Laplace.

Tensura 28

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In the World of Cryptids, Reinhard approached Ivaraje, the so-called Dragon of Destruction, with a keen interest and a growing sense of excitement. As he closed the distance, his keen eyes and sharp mind began analyzing the creature's every move. Ivaraje's sheer size and the raw destructive power it emanated were undeniable, but something crucial was missing.

Reinhard's excitement quickly turned to bitter disappointment as he realized that Ivaraje lacked any semblance of intelligence. It was nothing more than a mindless beast, driven purely by primal instincts.

"How utterly disappointing," Reinhard muttered to himself, his voice cold and filled with disdain. "I had hoped for a worthy opponent, but this... this is nothing more than a mindless animal."

Despite his displeasure, Reinhard knew he couldn't simply destroy Ivaraje. A creature of such raw power had potential, and Reinhard had always believed in nurturing potential threats into worthy adversaries. Just as he had allowed Fuji Ren to grow stronger, he would spare Ivaraje, in the hope that it might one day provide him with the challenge he craved.

The battle that ensued was both breathtaking and devastating. Reinhard moved with blinding speed, his form a mere blur as he deflected Ivaraje's planet-eradicating dragon breaths with ease. Each blast of fiery destruction was met with Reinhard's cold, calculated deflection, sending the immense energy hurtling harmlessly into the void.

Ivaraje roared, a sound that shook the very fabric of the world, and lunged at Reinhard with its colossal claws. Reinhard, with a smirk of contempt, dodged effortlessly, his movements graceful yet deadly. He struck back with his own attacks, powerful blows that could have obliterated entire civilizations, yet he held back, refusing to end the fight too quickly.

"You are nothing but a waste of potential," Reinhard said, his voice echoing with a chilling finality. "But I will give you a chance. Grow stronger, become more than this mindless beast, and perhaps one day, you will be worthy of my full attention."

Ivaraje, though incapable of understanding Reinhard's words, continued its rampage, each attack more furious than the last. Reinhard, unimpressed, continued to toy with the creature, his own attacks carefully measured to inflict pain and damage without delivering a killing blow.

The clash of titans continued for what seemed like an eternity. Reinhard's patience was unending, his every move calculated to prolong the fight while assessing Ivaraje's capabilities. The dragon's breath attacks, capable of reducing entire planets to ash, were met with Reinhard's effortless deflections, his form moving faster than the speed of light.

Eventually, Reinhard decided he had seen enough. With a final, devastating blow, he sent Ivaraje crashing to the ground, the impact creating a massive crater. The dragon lay there, broken but not dead, its massive form heaving with each labored breath.

Reinhard stood over the fallen creature, his expression one of cold satisfaction. "Remember this moment, Ivaraje. Remember that you were spared by Reinhard Nava. Grow stronger, become more than what you are now, and one day, I will return to finish what I started."

With that, Reinhard turned and walked away, leaving the defeated dragon to its fate. He had other matters to attend to, and this creature, while disappointing now, held the promise of a future challenge. For now, it was enough to know that he had left his mark on this world, just as his father Veldanava had done before him.

Reinhard's thoughts turned to the news from Zelanus and the challenges that awaited him. But even as he prepared to face new threats, a part of him looked forward to the day when Ivaraje would rise again, stronger and more formidable, ready to provide him with the worthy battle he so desperately craved.

Reinhard returned to the Cardinal World, immediately sensing that something was amiss. The air was thick with magicules, so dense and potent that they would likely linger for millennia. This unusual concentration of magical energy was a beacon, guiding him toward the epicenter of the disturbance.

As he scanned the landscape, his eyes narrowed slightly in recognition and mild surprise. A single spot was radiating an overwhelming amount of magicules. Reinhard's curiosity was piqued, but a deeper sense of duty drove him forward. He vanished in an instant, reappearing at the heart of the magical maelstrom.

Before him lay a scene of devastation. His sister, Milim, was on her knees, clutching the body of a chaotic dragon. Tears streamed down her face as she held Velgaia, her pet and companion, who was now on the brink of death. Reinhard's gaze hardened as he took in the sight, feeling no sympathy but rather a cold sense of detachment.

Despite the emotional turmoil evident in Milim, Reinhard felt a surge of satisfaction. The destruction surrounding them spoke volumes of her unleashed power, a testament to her potential that aligned perfectly with his own principles of strength and dominance.

Walking towards Milim, he reached out and patted her head, a gesture devoid of warmth or comfort. He offered no words of consolation, knowing they would be meaningless to him and possibly unwelcome to her. His eyes then shifted to Velgaia, the dragon's labored breaths growing weaker with each passing moment.

Reinhard stared coldly at the dragon, his expression unchanging. The sight of the dying creature elicited no compassion from him, only a clinical interest in the aftermath of the chaos. His mind was already calculating the potential uses and implications of this situation, devoid of any emotional involvement.

The scene remained charged with a silent tension, a stark contrast between Milim's grief and Reinhard's unyielding demeanor. In this moment, the gulf between them was as vast as the destruction that lay before them, a testament to the disparate paths they walked even as siblings.

**Earlier Moments**

The newly revived Velgaia, now a chaotic dragon of immense power, streaked through the skies with a furious purpose. Her destination, the Sorcery Kingdom of Sarion. As she neared the borders of the kingdom, the air shimmered with anticipation and tension. Velgaia's roar echoed through the mountains, a harbinger of destruction that sent shivers down the spines of those who heard it.

Descending upon Sarion, Velgaia was ready to unleash her wrath. But before she could begin her decimation, a lone figure stepped forward, unwavering in the face of the impending doom. He walked with a calm yet resolute demeanor, his red hair blazing like fire under the sunlight, his armor gleaming with the emblem of a knight.

This was Sarion Grimwald, the Chosen Hero of the era and the current husband of the Elven Empress Sylvia El Ru. As Velgaia's massive form landed before him, causing the ground to quake, Sarion did not flinch. He drew his sword, its blade shimmering with enchanted light, and spoke with a voice that carried both authority and determination.

"By the will of the gods and the protection of this land, I, Sarion Grimwald, stand before you. This kingdom will not fall to your chaos. As long as I draw breath, you shall not pass."

Velgaia's eyes burned with rage, the challenge igniting her fury even more. With a deafening roar, she lunged at Sarion, claws outstretched. The fight began with a clash that shook the very air around them.

Sarion met Velgaia's attack head-on, his sword clashing against her claws with a burst of sparks. The force of the impact pushed him back, but he held his ground, his determination unyielding. Velgaia swiped at him with her tail, but Sarion leaped into the air, dodging the blow with agility that belied his armor.

As Velgaia reared back to unleash a torrent of destructive breath, Sarion moved with precision. He dashed forward, slicing through the air with his sword, aiming for Velgaia's vulnerable underbelly. The blade struck true, eliciting a pained roar from the dragon. Enraged, Velgaia retaliated with a flurry of wing strikes and tail lashes, each blow carrying the force to topple mountains.

Sarion fought with unwavering focus, his movements a dance of defense and counterattack. He used his sword not just to strike but to deflect and redirect Velgaia's attacks, each motion calculated to minimize damage and exploit openings. The battlefield became a blur of motion, the clash of metal against scales creating a symphony of battle.

Despite his heroic efforts, it became clear that Sarion was outmatched. Velgaia's rage fueled her strength, her attacks growing more relentless and savage. She summoned fire and lightning, her chaotic breath weapon tearing through the land and sky. Sarion responded with magic of his own, casting barriers and enchantments to shield himself and redirect the destructive forces back at Velgaia.

The fight raged on, each combatant pushing the other to their limits. Sarion's sword flashed like a beacon of hope amidst the chaos, while Velgaia's ferocity seemed to darken the very skies. Their battle scarred the land, leaving behind craters and charred earth.

Velgaia's power was overwhelming, and Sarion found himself struggling to keep up. His movements, once precise and calculated, began to show signs of weariness. Each deflected blow sent shockwaves through his body, the sheer force of Velgaia's attacks threatening to break his defenses. Still, he pressed on, driven by a sense of duty and an unyielding will.

With a final, defiant roar, Velgaia surged forward, her entire body crackling with chaotic energy. Sarion met her head-on, his sword glowing with a radiant light. Their clash created an explosion of energy that rippled across the battlefield, a testament to the epic struggle between hero and beast.

Despite his best efforts, Sarion was pushed to his limits. Velgaia's relentless onslaught left him battered and exhausted, barely able to stand. But even in the face of certain defeat, he remained resolute, his spirit unbroken.

As Velgaia prepared to deliver the final blow, a desperate determination filled Sarion's eyes. He knew he couldn't win, but he could buy his people time. With a final, desperate surge of strength, he cast a barrier around the kingdom, a last-ditch effort to protect those within from Velgaia's wrath.

With the barrier in place, Sarion managed to deflect one of Velgaia's devastating breath attacks. The shield shimmered under the immense pressure but held firm, giving the people of Sarion a moment of reprieve. However, Sarion had underestimated Velgaia's relentless fury. As he caught his breath, another blast of chaotic energy roared from Velgaia's maw, tearing through the barrier and crashing into the outskirts of the kingdom. The explosion was deafening, and screams filled the air as countless lives were snuffed out in an instant.

The sight of his people dying, their homes obliterated, ignited a fire within Sarion. His body, battered and near its limits, surged with a newfound strength, perhaps born of pure adrenaline and rage. With a roar of his own, he stood tall once more, the pain in his body overridden by his determination to protect what remained of his kingdom.

Eyes blazing with fury, Sarion faced Velgaia, who was already preparing for another onslaught. Knowing full well that he was outmatched in raw power, Sarion formulated a desperate plan. He needed to lure Velgaia away from the kingdom, to minimize further destruction. Even if it meant his own demise, he would ensure that Velgaia's wrath did not consume his people.

Drawing upon every ounce of his strength and skill, Sarion launched himself at Velgaia. His sword sang through the air as he struck at the dragon's limbs, aiming to wound and provoke. Velgaia roared in irritation and pain, her attention fully captured by the relentless human before her.

"Over here, you beast!" Sarion shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos. "Your fight is with me!"

With each attack, Sarion moved further from the kingdom, his strikes and parries leading Velgaia away. The dragon, incensed by the audacity of this mortal, followed, her destructive intent focused entirely on Sarion. She unleashed blasts of chaotic energy, each one narrowly missing Sarion as he deftly dodged and deflected, always moving further from the kingdom's heart.

The landscape around them bore the scars of their battle. Trees were reduced to splinters, and the ground was torn asunder by Velgaia's fury. Sarion fought with a grim determination, his every move a calculated risk to draw Velgaia's ire. His sword flashed, striking against Velgaia's scales with a desperate strength that belied his exhaustion.

Velgaia, enraged and relentless, continued her pursuit. Her breath attacks scorched the earth, but Sarion's agile movements kept him just out of reach. His plan was working; the kingdom, though scarred, was spared further immediate devastation.

However, Sarion's body was nearing its limit. Each movement grew heavier, his breath ragged. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever. As Velgaia reared back for another devastating breath attack, Sarion saw his chance. Channeling the last of his strength, he lunged forward, striking at Velgaia's throat in a final, desperate attack.

The blow landed, not enough to mortally wound the dragon, but sufficient to cause her to recoil in pain and anger. Sarion used the moment to create more distance between Velgaia and the kingdom, his vision blurring as fatigue threatened to overwhelm him. He had bought precious time for his people, but at a great cost to himself.

As Velgaia recovered, her rage intensified. She would not be deterred by this lone warrior. Sarion stood ready, his legs trembling, his grip on his sword unsteady. He was prepared to give his life if it meant saving his kingdom from total annihilation.

Thankfully, before Sarion could truly fall to his doom, a being of monstrous aura descended onto the battlefield. The sheer presence of this new entity sent shivers down Sarion's spine, a palpable indication of power far beyond his own. He didn't know why, but in that moment, Sarion understood that his time was up. It was now his turn to watch the next battle unfold, the clash between the pink-haired weeping girl and the roaring chaotic dragon.

Sarion's legs finally gave out, and he dropped to his knees, all strength leaving his battered body. Despite his fatigue and the pain coursing through him, he chuckled lightly. He had succeeded in his desperate mission; he had managed to protect his kingdom, at least for the moment. There were no regrets in his heart now, only a profound sense of duty fulfilled. But before he allowed himself to succumb to the darkness encroaching on his vision, he made sure to keep his eyes fixed on the battlefield. He believed that what he was about to witness would be the greatest scene of his life.

Milim, consumed by her unending rage and grief, faced Velgaia. The chaotic dragon, equally enraged, roared and lunged at her, its once familiar form now a terrifying sight. But despite Velgaia's ferocity, she was no match for the overwhelming power that Milim was unleashing. The strength blessed to Milim by her brother Reinhard, the Ultimate Skill Wrathful King Satanael, pumped nearly unlimited power through her veins, amplifying her abilities to a terrifying extent.

The ground trembled under their feet as they clashed. Velgaia's attempts to strike at Milim were met with a growing, unstoppable force. With every blow, Milim's power seemed to increase, her rage fueling her attacks. The sky above them darkened as their battle raged on, each clash sending shockwaves through the land.

Sarion watched in awe and trepidation as Milim's raw strength began to overpower Velgaia. The dragon, despite its chaotic might, found itself increasingly on the defensive. Milim's eyes burned with an unholy light, her movements becoming faster, more precise, each strike filled with the pain of loss and the wrath of a demon lord in the making.

The battle was brutal but brief. Velgaia, once a symbol of chaos and destruction, could do little but suffer under the relentless assault. In a final, desperate attempt, Velgaia unleashed a powerful blast of chaotic energy, hoping to turn the tide. But Milim, with a roar of fury, countered the attack with a surge of power that dwarfed the dragon's own.

In a blinding flash, Milim closed the distance between them, her hand glowing with a terrifying energy. With a single, devastating blow, she knocked Velgaia unconscious. The chaotic dragon crumpled to the ground, her rage finally subdued by the overwhelming power of her best friend.

Sarion, on his knees, could only watch in stunned silence. He had witnessed the rise of a true force of nature, a being of unimaginable power driven by both love and wrath. As the dust settled and the echoes of their battle faded, Sarion allowed himself a small, weary smile. He had lived to see the might of Milim, the Destroyer, and he had no doubt that this moment would be etched into his memory for eternity.

Milim, standing amidst the ruins, her chest heaving with exertion, looked down at the unconscious form of Velgaia. Her rage subsided, replaced by a profound sorrow. She had protected her best friend from total annihilation, but at what cost? The devastation around them was a stark reminder of the price of their power. And as she stood there, tears streaming down her face, she knew that this battle was only the beginning of a long, arduous journey.

Sarion lay on the battlefield, his strength ebbing away as he reminisced about his life. Memories of his wife Sylvia filled his mind, their shared moments of joy and love, and the dreams they had for their future together. He wondered how she would cope without him, what decisions she would make in his absence. A pang of regret struck him as he thought about their unborn daughter. He longed to see her grow, to be there for her first steps, her first words, to guide her through life's challenges. But fate, it seemed, had other plans. He could only hope that she would grow strong and resilient, just like her mother.

As the last vestiges of strength left him, Sarion chuckled softly, accepting his fate. But fate was not done with him yet. From the shadows, a figure emerged, an elf with a twisted, grotesque appearance—a result of brutal experimentation. The elf's features were a haunting mix of elegance and deformity, a living testament to the horrors they had endured.

The elf approached Sarion, each step measured and deliberate. Kneeling beside the dying hero, the elf checked Sarion's vitals, their eyes filled with a cold, calculating light. Sarion, despite his condition, recognized the elf's twisted visage. This was the former princess of the Elven Kingdom, the same kingdom Milim had obliterated. Through cruel experiments conducted by her own father, she had been transformed, turned into a grotesque mockery of her former self.

The elf's voice was a mixture of bitterness and determination. "Do you wish for a second life?" she asked, her hand extending towards him. The offer was laden with dark promise, an escape from death but at an unknown cost.

Sarion, despite his pain, found the situation almost amusing. Here he was, on the brink of death, being offered a chance to defy it. With a weary laugh, he looked up at the twisted elf. "A second life, huh? Why not? I've got nothing to lose."

With that, he accepted her hand, sealing a fate that would lead him down a path he could never have anticipated.

Kagali, the former Elven Princess twisted by experimentation, began to chant the incantations of the Forbidden Magic known as Death Birthday. The air around her grew thick with dark energy as she called upon the souls of the dead elves from Sarion's kingdom. The lifeless bodies that had littered the battlefield began to stir, their residual magic coalescing around Sarion.

Sarion's body, now enveloped in the dark energy, started to transform. His skin paled, his once-vibrant eyes dulled, and his very essence was altered. His race shifted from that of a human to a Deathman, a being caught between life and death. The process was excruciating, but Sarion, now stripped of his memories, felt nothing but a cold, empty rebirth.

Kagali watched with tired yet triumphant eyes as the transformation completed. The figure before her was no longer Sarion Grimwald, the Chosen Hero. He was something new, something she had created with her forbidden magic. With a touch, she reached out to the newly reborn being, a cruel smile playing on her lips.

"I name you Laplace," she declared, her voice echoing with dark authority. "Rise and serve me."

Laplace's eyes flickered with a new, unnatural light as he stood, a blank slate ready to be filled with purpose. His past was a void, his future now in the hands of Kagali. 

Thus, the figure who would go on to create chaos and upheaval in the world was birthed in that desolate battlefield, under the watchful, tired eyes of the former Elven Princess. This marked the beginning of a new chapter of strife and conflict, with Laplace at its center.

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