Cedric's name had spread far and wide. From the ruins of fallen kingdoms to the sacred halls of the grand temples, his deeds were spoken of in reverence. He had slain monstrous fiends, purified cursed lands, and led warriors to victory against the darkness.
Yet, despite his growing fame, Cedric remained a lone warrior. He accepted no squires, took no companions. The battlefield was his home, and his only solace was the divine light that guided his sword.
Then, one day, a royal summons arrived.
The King of Eldoria had called upon him personally. The kingdom's scouts had uncovered a terrifying truth—the Demon King had awakened in the Abyssal Wastes, his power surging stronger than ever before. Armies had fallen trying to breach his fortress. Priests had prayed for salvation, but none came.
The people needed a hero.
And so, Cedric, clad in silver armor that gleamed like the morning sun, stood before the King and the royal court.
"I will go," he declared, his voice resolute.
The King hesitated. "Alone? We can send an army with you, Paladin."
But Cedric shook his head. "An army will slow me down. This is a battle of fate—mine alone to fight."
Though the nobles murmured in doubt, the King nodded. "Then go, Cedric Valerius. May the gods watch over you."
As he departed, no banners waved for him, no cheers rang through the streets. The people respected him, but deep down, they did not expect him to return.
Yet Cedric did not seek their praise. He had made peace with his destiny.
With his sword in hand and the Silver Flame burning in his heart, he set off toward the Abyssal Wastes, where the Demon King awaited.
This would be his greatest battle.
His final battle.