In the depths of the shadowed consciousness, where neither time nor space existed, the body of "Andre" floated in the void. No sooner had the treacherous blade settled in his chest than ethereal, glowing chains erupted from nothingness, wrapping around his tattered limbs, binding his hands and feet, and violently pulling him toward the abyss. From the impenetrable darkness, a cryptic entity descended, holding a faint lantern. It drew near the ravaged body, and with a single breath, blew into the lamp, igniting a flame that awakened the dormant horror.
The gate to the other dimension was thrown wide open.
In the Land of Ice...
The frozen air of the region was torn by a terrifying screech, and a black rift opened before the Ice Lord. From it stepped "Andre," but he was not the young man they knew. His steps were heavy, and his aura swallowed the light around him. In his hand, he gripped a vastly different sword; a long blade, with a hilt sculpted in the form of a black, gaping dragon, as if about to devour the world.
The moment he emerged, a massive wave of energy surged, sweeping through the area. It was not destructive, but a tremendous siphoning force that drew every trace of the "Cursed Energy" from the atmosphere. It was as if the curse of the place had been lifted instantly.
The heroes awoke from their demonic transformations, returning to their humanity. "Emily," the tormented mother, saw her child revert to his true self before her eyes, and she clutched him desperately, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. Everyone cheered for this miraculous victory... but the joy was shorter than their breaths.
Then, "Andre"—or the thing inhabiting his body—spoke.
His voice was not human; it was a sound seemingly rising from the pit of Hell, tinged with a metallic echo. He unleashed a black energy that shot out like a sharp blade, splitting the surrounding forest and shattering the peaks of the glacial mountains in a single second.
A silence heavier than death ensued. Eyes were wide, breaths held tight.
"Is that truly Andre?" the bewildered looks silently questioned.
The "Demon Lord" regarded them with a cold stare, a terrifying, scornful smile playing upon his lips:
"The one whose return you await... has lost. I am in control now."
He strolled slowly, swaggering with his newfound power: "Why don't we end the introductions and start immediately? I have unfinished business. But do not worry, my power is not yet complete... However, I promise you, when the gates open above your heads, none of you shall remain."
The heroes drew their swords, instinct driving them to attack, but a firm voice halted them.
"No one moves!" the Ice Lord roared, planting his feet firmly on the ground, his eyes fixed on the monstrosity before him. "This is not a foe you can defeat."
The Demon Lord laughed derisively: "What are you saying, Ice Lord? They can defeat me? Are you delirious? Even if you all banded together to land a single punch..."
He cut his sentence short with a swift movement, brandishing his black sword, releasing a ferocious tempest that sliced through the air and nearly tore reality itself. "...You would be annihilated before you ever reached me."
With incredible speed, the Ice Lord raised his sword to counter with an opposing glacial storm. The two forces collided with a deafening clamor, generating an immense atmospheric pressure that nearly crushed the bones of the onlookers. But the scales tipped; the Demon's power was overwhelming, pushing the Ice Lord back several steps.
The Demon Lord clapped slowly, provocatively: "Well done! I didn't know you could block that. It seems I will be entertained for a while."
They both charged. Swords clashed at a speed invisible to the naked eye, sparks of energy flying with every connection. The Demon Lord used his foot to kick the Ice Lord away, but was surprised to find a sharp shard of ice embedded in his arm. He smiled coldly, plucked it out, threw it away, and resumed his assault.
The Ice Lord quickly erected a thick wall of ice for defense, but the Demon shattered it with his bare hands, the punch landing squarely on the Ice Lord's face, making him stagger back.
The Ice Lord gasped, summoning a seemingly harmless "fine ice" power, which he followed with a devastating sword strike. To their astonishment, the Demon Lord mimicked the very strike with an even greater force. The two energies locked in a fierce, brutal struggle. The Ice Lord fought desperately to hold his ground, while his opponent pressed on without mercy.
And then... the Demon's pressure suddenly began to wane.
The Demon Lord stumbled, his vision blurring, the world spinning. His eyelids grew heavy as mountains.
"What is happening to me?" he mumbled with difficulty.
The Ice Lord smiled, blood dripping from his mouth: "Finally... it has taken effect."
The Demon Lord looked around, seeing the entire village sunk in a deep sleep, no movement, no sound.
The Ice Lord continued: "What is happening to you, is what is happening to the village. The effect of the sleeping draft is truly remarkable, even making a Demon Lord sway."
The Demon Lord's eyes widened as he recalled the ice shard that had lodged in his arm.
"That shard... contained the sleeping draft?" He laughed maniacally, a terrifying sound despite his staggering. "You humans are always deceitful. You never fight with honor. I have been tricked twice today, and that is far... far too much!"
With a brutal movement, he plunged his sword into his uninjured arm, then into his thigh—non-lethal wounds, but the pain was enough to fight off the slumber. He screamed in pain and ecstasy combined.
In that moment, the sky roared.
A colossal sound, like mountains grinding together, came from above. The first gate had opened.
The sound of the massive chains shifting to unlock the latch was petrifying, chilling hearts. And from the gate's belly, it did not rain, but "black lava" poured down. It fell directly onto the Demon Lord, washing over him, nourishing him, restoring his doubled strength.
The torrent of black lava ceased, and black flames erupted from Andre's body. His sword's blade turned from white to an absolute, pulse-glowing black.
He looked at them with eyes burning with malevolence: "Since you have impressed me with your ridiculous trick... it is my turn to impress you."
He ignited a tiny flame, the size of a matchstick, and threw it carelessly onto the icy ground.
In an instant, the small flame exploded into a massive torrent of Hellfire, the flames devouring the ice and rock, turning the place into a raging battleground.
"Here are your graves, humans... in this eternal inferno."
He ran his hand over the blade of his sword, and it ignited with dense black flames. He then unleashed a devastating, ultimate strike towards the heroes. It was a wave of black annihilation.
"Oliver" tried to use his energy to teleport the team, but the strike was faster than his thought flash. Death was imminent.
Suddenly, a colossal block of ice intercepted the flames' path.
It was the Ice Lord. He stood as a final barrier, and with an undeniable voice, he commanded: "Oliver! Teleport the team now!"
Oliver obeyed, and the team vanished.
In that instant, the flames shattered the ice and struck the Ice Lord directly. He did not remain standing tall; he fell to the ground, his body searing from the impact of the deadly strike. Despite the pain, he smiled as he closed his eyes: "Now... heroes... it is your turn."
On the Other Side... Inside the Prison of the Soul...
Far from the battle's roar, in the deepest darkness where the true "Andre" resided.
He was dismembered, without hands or feet, bound by the chains of despair.
A mysterious shadow moved slowly, holding the lantern, placing it right before Andre's broken face, then turned and departed in silence, leaving him to stare into the faint light amidst absolute helplessness.