It hadn’t been difficult to convince the Duke of Thaw Lake to support us. It turned out, as I had expected, that once the presence had stopped influencing the man, he could barely contain his resentment against the Holy Kingdom of Fanon, which had a monopoly on Heroes, whose blood greatly strengthened not only the legitimacy of the government but also offered virtually unmatched military power, and made their demands (such as agreements that only allowed the purchase of rocks or timber from merchants from their nation) impossible to refuse.

  — Welcome back, dear — I extended a hand to the Rogue who had rowed a small boat from the city's shore to our position all by himself.

  — I'm back, my life — replied Vincente.

  — So that’s how it is, huh? — Cruz looked at me and Vincente, seriously. — After everything I’ve done for our family?! — he slapped the wind, angrily.

  — And what have you done for our family?! Everything you ever did was for yourself! We never needed all those extra hours at work, we never needed those promotions you were always chasing! — Vincente wiped away invisible tears.

  — You're hopeless, aren't you, Cruz? — I hugged the Wizard, who was much taller and older than me, and patted him on the back. — Let's not have this conversation in front of the children.

  — What the hell?! — Celestino walked away, perplexed.

  — Celestino took the words right out of my mouth. I didn't build these personalities so carefully to be so close to a little rebel like you — the presence complained, leaning on the railing that surrounded the deck.

  We all laughed, but when Vincente borrowed a healing and stamina recovery potion from Celestino, we soon straightened up.

  — So? How were they? — I asked.

  — Good. Very good. Honestly, I'm only alive because they were cautious. They controlled their power so as not to destroy the entire city, and so as not to kill the hostage I was carrying, and they preferred not to make risky moves that would leave them open to counterattacks. Basically, I only managed to delay them because they weren't sure what I could do and preferred to test me slowly, but if they had gone all out against me from the start...

  — Well, they ARE the new Heroic group — Cruz shrugged.

  — Compared to you, who is stronger? — I got straight to the point.

  — ...We are old, Haicard.

  — Shit.

  With that, my plan A was definitely down the drain. My Fallen Heroic team wouldn't be enough to defeat my opponents, not without significant empowerment.

  — So? What's your plan now? Once we dock, we'll be able to increase your army's strength exponentially, using the orc chiefs to recruit weaker monsters, but what about after that? No Shadow King has ever defeated a Hero because of his number of subordinates — Cruz asked.

  — Indeed, you have proven yourself capable of great achievements with your plans, but if I may say so, all you have now are some old men who are past their prime, and a very small army — Celestino also seemed curious. — I didn't mind questioning you until now, as time was too precious to waste on such discussions while we were being pursued by the Hero, but it is clear that, despite our efforts, our chances of victory are slim.

  — They're right, Haicard, there doesn't even seem to be a point in recruiting an army if our intention is not to conquer the elven world — Vincente agreed.

  — You're right, no amount of monsters we can realistically recruit will defeat Veronico, but there are still good reasons to have an army, such as spreading a network of informants across the continent, and keeping ourselves aware of our enemy's position, and even making contacts with possible new key allies. Not to mention, while we have no intention of taking any crown, the Hero does not know this, and will act under this pretext, seeking a headquarters and concentrated forces that will not exist. Besides all this, sooner or later we will also be confronted by the sacred forces, and a front of monsters can distract these elves while we do the real work: facing Veronico ourselves — for a moment I expected my companions to laugh, but instead, they all looked at me very seriously. Apparently, their respect for me had really increased in the last few days. — Our enemy is strong, but there is still much we can do to match him.

  — And what are these things we can do? — Cruz wanted to know, understanding more about the power of his old Title than anyone else. — Even if we could surround the Hero from all sides, and all join forces against him at once, even using the element of shadows, I don’t think our chances of victory would be good. We are all over a hundred and twenty years old, Celestino over two hundred, our Attributes are reduced to less than half of what they were in our glory days, our current power must be equal to... a Shadow Duke and a half, perhaps?

  — A “divine” weapon might help. If those portals work, maybe we can find some ancient instrument of war we can use. Also, something like Cruz’s sword might help.

  — Sorry, Haicard, but that sword... — The Fallen Hero gripped the sheathed weapon. He sighed. — I just don't want to turn even more elves into our targets. If possible, I'd even prefer that we make Veronico admit defeat instead of killing him. I promised never to take the life of an elf, after all — he concluded, touching the pendant on the necklace he always wore.

  I sighed.

  — Even so, some equipment of the same quality as your sword would be of great help. I became a special class adventurer by defeating an enemy many times stronger using only magic items and strategy, after all, perhaps we can repeat the feat. While we're at it, I'll send a group after a certain Alchemist I met, and he can provide us with the necessary support, an informant in elven lands.

  — An ancient magical weapon for plan B, top-quality magical items for plan C... And yet I don't feel so confident in our chances of defeating young Veronico. Do we happen to have a plan D as well? — Celestino scratched his beard.

  — Well, alternatively, I was thinking of convincing the necromancers of the Guard Mountains to merge our bodies into one, in the hope that the resulting abomination's power would be equal to the Hero's. — I shrugged.

  — Urgh?! — the three former Heroics looked disgusted.

  — I-I better start studying these divine structures more deeply right away! — Sweating cold, Celestino hurried aboard the ship, pulling out books from a System window, a famous Spell that few had the ability to use, called Inventory.

  — I'm going to train these old bones a bit, it should help even if just a little — biting his nails, Vincente went out to look for orcs to train against.

  And when Cruz and I were alone, the swordsman who refused to draw his sword and leaned against the ship's deck railing, unaware that he was right next to the presence that had been haunting me like a burden for some time.

  — How ungrateful. At least compare me to an unattainable ideal or utopia to be pursued — Since no one in their right mind would praise her, the entity praised herself, sadly. — You're not exactly a flower either, you know?

  I rested beside the Fallen Hero.

  — That promise you made. Was it to your wife? — I asked.

  — Is it that obvious?

  — Clichés like that aren't that rare, and you know it.

  — Haha, yes. And that’s what we fight for, isn’t it? — He scratched his head. — It was because of my daughter. When I left the castle, my ex-wife, the Queen lost her temper and blamed our child for my disappearance. She said she had been so incredibly disowned by me that I left, and... tried to have her executed.

  I listened to everything in silence, the story interrupted only by the water breaking off the bow of our vessel, and the others that accompanied us.

  — And then it was my turn to lose my head. I returned to Canon and turned my blade against the people I was supposed to protect. I promised the Queen that if she ever tried to harm our daughter again, I would level that entire city to the ground, and in response, she told me to never come back. And so I did. I returned to the arms of the woman I truly loved... and she looked so utterly disappointed — Cruz scratched the top of his head, lowering his head. — She made me promise never to take another elf's life. But a sword is an instrument of death. It's not like an axe or a knife, with other purposes, so when I wield it I feel like I'm always on the verge of breaking my promise. — He laughed, looking at me awkwardly: — Haha, it seems that when things go as planned, they really spiral out of control, doesn't it?

  — You just had to accept your little life as a trophy husband and king that I prepared for you — the entity commented, insensitively. — That's not true, once he calmed down, I prepared the whole story of a special-rank adventurer for him, the isolated little house in the forest and everything, didn't I? When he defied me, he was unhappy, when he submitted to me, he lived the happiest years of his life — He stupidly contradicted himself, since Cruz had to break the first path that was prepared for him to be happy, because that stupid being seemed incapable of forming decent couples. — Hmph, if you think I'm bad at this, it's because you don't know a certain someone.

  — I'll do something about it. — I answered the Cross.

  — About what?

  — Your daughter. I'll do my best to keep her out of this. It shouldn't be difficult to kidnap or convince an unhappy Princess to hide somewhere far away.

  — Haha, thanks. What about you? Anyone you want to protect?

  — My mother. Maybe my father and brothers, but mostly my mother likes them.

  — It's good that you care about family, you dark and evil Shadow King, haha! But as for someone special? You know what I mean.

  — No. Not anymore. — Cruz listened in silence, only the small waves of the lake interrupting the stillness. — She died for some poetic nonsense, saving me.

  — ...I... I'll think about my sword.

  ?

  Three months later, once our ship docked weeks' march away from Lake Town, and after scattering my army here and there in order to recruit more monsters and elves to my cause, we traveled to the nearest portal, when Celestino teleported us near a port city beyond the borders of any elven civilization.

  Even though a dense red mist with a metallic taste permeated the entire region, making it difficult to see, from that distance we could see a tiny settlement, surrounded by a gray wall, as if made of bones, which despite being high, seemed to be slowly crumbling into dust, decrepit.

  “Crack!”, approaching the city walls, I stepped on one of the thousands of bones that surrounded the settlement's protections; skeletons of orcs, goblins, kobolds, and all kinds of creatures of the shadows or not.

  — But, damn, if that's how you walk when I tell you to be quiet, imagine if you were trying to be loud on purpose — Vincente rolled his eyes.

  — Fuck you, you geriatric, not everyone was blessed by an evil deity with dozens of Attribute points — I replied.

  Despite the Rogue's comment, the four of us managed to scale the city's decrepit wall without much difficulty, and dropped down on the other side... which didn't look all that different from the desolate terrain outside: dry earth, strange, unpleasant fog, and a sense of unwelcomeness.

  So we found ourselves in Scommungate, the only tiny elven port between the Mountain Range of Faces and the Mountain Range of Guards, where the blood mist was as perpetual as the storm over the ocean horizon, and the ground was dry and parched. What wasn't blood red was bone gray, and the only landmarks available were bones and divine ruins of staggering magnitude, frozen in the process of devouring the land itself.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  I should not have been surprised by the depressing appearance of the settlement, when it had been built using the materials available in the region; dry, dead bushes, and gray clay.

  — The first time this city gets a storm, these houses will be turned into rubble — Cruz commented as we passed a series of abandoned buildings, which at first glance showed cracks and broken doors and windows.

  — ...And apparently the people too — whispered Vincente when we reached a central street, and began to see the first passersby; people with gray skin, hollow cheeks, and blond hair so strangely dark, it seemed more like a shade of light brown.

  — But it doesn't rain here, the mountain ranges prevent heavy clouds from entering, and this damn fog from leaving... which is also the only reason why this place isn't a scorching desert — I explained.

  — ...One of the few still visible remnants of the Red Age — Celestino frowned, still amazed by the revelations he had read in the book I lent him.

  — I think this place is far enough away from the Great Will’s toy box that no one would care to clear the skies… if the Order of Historians even has that kind of technology still. — I paused, noticing a sign so faded that I could only read it thanks to my above-average Perception. — A tavern. Let’s stop here, I doubt we’ll find anywhere else that will allow us entry in this city anyway.

  Entering the establishment, the few customers stared at us as if we were naked.

  — I've seen prisons with more welcoming faces... — Vincente grumbled.

  Fortunately, we were not the only suspicious customers in that tavern, since practically everyone present was wearing hoods, helmets, or other clothing that concealed their shape... which was not surprising, since it was clear that at least three of the customers were not elves, but some kind of elfnoid monster with very wide bodies and small heads.

  A combination of the little interest in the presence in that region and the collective misery of all the inhabitants, elves and monsters, must have corroborated a temporary truce between the people, even if against their own nature, as long as they had money in hand.

  I cast a sidelong glance at the presence walking silently beside me.

  — What? It's not like I'm forcing the elves to kill poor, innocent little monsters who are just misunderstood, right? They're supposed to be really inherently cruel to your kind. The creatures here have just suffered some kind of interference — she explained, as if that absolved her of any sin. — It's not like I'm seeking your forgiveness, you know? — I ignored the presence that was clearly begging me for forgiveness. — ...

  — Okay, so how do we figure out where we're going from here? — Cruz asked.

  — Actually, I was hoping you and your friends had some Skill that could help with that... — I replied, walking to one of the tables in the corner of the room.

  — I even saw some tracks coming out of this bastion, but none that stood out especially — Cruz commented, uncertainly.

  — Neither do I. We could easily spend months searching for the right trail in this place. No, considering this valley is a third the size of the Continent, maybe even years.

  — We don't have years to waste... — I sat down in the shadows, tired.

  — Really, you don't — a figure interrupted, getting up from the table where one of the poorly disguised monsters was sitting, and approaching us; that individual, however, did not display any apparent deformity, with a silhouette identical to that of any elf, if a little shorter, and much thinner than normal, in addition to having somewhat grayish skin.

  Around me, my companions all prepared for combat discreetly, wielding daggers beneath the table, conjuring small spheres of energy within the long sleeves of their robes.

  — Who are you, stranger? — I asked, getting straight to the point.

  — Kangar-Dahn, at your service. — He bowed slightly. — You may call me simply Kangar, for convenience, Shadow King. — My Title whispered just loud enough for me and my companions to hear.

  — ...And what do you want with us, Kangar? — That man knew something that was a mystery to me, it seemed useless to deny that statement.

  — Well, lead you to your goal. There is only one reason why His Royalty comes to these forgotten lands, after all.

  — You really did your homework, hu? — Vincente frowned.

  — How did you find out all this, young man? — Celestino scratched his beard, curious.

  — My people have... methods to identify users of different types of magic, and with that we became aware of the presence of someone who had lost connection with the entity that holds this continent hostage. And considering the situation, it wasn't difficult to assume who this person was — the man commented, casting a curious glance at the presence sitting next to me. Could he see her?

  — Your people? — Celestino insisted.

  — Yes, we are the Vestiges. But I believe you call us “necromancers.”

  ?

  There was no point in rejecting the necromancer's help, not only because we had no other clue as to the location we sought, but also because we had the common goal of dethroning a certain deity.

  So we followed the thin, gray-looking man out of the city through a secret passage, and discovered that the monsters drinking the watered-down tavern drink were his minions:

  — You heard our ally: contact the local monster tribes and recruit them. I'm sure the monsters that live here would be thrilled to join their cause — the necromancer ordered one of the two ogres following him, his accent thick but unrecognizable.

  — Got it — the creature grumbled, and started walking in some direction.

  — Now, you need not worry about our supplies, as my servant carries enough food and water for all of us during this journey — the necromancer indicated the remaining ogre, who showed himself carrying a series of backpacks and sacks tied to his broad body, which was more fat than muscular; he was an uncomfortably elven monster in appearance, with tanned skin like a person who works in the fields, but with disproportionately large hands and feet, and a head that was too small, of exaggerated stature.

  — Then there's no time to waste. Let's go now — I urged.

  ?

  Three days of travel later, it didn’t even feel like we had left the place; we couldn’t see more than a few dozen meters ahead due to the red mist, the cracked and gray ground didn’t have any unique features, and after a point, the divine metal jaws that were stopped in the process of biting the earth no longer seemed so dissimilar from each other.

  — Are you sure we’re not going in circles? — Cruz asked. — Even with my Attributes, I can’t see more than about three hundred meters ahead.

  — We are certainly on the right track — Kangar replied patiently. — Perhaps your Attributes are failing you? The Guard Mountains are known to play tricks on devotees of the Great Will as they approach them.

  — If there was any problem with the Attributes strong enough to significantly diminish Cruz's capabilities, I should already be dead from being so weakened — I commented.

  — Yes... You should be already — Kangar smiled, intriguingly.

  No matter how much I checked my Attributes, though, there was nothing strange about them.

  — Cruz, check your Perception — I asked.

  — I just checked. Nothing unusual here — the Fallen Hero replied, shrugging. Vincente and Celestino confirmed the same.

  Was this talk just local superstition? Strange, considering how much Kangar knew about matters that should be secret to everyone else.

  During the trip, I received a message from Rael, who agreed to give me information when I told him that his father had probably been killed by the historians: he said that noble society was more chaotic than ever, the news of the emergence of four new Shadow Kings spread like wildfire, and many complained against the church's requests to assemble another holy army so soon, pointing out that they had already exhausted as many resources from the land as they could, and its population had already declined too much. Interesting alternatives to be explored in the future, but I wanted to know about Veronico, and what I read was that he and his group left the City of the Abyss days ago.

  The Hero finally admitted that he had gone in the completely wrong direction, but at that point that meant little. Unless he could use the portals scattered around, even if he knew our location, he wouldn't be able to reach us. And unlike last time, he had no clue as to the direction we were actually heading, since the Duke of Thaw Lake City was on our side, and he wouldn't allow such data to leak, at the risk of losing his own life.

  ?

  Three days later, while we were stopping for a meal, Vincente took a small metal flask from an inside pocket and drank from it.

  — Bah! 100% alcohol, practically poison for low-level people — he proudly displayed. — Product of one of the businesses I supervised in those sewers. It was usually diluted in water or fruit juice.

  — It seems I wasn't the only one who developed artisanal tastes, then! — Cruz replied, smiling. — You know, I also made items that are practically incomprehensible to low-level people. The ceramic mugs I produced, man, you wouldn't believe the quality of them!

  — They seemed like quite understandable objects to me — I commented. — In fact, they were completely normal.

  — What?! — the Fallen Hero was offended.

  — Urgh... — The ogre didn't seem interested in my argument with Cruz, though. He swallowed hard and drooled, staring at Vincente's drink.

  — ...Do you want a sip, ugly one? — the Rogue offered, and the monster nodded in a clear sign of confirmation. — Haha, right, but just a sip then.

  The creature obeyed and took a single sip from Vincente's metal canteen.

  — Bwargh! Than' u! — he thanked again, smiling.

  — Hehe. Come here, Kangar, how did you train these things, huh? — Vincente wanted to know, amused. — You know, no matter how bad a person is, as long as they have emotions, they can be saved from any dark situation they are living in their head, and I speak this from personal experience.

  — You were never a bad person, Vincente — Cruz sighed.

  — He's right, just misguided — Celestino agreed.

  — No, I was. Rotten, worthless — noticing my curiosity, he explained: — I was a bounty hunter... and the kind who made a point of always bringing back my targets dead. Cruz showed me that things didn't have to be that way, stopping me from taking the life of a target, who came to help us in a mess we got into shortly after — he said almost embarrassed. — But monsters... they're not like that. Or at least none of the ones I've encountered in all these years.

  — Indeed, sir. This ogre, like all our other servants in the Mountain Range of Guards, is the result of physical and magical modifications performed by my people. So removed from their peers that they cannot even be considered the same type of creature.

  — Hmphm. For a people who pride themselves so much on not depending on me, you depend quite a bit on my creations, don't you? — the entity commented, looking down his nose at the necromancer... and one of the man's eyelids twitched, as if he was barely able to swallow his answer.

  ?

  — We’ve arrived — Kangar pointed. —The Tomb of the Shadow Kings.

  Ahead of us, a depression in the ground led to a large black marble statue in the shape of an old, very thin elf, squatting, eyes closed and fingers clasped across his shins.

  — Unfortunately, my people are unable to open the doors of this structure due to-

  — A genetic flaw — the entity interjected.

  — ...A magical incompatibility, let's say. But I'm sure that won't be a problem for you, Shadow King — he explained and I felt pity and compassion for the only other person who understood my pain of putting up with that irritating entity.

  — Pity and compassion? Are you sure it's not jealousy? — Please commit suicide.

  Leaving that discomfort aside, I approached the door, and a system window appeared before me:

  Open the door to the Tomb of the Shadow Kings?

  Yes  No

  I selected the correct option, and soon the fingers of the statue's hands came loose, and its hands revealed a descending passageway lit by green-flamed candles, which lit themselves.

  To the final resting place of those who were to be the enemies of all elvenkind, the tomb was especially intricately designed, a large chamber running for nearly thirty minutes from end to end, with a dusty surface of a once-shining black marble, with a very high ceiling supported by pillars in the shape of monsters of various kinds.

  — Your people originally wanted to just throw their corpses into the ocean floor, can you believe it? Unacceptable— Of course, that was all the work of a certain annoying entity.

  Scattered at regular intervals and surrounded by elven skeletons, they rested on high platforms and connected by grooves in the floor, intricate metal coffins also decorated with images of monsters. The final resting places of the Shadow Kings of generations past.

  — If my predecessors are inside the coffins, who are these? — I asked about the skeletons thrown at the foot of the coffins and even on top of them.

  — I've heard about it before, but I preferred not to believe in something so terrible... a bad habit of mine that I've been trying to change — Celestino sighed. — The remains of the Demonia champion are cursed with their dark energy even after death, and this is capable of corrupting or taking the life of everything that is not demonic. That's why they are brought to this end of the world, and not kept in a safe place, despite their extreme magical power.

  Then...

  — Yes, these are the skeletons of the brave gravediggers who sacrificed themselves to carry the remains of those chosen to torment the elves here. May they rest in peace.

  — ...We'll put an end to that too. Let's hurry: search for the remains of Shadow Kings who were Masters of the sword, magic, shield, or something similar.

  We did exactly as I suggested, and as we separated to investigate every corner of the underground complex, Celestino, Kangar, and I followed the grooves in the ground and came to a staircase flanked by statues of devils; the steps led to even lower floors, and the grooves ended in grates at the feet of the statues.

  Descending the steps, we explored the last space of that tomb, which turned out to be much smaller and more poorly finished, a small room at the end of a corridor filled with strange statues, cracked and broken, the details of which seemed to have been erased by the passage of time. Still, there was something familiar about them, though...

  Oh, yeah. They reminded me of a certain rock I used to look at as a kid.

  — What is this? — I asked as I reached the end of the corridor, observing the large circle of twisted metal, as if it had been partially melted at some point in the past. Within it, a series of objects that at first glance seemed unrelated to each other were embedded in the dull metal, a series of precious stones, bones, blades, figures of animals, men and women, partially submerged in the alloy.

  — Does it look like a distorted portal? I feel like it still works, but... I have a bad feeling about this. I can't tell where this thing would take us if we used it.

  — ...Distorted, indeed — Kangar, who had struggled to remain placid the entire journey, frowned and twisted his mouth as he stared at the object that resembled divine ruins. — This is sacrilege... heresy.

  — Heresy? Does it have something to do with the ancient deities? — Being estranged from the Great Will, it would not be strange if necromancers still worshipped what was considered sacred four thousand years ago.

  — Yes. This was not a portal built by us, much less by you. It is just another mockery of the empire by that disgusting thing! — the necromancer clenched his fists, and to Celestino it must have seemed that he was looking away from the portal, but I saw that he was staring at the presence full of fury.

  — Are you sure you have time to be angry at that horrible bunch I corrected? — the presence commented.

  Before I could question the comment, a tremor shook the tomb, dust falling from the poorly finished ceiling onto our heads.

  — What was that? — Celestino asked. — An attack?

  — There is not a faction of monsters or bandits in this area that would dare to make an enemy of my people — Kangar commented, leaving only one alternative threat determined to pursue us to the ends of the earth and strong enough to cause a small earthquake.

  — The Hero.