was alive—not with just animals, but with whispers, movement, and shadows that seemed to watch his every step.
He gripped his sword tightly, his mind focused. He had a mission—to find the lost warriors who could stand against King Charles.
But before he could take another step, a chilling voice echoed from the darkness—a voice he had not heard in centuries.
"You finally came, Daniel. We've been waiting."
From the shadows, figures began to emerge—warriors long thought dead.
The battle for the future had already begun.
As Daniel turned around, his breath caught for a moment. Standing before him was no ordinary warrior—he was facing the strongest fighter in history.
A towering figure, muscles carved like stone, eyes burning with the fire of countless battles. His aura alone felt like an unstoppable force.
It was Shaka Zulu.
The legendary African warrior-king, the master of warfare, the undefeated conqueror. His spear gleamed in the dim jungle light, and his battle scars told stories of victories that shaped empires.
He studied Daniel for a moment before speaking in a deep, commanding voice:
"You walk into my land with the scent of war upon you. Are you here to conquer... or to fight for something greater?"
Daniel clenched his fists, meeting his gaze without fear. "I have come to stop a tyrant. And for that, I need the strongest warriors in history."
Shaka Zulu smirked, gripping his spear tighter. "Then prove you are worthy... or die where you stand."
The jungle fell silent. The fight was about to begin.
The Battle of Titans
Daniel nodded without hesitation. If he was to stand against King Charles and his army of warlords, he had to prove himself against the strongest.
Shaka Zulu spun his spear, the air around him shifting with his raw power. Daniel drew his sword, his stance firm, his eyes locked onto his opponent.
Then—they clashed.
The jungle exploded with movement as the two warriors moved at impossible speeds. Shaka's spear struck like lightning, forcing Daniel to dodge with precise footwork. Daniel countered with heavy sword swings, each one met by Shaka's masterful defenses.
For three hours straight, they fought with relentless fury.
Blades clashed. Trees fell. The ground cracked beneath them.
Both warriors refused to fall. Sweat dripped from their faces, their breaths heavy, but their eyes burned with determination.
Finally, in a single decisive moment, Daniel feinted a sword strike, dodged Shaka's counterattack, and delivered a powerful blow to his chest—sending him crashing into the ground.
The jungle fell silent.
Daniel stood victorious.
Shaka Zulu, breathing heavily, looked up at him. Then, he smiled.
"You have proven yourself, warrior. You do not fight for yourself, but for something greater."****"Very well... I will stand with you."
He rose to his feet, gripping Daniel's forearm in respect.
"Now, let us gather the others. A war is coming."
The March Toward Destiny
With Shaka Zulu by his side, Daniel had taken the first step in assembling the greatest army in history. The warriors of the Zulu Nation, fierce and battle-hardened, gathered behind them. Their spears glinted under the sunlight, their war cries echoing through the jungle.
But their mission had just begun.
"Where do we march, Daniel?" Shaka asked, his fierce eyes scanning the horizon.
Daniel gazed ahead, his mind set. "To the North Pacific Ocean. A war unlike any before is coming, and we need more warriors to stand against King Charles."
Shaka smirked. "Then we march with the storm at our backs."
The Journey Begins
The Zulu warriors moved swiftly, covering vast lands as they traveled north. They crossed deserts, rivers, and mountains, their army growing as more warriors from lost tribes and fallen kingdoms joined their cause.
As they reached the coastline, ships awaited them—mighty vessels built for war.
Daniel stood at the bow, watching the vast ocean stretch before them. The air was heavy, as if fate itself was preparing for the greatest battle in history.
Somewhere beyond those waters, King Charles and his warlords were readying their own forces.
The battle for the world had begun.
The Rise of the Ultimate Army
Daniel and Shaka Zulu's forces set sail, their warships cutting through the restless waves. Their mission was clear—to gather the greatest warriors and strategists from every corner of history. The world was on the brink of destruction, and only an army of legends could stop it.
1. India – The Unbreakable Shield
As they docked on the shores of ancient India, they ventured deep into the land of warriors. There, Daniel sought out Raja Raja Chola, the great conqueror and naval commander.
Alongside him stood Maharana Pratap, the fearless Rajput warrior who had never bowed to an empire, and Chhatrapati Shivaji, the master of guerrilla warfare.
With India's warriors and their unmatched battle tactics, Daniel's army gained immense strength.
2. England – The Masters of Warfare
Their journey then took them to medieval England, where the battlefield was ruled by legendary knights and kings.
They found King Arthur, the wielder of Excalibur, and Richard the Lionheart, the crusader king. Alongside them stood Horatio Nelson, the admiral who had crushed empires at sea.
With England's warriors and naval strength, Daniel's army became unstoppable by land and water.
3. Antarctica – The Frozen Mystery
The next voyage was unlike any other. They sailed to the icy wastelands of Antarctica, a place untouched by time.
There, in the endless blizzards, they uncovered an ancient lost civilization, warriors who had adapted to the deadliest conditions on Earth. Their leader, Erik the Red, the ruthless Viking explorer, stepped forward.
"If you dare to fight against gods," Erik said, gripping his axe, "then the fury of the North shall fight with you."
4. Russia – The Unbreakable Fortress
Their final stop was Russia, the land of iron-willed warriors who had survived against all odds.
Here, they met Alexander Nevsky, the Grand Prince who had crushed invaders with sheer tactical brilliance. Ivan the Terrible, a ruler feared for his brutality, vowed to bring his wrath against King Charles.
And in the shadows, a man stepped forward—Grigori Rasputin, the mystic who whispered secrets of fate and power. "There are forces beyond your understanding at play," he warned Daniel. "Be prepared for the unexpected."
The Army is Complete
Daniel stood before his army—a force made of history's strongest warriors, the sharpest minds, the most unbreakable spirits.
They had gathered warriors from every continent, every empire, every forgotten legend.
And now, they turned their eyes toward the final battle.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, King Charles and his resurrected warlords were waiting.
The war for the world was about to begin.
The Call for Brutality – The Vikings Join the War
As Daniel stood before his mighty army, he felt something was missing. They had warriors, strategists, and fearless leaders, but they needed raw brutality—fighters who knew only battle and blood.
Daniel turned to his commanders and declared:
"We need warriors who do not fear death. We need Vikings."
Shaka Zulu smirked, gripping his spear. "Then we sail north—to the land of thunder and war."
The Viking Recruitment – The Wrath of the North
Their ships cut through the freezing waters of the Scandinavian fjords, the home of the fiercest warriors ever known—the Vikings.
As they landed, a mighty horn echoed through the mountains. The sky darkened as storm clouds gathered, and from the forests and cliffs, hordes of Viking warriors emerged.
Leading them was Ragnar Lothbrok, the legendary Norse king and raider. Beside him stood Bjorn Ironside, his fearless son, and Ivar the Boneless, the ruthless tactician.
The Vikings studied Daniel and his army, their eyes burning with curiosity.
Ragnar Lothbrok stepped forward, gripping his axe. "You come to the land of Odin, asking for warriors. Tell me, stranger—what war are you fighting?"
Daniel looked into his eyes, unwavering. "The war to end all wars. We are fighting a tyrant who seeks to rule the world."
Bjorn Ironside chuckled. "A tyrant? We've burned empires before. What makes him so dangerous?"
Daniel unsheathed his sword. "He has awakened something beyond human comprehension. And if we don't stop him, there will be no world left to fight for."
A heavy silence fell. Then, Ivar the Boneless grinned.
"A battle worthy of the gods… Now that excites me."
Ragnar smirked and raised his axe. "Then let the ravens fly. The Vikings will fight."
The entire Viking army roared like thunder, their war horns shaking the heavens.
Now, Daniel had the most brutal warriors in history by his side.
The world was ready for war.
The Awakening of the Unknown
As Daniel assembled his army of legends, the Bermuda Triangle was no longer silent. The ocean roared with unnatural rage, the skies above it cracked with lightning, and the waters churned as if something ancient—something beyond human comprehension—was about to rise.
In the heart of the storm, the sinister monk stood beside King Charles, his eyes glowing with dark knowledge.
He turned to Charles and whispered, "The world you seek to rule will soon be reshaped. Something is waking... something even you cannot control."
King Charles smirked, unfazed by the warnings. He stood atop the White House, now turned into his war throne, his golden robe flowing in the wind.
With a cigar in one hand and a nuclear launch key in the other, he looked at the world map and made his final decision.
"Erase them."
The World Burns
In an instant, missiles launched from hidden silos, submarines, and stealth bombers. One by one, countries vanished under the blinding light of nuclear fire.
America, Russia, England, France, China, Japan, Germany—every major power was obliterated. Cities turned to dust, empires crumbled in an instant, and the world plunged into chaos.
But one country stood untouched.
India.
Why India?
As the world burned, Charles' generals turned to him in confusion. "Why did you spare India, my lord?"
Charles exhaled a long puff of smoke and smirked. "Because the final war will be fought on its land. That is where fate will be decided."
The monk beside him grinned darkly. "Then prepare yourself, Charles. Because whatever is awakening beneath the Bermuda Triangle… it is coming for you, too."
As the storm in the Bermuda Triangle reached its peak, something enormous began to rise from the depths. The ocean trembled, the sky darkened, and the earth itself seemed to shudder.
The final war was coming.
The Hidden Warrior
While the world burned under King Charles' nuclear wrath, India stood as the last untouched land, the final battleground where destiny would unfold.
Here, Daniel's army of legendary warriors trained day and night, preparing for the inevitable war. Shaka Zulu drilled his warriors in spear combat, Maharana Pratap and Shivaji honed cavalry tactics, and Ragnar Lothbrok taught the art of brutal raiding.
But one thing was missing.
Daniel.
Where Was Daniel?
Unbeknownst to his warriors, Daniel had disappeared. Some feared he had fallen, others believed he had abandoned them. But the truth was far more profound.
Daniel had gone into hiding—not out of fear, but for preparation.
Deep in the uncharted lands of the Himalayas, he had taken refuge in a forgotten monastery, one that held the secrets of ancient warriors.
Here, he trained in complete isolation, pushing his body and mind beyond human limits. He had already gathered the greatest fighters in history—but to defeat King Charles, he needed to become something more.
The monks who resided there whispered of an ancient power hidden within the mountains. A forgotten technique that could rival the force of the Serpent Eyes.
And Daniel was determined to claim it.
The War Looms
As his army trained without their leader, whispers of his return spread through the camps. Some believed he had abandoned the cause, but those who truly knew him understood—Daniel was not missing. He was evolving.
And when he returned, he would not just be a warrior.
He would be a force beyond war itself.
The Final War Begins
As the world stood in ruins, two unstoppable forces prepared to collide.
King Charles, now seated on his war throne in the ruins of Washington D.C., received news from his spies. Daniel and his entire army were in India. A wicked grin spread across his face.
"So, the rats have gathered in one place. Good."
He turned to his warlords—Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, Ivan the Terrible, and Erik the Red.
"Summon the legions. We march to India. Let the world witness its final war."
Shaka Zulu Prepares for Battle
Meanwhile, deep within the fortified lands of India, Shaka Zulu stood atop a watchtower, his piercing eyes scanning the horizon.
His messengers had brought the same news—King Charles was coming.
Shaka stepped forward, raising his legendary spear high into the air. "Warriors of history! The enemy approaches! We fight not for power, not for land, but for the survival of the world!"
Maharana Pratap, Shivaji, Richard the Lionheart, Ragnar Lothbrok, and Ivar the Boneless stood beside him, their armies ready. Vikings, Samurai, Rajputs, Spartans, and Zulu warriors all gathered as one unstoppable force.
The sky darkened. The ground trembled. The fate of the world rested on this battle.
And yet, Daniel was still missing.
Where Was Daniel?
Far away, hidden deep within the Himalayas, Daniel's training had reached its final stage.
The monks who trained him **revealed the ultimate secret—**a technique that not even the Serpent Eyes could counter.
As he stood on the mountain peak, the storm around him raging, Daniel opened his eyes. His transformation was complete.
With a single step, he vanished into the wind.
The warrior had returned.
And the final war… was about to begin.
The Battle Begins—But Daniel Is Still Missing
The Legion of War Ground trembled under the weight of the two greatest armies in history. On one side, King Charles' unstoppable force, led by Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, Ivan the Terrible, and Erik the Red. On the other, Shaka Zulu's alliance of legends—Maharana Pratap, Shivaji, Richard the Lionheart, Ragnar Lothbrok, and Ivar the Boneless.
The war horns roared. The sky turned black with smoke and fire.
But Daniel… was still missing.
The Battle Without Its Leader
Shaka Zulu knew they couldn't wait any longer. He raised his spear high and shouted, "Warriors of the world—charge!"
With a deafening roar, the battle erupted.
Spartans clashed with Mongols.Samurai faced Viking berserkers.Rajputs and Zulu warriors tore through enemy lines.Cavalry thundered across the battlefield, arrows rained from the sky, swords clashed, shields shattered.
King Charles stood at the back, watching his army rip through the battlefield. "Daniel is too much of a coward to show himself," he sneered. "Finish them."
Shaka Zulu's forces fought with unmatched ferocity, but without Daniel, they were being pushed back.
Where was he?
The Awakening in the Himalayas
Far away, deep in the Himalayas, Daniel sat in complete stillness inside a hidden temple. The ancient monks had unlocked his final test—a battle not of strength, but of the mind.
His body was in meditation, but his spirit was elsewhere—facing the darkness of time itself.
And then… his eyes snapped open.
The mountain winds howled. The ground beneath him cracked.
Daniel had awakened.
His body flickered out of existence.
And in the next moment—
He was gone.
The Battlefield in Chaos
The Legion of War Ground was drowned in blood, fire, and war cries. Both armies clashed with equal strength, neither side giving an inch.
Shaka Zulu led his warriors with unmatched precision, cutting through enemy lines like a storm.Genghis Khan and Alexander the Great commanded their forces with ruthless strategy, holding the battlefield in a perfect deadlock.Maharana Pratap and Ragnar Lothbrok fought side by side, leading charges that shook the ground beneath them.Ivar the Boneless, cunning as ever, ambushed enemy battalions, while Erik the Red tore through ranks with brute strength.
Swords clashed. Shields shattered. The sky was filled with arrows and fire.
Yet, there was no victor.
Both armies were locked in a battle of equals. The fate of the world remained undecided.
Daniel Rides to War
Far from the battlefield, Daniel stood atop the icy cliffs of the Himalayas, gazing toward the distant war. The winds howled around him, but he was unfazed.
He raised his hand.
A low growl echoed through the mountains. Then—a beast emerged from the shadows.
His Sabertooth Tiger.
The great feline warrior, its fur shimmering under the moonlight, bowed its head to its master. Daniel leaped onto its back, gripping its thick mane.
He took one last breath. His eyes burned with purpose.
Then, without hesitation—
Daniel and his Sabertooth vanished into the storm, racing toward destiny.
The battlefield awaited.
The war was about to change.
The Battlefield Shifts—King Ravindra Joins the Fight
The war raged on, steel clashing against steel, warriors from every era locked in a brutal deadlock. Neither side was winning.
And then—the earth trembled.
From the eastern horizon, a new army stormed onto the battlefield. Their banners soared high, their war drums roared louder than thunder.
King Ravindra had arrived.
With an army of battle-hardened warriors, he marched straight into the chaos, uniting his forces with Shaka Zulu's alliance.
"No more waiting! No more games! We end this war today!" King Ravindra bellowed as his soldiers surged forward like an unstoppable wave.
His warriors ripped through Charles' forces, pushing them back. The balance of power shifted.
And then—without hesitation—King Ravindra marched directly toward Charles.
The Ruthless Duel—King vs. King
King Charles, still seated on his war chariot, watched as Ravindra advanced through the battlefield, cutting down everything in his path.
He smirked. "Finally… a worthy opponent."
Charles descended from his throne, drawing his legendary sword. He stepped forward to meet Ravindra head-on.
The battlefield seemed to pause. The two kings locked eyes.
Then—they charged.
Steel met steel as the greatest duel of the war began.
The world watched as King Ravindra and King Charles clashed in a battle of pure skill and fury. Every strike sent shockwaves through the field. Every parry was a display of mastery.
But this was not just a fight for power—this was vengeance.
The war raged around them.
Yet, one question remained—where was Daniel?
The Clash of Kings—A Battle 600 Years in the Making
The battlefield was drenched in blood and chaos, but all eyes turned toward the two kings.
King Charles and King Ravindra stood face to face.
The world had waited six centuries for this moment.
Charles smirked, his grip tightening around his sword. "You coward," he spat. "You left the battlefield 600 years ago. And yet, here you stand before me today—unarmed, unworthy, and already defeated."
Ravindra remained firm, his gaze unshaken. "I left to ensure this war would have an end. And today, Charles, I end you."
Charles chuckled darkly. "You should've stayed in the shadows. Because today, I will finish what I meant to finish 600 years ago."
Without another word, he lunged.
The Duel Begins
Their swords met with a deafening clash. The force of their strikes sent a shockwave across the battlefield, knocking soldiers off their feet.
Charles attacked with sheer brutality, his strikes meant to break rather than kill.Ravindra countered with deadly precision, each movement flowing like a storm.
"Your kingdom is nothing! Your warriors are weak! Surrender, and I might let you die with honor!" Charles roared, swinging his blade with monstrous force.
Ravindra blocked, pushing back against the impact. "A king never surrenders. And you, Charles, will never rule."
Charles growled. "Then DIE!"
He struck again, and the battlefield around them seemed to disappear. It was only the two of them now.
The past. The hatred. The war.
One king would fall.
But the battle was far from over.
The Turning Point—Daniel Returns
King Ravindra fell to the ground, blood dripping from his wounds. He gasped for breath, his vision blurring.
King Charles towered over him, his sword raised high, ready to strike the final blow. "This is the end, Ravindra," he sneered. "You fought well, but history only remembers the victor."
As Charles swung his sword down—
A powerful kick slammed into his chest.
Charles was launched off the ground, sent flying across the battlefield. He crashed into the dirt, rolling several times before finally stopping.
A silence fell over the battlefield. The soldiers on both sides froze.
A figure stepped forward.
Daniel.
His eyes burned with rage, his armor gleamed under the blood-red sky, and his hands gripped his sword with unshakable fury.
He looked down at Ravindra and said, "Rest, father. This fight is mine now."
Charles staggered to his feet, coughing, his eyes widening in shock. "You… you're alive?"
Daniel stepped forward, his voice cold and sharp. "You thought you could kill my bloodline and walk away?"
He raised his sword, pointing it at Charles. "Today, Charles, you face your reckoning."
The battlefield erupted in whispers. The war was not over.
It had just begun.
The Final War—Chaos Unleashed
The battlefield erupted into madness.
The armies of Charles and Daniel clashed with full force—blades clashed, war cries echoed, and the ground trembled beneath the weight of history's greatest warriors.
Shaka Zulu led his warriors in ruthless combat, tearing through enemy ranks with precision.Genghis Khan and Alexander the Great commanded from the front, executing deadly flanking maneuvers.Maharana Pratap and Erik the Red fought side by side, cutting down every foe in their path.
Blood soaked the earth. The sky burned with fire and ash.
The Duel of Kings—Daniel vs. Charles
In the heart of the battlefield, two figures stood apart from the chaos.
Daniel and King Charles.
Both warriors locked eyes, their hatred spanning across time.
Charles wiped the blood from his lips, smirking. "You are nothing but a boy playing hero. Do you really think you can defeat a KING?"
Daniel twirled his sword in his hand, his stance unshaken. "You're no king, Charles. You're just a man hiding behind fear. And today, I bury your rule in the dirt."
Charles roared and charged.
Daniel met him head-on. Their swords clashed, creating a shockwave that sent dust and debris flying.
Charles fought with brute strength, swinging his sword like an executioner.Daniel countered with speed and precision, dodging and striking with deadly accuracy.
The battle was merciless. Neither man held back. Each strike was meant to kill.
"You should have stayed dead, Daniel!" Charles growled, slamming his sword down.
Daniel blocked, pushing him back. "I came back to end you!"
The world around them blurred.
There were no more armies. No more war.
Just two warriors, fighting for the fate of everything.
The Awakening of Leviathan
As Daniel and Charles clashed, the battlefield trembled—but this time, it was not from their fight.
A deep, thunderous roar echoed across the sky.
The ocean beyond the battlefield began to churn violently. The waves, once restless, now rose like mountains, crashing down with fury.
And then… the sea split open.
A massive shadow emerged from the depths.
Leviathan.
The ancient beast, a titan of nightmares, had awakened. Its scales shimmered like black steel, its golden eyes burned with an otherworldly glow, and when it roared again, the very air seemed to crack.
The armies on both sides froze in terror.
Even Charles, mid-swing, stepped back, gripping his sword tightly. His voice, usually so arrogant, now carried a hint of unease. "What… what have we awakened?"
Daniel didn't answer. He simply watched as the monstrous creature rose higher, its massive body towering over the battlefield like a god of destruction.
The storm had arrived.
And the war was no longer just between men.
The Wrath of Leviathan—The Battlefield Drowns in Blood
A deafening roar shattered the sky. The air vibrated with pure terror as Leviathan surged forward.
The beast descended upon the battlefield like death itself, its monstrous form casting a shadow over the land.
Then—chaos.
Leviathan swung its massive tail, crushing soldiers—friend and foe alike.
Shaka Zulu's warriors were swept away like ants.Alexander's cavalry was torn apart in an instant.Genghis Khan's archers unleashed a rain of arrows, but the beast didn't even flinch.
The ground split beneath its weight. The sky turned black with storm clouds.
"FALL BACK!" someone screamed. But there was no escape.
Leviathan opened its colossal jaws… and devoured entire battalions whole.
Blood and steel rained down. The greatest warriors of history—reduced to nothing in seconds.
The Duel Amidst Doom
Despite the destruction, Daniel and Charles fought on.
Their swords clashed as the battlefield crumbled around them.
"THIS WAS NEVER MEANT TO HAPPEN!" Charles roared, blocking Daniel's strike. "You caused this!"
Daniel gritted his teeth. "No, Charles. You unleashed it. You played with power beyond your control!"
Another earth-shattering roar erupted. Leviathan turned its burning eyes toward them.
Suddenly, it lunged.
Both warriors leaped away, just as Leviathan's jaws came crashing down where they stood.
The war was no longer about kingdoms. No longer about power.
Now, it was about survival.
The Final Duel—A Battle on the Beast
As Leviathan raged across the battlefield, Daniel and Charles leaped onto its massive, scaled back.
The beast twisted and roared, trying to shake them off, but the two warriors held their ground—their fight was far from over.
Swords clashed under the stormy sky, each strike sending sparks flying off their blades.
Charles swung with raw power, trying to break Daniel's defense.Daniel countered with deadly speed, cutting through the gaps in Charles' attacks.
Leviathan dived into the ocean, then shot back up, sending massive waves crashing onto the burning land.
"You can't defeat me, Daniel!" Charles shouted, dodging a strike. "I was meant to rule this world!"
Daniel blocked and pushed forward, his eyes burning with fury.
"Rulers die, Charles. Legends live forever!"
The monster shook violently, nearly throwing them off.
They fought, balancing on the massive creature's shifting scales, their movements precise, their focus unbreakable.
Suddenly, Leviathan roared and opened its colossal mouth, preparing to dive deep into the abyss.
Time was running out.
One of them had to fall.
And only one would survive.
The Fall of the Warrior—Daniel's Last Breath?
As the battle raged on, Charles saw his chance.
With a powerful strike, he slammed his boot into Daniel's chest, sending him flying off Leviathan's back.
Daniel plummeted.
The wind howled in his ears. The battlefield below, once filled with warriors, was now a graveyard of the fallen.
CRASH!
Daniel slammed into the ground, his body shattering the stone beneath him. His sword slipped from his grasp, blood dripping from his mouth.
His vision blurred. Pain consumed him.
Above, Charles stood atop Leviathan, looking down. He smirked.
"You were never strong enough, Daniel." His voice echoed through the battlefield. "You thought you could stop me? You thought you could win?"
Daniel's fingers twitched, trying to grasp his sword.
His body refused to move. He was too weak.
Was this the end?
The storm raged. Leviathan roared once more.
And as Charles raised his sword, ready to end it all…
Something awoke within Daniel.
The Fall of a King—A Father's Sacrifice
King Ravindra rushed through the battlefield, his heart pounding. His warriors lay dead around him, the once-mighty army reduced to nothing but blood and ash. His eyes widened as he saw Daniel, broken and unmoving on the ground.
"My son…" he whispered, kneeling beside him. "Stay with me."
Daniel coughed, blood dripping from his lips. His vision was fading.
But before Ravindra could do anything—
A shadow loomed over them.
King Charles.
With a crazed grin, Charles leaped from Leviathan, his sword raised high.
"I've waited six hundred years for this!" he roared. "Time to erase your bloodline forever!"
Before Daniel could react—
Charles' blade struck.
King Ravindra stepped in front of his son.
A sickening sound filled the battlefield—flesh tearing, bones cracking.
Charles' sword sliced straight through Ravindra's chest, splitting him in two.
Blood splattered across Daniel's face.
Ravindra's body slowly fell apart, his lifeless eyes locked onto his son. Even in death, he had protected him.
Daniel screamed.
A scream of rage. Of grief. Of war.
Something inside him snapped.
The sky darkened. The storm roared.
And Daniel rose from the ground.
The Death of Daniel—The End of a Warrior
As the storm raged and Leviathan loomed over the battlefield, Daniel lay motionless on the blood-soaked ground. His breath was shallow, his strength fading.
Charles, standing above him, smirked.
"You were never destined to win, Daniel."
He raised his sword, the blood of kings already staining its edge. "This war ends now."
Without hesitation, Charles drove his sword straight through Daniel's chest.
Daniel's body jerked. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as the steel pierced his heart. His eyes, once filled with fire, slowly dimmed.
The hero was dead.
Silence fell upon the battlefield.
King Charles pulled his sword free and looked down at his fallen enemy.
He let out a cold laugh.
"Your bloodline is erased. Your kingdom is dust. I have won."
The storm thundered. Leviathan roared in triumph.
The world had fallen to darkness.
And no one was left to stop Charles.
The End of the War—King Charles' Ultimate Victory
The battlefield, once filled with the roar of warriors, had fallen silent.
The storm clouds above rumbled, casting an eerie glow over the land. The corpses of history's greatest warriors lay scattered—Shaka Zulu, Alexander, Genghis Khan, every legend had fallen.
Leviathan let out one final thunderous roar, then slowly sank back into the ocean, its duty complete.
Only one man remained standing.
King Charles.
Blood dripped from his sword as he walked through the field of the dead. His once-pristine robes were torn, soaked in the blood of kings.
He looked around—no one left to fight. No one left to resist.
He stood over Daniel's lifeless body, his greatest enemy now nothing but a broken corpse.
A cold smirk formed on his lips.
"You all thought you could stop me?" His voice echoed through the emptiness. "You thought history could fight against destiny?"
He raised his hands to the sky.
"I AM DESTINY!"
The wind howled. The earth itself seemed to tremble at his words.
He turned, looking at the ruins of the battlefield. The world was his now. The war was over.
And he had won.
he Final Insult—Daniel's Body Cast into the Abyss
The battlefield was silent. Only one man stood victorious.
King Charles glared down at Daniel's lifeless body, his enemy, his greatest threat—now nothing more than a corpse.
He let out a mocking laugh.
"Is this the so-called warrior who was meant to stop me?" He spat on Daniel's face. "Pathetic."
With his bloodstained hands, Charles grabbed Daniel's lifeless body by the armor, lifting it effortlessly.
He turned towards the ocean, where Leviathan waited beneath the waves.
A twisted grin spread across his face.
"You wanted to be a legend, Daniel?" Charles whispered coldly. "Legends don't rot in the ground… they drown in the abyss."
With one final act of humiliation, Charles threw Daniel's body into the ocean.
The waters swallowed him whole.
As his lifeless form sank into the depths, Leviathan slowly followed, disappearing beneath the waves.
The storm cleared. The battlefield lay in ruins.
Charles stood at the edge of the ocean, watching.
"Your story is over." He turned away, walking back to claim his throne. "Now, history belongs to me."
The war was truly over.
And King Charles ruled alone.
The Return of the Fallen—Daniel Rises
As King Charles turned away, believing his victory absolute, the ocean trembled.
A deep, guttural roar shattered the silence.
Charles stopped. The wind howled. The ground quaked.
He turned back—his eyes widening in disbelief.
From the depths of the ocean, Leviathan began to rise. Its massive form emerged from the abyss, water cascading off its ancient scales.
And standing atop its colossal head—was Daniel.
But he was no longer the warrior Charles had killed.
His wounds were gone. His body radiated an aura of power. His eyes… they glowed with an eerie golden light—the Serpent Eyes.
In his hand, he held a sword unlike any seen before. The blade shimmered, glowing with divine energy—the God Sword.
Charles took a step back. For the first time in centuries… he felt fear.
Daniel's voice echoed through the battlefield, deep and commanding:
"Did you really think death could stop me?"
The storm returned, black clouds twisting above.
Leviathan roared once more, shaking the very fabric of reality.
Daniel pointed his blade toward Charles.
"This war isn't over." His voice was like thunder. "Now, it's my turn."
Charles clenched his fists, rage and panic filling his eyes.
The final battle was about to begin.
The Prophecy Unfolds—The Rise of Kalki
King Charles staggered back, his breath unsteady. His mind refused to believe what his eyes were seeing.
The battlefield, once filled with the dead and dying, began to stir.
One by one, the greatest warriors in history—Alexander, Genghis Khan, Shaka Zulu, Miyamoto Musashi—all slowly rose to their feet.
Their wounds had vanished. Their strength had returned.
And in unison, they all did something Charles never expected—
They knelt.
Not to a king.
Not to a warrior.
But to something greater.
To Daniel.
Or rather, what Daniel had become.
Charles' hands trembled as he whispered, "No… this isn't possible…"
But deep inside, he knew. The prophecy was real.
The scriptures he had once mocked, the legends he had dismissed—they had all foretold this moment.
Daniel was no longer just a man.
He was Kalki. The final avatar. The bringer of the end.
In every culture, he had different names—the Messiah, the Mahdi, the Destroyer of Evil.
And now, he stood before Charles, his eyes glowing with divine fury.
Daniel's voice thundered across the battlefield:
"You thought you could rewrite history. But history has already written your fate."
The wind roared. The sky turned black. Reality itself trembled.
Charles clenched his fists, his face twisted in rage and denial.
"NO!" he bellowed. "I AM THE RULER OF THIS WORLD! YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!"
But Daniel only stepped forward, his divine sword gleaming.
"Your reign ends now, Charles."
The final battle—the battle of prophecy—was about to begin.
You said:daniel jumps from the head the of leviatahn and put is sword on the head of charlles
ChatGPT said:The Final Judgment—Charles' End
As the storm raged and the earth trembled, Daniel leaped from the head of Leviathan, descending like divine wrath itself.
His sword, glowing with celestial fire, aimed straight for Charles' skull.
King Charles' eyes widened in terror. He tried to move, tried to raise his sword—
But it was too late.
With a thunderous impact, Daniel's God Sword pierced straight through Charles' head.
The battlefield shook as a blinding light erupted from the blade, ripping through Charles' body. His scream of agony echoed across the heavens.
His flesh burned. His bones cracked.
King Charles—the self-proclaimed ruler of the world—was no more.
The storm stopped. The battlefield fell silent.
Daniel pulled his sword free, and Charles' lifeless body collapsed to the ground, his crown rolling away, forgotten in the dirt.
It was over.
The war had ended.
And Kalki had fulfilled his prophecy.
Darkness.
A beeping sound echoed. Faint. Repetitive. Steady.
Daniel's eyes snapped open.
Bright white lights. A hospital ceiling. His breath hitched. His body felt weak. Tubes ran into his arms. Machines beeped beside him.
He tried to move, but pain shot through his body. He wasn't on a battlefield. There was no God Sword. No war. No Charles.
Just… a hospital room.
A nurse gasped, calling for the doctor. Footsteps rushed in. A woman—his mother?—sobbed beside him.
"Oh my God… Daniel! You're awake!"
Confusion hit him like a wave. Was it all a dream? The war? The Serpent Eyes? The Leviathan? Had any of it been real?
Then, the doctor spoke. "You were in a coma for six months after the accident."
Accident? Daniel's head ached. Memories blurred. A car crash? A college trip? No battles? No legends?
His fingers twitched. Something felt off.
Then—he saw it.
The doctor's clipboard. The hospital name printed at the top.
"Serpent Eyes Medical Center."
His blood ran cold.
The screen fades to black.
To be continued…?