Prologue
A thunderous crack echoed through the magnificent chamber, shattering the stained-glass windows and showering the assembled council with a cascade of colored fragments. Panic erupted as figures scrambled for cover, hands instinctively reaching for enchanted blades and shields.
Elven Princess Amara, her emerald eyes wide with terror, sought refuge behind the imposing form of King Borin, his face twisted in a grimace that seemed more predatory than concerned. A guttural growl rumbled from Grom, the goblin ambassador, as he brandished a wickedly barbed spear.
Through the dissipating smoke strode the Fierce but Pious Dragon, Emperor Aurélien. Clad in crimson silks, his presence commanded respect and awe. His gaze, sharp as a honed blade, swept across the chamber before settling on a lone figure standing defiantly in the center. The figure, cloaked in shadow and exuding an air of mystery, remained silent, a metallic glint on his wrist the only hint of movement.
"Enough!" boomed Aurélien, his voice echoing with a power that stilled the frantic movement. "Who dares interrupt the sacred proceedings of the Celestial Council Hall?"
With reflexes honed by years of experience, a guard lunged, his blade a blur of azure steel aimed for the intruder's heart.A flicker of movement from the stranger's wrist conjured a shimmering barrier that absorbed the blow with a faint hum. An unsettling silence descended as the blade met the shimmering barrier, disappearing into the field with a hiss. The audacity of the attack hung heavy in the air.
The figure tilted its head, a hint of a smile playing on lips barely visible in the dim light. He raised a hand, revealing a device on his wrist that crackled with an unnatural energy.
A collective gasp escaped the council members. The air crackled with a tension as thick as fog. It was evident he was no mere intruder.
Before anyone could react, the stranger unleashed a devastating attack, a blinding explosion that ripped through the chamber. The force of the detonation was immense, obliterating everything in its path. The chamber was reduced to a smoldering ruin, filled with the deafening roar of collapsing structures and the blinding light of raw power. Chunks of ceiling rained down, carried aloft by a shockwave that rivaled a hurricane.
In the aftermath, an eerie silence reigned, broken only by the crackling embers. Only Emperor Aurélien and the man responsible for the cataclysm remained standing amidst the desolation. The Emperor's eyes blazed with a fiery mixture of fury and disbelief as he surveyed the charred remains of the council chamber and the fallen council members.
"You have made a grave error," the Emperor roared, a dark aura of anger radiating from his entire being."Who are you? You wretched being"
The man with his barrier let out a chilling laugh that echoed through the ruined chamber. With a final, enigmatic glance at the Emperor, he lunged.
Aurélien, however, his age belying his agility, sidestepped the attack with practiced ease. He countered with a ferocious slash of his own blade, leaving trails of shimmering light in its wake. The clash of their attacks was a spectacle of raw power, flinging rubble into the air and sending shockwaves through the ruins.
The fight was a whirlwind of steel and sorcery. Mr. Sage, a blur of motion, weaved through the Emperor's attacks, his movements unpredictable and laced with a deadly grace. His strange device on his wrist pulsed with energy, firing bolts of crackling power that Aurélien deflected with his shimmering blade. The Emperor, a whirlwind of crimson fury, rained down blow after blow, each one imbued with the power of ages. The chamber floor cracked and groaned under the punishment, threatening to give way entirely.
With a deafening clang, Mr. Sage met the Emperor's blade head-on, the stolen sword groaning under the force of the impact. Sparks flew as the metal screeched in protest, the smell of ozone filling the air. The Emperor, a crimson blur, pressed his attack, a relentless storm of shimmering slashes that forced Mr. Sage back towards the crumbling edge of the shattered floor.
Mr. Sage, his movements growing erratic, fought with the desperation of a cornered animal. His malfunctioning device sputtered and died with a pathetic hiss, clattering to the ground unnoticed. A feral grin, devoid of humor, stretched across his face. He abandoned the stolen weapons, gripping the Emperor's own fallen blade in both hands.
This wasn't about fancy footwork anymore. This was a brutal, final stand. He swung the weapon with surprising strength, fueled by a madman's resolve and the knowledge that escape was no longer an option.
A feral grin slowly spread across Mr. Sage's face, replacing the pain with a twisted sense of amusement. "Is that all you've got, Emperor?" he rasped, his voice laced with taunting amusement. "Looks like your age has finally caught up to you."
The Emperor, his face thunderous, ignored the taunt. He saw the flicker of pain in Mr. Sage's eyes, the momentary vulnerability. With a renewed sense of purpose, he charged forward, discarding his elegant swordsmanship for a brutal, close-quarters attack. The fight had taken a vicious turn, one fueled by rage and desperation.
But before their blades could clash again, a thunderous roar erupted from outside the chamber. The sound of pounding boots and clashing steel echoed through the ruins, growing louder with every passing moment. Then, a wave of crimson flooded the chamber entrance.
The Emperor's elite guard had arrived. In the forefront stood a contingent of towering ogres, their massive frames clad in heavy plate armor. Each ogre wielded a thick metal club the size of a tree trunk, their roars echoing through the chamber. Behind them marched ranks of heavily armored knights, their visors down, their greatswords glinting in the dying light.
But the Emperor's forces weren't limited to ground troops. Soaring through the smoke-filled air came a squadron of griffins, majestic winged beasts with the head and talons of an eagle and the body of a lion. Their riders, clad in leather armor and wielding wickedly curved scimitars, rained down arrows tipped with arcane fire upon the lone figure of Mr. Sage.
And finally, at the rear of the formation, strode a figure cloaked in swirling purple robes. Archmage Bartholomew, the Emperor's most trusted advisor, his long white beard crackling with arcane energy. His staff, carved from the heart of an ancient wyvern, pulsed with a soft violet glow, a silent promise of devastating power.
The tide had turned decisively. Mr. Sage, surrounded by the Emperor's elite guard, looked up at the approaching wave of steel, beasts, and magic. A flicker of fear, quickly masked by a manic grin, crossed his features. He had achieved his goal – the council was dead. But now, he faced the full might of the Emperor's fury.
Mr. Sage, however, seemed oblivious to the chaos erupting around him. His eyes, devoid of fear or madness now, held a strange serenity. A single tear traced a path down his cheek, a flicker of regret breaking through his stoic facade.
With a labored breath, he twisted the stolen blade, its point glinting with a morbid light. "It's done, Emperor," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. A weak smile touched his lips, tinged with a bitter satisfaction. "But where were you when your people suffered? Perhaps if you spent less time preening on your throne and more time observing… Millions have been avenged at the cost of a few… expendable… pieces."
His voice trailed off, his grip slackening on the hilt. A look of peace, tinged with a deep regret, washed over his face as he slumped to the ground, the blade slipping from his grasp. His eyes, for a fleeting moment, flickered towards the Emperor, a silent challenge hanging in the air before they fluttered closed forever.
The Emperor watched, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over him. He had won, but at a terrible cost. A heavy silence hung in the air as the last embers of defiance flickered and died in Mr. Sage's eyes.
As Mr. Sage lay dead, a strange light surrounded him, pulling him into a boundless void. Disoriented and confused, he found himself adrift in an endless expanse of darkness.
"Am I... dead?" he murmured, a dark chuckle escaping his lips.
As his eyes adjusted to the void, a strange awareness washed over him. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he turned his gaze towards an unseen audience.
"I'm sure you're wondering how I got into this mess," Mr. Sage declared, his voice echoing through the emptiness. "Trust me, I'm wondering the same thing myself."