'My lord, it's enough.'
'Good.'
The king's lips lifted apart, revealing a creepy smile.
He began to clap slowly, the sound echoing eerily around the dark walls.
That creepy smile morphed into a maniacal one, as he noted the new found resolve.
'I don't know where you got your resolve from…but it doesn't matter. Nevertheless, I like that. Now –'
He rose, flinging his robes off him gloriously. Revealing muscular arms and a dominant armoured chest.
His gaze turned back to Simma, a wicked smile accentuating his now dominant features.
Giving off some kind of god-of-war vibes.
'Shall we?'
Simma closed his eyes for a moment, making him seem advertently senseless.
Charging toward a powerful enemy like that meant certain death.
But the king understood his intentions. And as a noble opponent with a formidable upper hand, he waited.
The Ace crystal didn't necessarily possess him, it only amped his abilities. But also in some way, influenced his actions.
Not completely, but that part depends wholly on the mental fortitude of the host.
And Savart Diatsca, though not an overlord, was a powerful monarch.
In order to concentrate the energy swirling dormantly in his Solar plexus, into his arxra nodes, he needed to concentrate.
Raw energy stored up in the solar plexus couldn't be used for techniques. It had to be converted.
Thus said, it goes without saying that there are different types of energies.
Otherwise called Arxra.
He kneaded arxra into his hands and cleared up his pathways for the energy to flow more efficiently through his network.
Though his ongoing regenerative process made it a little difficult.
Considering the brutality his body had just survived. Difficult it was, but with his resilient nature he had a chance.
A pair of heavy thick chains formed in his hands, separating into slimmer bits till they became numerous.
They elongated skywards to reach the ceilings. Flailing around him, disallowing the king to come any closer.
'Good,' Savart repeated, a little bit stunned. He'd never seen this power before, but yet, he'd also rarely seen his general in action, so he didn't talk.
' I'd been cautious, but not in this state. I've essentially become invincible now, and have nothing to fear from your puny chains.'
' You'd better think twice before making such assumptions,' Simma snarled under his breath.
This technique, a simple yet dangerous technique, requiring the use of enormous amounts of arxra, and only used as a last resort.
But Simma couldn't take chances. He had to go all out at once.
Once the chains made contact with a person, they could seal whatever technique, about to be used, sealing all forms of arxra, and reflecting the technique.
But like the others, it had a specific unknown limit.
With an angry roar, which re echoed around, Savart moved towards the seemingly protected general.
He approached confidently, silver lightning lit up in his hands, criss crossing his whole body and cackling ferociously.
He leapt mightily from the ground, in a streak of light and force.
They all watched the chains rising dangerously to meet him and then –
Just before it happened, Savart saw Simma's resolute face. Illuminated by the lightning.
That expression meant that Simma had no more aces hidden.
He grinned wickedly before…it happened.
BOOM!!!
The exchange sent a powerful wave of energy exploding radially outward.
So swift that none of the watching guards actually saw what happened.
Only cracks in the pillars and ceiling, along with the fiery essence hanging in the air, gave incredible witness to the dexterity of the two powerhouses.
Simma fell back to the ground, in a flurry of broken metals. His expression alone told of his one pain.
His chains landed all around him in shards, piercing his skin as he slammed amongst them too.
Savart remained hovering in the air. His hands now lightning-free.
He'd won, but it took a toll on him.
A single drop of blood dripped to the floor, out of an open wound on his fist. One that almost ripped his fingers off.
Indeed, Simma was no joke.
Next instant, lightning struck the floor, dangerously close to Simma.
Creating a radial crater on the floor. Stones split away from the floor, rolling around nonchalantly.
Smoke hung densely in the air, and the guards couldn't see for a while.
'Impressive' Savart said, turning slowly in mid air to face his beaten lackey, ' but you're still weak.'
Both knew it was an open lie. If Savart didn't have the Ace crystal, he'd be down by now.
However, Simma was done for.
'You are purely stronger, my lord,' Simma forced himself into a standing posture. 'Why then do you want me to fight you?'
'I need a rightful challenge. An opponent worthy of me. And since you failed to provide the boy who could have been a good one…you will have to be the replacement.'
Plain balderdash.
A smile played around Simma's lips as an evil comeback crossed his mind.
It might lead to his death, but at least he could have the privilege of seeing terror on his leige's face.
So, he was going to play along, and play foul too.
Ordinarily, even with the absorbed Ace crystal, Savart wouldn't still have defeated the Prince.
If his powers were truly as destructive as they were meant to be.
And they were. He'd seen a living proof tonight.
But then, there existed a man he knew Savart feared mortally.
'Why then, my lord, have you been evading the lord of Vandel Marakin?'
Savart turned sharply, casting a malevolent side glance at Simma.
His feet touched the ground, slowly.
Simma closed his eyes, expecting a forceful gust and maybe another impact with a solid surface.
Something that would finally finish him off.
But it never came.
'We're in-laws. Meanwhile, what are you even playing at?'
Hearing this, Simma just gloated.
"Such a pitiable excuse, my king," he thought dully.
He could feel his heartbeat fading. The pain descended on him slowly, but he was very familiar with that feeling.
Savart stared intently at Simma.
It'd just occurred to him that Simma knew of his old fear all this while.
But he had important matters to attend to.
For now, he was running out of time.
Since he'd waited a long time for the Prince, his time for the Ace crystal enhancement was fast running out.
Normally, his boy gave a vague warning; slight weakness.
Since he'd just felt that, he didn't really want to push it.
He turned away, to leave, but the aggrieved beaten general wasn't finished.
'If you want a true challenge, then invade Vandel Marakin.'
Savart froze.
Silence. The kind of one where you could hear everyone's heartbeat clearly.
Simma smiled to himself.
He flashed a wide triumphant smile at the two bewildered guards knowing what was about to happen next.
'Moral lesson,' Simma said loudly to the guards there, 'even the gods have their own bullies.'
The reference was far too clear. The guards exchanged glances, then again at Savart.
He had crossed the line.
Savart whirled around, his eyes heavy with rage.
Simma closed his eyes and embraced his fate. This'd been his plan all along.
Infuriating Savart into killing him.
It was going to be the hell of a pain dying from his wounds anyway.
A very heavy bolt of lightning erupted from his hand with sizzling ferocity. Hitting the grinning general squarely in the chest.
The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Alongside a sudden stench of iron and electricity.
The guards subconsciously exchanged glances again but remained quiet.
No one dared move.
All that remained of General Simma Unos Malmagaios… a twisted pile of flesh and armour, bearing no definite form.
Savart's expression did not change.
Apart from his nose wrinkling in disgust at the acrid smell, he didn't even flinch.
'Take it away. And clear up this place.'
All these, without a change of demeanor, just a casual smirk,
He didn't even spare half a glance at the remains of the man who served him more like a slave for decades.
The guards shuffled forward, their expressions empty under their visors.
Terror ate at their very insides. Each felt instinctively drawn to run in the opposite direction from Savart at this very moment.
Savart sure had an "other" side but it'd never been this vicious.
Savart looked around for a moment, then dissolved into smoke and was gone in a grand wisp.
–
That same night…
Three princesses sat round an oval table, which contained all sorts of varieties of dishes and fine non-alcoholic wine.
All untouched.
Elaborately jeweled room, the room looked befitting of belonging to the royal family of a powerful kingdom.
Only three sisters sat together, listening to the quaking noises coming from the throne room.
No guards.
Even though the balcony where they sat contained large luxurious golden silk curtains.
Although magically improvised to block all sounds from entering or leaving, they could still hear the awful bangs coming from there.
Coupled with the heavy dangerous aura lingering around the castle.
They all knew that Father had used 'that crystal' again.
They didn't know much about it, but the power it emanated seemed very powerful as always.
None of them were bothered with any of those trivialities at the moment.
The trio were quiet, their minds heavy with the news that'd filtered in, in the early hours of the evening.
Sentries had reported that a boy with a terrific amount of pure demonic essence, who was now assumed as the Prince of Darkness, was sighted alone, walking along the Sheath.
The Sheath; the demarcating magical boundary between them and the Incarnas.
An elite team of troops had been dispatched hastily, but up until then, there had been no feedback.
The eldest of the three, Beth, looked most visibly disturbed by this news.
Her two younger twin sisters couldn't just stop thinking.
The news had incited terror among the soldiers and the commoners who lived in the capital city.
Even the head general, Simma had followed the expedition, alongside their aunt, Nymphadora, unarguably the strongest Sorceress in the kingdom.
If they had not yet returned, it meant that either they had not caught him, or had been ambushed instead.
They sincerely wished that it were the first option.
Although deep down, they knew that such wistful fantasies never came true.
The Prince of Darkness was a mythical figure, who had abounded from the old stories about the Incarnas.
Beth, Bella and Elsa were all from the Cruceni, the people created exclusively to annihilate all Incarnas.
This instigated a natural hatred between the two races.
The Cruceni had multiplied in the years that followed… consisting of most of the royal families in all the kingdoms on the other side of the Sheath.
A Prince of Darkness, though originally a mythical figure, had been proven to exist.
One always preceded the other, and there were never two at once.
Just a continually shifting cycle.
The Prince could only be recognized by his very powerful demonic essence.
Over the years, Princes learnt to hide their essence because of that.
So seeing a Prince with an unhidden essence meant that the Prince was still a novice…untrained properly.
That was why Savart'd hurried to send troops after that prince, believing him to be an amateur
But, it seemed they were clearly proved wrong.
Historically, the last known Prince of Darkness was killed in a battle with nineteen Cruceni overlords, almost two hundred years ago.
The Incarnas didn't avenge their Prince nor did they come for his body. He was buried somewhere around Vandel Marakin
Since then, no Prince had strayed into the human or Cruceni zone.
This unexpected event had shaken her dad, Savart, the king of Ellipe, for Elsa had felt it in him when he refused to go with his sister and instead sent Simma with her.
Elsa was deadsure she saw fear in his eyes, as he watched his twin sister ride off in the gathering darkness that evening.
Savart wasn't a Cruceni overlord, and it wouldn't have taken the nearest one a minute to arrive.
But he only alerted them later on, after he was sure that none would come rushing to Ellipe.
He'd his reasons, sure enough, and they'd to be reasonable enough.
Elsa could tell that after that incident two hundred years ago, the Prince of Darkness wandering in the human world meant that the Incarnas and dangerous trouble couldn't be far behind.
'Elsa?'
Elsa stared at the green irides of her twin sister, Bella.
'What are you thinking about?'
'What else could I be thinking about?',Elsa snapped.
'A boy?'
Elsa sighed decisively.
'The Prince?'
Elsa sighed again, gazing reproachfully at her talkative sister, who fell quiet again.
'Just saying', Bella began again aloud after a short while, 'how did they recognize him?'
'His demonic essence, of course. His aura must not be powerful.
Something very specific in all old legends and mythic lore.
'Only a Cruceni overlord could sense him, if he shields his essence', Beth answered.
'Some were really really powerful, though,' Elsa reminded.
'So what about –', Bella began again, but something had distracted her.
An apparition.
Smoke formed out of thin air and in seconds, their father stood, looking down at them.
'Father', Beth said rising,'what happened –
'Girls', he called in a harsh crisp voice, 'Bedtime.'