The castle loomed like a savage stone beast, submerged beneath a sea of restless dark clouds that never knew stillness. Here, in the heart of the "First World," where the sun was nothing but a faded memory, darkness stood as the only truth.
Silence crept through the royal corridor the moment "Nahira" approached. Her خطوات echoed with a rhythm of death and dread—the Queen of Chaos, whose very name was feared even in dreams. Yet, unlike her usual presence adorned with swords or the severed heads of enemies, she carried in her arms a white robe embroidered with obscure ritualistic patterns. At its center lay an infant, like a fragment of light trapped within an abyss of night.
The guards avoided meeting her gaze. The servants held their breath, for the queen's volatile temper could cost them their heads. But astonishment outweighed fear— their merciless mistress, who had never spared anyone, was carrying a child.
She made her way toward the eastern wing, a place abandoned by light and inhabited only by centuries of dust. With a mere flicker of her sharp eyes, an unseen wave of energy surged forth, purging the chamber of every speck of dust, as if the space itself obeyed her will before she even spoke. She placed the infant upon a cushion of soft "shadow silk" and sat, studying him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.
"Strange…" she murmured, raising an eyebrow as her eyes traced his enigmatic features. "Your power is barely measurable, like the flicker of a candle battling a violent wind. And yet… there is a weight to your presence—something that binds my will and compels me to remain."
She leaned closer, her cold breath brushing against the infant's face. She whispered to herself, her voice laced with doubt, "I am Nahira… the Queen of death and ruin… will I yield to such a trivial creature? Has madness taken hold of me?"
Suddenly, she turned toward a servant trembling behind her and spoke with a voice as cold and lethal as marble laced with venom: "Take care of him. If fever so much as touches his body… you die. If he cries and no one soothes him… you die. And if his sleep is disturbed for even a moment… burn yourselves before my flames grant you mercy. Have I made myself clear?"
The servant's forehead struck the ground in a desperate bow, his neck trembling as he cried out, "Yes, my lady! He will be treated as though he is your very soul residing in that body!"
Nahira turned to leave, but at the doorway, she paused. She did not fully turn back—only the edge of her gaze shifted. A strange sensation pierced her… longing? No—she was Nahira, and the heart within her chest was nothing more than black stone. And yet… every night, she returned. She watched him as he drifted into sleep, memorized his breaths, counted his movements. She convinced herself she was observing a future "weapon," but deep within, the seed of something greater than chaos had begun to grow.
Eight years passed, and the sky remained shrouded in that same dense black energy. In the southern courtyard of the castle, where winds howled with the echoes of the fallen, stood "Arius."
He was no ordinary eight-year-old child. His blue eyes held a terrifying depth, like an endless abyss of fracture intertwined with silent defiance. He stood before the enchanted black wall—a fortress designed to withstand even dragonfire.
He took a deep breath and felt something stir within his marrow. He whispered to himself in astonishment, "That voice… it wasn't an illusion. I can feel it… the power."
He pulled his small fist back, and in a fleeting instant, he struck.
"BOOM!"
The wall shattered as though it were glass beneath a colossal hammer. Black stones scattered through the air for several meters, and a cloud of magical dust blanketed half the courtyard. The castle trembled—and within seconds… "Nahira" was there.
She appeared from nothing, like a phantom, standing behind him in deadly silence. Her gaze moved from the ruins to the child, whose "human" traits were beginning to fade.
Arius turned, startled, trying to hide the fist that pulsed with an unnatural heat. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to destroy the wall."
Nahira did not shout. Instead, a predatory smile curved her lips—one that promised nothing good. She approached him and placed her hand gently upon his head, sending a cold shiver through his body.
"It's alright, my dear Arius…" she whispered into his ear, her tone dripping with cunning. "On the contrary… this is exactly what I've been waiting for. At last, my treasure has grown fangs."
She turned to the guards, her voice regaining its sharp, commanding edge: "Prepare the closed testing grounds. I want to see how far this metal can be melted before it becomes the sword I desire."
On an elevated platform, Nahira sat in regal dominance, with Arius beside her on his small chair padded with red fur. Below them, the "Black Arena" groaned under the weight of death.
Before Arius's eyes, five elite soldiers struggled against a massive fire-spider. Screams, blood splattering, limbs torn apart—the stench of death choked the air, while the child watched with an eerie stillness.
Nahira spoke softly, gesturing toward the battle, "Look at them, Arius… these heroes fight to survive. Isn't it a beautiful sight?"
Arius did not respond. His gaze was fixed on a soldier who had lost his arm, screaming in the sands of the arena.
Nahira leaned closer, whispering with wicked intent, "In this world, blood is the only language everyone understands. Do not grieve for the weak—learn from them how not to become like them. Soon, you will stand there… and you will make the entire world bow beneath your feet."
The massacre ended with a single soldier left staggering among the corpses of his comrades. Arius placed his hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken, as he began to grasp the bitter truth.
He whispered, barely audible, "Then… I must understand this world… in its own way.
Arius returned to his room with heavy, dragging steps, pulling behind him a shadow that seemed longer than usual. His body sank onto the hard bed, and unconsciously, his eyes fixated on the dark void beneath it. He waited—as in every routine nightmare—for a treacherous hand to reach out, or for some monster to emerge and beat him into unconsciousness. But the room remained completely still, as if it were the silence before a storm. He surrendered to sleep, though it wasn't truly sleep, but a brief coma—an escape from reality.
He awoke with a jolt, his breaths rapid, his eyes darting around in wary tension.
(Strange… no one came out? I haven't been struck yet? Am I still among the living?)
He leapt from his bed, dressed in a flash, his heart pounding like war drums against his ribs. He rushed toward the throne hall, curses flooding his thoughts: "I'm late! Nahira will turn my bones to dust today…" But shock awaited him—the hall was vast, cold, and completely empty, save for the echo of his exhausted breathing.
A servant approached with a pale, fluid motion, bowing his head. "Lady Nahira has gone out on her routine duty, my lord."
Arius raised an eyebrow, astonishment laced with suspicion. "Destroying universes? Strange… she didn't take me this time." He brushed his hand over the old scars on his wrist, a faint smile forming on his face. "Maybe this is my chance. If I don't escape now, I'll remain a prisoner in this palace forever."
He had barely finished the thought when the silence shattered with a thunderous "BOOM!" The massive doors burst apart, and an elite legion stormed the hall. Before he could react, Arius was pinned to the ground, suppression energy shackles biting into his wrists, burning his skin and extinguishing any power he tried to gather.
In the Presence of the Executioner
Arius was dragged like a sacrifice into a grand torture chamber, thick with the stench of rust and old blood. At its center stood Hydra. His massive frame suggested a mountain of pure malice, and his gleaming black armor looked almost alive, as if it devoured the surrounding light.
Hydra looked down at him with disdain, his voice hissing like serpents. "So you're our lady's pet? Little pampered Arius?"
Arius replied coldly, drawing from the depths of his despair, "If you're going to start beating me, do it quickly… I'm not interested in your talk."
Hydra burst into laughter that shook the chamber walls. "My lady instructed me to use my full strength… so don't worry, we won't end the fun quickly. Begin with him!"
The soldiers charged—but something inside Arius broke… or perhaps was set free. For the first time in months, he didn't submit. A swift strike dropped two soldiers, then he spun with astonishing agility, driving his knee into a third's chest. The sound of armor and bones shattering rang clearly.
"What?! He's fighting?!" one soldier shouted in disbelief.
Then Hydra moved. He slammed his foot into the ground, cracking the marble beneath him. In an instant, he appeared behind Arius, delivering a terrifying kick to his back. Arius was sent flying into the stone wall, leaving deep fractures behind him.
"Now it's my turn," Hydra said in a heavy voice, raining down blows that shattered his ribs. Then he grabbed Arius by the leg and began hurling his body across the chamber like a ragged cloth doll.
Arius's screams tore through the silence—but what truly shattered was his spirit. Hydra placed his heavy foot on Arius's broken back, whispering, "If you were a nobody, I might have spared you… but you're our lady's project. And failed projects don't get rest."
He pressed harder until Arius lost consciousness amid the soldiers' mocking laughter. Only Hydra remained silent, staring at the bloodied body beneath his foot with unease.
(Strange… how is his heart still beating? This child is made from the very substance of hell.)
A Flicker Amid the Ashes
In a dark corner, Arius regained consciousness for a few fleeting seconds. The ground was warm with his blood, and his swollen eyes could see nothing but vague shadows. He extended a trembling hand, and with a strength he didn't understand, grasped Hydra's ankle. His grip was weak, unsteady—but it carried a defiance beyond reason.
(Even my legs won't move… what's left of me?) he wondered, broken.
Hydra laughed mockingly, grabbing Arius by the hair and lifting him to eye level. "Sleep."
BOOM!!! One final punch, straight to the face. The echo of bones breaking reverberated through the chamber before Arius's body fell, seemingly lifeless.
"Take him to his room… I don't want him dead yet. The next round of fun hasn't even begun," Hydra said, leaving with a demonic laugh that echoed through the halls.
Nahira: The Dance of Annihilation
On the other side of existence, Nahira stood upon an energy platform suspended in the void. Her crimson dress flowed like tongues of flame, and her eyes reflected galaxies igniting and fading. Before her floated an entire universe—billions of souls, planets, and stories. With terrifying simplicity, she raised her hand, and with the tip of her finger… (snap).
In that instant, space compressed, and the universe exploded like a soap bubble caught in the wind. Civilizations vanished, stars went dark, and all existence turned into atomic dust dissolving into nothingness.
Nahira laughed, her tone filled with delight. "Ah… like fireworks, but with permanent results." She turned to her trembling soldiers. "Tell the Architect… the next universe must be filled with monsters. The weak ruin my enjoyment."
Nahira returned to her palace, silence of killers surrounding her. She sat upon her black throne and asked with visible boredom, "Arius? How was his day?"
A trembling soldier stepped forward. "My lady… Hydra oversaw him… but… there was no increase in his power… not even a single unit."
A suffocating silence filled the hall. The air grew cold, freezing in the lungs.
"No increase?" Nahira murmured as she slowly rose, her eyes gleaming with lethal intensity. "Bring him… immediately."
When Arius was dragged before her, he was nothing more than a human wreck. She lifted his head with her hand, staring into his broken eyes.
"I gave you blood… power… care… and the result is zero?"
Arius whispered weakly, "Maybe… your methods… don't work on me."
Slap! His body flew through the air, crashing into the wall.
"Tomorrow," Nahira said in a terrifying calm, "the old methods will end… I will reshape you with my own hands."
The Back Courtyard: Where No One Survives
On a gray morning, a bucket of freezing water was thrown over Arius's exhausted body in his room.
"Wake up, dog! The lady is waiting for you in the back courtyard."
Arius crawled toward the courtyard, and along the corridor he crossed paths with Hydra, who whispered with a wicked grin, "Try to stay alive until evening… child."
In the courtyard, Nahira stood alone, like a statue carved from the marble of death. The moment he arrived, she gave him no chance to speak. She vanished and reappeared before him, delivering a kick to his chest that shattered what remained of his ribs.
"Don't speak," she said coldly. "Rats aren't questioned… they're crushed."
The courtyard turned into a slaughterhouse. She broke his limbs, then rebuilt them with her energy, only to break them again. Every scream was met with a harsher blow. When Nahira finally left, leaving him drowning in his own blood, Ken rushed toward him in shock.
"Arius! Can you hear me?" He looked at the soldiers and shouted, "Take him to the medical room immediately!"
As Arius lay under medical devices, his heart beating faintly, Ken stood behind the glass, whispering in astonishment,
"This boy doesn't die… he isn't defeated by pain—he is forged by it. He is something far greater… something not yet born."