Chaos Particles.

They exist everywhere. Unlike light, air, or sound, they don't rely on anything else to be.

Chaos simply *is*—a truth as constant as life itself.

From the birth of a star to the clash of two souls, every action, every motion, gives birth to Chaos Particles. They are the silent witnesses of creation and destruction, swirling through every corner of existence.

Many have tried to harness this force, to command it for their own desires. But Chaos is no servant. Its energy is so fierce, so untamed, that even a glimpse of its essence can shatter the strongest mind.

It is a power that lies beyond life and death, woven into the very fabric of reality.

And once, there was a being who mastered it.

The **King of Chaos**—ruler of none, yet bowed to by all. The one who tamed the madness that binds the worlds together. With a single thought, he could make the impossible real.

Immortals feared him. Mortals worshipped him.

And now… his bloodline has awakened once more.

Someone has risen, bearing the same blood, the same gift, and the same divine authority.

Once again, the realms tremble.

Those who had long fallen silent now stir. Those who had turned away now watch. Even those who had abandoned all hope—now whisper his name.

Hades.

He had done the unthinkable. Without knowing, he had recreated a miracle born from the hands of the Chaos King himself—rewriting time, bending reality, pulling the dead back from the abyss.

A power so sacred, so forbidden, that even the two Dragon Kings beside him could only stare in awe.

"He has returned," Xelrath muttered, his voice trembling as his inner beast howled in disbelief.

His eyes narrowed, his aura blazing. In that instant, he knew.

Hades was not what he expected. He has truly inherited the Soul of the Chaos King.

And if he was capable of this now—at such an early stage—then what would he become if left to grow?

The answer filled Xelrath with dread.

No… that must not happen.

Hades had to fall.

Here. And now.

**DOOOM**

*DHAK*

The thunderous tremor split the air, halting Xelrath mid-sprint. A crimson wave rippled across the battlefield, turning the very sky red.

From amidst the haze, Kaelith stood tall, a wicked grin on her lips.

"What's wrong? About to piss yourself?" she taunted.

Xelrath roared in rage, his blade tearing through the air. Kaelith leapt back, her form a blur, and countered with a sweeping slash mid-flight.

"GHUAAAK!"

The attack met his dark flames, vanishing in a hiss of smoke. Xelrath staggered a step back, fury boiling in his chest. His glare burned through the red-haired woman.

"You don't understand, woman!" he spat, voice shaking with both anger and dread. "That being shouldn't exist! He'll be the end of this world!"

His gaze flickered toward the distance—toward Hades, who was holding his revived mate close, the glow of Chaos still swirling faintly around them. The sight made Xelrath's pulse quicken. A deep, primal fear crawled up his spine.

Kaelith only smiled wider, her knuckles cracking like wildfire.

"If it's my son," she said, her tone calm yet fierce, "then I'll let him destroy me—and this world—with a smile on my face."

Xelrath's jaw clenched. "Fine," he growled, his voice dropping low. "You want this the hard way?"

He raised his hand. The ground trembled.

All across the field, armored figures began to rise—two hundred elite warriors, their auras merging into a single wave of killing intent that darkened the air itself.

"While you're busy with these," Xelrath muttered, eyes gleaming with malice, "I'll take your brat's head."

Kaelith's grin faded. Her gaze swept over the army before her. They were no ordinary soldiers—their strength was enough to keep even her occupied for precious minutes.

But she couldn't afford that.

If she looked away from Hades for even a moment, Xelrath would strike.

And Kaelith knew—no force in the realms could stop that blow once it landed.

Just then—

—it crumbled.

The great barrier surrounding the elven nation shattered like glass, its fragments dissolving into the wind.

Xelrath's eyes widened as he looked beyond the ruins of the barrier—hundreds… no, thousands of warriors were advancing. Their formation was vast, their steps thunderous. And at their front marched a towering figure, his tusks glinting beneath the sun.

The Orc Commander—Raarka.

"I believe that's your sign to leave," came a calm, sharp voice from the front lines.

Xelrath turned his head slowly—and froze.

A man stood there, draped in black, a faint mist coiling at his feet. His face was one Xelrath could never forget. The memory of humiliation, of being crushed before countless eyes, burned through his mind.

The Shadow of Lord Argon.

Damien.

"Damien," Xelrath hissed through gritted teeth. "So Lord Emberclad is no longer hiding this little alliance, huh?"

Damien only shrugged. "We're not the only ones making secret deals."

Xelrath sneered, eyes narrowing into slits. "He'll regret this. Everything would be destroyed just because you left one person alive." Raising his hand he turned his finger towards Hades—but the redhead was no longer there.

"Huh— *SQUELCH!*"

A wet, guttural sound echoed. Xelrath's body jolted forward as something pierced clean through his back.

He turned his head in disbelief, pain twisting across his face. Behind him stood Hades, his eyes glowing faintly crimson, his expression carved from ice.

"I have hated no one," Hades whispered, his voice trembling with fury, "more than you."

Xelrath's breath hitched. Rage surged through him, his jaw parting—ready to unleash a storm of dark flame—

—but before he could act, another strike came.

**CRACK!**

A spear tore through his skull, bursting out from beneath his chin. His body quivered violently as his eyes rolled upward.

Above him floated Damien, his expression unreadable, one hand gripping the spear. "Lord Argon," he said coldly, "never promised the safety of any guest."

Xelrath's aura flickered. His body trembled. He tried to raise his hand—

**SQUELCH.**

Another strike. This time, straight through his chest.

He looked down, fury filling his darkening gaze—only to see a familiar red-haired woman standing before him, a wicked grin on her face.

"Don't forget about me," Kaelith whispered, twisting her blade.

Xelrath clenched his fist, veins bulging across his arm as his eyes burned white. Violet flames began bubbling in his mouth—wild, unstable, and ready to explode.

Damien's eyes narrowed. He knew that look.

Without hesitation, he yanked his spear free. The weapon shimmered, its silver shaft warping and folding in upon itself until it reformed into a gauntlet that locked onto his left hand.

He lunged downward—

—and drove his fist straight into Xelrath's throat.

**DOOOOOM**

The impact sent shockwaves tearing through the battlefield. Kaelith and Hades leapt back just in time as Xelrath's legs buckled beneath him, though he stubbornly refused to kneel.

The flames flickered violently, trapped behind Damien's strike, unable to escape.

"Let me remind you of the old days," Damien muttered, his voice low and steady.

Xelrath growled, his fury boiling over. Forcing himself to his knees, he wrenched his mouth free—and roared, spewing a torrent of violet fire.

Damien only snickered, as he jumped away. The gauntlet shifted again, its metallic sheen rippling into the shape of a shield, which absorbed the inferno with ease.

The flames vanished.

Xelrath's eyes widened in rage. He flung himself forward, two vast wings of violet flame bursting from his back as he lunged.

Damien's weapon morphed once more, the shield unfolding into a chained saw that spun to life with a deafening whir. Sparks danced off its edges.

"You'll regret ever standing in my way!" Xelrath roared. "I'm not weak anymore!"

He shot forward, moving faster than the eye could follow—faster than the saw could even reach.

But Damien was smiling.

That smile made Xelrath's instincts scream.

And then—

**DOOOM!**

The world around him **crushed** downward. The gravity spiked violently, slamming Xelrath into the ground with bone-breaking force. The impact carved deep fissures into the earth as the air itself warped under the pressure.

He struggled to rise, his bones groaning, his wings shattering under the weight.

Then came Kaelith's voice—sharp, furious, and trembling with wrath.

She raised her hand. For a brief moment, the crushing pressure lifted—only to return tenfold.

"I told you," she hissed, her eyes blazing with primal rage, "to keep your filthy eyes away from my child!"

**BOOOOOOM**

The ground erupted.

The crater deepened, the cracks widened, and Xelrath was buried beneath a storm of dust and broken stone. The once-mighty King of Death was now pinned under the wrath of a mother.

"ATTACK HER!" One of the soldiers finally charged, couldn't see his Lord getting targeted anymore.

However, suddenly a huge club smashed before the soldier, making him pause.

Raarka pulled the club and rested it on his shoulder as he said, "You are going somewhere?"

The soldiers ground his teeth…but then he realized.

They were surrounded.

°°°°°°°°

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