My Wife Is A Witch, And I’m Her Consort

Kaelis' stunned silence lasted all of two seconds before his entire expression shifted.

"Really?" His voice rose in excitement, his hands clutching at his own chest as if he had just been handed the greatest news of his life. "Really, really, really?" His entire body jolted forward as he lunged at Nyxa, arms wide, attempting to wrap her in a crushing embrace.

She drifted back effortlessly, floating just out of his reach, her fingers never faltering on the harp.

Kaelis grinned like an idiot.

"Hell yeah, I wanna kill him!"

His voice echoed across the open fields, startling a few of the lumberjacks in the distance. One of them gave him an odd glance before shaking his head and going back to splitting open a tree trunk, exposing the shimmering Stormglass crystal inside.

But just as quickly as Kaelis' enthusiasm flared, it dimmed, his expression darkening, his shoulders sinking slightly.

"Actually," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't just wanna kill him."

Nyxa didn't respond, simply watching him with quiet expectation.

Kaelis exhaled sharply, rolling his jaw, his thoughts knotting together in his head.

"I'm already fighting," he admitted, his voice lower now. "Fighting to keep from losing myself again." His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. "I've already done it too many times, and every time I come back, I feel like I'm fighting something stronger than me. Like one day, I'm gonna lose for good. And sometimes…"

His throat tightened.

"Sometimes, I just wanna say fuck it and give up."

But then, he didn't say anything else. His thoughts, however, continued in the space where his words did not. He was so quick to do things before after the divorce, no hope showed for him.

'What was the point? I was just another guy. Another nobody. Just floating through existence without direction, chasing fleeting highs that never lasted. But then, I met Espen…Ness…Hael…Ripp.'

And for the first time in years—hell, maybe the first time ever—he survived when he was supposed to die. And it left something inside him. A small, pathetic thing. A thing he didn't trust, didn't even really believe in yet, but he could feel it gnawing at the edges of his chest.

Hope.

And then, without meaning to, his mind drifted to Espen's face.

She was beautiful.

Not in the obvious, exaggerated way people would talk about some goddess descending from the heavens. It was sharper, rawer. It was in the way her eyes cut through the world around her, the way she held herself with pride even when she was struggling.

'Do I miss her..? Am I supposed to? Doesn't she hate my guts?'

He shook the thought off immediately, forcing himself back to the moment. His eyes locked onto Nyxa again, suddenly more cautious.

"You're not normal," he muttered. "So, who are you really?"

Nyxa's fingers never stopped moving across the strings.

She tilted her head slightly, the hood casting shadows over her half-hidden face, but her smile remained.

"I do not exist," she said simply.

Kaelis frowned. "That's dramatic as hell. You're literally standing in front of me, smart one."

Nyxa let out a soft, airy laugh, the kind that somehow felt both warm and distant, as if she wasn't fully here.

"My existence was never meant to be," she said, her voice melodic, as if she were reciting a passage from an old, forgotten scripture. "I was the last note of an unfinished hymn, the lingering breath of a god whose voice had been silenced."

Kaelis squinted at her, confused.

She continued, "My father, a celestial deity of harmony, was one of the divine beings whose body was used to shape Kalhalla. When he perished, his voice did not die with him. It was left incomplete, a song cut off before its final note."

Kaelis' stomach twisted strangely. "And you…?"

Nyxa nodded. "I was that final note."

The wind shifted, rustling the scarves of a nearby merchant cart, carrying the distant grunts of warriors still sparring in the fields beyond.

Kaelis ran a hand down his face. "Okay. That's… uh. A lot."

Nyxa's expression remained peaceful, her fingers dancing across the harp, the melody shifting into something sadder, lower, more haunting.

"But I could not sing it alone," she continued, as if she had never stopped. "For years, I remained in waiting, bound by silence, my voice nothing more than a whisper in the wind. I can not complete the hymn until the heavens themselves listen."

She lifted her head slightly, her voice quieting to a near whisper.

"Until the celestial eye—the last remnant of my father's divine presence—is fully open."

Kaelis blinked at her. Then tilted his head.

"What the hell does that even mean?"

Nyxa's expression didn't change. "It means I must kill the Apostles."

Kaelis' brows shot up. "You say that so casually—"

Nyxa plucked a final note, letting it ring out as she spoke.

"The remnants of the gods and demons are stronger than ever," she said. "Even your King was taken by the Hand of God, leaving Indreth and Varnhalin scrambling to free him. And over the years, I have come to know the true nature of the Apostles."

Kaelis stiffened.

She played another note, softer this time.

"There was a woman who knew more than most," she murmured. "A witch. Maela. I had hoped to meet her before she vanished."

Kaelis' mind snapped to attention.

'Maela…Espen's witch mentor. Guess she's more famous then I thought then.'

Nyxa continued, as if she had not noticed his shift in focus.

"Right after the war between gods and demons," she said, "the Apostles used Soul Kenda—forbidden magic—to harness the souls of the dead gods and demons and reshape themselves into what they are now. They are not divine, nor are they mortal."

Kaelis' chest tightened.

"They are something else," Nyxa said. "Something that should not exist."

Kaelis felt his breath hitch, his mind racing.

'The Apostles…again with those weirdos…?'

He had always known they were powerful. Everyone knew that. But this?

'They used the souls of the dead gods and demons to become Apostles? And they had the power to make others like them? Can they even be beat?'

His stomach twisted violently.

Before he could stop himself, he gasped, "Tell me more."

Nyxa's fingers moved again, plucking the next note.

And she smiled.

Kaelis didn't hesitate.

"Tell me more," he said, his voice sharper now, more focused.

Nyxa's harp whispered in the air, the melody shifting into something older, a tune that did not belong to the present.

"In Kalhalla, no soul is free," she said. "When a person dies, they do not pass into an afterlife of their choosing. There is no paradise to go after death here, no peaceful plane where the dead may rest. There is only one of three fates, dictated by power, by location, by the hands of those who claim dominion over this world."

Kaelis felt his pulse slow, his breath evening out as he listened, something about Nyxa's voice commanding absolute attention.

"The Apostles, or False Angels as Maela likes to call them, the first fate is within their domain—the World Tree."

Her fingers plucked a note, and Kaelis could almost see it—a massive, ethereal tree, its bark pulsing like veins, its roots stretching endlessly into the void.

"Those who follow the False Angels, believe in them and have the soul rune, those who bear the Mark of Ascendance, those who have been chosen—or taken—are claimed instantly upon death," Nyxa continued. "Their will is stripped away. They become empty vessels, puppets for a design greater than themselves. They do not know peace. They do not know pain. They simply… exist."

Kaelis' stomach turned.

"Then there are the Red Crystals," Nyxa said, plucking another note, the sound dark, distant, like a heartbeat fading away.

Kaelis saw a wasteland of fractured crimson, a sea of blood-colored shards, each one pulsating with trapped voices, screams that could never reach the air.

"Those who died violently, those who were betrayed, those who perished in places of high magic—their souls do not move on," Nyxa said. "They are trapped in these crystals, reliving their suffering, their final moments, over and over, unless the crystal is shattered."

Kaelis' jaw tightened.

"And the last?"

Nyxa's melody slowed, almost faltering for a second.

"The Devourer Below."

The moment she said it, Kaelis felt something cold grip his spine.

"If a soul is too strong to be claimed by the False Angels… and not bound to a crystal… it is taken. Devoured completely. Erased from existence. No memory. No echoes. Nothing."

Kaelis' fingers twitched.

Nyxa continued, her voice still light, still peaceful, as if she were discussing the weather instead of cosmic annihilation.

"The Apostles know this. They have always known this. And that is why, at the dawn of the war's end, they broke every sacred law that had once governed this world."

Kaelis' breath hitched.

"They used Soul Kenda, forbidden magic, to harness the souls of the dead gods and demons. They ripped them from the void, from the places they were meant to rest, and made them their own. That is how they became what they are now. They are not divine, nor are they mortal. They are something else. Something that should not exist."

Kaelis felt his pulse hammering in his ears.

Nyxa's fingers slowed, her gaze tilting slightly toward him.

"And within you," she murmured, "resides the last foe to fall in the war between gods and demons. The god of the demons."

Kaelis stiffened.

"The King of Hell is within you, Kaelis," she said. "And that means everything has changed."

Kaelis' mind spun, his throat dry, his breath coming short.

She kept going.

"Demons may bow before you, believing you their rightful ruler," she said. "Or they may try to kill you, believing you an imposter. Either way… you are no longer invisible to them. You are no longer just another piece on the board."

Kaelis exhaled sharply, his heart pounding against his ribs.

Then, suddenly—

A smile pulled at his lips.

"Okay," he said.

Nyxa's brow lifted slightly.

Kaelis grinned, then let out a sharp breath, nodding to himself.

"Okay," he repeated. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm in."

Nyxa tilted her head, amused. "You're agreeing already?"

Kaelis shrugged. "Hell yeah, I wanna kill him."

Nyxa laughed softly, her harp shimmering as her fingers moved again. "Then let me make sure you're strong enough to do it."

Kaelis stilled. "What?"

Nyxa plucked a single note—one that reverberated through the air, twisting through the wind, wrapping around Kaelis like a pulse of invisible energy.

"I will imbue you with a temporary Runic Song," she said. "It will suppress all darkness and troubles within you, allowing you to fight with clarity. It will not last forever, but the more you use it, the more you will understand how to control what is inside you. That's if it doesn't kill you or take over you first. This isn't a perfect solution, but it will help."

Kaelis narrowed his eyes. "…Why temporary?"

Nyxa smiled.

"Because the power in you is too strong for permanence."

Kaelis had no response to that.

Then Nyxa played another note, and this time—

It struck through his entire body like a wave of light.

Music wrapped around him, not like chains, not like a cage, but like threads of something impossibly old, something sacred. The air shimmered, glowing musical notes forming intricate patterns along his skin, weaving into his veins, sinking into his bones.

And above his head—

A halo appeared.

Pure, glowing white, rotating slowly, humming with celestial energy.

Kaelis gasped, stumbling slightly, his mind overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it, not physically, but internally.

For the first time since coming to Kalhalla, since gaining this accursed power, since being thrown into battles he barely understood—

Everything inside him was quiet, The laughter of that shadowy King—gone. The raging, burning pit of darkness inside his chest—gone. For a moment, he just stood there, stunned, feeling what he assumed normal people must feel like all the time. He exhaled slowly, his fingers curling at his sides.

Nyxa watched him.

"Do you feel it?" she asked.

Kaelis nodded, swallowing. "Yeah. I feel… everything."

Nyxa's lips curled slightly, almost proud.

"Good."

Then, she lifted her harp again.

"It's time to test it."

Kaelis blinked. "Huh? Test it?"

Nyxa's eyes glowed faintly beneath her hood.

"This will allow you to harness your power safely," she said. "The more you use it, the more you will withstand the dark power of Hell. Able to control it, and able to actually kill that demon."

Kaelis exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Okay. What do I need to do?"

Nyxa's fingers moved over the strings.

And the world shifted.

Kaelis exhaled, his mind still adjusting to the strange weightlessness of the halo spinning above his head. It was comforting in a way he didn't expect, like all the noise inside him had been quieted for the first time in—well, ever.

But just as he was about to fully process it, Nyxa spoke again, her voice carrying the same serene calmness as always.

"In this town, gold and silver mean nothing."

Kaelis blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. "What? Can you answer my question from before?"

"Othvendell does not trade in coin," Nyxa explained. "Here, the only currency is the skins of hunted game, the bones of beasts, the fangs of creatures, and the trophies of war."

She lifted a single hand, gesturing toward the marketplace before them.

Kaelis followed her gaze—

And for the first time, he really looked.

The market was bustling, but unlike the usual shouting of merchants peddling wares, the transactions here were swift, wordless exchanges of raw materials. A burly man with scarred hands and tusked features handed over a bundle of wyvern scales, and in return, a merchant gave him a stack of dried meat and a newly reforged dagger.

A woman clad in patched leather armor tossed a severed troll hand onto a table, its fingers still twitching faintly. The blacksmith behind the counter grunted, sliding her a polished set of reinforced greaves in return.

A group of young warriors, barely past their teens, eagerly bartered beast horns for enchanted trinkets, their excitement clear as they inspected their new gear.

And hanging from the wooden posts above the marketplace were pricings etched into bone, listing values:

___________________________________________

• Direwolf Pelt → Two meals & a sharpened blade

• Kraven Beast Fangs → Alchemical elixirs (quantity varies)

• Cyclops Eye → Custom-made armor (varies by smith)

• Orc and Goblin Parts → General trade goods, food, lodging

____________________________________________

Kaelis rubbed his temple.

"You're telling me," he muttered, "these people just cut things apart and use them as cash? And WHY HAVEN'T YOU ANSWERED MY QUESTION FROM BEFORE?!"

Nyxa gave him a look. "You say that like it's strange."

Kaelis exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "You know what? Never mind. What else is new?"

Nyxa played a slow, drawn-out note on her harp, tilting her head toward him.

"There is something else," she said, her voice carrying weight. "Something important."

Kaelis perked up slightly. "Oh?"

Nyxa nodded, pausing for a moment.

Kaelis waited.

Nyxa exhaled, her fingers lingering above the strings. "Something that may change everything you understand about this world."

Kaelis narrowed his eyes, his pulse quickening slightly. "Okay…"

Nyxa lowered her hands, as if hesitating. "A truth that has taken me years to uncover. A knowledge few ever come to possess."

Kaelis leaned forward slightly. "What is it?"

Nyxa took a slow breath.

Kaelis held his.

Then, finally, Nyxa said—

"The roasted goat legs in this town are incredible."

Silence.

Kaelis stared at her. Nyxa stared back, still not revealing her eyes. Slowly, she lifted her hands, poised above her harp once more.

Kaelis scowled immediately.

"YOU FUCKING CROOK!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the streets so loudly that a few nearby blacksmiths turned their heads.

Nyxa chuckled, her fingers dancing lightly over the strings. "I do love goat legs," she admitted, completely unbothered.

Kaelis ran both hands down his face. "You dragged that out like you were about to tell me the meaning of life, and it was about goat legs?!"

Nyxa nodded sagely. "Food is life."

Kaelis clenched his jaw. "You dragged it out."

Nyxa tilted her head. "Dramatic effect is important."

Kaelis grumbled, crossing his arms, still seething internally. "If you weren't floating, I'd shove you into a barrel. I barely trust you, I don't care what Ripp says."

Nyxa simply played another gentle chord. "Regardless," she continued, "you will be hunting for me."

Kaelis froze.

"…What?"

Nyxa's smile widened slightly. "You will be hunting an army of orcs and goblins for me."

Kaelis just stared at her.

Nyxa stared back.

The wind passed through the marketplace, the distant sounds of lumberjacks splitting wood and warriors wrestling in the dirt filling the silence.

Then, finally, Kaelis exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it. "You're using me to farm orc and goblin parts, aren't you?"

Nyxa nodded. "For a lifetime supply of goat legs, yes."

Kaelis let out a dry, exhausted laugh, rubbing the back of his head. "Unbelievable. You're actually just scamming me into free labor."

Nyxa plucked a final note. "It's part of your training."

Kaelis sighed heavily. "Whatever."

Then, with a casual shrug, he muttered, "Not like it matters. Orcs and Goblins are just fodder. They're meant to show off the main character's power in my world in manga and shows and all that. That's all they're good for."

Nyxa stopped playing.

Kaelis barely had a second to process it before she lifted a single delicate finger—

And plucked a single note.

Immediately, Kaelis felt his body lift off the ground.

He flinched, kicking wildly as he hovered several feet into the air, his limbs moving uselessly against an invisible force.

"The hell—?!"

Nyxa's expression remained calm as she watched him squirm.

"Orcs and Goblins serve a great purpose in Kalhalla," she said simply.

Kaelis twisted, flailing slightly, his arms swinging wildly as he tried to turn upright. "AGH!"

Nyxa simply played another gentle note, letting him hover just a little higher.

Kaelis gritted his teeth, his arms still flailing uselessly.

"You're enjoying this."

Nyxa plucked another note.

Kaelis spun slightly in the air.

His eye twitched.

"Nyxa."

Another note.

He spun again.

Kaelis let out a slow, deep breath. "Fine. I get it. Orcs and Goblins are super important. Just put me down."

Nyxa considered him for a moment, tilting her head.

Then, finally, she plucked a last note—

And dropped him.

Kaelis hit the dirt with a grunt, groaning as he rolled onto his back.

Nyxa hovered over him, hands poised elegantly on her harp. "Now, let's begin your training."

Kaelis just stared at the sky, dead inside.

"Whatever," he muttered. "Let's just get this over with."

Nyxa smiled.

….

At least 50 miles away, Kaelis stood at the edge of the cliff, his boots pressed against ancient, weathered stone, looking down at the horde moving below—an army of orcs and goblins, their numbers stretching far beyond the tree line, banners of tattered crimson and black swaying in the evening winds.

Their march was relentless, their chanting guttural, a war hymn carrying through the valley like the drums of an incoming storm.

Four figures led them.

GROMRAK THE BLACK BLOOD, Orc Warlord.

A towering brute, standing nearly ten feet tall, his skin a sickly green laced with blackened veins, pulsing with a corrupt Kenda infusion. His armor, jagged and cruel, was forged from the bones of past conquests, his helm adorned with the skulls of fallen warriors. He carried a massive cleaver, its edges crackling with dark violet Kenda runes, giving off a faint scent of burning blood.

His voice rumbled like distant thunder.

"Da time is near, ya maggots! Da humans tink we weak! Da humans tink we just beasts waitin' ta be slain! But WE be da horde dat razes kingdoms! No King ta stop us! We march through da land, we take everything!"

ZATZ THE RED DAGGER, Goblin Assassin

A lithe, wiry goblin, his ashen-gray skin patterned with crimson war paint, his clawed fingers twitching with restless energy. His yellow eyes gleamed with intelligence, and the daggers strapped to his chest bore the intricate engravings of stolen Aether Kenda runes.

He spoke quickly, sharply, a sneer in his tone.

"Tear through 'em fast. We don't want survivors. If ya leave 'em breathin', they'll bring their Hunters down on us, an' then we're the ones runnin'. We do this smart—fast strikes, keep the momentum, don't let up!"

OGRA THE BROKEN JAW: Orc Berserker

A scarred warrior, her lower jaw reinforced with metal plating, her eyes like embers, burning with a battle-lust that never faded. She wielded twin greatswords, their edges dripping with a thick, pulsating sludge, a cursed alchemical mixture meant to rot the flesh of anything it cut.

She cracked her neck, grinning.

"Enough talk. I just wanna feel their skulls crack under my boots."

SCRAG THE STARVED: Goblin Warlock

A frail, hunched goblin, his skin translucent in places, revealing the twisting veins beneath. His grimoire was bound in stitched flesh, the words within written in the blood of a dozen races. His Kenda was unnatural, harvested from forbidden rituals, giving him power no goblin should wield.

He wheezed, licking his cracked lips.

"We gut 'em. We gut 'em deep. And when they beg? We listen. We listen real close."

Kaelis felt a weight in his chest, watching the horde below. They were more than mindless beasts.

Some were serious, focused, weapons sharpened, battle-ready. Others were laughing, making crude jokes, shoving each other, preparing for war like it was a festival.

They weren't just monsters, they were alive.

Nyxa's voice was calm, her harp humming faintly beside him.

"They are not weak," she said simply. "They do not fight for survival. They fight for domination."

Kaelis' jaw tightened.

Nyxa tilted her head slightly, as if sensing his thoughts.

"This is only the first band of soldiers," she continued. "During your journey, you will run into more. Randomly. Without warning. Some far worse than these."

Nyxa continued, "In the forgotten age before Kalhalla was fully formed, when gods and demons clashed and the land itself was still reshaping, a grotesque accident of war gave birth to the first orcs and goblins. Unlike the other races, who were sculpted with purpose—the orcs and goblins were never meant to exist. They were a byproduct of war, born from the failed fusion of divine and demonic essence. 

"Failed fusion?"

"During the war between the gods and the demons, there was an unholy attempt to create an unstoppable race of warriors. A dying god, a god of the forge and fire, desperate to turn the tide, sought to forge new life by stealing the flesh of fallen warriors—both divine and demonic—and binding them into new vessels with corrupted soul magic. These experiments were meant to create perfect soldiers: warriors as unyielding as demons, as strong as gods, yet obedient to their creator. But the forging process went wrong. Instead of creating noble warriors, the result was something twisted. Malformed, grotesque, and mindlessly aggressive, the first orcs and goblins were born as abominations. Their bodies, infused with both celestial and infernal power, rapidly decayed and mutated, forcing them to devour living beings to stabilize their existence. They were immediately discarded as failures, cast into the wilds of Kalhalla to fend for themselves."

"What caused it to go so wrong?"

"The demon's power fusing with a god's power with never go right. And you know it firsthand: Hell's power is corrupt. The god was desperate, and wanted to win."

"How long did this war last exactly?"

"Years. Then, during the endless war between the Orcs and Goblins, it should have continued forever, but the world had other plans. As kingdoms and empires began rising across Kalhalla, both races were hunted relentlessly by humans, elves, dwarves, and many other beings. The civilized races saw them as monsters, cursed remnants of a war and the gods that should never have existed. They were pushed further into the abyss, forced into the darkest parts of the world, their numbers dwindling. At the brink of extinction, a singular event changed their fate. A monstrous orc warlord known as Gromm the Unchained realized the truth: neither orcs nor goblins could survive alone. They were both born from the same cursed origins, both despised by the world, and if they continued their ancient hatred, they would both disappear. Gromm approached the goblin warlords with a simple deal: unity or extinction. For the first time in history, the goblins and orcs formed an unholy pact. Orcs became the warriors, the unstoppable force of destruction, while goblins became the tacticians, using their cunning and numbers to guide their brutish counterparts. The goblins bred like wildfire, ensuring an endless supply of soldiers, while the orcs formed warbands, pillaging and conquering under the orders of goblin war-chiefs. This uneasy alliance created the first true orc-goblin armies, and for a time, they were an unstoppable scourge upon Kalhalla."

'Hm. Guess they're not so bland after all..' Kaelis thought.

Kaelis exhaled slowly, watching the horde prepare their march.

Then, Nyxa spoke three simple words.

"Kill them all."

Kaelis froze. His throat tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides. He wasn't hesitating because he thought he'd lose. He was hesitating because of the Shadowy King.

In his mind, he saw it. That smile.

The monstrous grin, the dark energy pooling around it, the feeling of becoming something else entirely.

Kaelis whispered to himself, "I'm not a monster if I do this… right?"

Nyxa answered without hesitation.

"If you do not kill them, they will kill hundreds."

Kaelis exhaled, clenching his fists.

Then, he took a step forward—

Paused.

Took another step—

Paused.

He exhaled sharply, shifting his weight. "That's a long fall…"

Nyxa nodded slowly.

Kaelis tilted his head, and Nyxa tilted hers in sync with him. Kaelis narrowed his eyes, then..Nyxa smiled.

And then—She shoved him.

Kaelis' eyes widened as he plummeted, the wind rushing past his ears.

"SHIT! SHIT! DAMN YOU!"

Nyxa played her harp, saying, "Stop being a baby, human. You got this."

The orc warlords and goblin elites below looked up, blinking.

"…The fuck is that?" Gromrak muttered.

Zatz clicked his tongue. "Dunno. Looks like a human."

Ogra squinted. "He jumped?"

Scrag grinned, his teeth yellow and cracked. "No. He fell."

Gromrak grunted. "Use 'im as bait during the raid. Capture 'im. Keep 'im breathin', but break 'im first."

He raised a massive fist.

"WOUND HIM. THEN BIND HIM."

A horn blared through the valley—deep, resonant, carved from the bone of a fallen titan, engraved with ancient, guttural runes that pulsed with violent energy.

The army reacted instantly, a dozen elite orcs and goblins leaping into the air, their weapons crackling with raw Kenda energy.

Some carried massive cleavers, their blades laced with venomous runes, each swing meant to rot flesh on contact. Others wielded war staffs, channeling blackened lightning, their eyes glowing with runic fury.

Some didn't need weapons at all—bare-handed orcs launched themselves forward, their fists glowing with the force of Kenda-infused impact magic.

They were on him in seconds.

Kaelis felt the laughter rise in his throat before he could stop it.

The berserk state was clawing at his mind, trying to break free—Kaelis' nose bled, andbThe laughter didn't stop. Then, his horn grew in. His body pulsed, Black veins cracked along his skin. Red and black energy erupted around him, his senses sharpening, his vision splitting into clarity and chaos.

For the first time in his entire existence, he felt nothing.

No pain.

No rage.

Only peace, and a tear slipped down his cheek.

'Even if it's temporary…I don't want this to end!'

Then, Kaelis smiled widely, laughing at the same time—And collided with the orc-goblin warriors in midair.

A violent explosion cracked through the sky, causing the orcs and goblins down below to cover their faces with their weapons slightly, winds blasting all over the place as the ground shook violently with tremors.

…

…

A moment of silence followed the explosion.

Then—

Gromrak the Black Blood exhaled, rolling his massive shoulders, his cracked war-torn skin gleaming under the twin suns.

"Well," he grunted, sheathing his massive cleaver across his back. "Dat's dat. Good job, boyz."

Zatz the Red Dagger scoffed, flicking bits of dust off his tattered cloak. "Hardly worth celebratin'. If the bastard died that quick, he ain't even a proper warm-up."

"Bah," Ogra the Broken Jaw cracked her neck, stepping forward with a snort. "Still. A human jumpin' into battle alone? Stupid. Gotta respect da dumbass for tryna act like a real warrior."

Scrag the Starved wheezed out a sickly chuckle, licking his cracked lips. "An' now he's just pieces o' meat."

The rest of the army laughed, some of them mocking the foolishness of the human, others simply grinning at the ease of it all.

But before the laughter could build into a full celebration, something dropped from the sky.

A goblin's severed arm. It landed wetly, slapping the dirt with a sickening splatter.

Silence…

Then another.

An orc's leg, torn off at the hip, still dripping thick, dark blood.

Then—

A severed head. It hit the ground and rolled toward Gromrak's feet, the mouth still twisted in a permanent, horrified scream. The silence stretched as more and more pieces of flesh rained down upon the horde, painting the earth black and red, filling the air with the stench of burnt muscle, charred bone, and ruptured organs.

A goblin dropped his dagger, his entire body shaking violently.

A nearby orc clutched his battle-axe, his knuckles white.

Then—

A goblin fell to his knees, his claws digging into the blood-soaked dirt as he let out a high-pitched wail of anguish.

"NO!" he shrieked, rocking back and forth. "Frozz! Get up! Get up—where's ya body?! WHERE'S YA BODY?!"

An orc beside him grabbed his head roughly, his voice breaking. "Pull yaself together! This ain't the first time we seen death! We—"

"MY COUSIN'S IN PIECES, YA SACK OF SHIT!" the goblin wailed, slamming his fists into the ground.

Some of the orcs and goblins froze, their eyes darting to the flesh and bone scattered around them, their minds trying to process it.

Others grew enraged, their bodies trembling with fury, horror, desperation.

Ogra clenched her greatswords, her jagged teeth bared. "What the fuck just happened?"

Zatz's yellow eyes darted around, his daggers twitching in his grip. "Somethin' ain't right. Where's the bastard's body?"

Scrag's bony fingers tightened around his grimoire, his voice a low, crawling whisper.

"Da energy ain't settled," he murmured, eyes flickering with a dim, unnatural glow. "It's still… here."

Gromrak's massive chest rose and fell, his breathing steady but slow. His warlord instincts screamed at him.

This wasn't just another battle, this was something else. And then—The trees trembled, the air rippled; A slow, building pressure began to settle over the horde.

The remaining smoke from the explosion still lingered, twisting through the battlefield, moving in unnatural patterns, as if something within it was alive.

Then, from the thick of the smoke—

A silhouette emerged.

A slow, steady walk.

The shape of a man, his presence too heavy, too unnatural, his form outlined by a violent pulse of red and black energy.

The army stared.

Then—

A flash of light.

His arm blade gleamed through the smoke, jagged, unnatural, pulsing with raw, living dark energy, the edges dripping with something that should not exist.

And then—

His eyes.

Glowing crimson.

Bright, unrelenting, filled with something far worse than fury, far worse than bloodlust.

A smile.

A simple, relieved, happy smile.

And then he spoke.

"I'm free."

The words slid through the battlefield like a whisper from the abyss.

Kaelis continued, "To be able to be strong, and not deal with being controlled by my problems.."

'Feels great…shit just motivated me a little. I'll strive to control this dark power, and then kill you, demon.'

Then, the king's voice inside of him said, "You need me, you'll need me, always."

After hearing Kaelis talk, every orc and goblin felt it deep in their bones. For the first time in their existence, they felt something they were not supposed to feel: Fear.

Gromrak did not waste a second.

"FORMATION!" he bellowed, his booming warlord voice snapping the army out of their frozen horror.

Ogra slammed her greatswords together, her eyes burning with violent hunger.

Zatz flipped a dagger in his hand, his body shifting into a practiced stance, his muscles tight as steel wire.

Scrag's grimoire flared to life, the cursed runes splitting open across its pages, writhing with black mist.

The orc-goblin army moved, those still standing raising their weapons, their Kenda-infused steel crackling, their battle cries filling the air.

Some still trembled.

But they steeled themselves.

And as the smoke twisted, as the red and black energy ripped apart the trees, as the halo above Kaelis' head flickered between purity and corruption—

The battle was about to begin.

And through it all—

Kaelis just stood there.

Still smiling.

Still free, even if it was temporary.