Rise Online: Return of the Legendary Player



Drowning in his own blood, the King's eyes lost the gleam of triumph and filled with shock and anguish. He looked back, meeting the icy gaze of a shadowy figure rising behind him. A bloody hand came out of the King's chest and at the same time the entity with the sword in its chest rose up, causing the King's weak hand to fall with the weight of the sword, but still holding it.

Then the figure behind the King and the entity moved closer, showing themselves to be identical.

"Your effort was admirable, but your victory was never possible." whispered the shadowy figure with a voice laden with coldness and malice. "My powers exceed your comprehension in every respect. My body is more evolved than yours, so is my magic, so is my mana reserve and so is my mind. I am a being bordering on perfection and you are just a human a little better than the rest."

The King struggled to try and get up, only his knees were too weak, his vision blurred and his body weakened. He knew his life was ebbing away fast, but his resolve remained unshaken. With a sigh, he raised his head and found the strength to speak.

"... How? How did you...?" muttered the King, his words sounding weak and halting.

The shadowy figure let out a sadistic laugh, sneering at the King's words. "You underestimate my cunning just because you have come a little far, little human king." sneered the entity. "I created a clone of myself to fool you. You have fallen into my trap." said the entity, merging with the thing that surprised the King's back.

The King felt his heart sink in despair. He had been ensnared, unable to distinguish illusion from reality. Yet the flame of determination within him was not extinguished. He would not give up easily, not having come this far. With one swift movement, the King drove his sword into the ground, and once again a light appeared, but this time it could be seen throughout the city and set off a series of mystical chains that emerged from a magic circle where the sword was driven.

The chains wrapped around both the evil entity and the King himself, and his arms, legs and back began to rapidly tighten with the magic. An expression of surprise replaced the debauchery on the entity's face.

"W-what are you doing!?" the entity exclaimed, struggling against the chains that held him captive while just the touch of them was enough to burn his skin, causing a pain he did not feel even when the sword pierced him.

The King, panting, began to chant an ancient ritual in an ancient language, the same one that was engraved in the runes on the handle of his sword, which he could only read because he was on his knees. The ritual was in a very old language that he had taken a long time to learn, but which, through his travels and battles across Midgard, he had gradually mastered: divine elven, a language taught only to elven people who had relations with the Vanir, deities of Vanaheim.

"Arda fea, i arda cuilë..." chanted the King, his voice slowly rising into a unique harmony. "I anar súrë mar sívëa..."

The enveloping melody of the ritual chant seemed to weave an invisible shield of protection around the throne room, as the chains shimmered and strengthened. And his voice began to echo very loudly, throughout the city, and those who heard it felt an ancient and sacred power permeating the air.

"What are you doing?!" the entity exclaimed, struggling frantically against the chains that held him captive. Every touch of the chains burned his skin and caused excruciating pain.

"Menel aurë, ná taltë," the King continued, his eyes shining with an intensity that bordered on ascendancy. "Númen quentar, i elen coiamin."

Each word carried a symbolic meaning, an invocation to the forces of light and ancient wisdom. It was a sealing prayer, a request to the higher forces to imprison the evil entity that threatened the kingdom.

"Endë suilannad, cormar ar lá." Slowly the King concluded. "Ilassë quentëar i roquen, queni lá quentëar." He said at the end, and those were the last words spoken by the first King of Tretidian.

His final words resounded through the throne room, literally coming to life, and the chains glowed with a blinding intensity. The mystical chains tightened further, enveloping the evil entity in a prison of light, and the runes were seared into the skin of both the frantically struggling deformed being and the King.

The evil entity let out an agonized cry, its distorted contours beginning to crumble before the eyes of the King, who remained calm in the face of its now inevitable fate. As the chains flashed brightly, a wave of pulsating energy enveloped the entire throne room. The light radiated across the city, bathing the skies of Midgard in a holy aura.

Their chains began to merge, forming an irruptible connection between the King and the evil entity. Their souls were now intertwined, united in a shared destiny. As the entity was consumed by the power of the light, the King also found himself slowly disappearing along with it. A bright golden light enveloped the throne room, causing everyone to close their eyes for a moment and a second later the whole place disappeared completely, without even making a sound.

The entire Tretidian Capital fell into a solemn silence.

After a few minutes, a brave few dared to venture out to see what the outcome of the battle between the two had been, but where the throne room had been, there was only a gigantic crater and at the bottom of it, the King's Sword, radiating power.

The first King of Tretidian, along with the evil entity, disappeared into the blinding light and were consumed by the sword, being completely sealed.

...

Edited by: DrHitsuji

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