The battlefield lay in ruins.
What was once a dark, cursed land brimming with the Forsaken King's power was now eerily silent. The obsidian ground had fractured, revealing veins of pure light beneath, the divine energy slowly reclaiming the land. The oppressive darkness had been lifted, but the cost had been immense.
Kael stood still, his celestial blade plunged into the earth for support. His body trembled with exhaustion, his wounds still fresh despite the divine energy coursing through him. Each breath was heavy, as if the weight of the world had finally settled upon his shoulders.
He looked to his side.
Mary was kneeling, gripping her Mist Blade tightly, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Lela stood beside her, leaning heavily on Gáe Bolg, her spear still humming faintly with divine energy. Loosie sat on a cracked stone, his daggers laid beside him, his usual sharp grin absent.
They had won.
But at what cost?
The Aftermath
Kael turned his gaze to the battlefield. The remnants of the Forsaken King's power still flickered in the air, his dispersed essence twisting before fading away into nothingness. What remained was only the ruins of their struggle—craters, shattered monoliths, and the bodies of those who had fought and fallen.
The silence was deafening.
Lela let out a deep breath, her voice breaking the quiet.
"It's finally over…" she whispered, though there was no triumph in her tone—only relief, laced with exhaustion.
Mary, still gripping her sword, slowly nodded. "But what comes next?"
Loosie let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "You'd think someone would show up to throw a parade or something."
His humor was forced, and they all knew it.
There was no cheering crowd waiting for them. No grand reward for their suffering.
Only the weight of what they had done.
A Land in Ruins
Kael forced himself to stand straight, despite the burning pain in his limbs. He sheathed his celestial blade and turned to the others. "We need to check the city. See if anyone survived."
Lela and Mary nodded.
Loosie stretched, cracking his back. "Well, I suppose I could play the hero a little longer."
With slow, pained steps, they began making their way toward the remnants of Evernight Citadel, the city that had once stood strong before the Forsaken King's rule. Now, it was a husk of its former self, half-buried in shadows and rubble.
As they approached, they heard movement.
Survivors.
A group of warriors and civilians—battered, bloodied, but alive—emerged from the wreckage. Their eyes widened in shock and awe as they saw Kael and his companions.
A young woman, her face smudged with soot, stumbled forward. "You… you did it. You actually did it."
An older man fell to his knees, whispering prayers of thanks. Others simply stared, unable to process the impossible victory they had just witnessed.
Kael stepped forward. "The Forsaken King is gone. The war is over."
At first, there was only silence.
Then—a single cry of joy.
And then another.
Soon, the entire city erupted into relief, the people clinging to one another, some crying, some laughing, others collapsing to the ground in exhausted gratitude.
Kael exhaled. He had expected a hollow victory.
Instead, he saw hope rekindled.
The Weight of a King
As the celebrations settled, Kael and his companions found themselves in what remained of the city's Great Hall—a half-collapsed structure where the last surviving leaders of the land had gathered.
An elderly warrior, scarred and weathered from years of battle, stepped forward. "You are the ones who slew the Forsaken King. That means the throne is yours."
Kael stiffened. "…What?"
Mary frowned. "We're warriors, not rulers."
The man shook his head. "You wielded the power of kings and gods alike. You reclaimed our land from darkness. If not you, then who?"
The room fell silent.
Kael felt the weight of the world settle on his shoulders once more.
He had never wanted power. Never sought to rule. He had fought because it was necessary, because no one else could stand against the Forsaken King.
But now?
The people needed leadership.
And Kael knew the truth.
If they left now, if they abandoned the city to its fate, chaos would follow. The world was fractured, and without a guiding hand, everything they fought for would fall apart.
Kael looked to his companions.
Lela met his gaze and sighed. "Looks like you're not done yet, Kael."
Mary smirked slightly. "A king needs his knights."
Loosie snorted. "A king, huh? You better get a fancy hat at least."
Kael exhaled slowly.
A warrior had fought this war.
A ruler would have to rebuild the world.
The First Decree
Kael turned to the gathered leaders, his expression resolute. "Then hear me."
The room fell completely silent.
"The era of tyrants ends today."** He met each of their eyes, his voice steady. "I will not rule as a king who dictates from a throne. I will lead as a warrior who stands among his people."**
He raised his sword, its celestial light casting long shadows.
"We will rebuild. Not as a kingdom of fear, but as a land of strength and unity. No more suffering under the will of tyrants."
The crowd erupted into cheers, a mixture of warriors and civilians alike.
For the first time, Kael saw true hope in their eyes.
The war was over.
But the true battle—the fight to rebuild, to restore, to ensure a future worth fighting for—had only just begun.