The Death Grim... also known as the Black Reaper.
With every step he took, destruction unfolded. Terror followed.
Though his army trailed behind, he needed no support—he was the army.
He spread his wings, a monstrous dragon, and soared toward the Kingdom of Thoms.
Above the peaceful land, the sky turned black.
He opened his jaw and rained fire upon homes and castles—obliterating them instantly.
All who lived were turned to ash.
From a distance, Milda watched in horror. She realized the terror had finally arrived.
But then—he saw her.
Paralyzed by fear, she stood frozen. For a heartbeat, time stopped.
Then instinct took over—she bolted toward the basement, hiding behind a wooden door, trying not to breathe.
THUD. THUD.
The Reaper's heavy footsteps shook the ground.
He sniffed the air.
> "I don't see you… but I sense you."
His voice—low, growling, otherworldly—crept like a blade into her bones.
For Milda, it was a nightmare.
It wasn't just hide and seek—it was hide and seek with death itself.
The air reeked of burning flesh. Blood. Fear.
> Reaper: "Where is the Chosen Warrior? Tell me… or I'll destroy everything. I'll kill everyone."
His dragon voice was slow, cruel, and echoing. Milda trembled behind the door.
Then a call rang out through the skies.
> Lyoth's voice: "Destroy and burn everything."
The Reaper couldn't disobey.
From the distance, the dark army approached. Creatures once human—now immortal murderers—torn by shadow.
The Reaper took to the skies again.
He spewed flames like molten lava, rolling destruction over the kingdom—including Milda's last hiding place.
Soldiers stormed in, slaughtering the innocent.
Children. Elders. All wiped out under the banner of darkness.
The Valley of Norms—once proud and free—now lay abandoned, dead.
The brave were gone. Only ashes remained.
The Reaper landed beside Lyoth, his claws cracking the stone beneath.
> Reaper: "The only reason I let you live… is because you killed that arrogant fool 2000 years ago."
> Lyoth (smirking): "And the only reason I don't kill you… is because you're weak. A shadow clinging to old flames."
They were born of the same dark origin—two monsters forged in shadow.
> Reaper: "The kingdom is gone. But where is the blade?"
> Lyoth: "They've sent it far away. And the warrior too. The blade's presence is vanished. They're hiding it from us."
He turned to his army.
> Lyoth (commanding): "Destroy every last piece of this land. Burn it all. Then come to me. Reaper—lead them. Bring me the Black Sword.
Soon… the Master will awaken."
The Reaper let out a terrifying roar.
It echoed across mountains, piercing spines with dread.
Then—he flew off, a black comet of death, to burn whatever remained.
___
On the Otherside
The sun rose gently. A clear sky spread overhead.
The world looked untouched, unaware of the horror growing.
Aron awoke slowly. His shoulder still broken and braced with a wooden stick.
His fingers and head, once injured, were nearly healed.
He stood and walked outside.
The scenery stunned him.
Green fields stretched endlessly. Butterflies danced in the air. Mountains loomed peacefully in the distance.
He took a deep breath—
Cold. Pure. Beautiful.
For the first time in forever… he felt peace.
He walked to the lake's edge and sat on a wooden chair.
He dipped his feet into the cool water.
It was calm. Healing. Alive.
He smiled.
> Aron (to himself): "Is this… what they call freedom?"
A breeze swept across the lake. His hair moved gently in the wind.
Behind him—Bart approached.
> Aron (smiling): "Oh Bart, you're here. I didn't see you when I woke up. Where were you?"
> Bart (hesitant): "I was out… getting herbs. And some erjin leaves."
His expression was uneasy. He was hiding something.
> Aron: "Sit down, man. The weather's amazing. I never imagined I'd sit in such peace. So this… this is what freedom feels like?"
> Bart (quietly): "Yes… it is."
He knelt beside Aron and gently unwrapped the bandages from his head and fingers.
> Bart: "You've healed up fast. Told you the herbs would work."
Aron cleaned his hands and face in the lake water.
> Bart: "Only your shoulder remains. A week more with herbs and you'll be ready."
> Aron (grateful): "Thank you, Bart. If you hadn't helped me… I wouldn't be here."
> Bart: "It's alright. You've got a long road ahead, kid. A lot to face. But first—you'll need to get the blade from the cave."
> Aron (determined): "I will. But… Bart—what about the war? My father? The army? It's been four days. Can you check for me?"
Bart's face darkened.
He looked away.
> Bart (hiding sorrow): "I will. Tomorrow, you can come too if you want."
Inside, his heart broke.
How do I tell him his father and mother are gone? That the kingdom is no more?
> Aron (smiling): "Tomorrow then. Finally… I'll get to see my mother after four days."
He sat peacefully, soaking in the sunshine, unaware of the chaos ahead.
Bart stood quietly and walked back toward the house.
---
Far Away... A Fleeing Flame
The sound of hooves pounding dirt.
Vince rode hard, gasping.
Behind him—children clung to life. They hadn't eaten in days.
Finally, the sea emerged—endless and blue.
A sign of hope.
The horse stopped. Everyone climbed down.
Near the beach stood a broken house—damaged, but shelter nonetheless.
Vince looked at it. Then at the sky.
> Vince (to himself): "Aron… you have to live, my brother."