The moon hung high above the ruined city, its light reflecting off the broken spires of the cathedral that once stood as a beacon of hope. Now, it was a monument to despair — its stained-glass windows shattered, the holy symbols burned away by Adrian's flames days earlier.
Adrian stood in silence before the altar. His armor, once silver, now carried the blackened marks of countless battles. His face was calm, but his eyes — those crimson eyes — were empty. Behind him, a chilling wind swept through the open doors, carrying whispers of fear and prayers long forgotten.
He had crushed the eighth-ranked hero two nights ago — Ayo Dlamini, the African hero known as the "Lion of the Sun." Their duel had lasted for hours beneath a burning sky, their powers colliding with the intensity of gods. In the end, Ayo had fallen with a smile, whispering something that haunted Adrian still:
> "You're not the monster they say you are… but soon, you will be."
Adrian's fists clenched at the memory. He hated those words — because deep down, he knew they were true.
---
The Arrival of the Ninth Hero
The sound of metal boots echoed through the ruins. Adrian turned, eyes narrowing as a new presence entered the cathedral.
A young man approached — tall, wearing a white cloak embroidered with golden dragons. His black hair was tied neatly, and his eyes glimmered like sharp blades.
"Adrian Vayne." The man's voice was calm, deliberate. "I am Zhao Liang, ninth of the Ten Heroes. I've come to deliver judgment."
Adrian tilted his head, studying him. "Judgment? From a man who bows to kings?"
Zhao smiled faintly. "I bow to no king. Only to balance. You've destroyed nations, Adrian. You've killed heroes. You've drowned hope itself."
Adrian's lips curved into a cruel smirk. "Hope was the first lie I ever killed."
---
The Duel
Without another word, Zhao drew his sword — a thin, elegant blade that shimmered like flowing water. The air itself seemed to bend around it.
Adrian summoned his weapon — his crimson greatsword, Oblivion, forged from his own hatred. When the two blades met, the cathedral trembled.
Each strike was poetry and destruction. Zhao's style was fluid, each motion calculated and graceful, while Adrian fought like a storm — raw, brutal, and unstoppable.
Stone shattered beneath their feet as shockwaves ripped through the air. Zhao flipped backward, landing lightly on a pillar before launching forward again, slicing through the air with a roar of wind.
Adrian blocked it effortlessly, twisting his sword and slamming it down. The impact cracked the ground open like lightning.
Zhao's eyes widened. So strong… he's not human anymore.
"You hesitate," Adrian said coldly, his voice echoing. "You're not ready to kill me."
Zhao gritted his teeth. "And you're not ready to be saved."
The two clashed again — faster, harder, until sparks lit up the night like fireworks.
Finally, Adrian caught Zhao's blade mid-swing, his other hand grabbing Zhao by the throat. His voice dropped to a whisper.
> "Do you know what happens to light… when it tries to shine in the abyss?"
Zhao struggled, his vision fading. "It… burns brighter…"
Adrian's eyes flickered — for just a second, something human passed through them. Then, without hesitation, he impaled Zhao through the chest.
The hero gasped, blood dripping down his chin. "You… still have a heart… Adrian…"
Adrian let go, letting Zhao's body fall to the ground. "No," he muttered. "I buried it long ago."
---
The Shadow of Arthur
The fight was over, but Adrian didn't move. He stared at the blood spreading across the cathedral floor. Each victory hollowed him more.
As he turned to leave, a gust of wind swept through the ruins — and with it came a voice, calm yet powerful.
> "You've walked far, Adrian."
Adrian froze. He knew that voice. Every fiber of his being tensed.
From the broken archway stepped Arthur, the First Hero. His golden armor gleamed faintly under the moonlight, his presence radiating divine power.
For the first time in years, Adrian felt something — not fear, not anger, but memory.
He remembered the cheers, the banners, the celebrations. He remembered standing beside Arthur once, believing in the same dream.
But now, the dream was dead.
"Arthur," Adrian said quietly, his voice trembling with restrained hatred. "The golden savior finally shows himself."
Arthur's gaze softened. "You've changed, my friend. But it's not too late. End this war. Return with me."
Adrian laughed — a hollow, broken sound. "Return? To what? A world that spat on me? A world that chose you over me?"
Arthur sighed, lowering his sword slightly. "The world isn't perfect. But destroying it won't fix what was broken inside you."
Adrian's crimson aura flared violently. The cathedral's remains began to shake. "You don't understand… It's not about fixing anymore."
Arthur's eyes hardened. "Then what is it about?"
Adrian raised Oblivion, flames swirling around him like wings of shadow.
> "It's about ending the lie you built… and the world that worships you."
Their gazes locked — two former comrades, now gods of opposing fates.
And as the first drop of rain fell between them, Adrian whispered, almost gently:
> "When we meet again, Arthur… only one of us will still have a soul."
He vanished into the night, leaving the cathedral in ruins once more — and leaving Arthur staring after him, sorrow burning in his eyes.