Flames of Destruction

Arthur looks at Ravyn with pity, his expression soft but tinged with hesitation. He asks gently:

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you want to join our party? Maybe together, we can survive and get back home."

A voice erupts inside Ravyn's mind, louder and more insistent than ever. The same voice whispered about his sealed power, but now it came in relentless, overlapping waves. The words pound like a war drum, each beat reverberating through his skull:

"Y-you are t-the king. Y-you are t-the king. Y-you are t-the king…"

The phrase grows louder, almost deafening, but it doesn't stop there. A second chant rises, drowning out his thoughts:

"K-kill humans. K-kill h-humans. K-kill humans…"

The cacophony of commands is unbearable. Ravyn's head throbs, and he feels as if his skull might split apart. He grits his teeth, trying to steady himself, but his vision swims and the pain threatens to consume him.

Despite the chaos in his mind, a single realization cuts through the noise like a blade:

'A Lesser Demon couldn't possibly possess a Stigma powerful enough to create a dimension with its own rules like this. This… this isn't it's doing.'

He forces himself to focus, analyzing the situation even as his body trembles under the strain. If this is a realm with its own rules, it appears one of those rules is dividing entrants into opposing teams—Earth and Abyss. And if he's been crowned _king_ of the Abyssal side, then surely…

His voice cuts through the tension as he asks, "Who is your team's king?"

Arthur tilts his head, his face a picture of bewilderment. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking abo—"

Before Arthur can finish, a sharp voice slices through the air like a whip. Karin steps forward, her stance rigid and her eyes blazing with suspicion.

"We don't have a king. We have a queen," she says, her voice cold and commanding. Then, without missing a beat, she raises her weapon and shouts to the rest of the group:

"Everyone, get into a fighting position! That thing in front of us is no human. He's an Abyssal creature we have to slay!"

"Karin, wait! I don't want to—"

Ravyn's plea is cut short as a barrage of heavy rocks hurtles toward him, ripping through the air with lethal force. He instinctively throws himself to the side, the stones crashing into the ground where he stood moments before, sending debris flying in all directions.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Ravyn says, his voice low and deliberate, "but it appears you're on the wrong side... or perhaps I am. ,"

The tension in the air becomes electric, and the enemy party moves with practiced efficiency as they prepare their weapons. Blades gleam in the dim light, and Stigmata begin to glow with unearthly energy. Karin's gaze remains locked on Ravyn, her face a mask of unyielding determination.

Ravyn doesn't flinch. He watches their movements with cold calculation, his own fiery blades materializing in his hands.

'She probably hears the same voices I do,' he thinks.

'Kill humans. Kill h-humans.'

The words continue pounding in Ravyn's head, like war drums urging him forward. He grits his teeth and pushes them aside. This battle will be no ordinary skirmish. With 30% of his power sealed, the odds are stacked against him.

Ravyn had hoped to coexist with other humans and find peace for the sake of Sylvorn and Aris. But fate, it seems, has no place for such dreams. If death is what it demands, then death it shall have.

He takes a step back, raising his hands to the sky. His crimson eyes burn like twin suns as he calls out, his voice resonating with power that shakes the battlefield.

"Oh, mighty God of Berserkers! Hear my call from the depths of the Abyss! I offer you the only tribute worthy of your insatiable hunger—massacre!"

The air grows heavy, charged with an ominous energy. The battlefield trembles as a dark crimson light surrounds Ravyn, his own Stigma activating.

The faint outline of a hulking figure begins to form behind him, a monstrous silhouette etched in fire and shadow. The ground beneath his feet cracks, unable to bear the sheer force of the power he's summoning.

"I will give you their screams, their blood, their despair! I will make their souls yours, torn asunder in your name! In exchange, grant me the Flames of Destruction so I may burn them to ash and leave no trace of their existence!"

The figure behind him solidifies, a towering god cloaked in fire, its eyes glowing with primal rage. The God of Berserkers tilts its head back and lets out an earth-shaking roar, its approval of Ravyn's vow unmistakable.

The fiery blades in Ravyn's hands change, morphing into weapons wreathed in black and red flames that dance hungrily along their edges. His aura flares, becoming a terrifying storm of energy that radiates heat so intense it scorches the ground around him.

"You want war?" Ravyn's voice drips with malice as he turns his gaze to Karin and her party. His smirk is cold, devoid of mercy.

Ravyn slashes his fiery blades through the air, the crimson and black flames leaving trails of destruction in their wake. Karin stands at least 10 meters away, but the sheer force of his attack defies the laws of distance. Her body splits cleanly in half, her scream silenced before it begins. The dark, vengeful flames Ravyn commands consume what remains, reducing her to nothing but ash.

A chilling notification rings in his mind:

"10% of your power has been unsealed."

The battlefield falls eerily silent for a brief moment. The surviving members of Karin's group hesitate, their expressions twisted with fear and disbelief. Ravyn's gaze sweeps over them, cold and calculating, his aura of dominance suffocating.

Arthur steps forward, his knuckles white as they grip the hilt of his katana, an artifact likely scavenged from the Abyss. His voice trembles slightly, but his determination cuts through.

"Don't lose focus! Attack together! If we hesitate, we're all dead!"

Ravyn watches his charge, the katana gleaming as it catches the dim light. Arthur moves swiftly, his strikes calculated and precise.

But Ravyn meets each blow effortlessly. Ravyn's movements are fluid as he toys with his opponent. He could just burn the katana to ashes, but he vowed to bring despair.

Arthur grits his teeth, his attacks growing more desperate. The rest of the group springs into action, attacking from all sides. But it's futile.

With a flick of his wrist, Ravyn summons the Flames of Destruction. Dark, malevolent fire spreads outward in a star-shaped pattern around him, the heat so intense it distorts the air. The flames surge and impale anyone within range, piercing their bodies with fiery tendrils.

The flames don't kill them immediately. Instead, they consume them agonizingly slowly. Their screams echo through the battlefield as the fire burns them from the inside out, leaving nothing but smoldering ashes in its wake.

This isn't a battle. It's exactly what Ravyn promised the God of Berserker.

A massacre.

Within seconds, half of the group is gone. The battlefield, once teeming with resistance, is now full of despair.

The position of the king seems to shift with each death. Every time a new leader is appointed, they barely have a chance to grasp their role before falling to Ravyn's onslaught.

The power dynamic shifts constantly, the remaining humans growing weaker with each loss—or perhaps Ravyn himself grows stronger as his full power is unsealed.