Prologue.

*BAM*

The sight was surreal.

A well built figure was pounding everything he had into the white - haired corpse that had it's limbs torn out, courtesy of the ongoing war.

*BAM*

The figure struck again, his anger refusing to allow the corpse beneath him a second of rest.

*BAM*

'Why are you hitting a corpse so bloody hard!'

*BAM*

*BAM*

'STOP!' He roared as the threw out his instantly regenerating palm in the direction of whoever kept trying to mutilate what was a corpse only a moment ago.

As he opened his eyes, he was met with the horrified gaze of a stranger, whose warm blood was now flowing down his arm.

He stood there unperturbed, his arm embedded in the stranger's chest. The stranger's heartbeats slowing down in his grasp, unable to do anything as he felt his life fade away.

The figure's eyes were wide with fear and confusion, refusing to believe the rapidly regenerating youth was a corpse barely a moment ago.

As the youth pulled his arm back, the figure who was the assaulter up until a moment ago, dropped to the ground, lifeless.

'Huh, she must have gotten the drop on me.' The white haired youth thought, his hair flowing in the wind as he floated a few feet above the ground.

Before he could organize his thoughts, another attacker appeared, this one looking just as young as he was. The attacker's gaze was filled with blazing hatred and fear that was palpable. He dressed in clothes reminiscent of the empire, and suddenly, he understood the reason for the rage directed at him.

'Must be the offspring of their king. Clearly overestimating himself or just overwhelmed with anger.' The youth thought to himself.

"You MONSTER!" His attacker shouted in his charge towards the youth with a force that was unmatched. It was almost as if he was facing a bullet train head on.

The youth reacted out of sheer instinct, his now fully regenerated body moving with a speed and agility he would only have been capable of if given enough time to grow.

'The fear of death follows from the fear of life. Whoever lives fully is prepared to die at any time.'

And In a matter of seconds, his new attacker lay motionless on the ground.

With the rest he was given, he organized his thoughts and took in his surroundings, the sounds of battle filled his ears, and he was witness to a world of chaos and destruction. People of all ages, genders, all with the relatively similar attire, were locked in brutal fights, each one trying to take the life of the other.

Their punches echoed like thunderclaps and the youth felt an indescribable amount of excitement as he watched them tear each other apart like wild beasts.

Every few minutes, a new challenger would approach with the intention of taking his life, but he was quick to defend himself each time, and he would end up the sole survivor of each of his bouts.

The adrenaline in his body was taking over, and he couldn't escape the feeling of peace and tranquility he found in the violence.

The destruction these people were causing was beyond comprehension. Each of their punches were like a meteor strike, creating massive craters wherever they stood. He observed the massive skyscrapers- proof of the empire's ingenuity reaching heights that defied the limits of imagination.

Some of these structures stood tall and proud, while others lay in ruins, their broken glass and steel a testament to their former grandeur.

He flew towards a skyscraper, picking up speed as he defied gravity. His pace was quick, and the distance to the building disappeared in an instant. The people in his path were swept away in showers of blood as he flew.

"Kerrell!" A deafening voice boomed, echoing throughout the city. The youth turned around to face the source of the noise.

Towering above him was a figure of imposing might, hovering effortlessly in the air. The old man's impressive physique was a testament to his strength, with muscles bulging and rippling beneath his skin. His grey hair billowed in the wind, while a bushy grey mustache sat above his lip. He looked like a true warrior.

"What do you want?" The youth replied, his tone betraying his disinterest and calmness, not at all intimidated by the hulking mass of a warrior that hovered in front of him.

He descended, his silhouette darkening the youth's path. The youth in kind flew towards him waiting to see what he wanted.

"I saw what Ariel did to you and I thought you could use some assistance." The old man replied, his deep voice showing the passion he had for blood and death.

Fueled by the insolence the old man had, the youth struck him with a backhand, his improved strength showing as the impact echoed throughout the city as he hurled through several buildings.

'Wow...' The youth wondered, staring at his hand in disbelief. The death he faced this time had really boosted his might as he watched the destruction of infrastructure caused by the old man's insolence.

Flying to the spot the old man landed, his annoyance with him stemming from the fact that he assumed he needed help during war triggered his explosive actions.

Moments later, he reached the old man's location. The old man was still there, lying in a crater with blood streaming from his nose.

"Sol, get up." The youth commanded, A few seconds later, the old man struggled to his feet. "Go, provide assistance to our forces." the youth gestured towards the fiercely aggravating battle going on in the distance.

The old man smiled at this, his bloody face made for a terrifying sight as he flexed his cheek muscles. Sol flew into the distance no second later than the command, eager to bring destruction to his lord's enemies.

The youth was not worried about Sol's retaliation, after the time he had spent with Sol, he could tell Sol was just a bloodthirsty old man chasing conquest and death in a glorious battle.

As the youth floats up into the air, he could feel the weight of his destiny pressing heavily upon him. He knows he must conquer this war, seize the throne and ensure the survival of his subjects.

It was a daunting task, one that required him to shed blood and unleash wicked violence upon his enemies. But he would not falter. He was free.

With a mighty roar, He launched himself into the sky, towering over the battlefield below. His presence alerts all across the battlefield, his enemies curious about his survival after the bout with their queen.

His voice boomed across the battlefield echoing his ultimatum to all who dared oppose him and strengthening his allies. His order was clear. Submit or face his wrath.