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Wars of the Damned

The scent of blood looms over the dreary sky. 'The Mourning' shall begin. After 500 peaceful years, the Demon King will appear once more, and with him, the Legions of the Dead will rise. To what extent will the kingdoms go to defend their rule?

APOPHIS · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
4 Chs

The Failed Bait

A head began to rise out of the red magic circle of enchantments. And soon, a body torso made its way. As the complete body of the hero emerged, the man could be seen.

Hair, darker than any man would have witnessed, eyes bluer than the sea, clothing of unknown origin, and a torn red cape. His face was like that of any other man of Kinsha, bulky and sharp, with bushy eyebrows that perfectly fit. He had a slim, short body and the bare-minimum prickles in the name of a beard.

The God spoke, "Welcome, dear hero! You have been summoned into our world to save this kingdom from ruin. The people ask of you, great warrior!" The people roared to praise the Hero.

And then, confused as he was, the Hero spoke, "What? Wasn't I... dead?"

"Yes, you were. But now, you are brought to life in the sanctity of Kinsha in the form you last knew of. With your reincarnation, you are given special abilities by the Elder Gods. For now, you must rest. Tomorrow, your training will begin. Greet the people and follow me."

Following the command of the elf, the confused Hero walked behind him, into the chambers of the King. There, the beauties of the kingdom stood straight, and teased the Hero. They were ordered by the God to be presentable for the task assigned, and so, they were.

The seductive Saint of Kinsha, Isrei, while teasing the Hero by revealing more and more of her pale skin under a robe, spoke in a charming and luscious feminine voice, "Oh, hero, why don't you take the comfort of my soft breasts? Do you not want me?"

The other queens followed with their own remarks of their beauty and overlapped the words of each other. This had been their job before for the King, and doing this was no hard task for them. However, on the inside, they held hatred and fear to the God in front of them.

The response of the Hero was unexpected. His eyes looked dull and distant. He looked to the elf and spoke in a bold and deep tone, "I may only be 20 years old, but I understand malice when I see it. You wish to manipulate me to follow your biding, but I have no interest in seeing through with your actions. Give me a place to sleep, and I will address your concerns tomorrow as they come."

A grin formed on the face of the God of War. The grin soon changed to a laugh. The God of War placed his hand on his forehead. "Hahahaha! I didn't think you would turn out like this! A parallel world where people are reasonable?! Amazing! Simply amazing!"

Then, as the elf began to ponder, he maintained his neutral expression and rubbed the fingers of his right hand on his chin. "Hmm... Now that things have turned out like this, we must do something about this situation..."

Placing his right hand away, to its natural position, the elf continued, "First, let's clean this mess."

As the elf waved his hand over the faces of the queens of Kinsha, their heads bursted and splattered across the room, painting the room red as blood gushed from their necks.

The elf grinned again, and stared back at the Hero. The Hero did not react to this anomaly. Noticing this, the elf spoke, "What? Nothing? You must truly be the chosen one."

Walking around the bloodied room, the elf continued, "You can sleep anywhere in this Kingdom as you please. You can do as you please. For now, your actions have no consequence. But there will be a time I will call upon you, and when that time comes, answer with caution. Until then, know my name; Belfrost Nil Sa'bathon, for I am, the God of War." Once the elf was finished walking and examining the room, he snapped his fingers, and uttered the word "[Clean]." The corpses disappeared, and the room was back to its original state. With this, the elf snapped his fingers again, to open a purple circle in front of him. Walking in the circle, he disappeared.

Now, in the room, all that was left, was the man who was declared the Hero.

The Hero sighed, "Huff... I pickpocketed a whole ass knife and he didn't even notice. 'A god' my ass."

What the hero was holding in his hand, was the prized ornament of Belfrost. A knife with a handle of gold and ice, with engravings of another language. Though the knife was merely an ornament in the eyes of the God, it was still ten times more useful than any human-built weapon of Kinsha.

Thoughts roamed the mind of the young Hero, 'I wonder what I should do next. Stealing things of the palace should be easy, considering how I hold a position of value, but what's the point if I don't know what these things are worth?

Maybe I should roam the city first. That aside, doesn't every palace have a king? All I've seen so far are the worthless concubines. I wonder if I'll have to deal with another buffoon like him.'

Yo. I know the story has barely started, but if you enjoyed the storytelling so far, do leave a comment. It helps me boost my activity.

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