Lord of Deception

The battlefield was silent.

The fires still burned. The corpses still rotted under the crimson moon. But the sounds of battle, of desperate struggle, had faded into nothing. Because there was no one left to fight.

Kael stood at the center of it all, his coat unruffled, his crimson eyes reflecting the destruction he had wrought.

At his feet, Lucian knelt.

The so-called Hero of the Holy Order, the chosen one, the man who once stood at the pinnacle of righteousness—broken. His once-gleaming armor was shattered, his golden cape now nothing more than torn fabric drenched in filth. He was shaking, his forehead pressed against the blood-soaked dirt, his fingers weakly clawing at the ground as if trying to find something—anything—to hold onto.

Kael watched him with a detached gaze.

"Stand."

Lucian didn't move.

Kael's voice was soft, almost gentle, but it carried an authority that made the air itself grow heavy.

"I said, stand."

Lucian shuddered. His fingers twitched, his body tensed. Slowly, with great effort, he lifted his head. His face was pale, his eyes hollow.

"I…" Lucian tried to speak, but his voice cracked. He swallowed hard, forcing words past his dry throat. "I… lost?"

Kael chuckled. "Lost?" He took a step closer, his presence suffocating. "Lucian, you didn't just lose. You were crushed."

Lucian's breathing quickened.

"You fought for righteousness, yet your so-called gods abandoned you. You led an army, yet they were nothing more than lambs to the slaughter. You claimed to be a hero, yet here you kneel, defeated, humiliated."

Kael's voice was neither cruel nor mocking. It was simply truth.

Lucian's hands clenched into weak fists. He wanted to fight back, to deny it, but there was nothing left. His faith, his pride, his very reason for fighting—it had all been obliterated.

Kael crouched down in front of him, his crimson eyes boring into Lucian's.

"Tell me, Hero," he whispered. "What will you do now?"

Lucian's lips parted, but no words came out.

Kael's gaze remained unreadable. "Will you fight? Will you try to reclaim your honor?"

Lucian's breath hitched.

Kael tilted his head slightly. "Or will you beg?"

Lucian flinched.

Kael sighed. He had seen it before. That look in Lucian's eyes. The look of a man who had nothing left.

"Pathetic."

Lucian squeezed his eyes shut. His entire body trembled as his mind raced. Was there truly nothing left? Was this the end?

His pride screamed at him to rise, to fight, to strike Kael down. But reality held him in chains.

Kael rose to his feet and turned away.

"I will not kill you, Lucian."

Lucian's breath caught in his throat. Not kill him?

Kael looked back at him, his eyes gleaming. "That would be mercy."

Lucian froze.

Kael's smile was cold. "I want you to live. I want you to crawl back to your Holy Order, to your so-called gods, and see if they even acknowledge your existence. I want you to live with the weight of your failure."

He took a step closer, and for the first time, Lucian felt something worse than fear.

Despair.

"Go, Lucian." Kael's voice was a whisper. "Go and find out just how meaningless your existence truly is."

Lucian gasped.

Kael turned away, his coat billowing behind him as he stepped through the burning ruins of the battlefield.

Lucian stayed on his knees, shaking, his body refusing to move.

The Hero of the Holy Order… was no more.

To be continued....