The throne room was silent as dusk filtered through high arched windows. Kai, now in modest royal training attire, knelt on a cushion beside a fireplace that crackled quietly. Across from him sat the King of Nytherra, his presence still overwhelming. But tonight, the fear had faded. Replaced by curiosity.
"You wished to know why I chose you, boy," the King rumbled, voice calm yet deep as thunder in distant mountains. "Before you walk your path, you must understand mine."
Kai nodded. "I want to learn."
The Queen sat beside them, her emerald hair shimmering in firelight. She said nothing yet, merely watching.
The King looked into the fire. "Then listen. My name is Kael'Varos. My blood is older than this kingdom. But I was not born into power. I was born into peace. And peace... is fragile."
---
Kael was born in the shadow of giants.
His father, King Oran'Varos, ruled with wisdom and compassion. Under his reign, demons, elves, and humans coexisted in ways never before imagined. He abolished slave pits. Opened borders. Raised taxes on the rich to build homes for the poor.
The people adored him. But the lords—proud, old-blood demons—did not.
Kael remembered sitting on his father's lap, only six, while the King read from scrolls. "One day," Oran said, "you'll have to fight—not with swords, but with ideas. That's harder."
"But I'll have a sword too, right?" young Kael asked, eyes wide.
Oran chuckled. "Yes, son. But only to protect others. Never for pride."
Those were golden days. Until the rebellion.
One summer night, the castle trembled with explosions. Screams echoed. Kael, hidden by servants in the wine cellars, heard the roar of fire, the clash of steel, the last shout of his father.
When silence came, so did the blood.
His uncle, General Ragar, found him the next morning, soaked in ash, eyes empty.
"Boy," Ragar said, kneeling, "your father is dead. And the dogs who did it still breathe. Come with me. I'll teach you to be a storm."
Kael blinked. "I want to kill them."
"Good," said Ragar. "That's a start."
---
What followed were years of agony.
Ragar did not treat him like a prince. He trained him like a weapon.
By dawn, Kael was awake, sparring with steel-bladed scythes twice his weight. By midday, he read philosophy and war theory until his head spun. By night, he hunted beasts in the black forests, blade in hand.
"Pain makes you sharper," Ragar barked during training. "Grief will fade. Strength will not."
Kael fell. Bled. Cried in silence. But he never begged. Never asked for ease.
One night, when Kael was sixteen, he stood after ten rounds of sparring. Bleeding, bruised, eyes like flame.
Ragar nodded. "Now you're ready to take back what they stole."
---
The war Kael waged was not swift. It burned across years.
He tracked down every noble who raised arms against his father. He dismantled their bloodlines. Not just the rebels, but their kin, their children, their names from history.
"Mercy is a luxury," he told his generals. "And I am poor in it."
Entire towns were razed. Families erased. Kai, listening, felt a cold pit in his gut.
"Did you... ever regret it?" he asked.
Kael's eyes burned with rage. "I did not start the fire. I only finished it."
"But killing whole generations—"
"They would've done worse to mine."
The Queen finally spoke. "He was lost in vengeance. Until he met me."
---
It was during a campaign in the Verdant Wilds, home of the elves, that Kael met Elenaria.
He'd stormed a rebel hideout nestled in an ancient elven ruin. He expected soldiers. Instead, he found her—a healer shielding wounded children.
"Stand down," Kael ordered.
"I will not," she said, arms glowing with restoration magic. "They are children, not traitors."
Kael stepped forward. "Their fathers killed mine."
Elenaria did not flinch. "Then become better than your enemies, or you become them."
Kael stared. No one had defied him in years.
He did not strike her. He ordered the camp spared.
She followed him afterward—not by command, but by choice. Tending to wounded. Arguing with him. Softening him.
One night, he sat beside her by firelight. "Why do you follow me?"
"Because I see what you could be," she said. "And I'd rather live beside that man than hide from this one."
He kissed her that night. The war slowed soon after.
---
When Kael declared the war over, many were stunned. Some furious. But no one dared challenge him. Not anymore.
He rebuilt the kingdom. Stronger. Wiser. With Elenaria at his side, he established schools for orphans of all races, abolished the last blood laws, and created a council with elven and human seats.
They had three children: Valen, their son—quick, proud, and gifted with fire magic. And the twin daughters, Aris and Nyla, each more cunning than the last.
"I ruled through fire," Kael said, "but I found peace in her."
Kai looked between them. "So why… why help me?"
Kael's gaze softened. "Because I see the same fire in you. Lost, angry, and yearning for purpose. I was once a boy buried under ashes. My uncle gave me rage. My wife gave me reason. Perhaps I can give you both."
The Queen smiled 😊. "You are not cursed, Kai. You are being forged."
Kai nodded slowly. "Then I'll become the blade that changes the world."
Kael grinned. "Good. Now rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."