Memories of Wrath

The throne room lay in ruin. Smoke curled from shattered stone, and the air was thick with the sharp tang of blood and dark magic. Tolet sat upon the throne, his gaze cast down on the shattered figure of Lycus, who lay gasping, broken, and bloody on the cold floor. Shadows clung to Tolet like a cloak, as if he were now the very heart of the Abyss itself.

“Look at you,” Tolet murmured, his voice a deep, cutting whisper. “A king brought low. A son defeated by the father he betrayed.”

Lycus groaned, pushing himself up onto one elbow, every movement bringing pain. His dark eyes glinted with a stubborn, furious light, even as blood dripped from his mouth. “This changes… nothing,” he managed, spitting his words through gritted teeth. “You may sit on that throne, but the kingdom is mine. My followers, my allies… they are loyal to me.”

Tolet’s lips twisted into a faint, mocking smile. “Are they, Lycus? Loyal to a traitor who cowers at his father’s feet?” He leaned forward, his shadow elongating across the floor and pressing around Lycus like a tightening noose. “Power earned through betrayal holds no loyalty. I learned that long ago.”

Lycus forced himself upright, his voice strained but defiant. “The people may not love me,” he growled, his breath ragged, “but they fear me. And that fear… makes me untouchable.”

Tolet’s laughter was a cold, hollow sound that echoed through the chamber. “Fear?” he said, eyes glinting with cruel amusement. “You think you know fear, boy? Let me show you true terror.”

With a flick of his wrist, Tolet unleashed a wave of dark energy that surged across the floor, spiraling around Lycus. Shadows rose like tendrils, curling up his arms and legs, wrapping around him in a suffocating grip. Lycus struggled, his eyes widening as the tendrils tightened, cutting off his air, squeezing his limbs until he could feel his bones creak.

“Stop… Father, stop!” Lycus gasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. Desperation crept into his tone, the arrogance in his gaze beginning to crack under the weight of the shadows.

But Tolet’s expression remained impassive. He leaned back in the throne, watching his son’s struggle with a calm, cold detachment. “A thousand years have passed, Lycus. A thousand years of betrayal, of my own blood usurping my power. And now, you beg me to stop?”

Lycus’s vision blurred as he felt the shadows pressing down on him, crushing his chest, squeezing the life from him. His lips moved, shaping words without sound as he gasped for air.

Tolet’s hand stilled, the shadows easing slightly. He studied Lycus for a long moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his gaze. “Tell me, son. What did you see in me that made you turn against your own blood? Was it fear? Jealousy? Or was it simply that my power was a temptation too strong for you to resist?”

Lycus’s face twisted with rage as he gasped for breath, the shadows loosening just enough to allow him to speak. “You were never… a king,” he spat, his voice full of venom. “You were a tyrant. The people… hated you, whispered behind your back. I gave them what you never could—an Eternal King who would rule without question, who they feared as much as they worshipped.”

Tolet raised an eyebrow, a cold smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And yet here you are, groveling at my feet. Tell me, Lycus, where is your eternal power now?”

Lycus’s fists clenched as he summoned what remained of his strength. Dark fire flickered to life around his hands, and with a roar of fury, he broke free of the shadows’ hold, lunging forward with a surge of desperation-fueled energy. His hands crackled with raw power, and he struck out, sending a blast of dark magic hurtling toward Tolet.

But Tolet barely moved. With a slight gesture, he deflected the attack, the energy dissipating harmlessly against his own dark aura. He rose slowly from the throne, each step forward exuding an intimidating, unyielding force that seemed to fill the entire room.

“Is that all you have left?” he asked, his tone almost mocking.

Rage burned in Lycus’s eyes as he staggered backward, his chest heaving with exertion. “I won’t… bow to you!” he snarled, his voice laced with desperation.

Tolet’s gaze hardened, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You already have, Lycus. You just refuse to see it.”

In a final act of defiance, Lycus summoned all his remaining energy, channeling it into a sphere of raw power that swirled in his hands, pulsating with dangerous intensity. He let out a roar and hurled it at Tolet with all his might, the blast of energy ripping through the air as it hurtled toward him.

But Tolet remained unmoved. With a flick of his wrist, he parted the shadows, drawing them together into a barrier that absorbed Lycus’s attack effortlessly. The energy dissolved into nothingness, leaving Lycus standing alone, his chest heaving, his strength spent.

“Pathetic,” Tolet muttered, a cold disdain in his voice. He stepped forward, raising his hand, the shadows coiling around him like a storm. “You have played at being a king long enough, Lycus. Now, you will understand what it truly means to face a ruler of shadows.”

Lycus’s gaze flickered with fear as he staggered backward, his once-powerful form now reduced to a shell of what it had been. He stumbled, nearly falling, and a realization dawned in his eyes—this was a battle he could not win.

A spark of desperation flared within him as he turned on his heel, his feet pounding against the stone floor as he fled, his figure disappearing into the darkness of the hall beyond.

Tolet watched his son’s retreat with a look of cold satisfaction, his hand lowering as the shadows around him settled. A smirk played at his lips as he watched the once-proud king reduced to a fleeing figure, the echoes of his hurried footsteps fading into the silence.

“Run, Lycus,” Tolet murmured, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “But know that there is no corner of this world where my shadows will not find you.”

As Lycus’s form vanished into the distance, Tolet turned, his gaze sweeping over the ruined throne room. He could still feel the pulsing, familiar power of the Abyss within him, a reminder that he had ascended to a level beyond that of any mortal. Lycus’s reign had come to an end, and the throne was his once more.

Yet, as he stood there in the silence, a flicker of something stirred within him—a memory, a faint echo of what he had once shared with his son. It was quickly smothered by the shadows, buried beneath the cold, unyielding resolve that now governed him. Tolet’s path was one of vengeance, and there would be no place for weakness or sentiment.

But even as he dismissed the thought, a voice lingered at the edges of his mind, whispering of the past, of a time when he had once held his son in his arms, before betrayal had turned them against each other. He pushed it away, his gaze hardening.

The Demon King had returned, and his path of vengeance was only beginning.

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