The Shadow Of Fate

In the dim stillness of Dracula's castle, Lazarus stood alone in his chambers, surrounded by vials of volatile substances and alchemical instruments. The air reeked of burnt chemicals and scorched leather from his gloves. On the table before him sat the potent poisons of Nidhogg and Jörmungandr, their dark energies barely contained within enchanted glass. Yet no matter what he attempted, they refused to merge.

He exhaled slowly, examining the 99 failed attempts arrayed before him like a gallery of defeat.

Each broken vial and singed parchment told the story of his frustration."Another failure," he muttered, his voice cold and devoid of self-pity. His crimson eyes glinted in the low light.

"The binding agent is the key... but my blood alone is insufficient.

"The memory of Jörmungandr's parting words echoed in his mind, unbidden."Delve into Jaba's history," the serpent had advised, its immense coils shifting as its voice rumbled like thunder. 

"While alive, he reached the pinnacle of magic. The Arch Mage... the only mortal who could rival Dracula and the Saintess."His gaze flicked to the Grimoire of Jaba resting on the far side of the room.

The ancient tome pulsed faintly with arcane energy, as if responding to his thoughts.Lazarus approached the book, his movements precise and deliberate. "If Jaba mastered what others deemed impossible, then I will learn from him. If his methods worked for him, they will work for me."Opening the grimoire, he began to sift through its pages.

The ancient parchment shifted of its own accord, revealing techniques and diagrams far beyond what even the most skilled alchemists of this age could comprehend. Each symbol and formula spoke of power and danger in equal measure.Days blurred into nights as Lazarus studied. He moved between the table and the grimoire, testing every new discovery, adjusting formulas, and cataloging his failures. The castle grew silent around him, save for the occasional crackle of unstable alchemy.

At last, his perseverance unearthed a crucial revelation. One passage caught his eye, its ink shimmering faintly under the flickering candlelight."Chronus—the celestial planet of eternal power—awakens in a mortal only once every 100,000,000 years. It binds the wielder to the fabric of time itself, granting unparalleled mastery of magic."The weight of the discovery settled over him like a heavy cloak. The truth of Jaba's strength became clear. Chronus had chosen him.

"No wonder he rivaled Dracula and the Saintess," Lazarus murmured. His face remained impassive, but a faint glint of something—curiosity, ambition—flashed in his eyes. "A celestial planet of that magnitude... a power that chooses its bearer. Rare, but not unattainable."Yet even with this newfound understanding, his binding agent problem remained unresolved. Jörmungandr had suggested Hydra poison, and the more he considered it, the more the idea seemed promising. But Hydra poison was no simple ingredient to acquire.

"I'll need to visit the black market," he decided, his voice devoid of hesitation.When night fell, Lazarus left the castle, flying across the darkened skies. His descent into the underbelly of the human world was swift and unimpeded. Beneath the bustling city, hidden in labyrinthine tunnels, lay the black market—a haven for rare artifacts and forbidden goods.The market's crowd parted instinctively as he entered, his mere presence silencing conversations and stilling hands. His reputation preceded him, as did his unwavering aura of authority.

At the manager's quarters, Lazarus wasted no time."I need Hydra poison," he demanded, his tone low but commanding.The wiry man behind the counter flinched. "H-Hydra poison? Young lord, we don't carry poisons here—least of all one that rare!"A flicker of annoyance crossed Lazarus's eyes. He stepped closer, his presence oppressive. "Do not waste my time. Bring me a map and any information on the Hydra. Now."The manager, trembling, obeyed. Within moments, Lazarus had what he needed: a map marking the Hydra's swampy lair and a tome detailing its vendetta against Hercules.The Hydra's hatred of the demigod gave Lazarus an idea.

"If I offer it the head of Hercules, it will give me what I need."Without hesitation, he set off.The journey to Thebes was arduous. Divine barriers littered the way, designed to repel trespassers of lesser resolve. Lazarus pushed through with sheer determination, navigating obstacles with precision and power.As he neared Thebes, a trio of lesser demi gods intercepted him, their golden auras glowing in the starlit night."Halt, mortal!" the first demi god called, smirking. "Do you even know where you are?" "This is Thebes, the Hero Hercules's domain," another added.

"You're either brave or foolish to come here alone."Lazarus regarded them with his usual indifference. "I don't have time for this," he said, his tone edged with faint disdain. He let his killing intent seep into the air, a wave of malice so profound it turned their bravado to terror. The first demi god collapsed instantly, unconscious. The second stumbled back, his divine aura flickering."W-What is this power?" he stammered.The third, shaking visibly, wetting himself, could only whisper, "We... we can't fight him."Without another word, Lazarus continued past them, leaving the so-called demi gods quaking in his wake.In the grand hall of Thebes, Hercules awaited him, seated on a throne of bronze. The demigod's aura of strength filled the room, his imposing figure a testament to his divine heritage.

"Who dares enter uninvited?" Hercules demanded, rising from his throne.

Lazarus's gaze met his, unflinching. "I am Lazarus Upir Andurai," he said, his voice steady, emotionless. "And I've come for your head."Hercules frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Your presence... such darkness. What are you?"

"I am your end."