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Revenge On The Hero’s Party

Emmett Rollins had been royally screwed over. Doomed to live in poverty with great intelligence, he was finally given a chance to escape from his circumstances when offered an academic scholarship to the prestigious Greenfield Academy. Unfortunately, his school experience was horrid. Days rarely went by without him being brutally beaten by his classmates. After only a few months at his new school, he was forced into leaving Greenfield Academy for good. But then something extraordinary happened. His class was isekaied to become the hero's party in a world of magic. And even better, Emmett was not part of the hero's party. Instead, he had transmigrated into the body of Prince Hermes, the third son of the King of Durham. Watch Emmett as he slowly plots his revenge, adapts to his new world, and takes down the Hero's Party once and for all. ***************************** A/N: This story starts off slow-paced and many of the events in the early chapters may seem a bit random and unrealistic. They are not. Wait until around Chapter 20, and I guarantee that you will start to see what I mean. And yes, I'm participating in the Spirity Awards although I'm confident that I have no chance of even coming close to winning. And I'm submitting this story in the category 'Transmigration'. Am I stretching it a bit? Yes. I am. Credit for the cover goes to @Ae_GGA (minus the title). If he/she would like me to take it down, I will be willing to do so.

NotBlind · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
13 Chs

The King's Tale (Part Two)

Henry paused for dramatic effect, and a dumbfounding silence filled the room.

I cursed under my breath.

The students were completely and utterly entranced by Henry's retelling. Sure, the story didn't sound perfect. There were definitely a few rough edges in retelling. But despite that, even I couldn't dispute that his use of flare and enunciation was impeccable. His words brought emotion to a foreign myth, brought a sense of wonder to a foreign world.

Through words alone, Henry had taken a group of teenagers bridled against him, and made them his lapdogs.

He was truly a twisted master of coercion.

"And this is where the story of the Wandering Warlord of the Sand begins." Henry suddenly continued, breaking off the long silence. "For as the Xyrns approached the center of the Empire, the Emperor set out to challenge their army with his own. The king said that supposedly millions of men lined the battlefield, coming from multiple walks of life. Aristocrats from the four corners of the Empire joined their lines, and mages both inexperienced and experienced rode upon horseback beside them. It was said to be the greatest army seen since the Draconic Age, and no army since then has come close to matching it.

But even this incredible strength, it did nothing to stop the approach of the ant-kings. The mysterious force behind them was simply too strong, and despite the mages' best efforts, they could not even come close to discovering the true identity behind the Bane of Humanity. Within a matter of days, an empire that had existed peacefully for hundreds and hundreds of years, was finally ravaged beneath a sea of red sand, stained by the blood of the fallen Empire.

They had lost utterly, but not everything was lost.

In the last hours of the onslaught, a general by the name of Kalanthius fought on. His Emperor was dead, his city was swallowed up by the sand, and his people devoured by the savagery of the barbaric Xyrns. But despite this, Kalanthius, the leader of the flank, never gave up. Day by day, and night by night, the general and his army fought strong, holding the barrage of Xyrns with nothing but sheer will alone. His struggle would have not lasted forever, for his his men were outnumbered and outmatched. He needed a miracle to live, and upon the Goddess he yearned for one.

He asked for a miracle that would save the remnant of the remnant.

And in response, the Wandering Warlord of the Sand was the miracle they received.

In full steel armor he rode, an eerie black greatsword shining above his head. He charged into battle alone, a mad man's tactics by all accounts. But against all odds, he did not die. Xyrn by xyrn effortless he slew, his sword movements like an intricate dance, the corpses piled up like an artwork. Kalanthius and his men tried to aid the Wandering Warlord, but quite frankly, he didn't need any help. No. Not at all.

For when each Xyrn fell dead before the Warlord's feet, it would rise again from the dead, and unlike before, the Undead Xyrns now fought on his side.

Kalanthius and his men thought the miracle would wear off eventually. No man is strong enough to annihilate an entire army of millions this way, they said. Only the Goddess herself could come close to achieving such a thing.

And they were wrong.

One Xyrn became ten.

Ten became one-hundred.

One-hundred became one-thousand.

And so on, and so on, until eventually, the enemy hoard was gone, and all the Xyrns were undead and under his control.

Against all logic, one single man had defeated what a whole empire could not.

Kalanthius and his men had survived. However, instead of showing graciousness to their saviour, Kalanthius did the unthinkable.

He spat at him.

'"You fool! Why did you not come earlier?"' He shouted at him. '"My people are all dead and our cities are now in ruin! My men and I are the only ones left! You could have saved them all if you came sooner!"'

'"I am the fool?'" The Wandering Warlord responded. '"Who dealt with the Bane of Humanity? Who conquered the largest hoard of Xyrns seen since the time of the Great Dwindling? You ignorant ants! Be thankful that you still standing on your own two feet!"'

The Wandering Warlord, to no-one's surprise, began walking away frustrated. But Kalanthius was not finished yet.

'"Then if you are so knowledgeable and powerful, why did our Empire fall? Why were our peaceful people massacred?"' He cried in anguish. '"My wife is dead, and my children's remains rest gurgling inside the body an ant! Kill me if you must, but I must know why! Why did the Goddess bring this havoc upon us?!"'

The Wandering Warlord stopped walking away, and moved compassionately by the general's words, he turned around.

'"I am no messenger of Your Goddess, man.'" He replied. '"The Infinite Lines of Fate work in strange and peculiar ways. Even I, having seen more than any before me, expect our Savior of course, do not understand it fully. Fate is unpredictable, yet it is fully controllable.

So in the name of Your Goddess, I shall prophesy this upon you to release you of your suffering."'

Henry suddenly stopped talking, taking a drink of water from the wine glass on the table.

Once again, the entire room waited silently for Henry to continue, still mesmerized by his tale.

"Now, if you haven't kept up with me for the past few minutes, it really doesn't matter." Henry continued. "This prophecy is the reason I am committed to staying in this world."

My eyes lit up in confusion and intrigue.

A prophecy convinced Henry to stay on this planet?

That's weird…

After all, almost prophecies never come true.

So why did Henry show interest in this one…

Wait!

Did that mean-

"This is the prophecy on us. The Hero's Party." Henry said, confirming my suspicions. "The King told it in iambic parameter, and although I have a photographic memory, I'm going to you a favor and tell the prophecy as simply as possible, alright?"

(A.N: And also do the author a favor so that he doesn't have to spend seven fucking hours writing a sonnet on par with Shakespeare!

And also, what a great place to end the chapter! I'm sure no one will be angry at me for this abrupt cliff-hanger…right?)

In all seriousness though, I do sincerely apologize for ending the chapter here. I planned on releasing the prophecy with this chapter tonight, but as I began to write it, I realized how difficult of a task I had set for myself.

So yeah...

You'll get it tomorrow.

It might only be around 500 words, but I guarantee you that I'll focus on every single last detail and make it damn good.

Thanks for understanding.

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