Salson, Sabrin, and Brihan stood shoulder to shoulder, a silent pact forming in the air between them. Each extended their right arm, the gesture mirroring the others, and with a unified clench of their fists, they declared, "From this day forward, we will become stronger!" Their voices, though distinct, resonated with a shared determination.
Sabrin, her gaze firm, added, "I will return to the Executor's headquarters. I will seek out my father, Saruth, and implore him to train me, to unlock the dormant power of my Equilibrium." A flicker of resolve danced in her eyes.
Brihan, a hint of remorse coloring his tone, continued, "I will make the journey back to the elven kingdom. I will find my father, Rhon, and beg his forgiveness for my impulsive departure. I will ask him to train me, to push my Elf Dive to its absolute limit."
Salson, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow, concluded, "I... I don't yet know the path I will take. But one thing is certain: when our paths converge once more, we will be forces far greater than we are today."
With heartfelt farewells exchanged, the trio dispersed, each embarking on their solitary journeys. Salson, on the verge of stepping out of the dense forest, was arrested by the sound of feminine voices drifting down from above.
"Did you see, sister?" one voice, laced with a hint of awe, remarked. "He has grown so strong! To defeat a demonic regent..."
"Indeed," the other voice replied, a note of profound understanding in its tone. "Now that he has absorbed the very cores of those three demonic regents, the path to becoming the king of the underworld, the sovereign of all demons, lies open before him."
Salson's head snapped upwards. Perched on the thick branches of an ancient tree were two figures, strikingly similar yet distinctly colored. One possessed skin the hue of rose petals, the other a cool, captivating blue. They were mirror images in their attire – sleek black dresses with short, flaring skirts – and both adorned small, elegant black horns. Their hair was as dark as night, contrasting sharply with their vividly colored eyes, which mirrored the shade of their skin.
The pink-skinned demon woman spoke, her voice carrying a strange familiarity. "We two were once the advisors to the former ruler of the kingdom of Saxasol, Saland, your very own ancestor. My name is Shatly," she gestured to her counterpart, "and this is my sister, Ari. We have watched over you since your birth, and now, we are here to guide you, to teach you how to wield the power of a demon king. The power of the Regent of Wrath, as you have already experienced, amplifies your physical strength and the destructive force of your attacks. The power of the Regent King of War, as you witnessed in your battle against Mophis, grants you a boost in physical prowess and speed, and allows you to command an army of demons – though your potential far exceeds that. And then there is the power of the Regent of Precision, enabling swift and unerring strikes. The confluence of these powers... they will make you the king of demons."
Suspicion clouded Salson's features. "Why should I place my trust in you? I do not know you. Yet..." A flicker of desperation crossed his face. "...as things stand, you are the only ones who might possess the means to make me truly stronger."
Ari stepped forward on the branch, her blue eyes piercing. "Follow us, young one, and you will ascend to heights of power you cannot yet imagine. You will become many times stronger than you are now."
Despite the nagging unease in his gut, a sliver of hope propelled Salson. He nodded slowly. "Alright," he conceded, "I will follow you."
The two demon sisters descended gracefully and led Salson through the deepening twilight until an ancient, imposing castle loomed into view. Its stone walls were weathered and worn, whispering tales of forgotten ages.
"This," Shatly announced, gesturing towards the formidable structure, "is the old castle of the kingdom of Amalor. Saland once resided within these very walls, and it is here that you will hone your burgeoning abilities to their sharpest edge."
Salson gazed at the castle, a sense of destiny settling upon him. "Very well," he said, a newfound resolve hardening his voice. "I will place my trust in you."
Meanwhile, in the heart of the Saxasol Empire, nestled between two towering mountain ranges, lay the magnificent capital city of Prinance. At its very center stood an opulent castle, the seat of Emperor Kapard's power. Within the grand throne room, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, Emperor Kapard sat upon his gilded throne. Six elegantly dressed women plucked soothing melodies from golden harps, their music weaving through the air. Beneath the throne, a vast crimson carpet stretched across the polished stone floor.
Emperor Kapard, clad in a stark black military uniform accented by a flowing red cloak, rested his chin upon his fist, a picture of utter boredom. His blond hair shone in the dim light, and his red-pupiled eyes held a distant, restless gleam. The tranquility of the moment was shattered by the hurried entrance of a messenger, who bowed low before the throne.
"My Emperor," the messenger announced, his voice trembling slightly, "your humble servant brings grave tidings."
Kapard waved a dismissive hand. "Speak your piece."
The messenger continued, his voice gaining a somber weight, "A few days past, beyond the mountain near Glocury, a fierce battle took place. In that conflict, the dark mage Locren met his end."
The words struck Kapard like a physical blow. He shot to his feet, his boredom instantly replaced by a volcanic fury. "Who?! Who dared to strike him down?! I demand their head!"
The messenger stammered, "It was... it was the daughter of the Commander of the Executors, Sabrin. With her were also the son of the elven king, Brihan, and the wanted criminal responsible for assaulting three Imperium. This last individual... he absorbed the final two cores of the demonic regents. As for Locren... his body was not recovered. We believe he was utterly incinerated."
A chilling silence descended upon the throne room. Then, Kapard's voice, cold and sharp as shattered ice, cut through the stillness. "Summon everyone. Prepare a general audience with all the people of the empire. I will declare war upon the Executors and the elven kingdom!"
The wheels of war began to turn swiftly. Preparations were made, and Kapard, now clad in gleaming golden armor over a crimson tunic, ascended to the grand balcony of his castle. Below, the populace of Prinance had gathered, their faces a mixture of confusion and apprehension. Throughout the vast empire, giant holographic monitors flickered to life, broadcasting the Emperor's image to every corner of his domain.
Kapard's voice, amplified by unseen magic, boomed across the land. "I, Kapard, stand before you today to deliver a grave pronouncement. The Executors and the elven kingdom have revealed themselves as traitors to the empire! From this day forth, every member of the Imperium will be dedicated to the great purge of these betrayers! Furthermore," his voice hardened, "starting tomorrow, any individual suspected of harboring allegiance to the Executors or the elves will face immediate execution unless they make haste towards the eastern territories of the empire. Those who remain loyal to me will stay within the capital or join the ranks of the Imperium to fight by my side! This is not merely a conflict; it is a declaration of civil war!"
A wave of shock rippled through the assembled crowd. Fear ignited in their eyes, and a mass exodus towards the eastern lands began. Those who remained in the western territories lived under a suffocating blanket of dread.
The combined territories of the Executors and the elves paled in comparison to the vast expanse of the Imperium. Recognizing this strategic disadvantage, Saruth made a swift decision. He issued a call, summoning every Executor scattered throughout the empire to the eastern stronghold. He also opened his borders, offering sanctuary to the streams of refugees fleeing the Emperor's wrath. Saruth and Rhon, united in their opposition, formally declared their alliance, naming it the "Anti-Emperor Force," and the first shots of the devastating conflict were fired.
The initial month of the war descended into a tense stalemate, neither side gaining a significant advantage. In the second month, Saruth's forces managed to breach the imperial lines in a daring offensive, but their gains were short-lived as they were eventually pushed back with heavy losses. The third month witnessed a brutal counter-attack by the Imperium, resulting in a tragic loss of civilian lives. However, the swiftness and martial prowess of the elven warriors managed to drive back the imperial forces, preventing a complete rout.
Five long months had passed since the eruption of the civil war, and Emperor Kapard's initial fury was beginning to curdle into a dangerous impatience. The protracted conflict was testing his resolve, and the whispers of discontent within his own ranks were starting to reach his ears. The stage was set for a dramatic escalation.