As the dust of the execution settled, a heavy silence draped over the outpost's main hall. At its core, a woman fashioned for battle knelt, her draconic armor shimmering in shades of crimson and black. Her snow-white hair, adorned with small dragon scales at her temples, matched the lethal intensity of her piercing red eyes.
But she was far from ordinary.
She was the heir to the winds, the daughter of the fallen Bellathos. Before her sat a shadow-cloaked figure, ensconced upon a throne the Northern tribes had vowed would never bear the weight of human lineage.
Yet here they were, at a turning point in history. Fate had brought them to this critical juncture, where her legacy and future would be evaluated by a sovereign who bowed to no deity and acknowledged no mortal rival beneath the heavens.
"What is your name?" Raiking's voice resonated through the hall.
"Venarayer."
"Then tell me, Venarayer, what are your thoughts on your father's execution?"
"I haven't pondered it."
"You have the chance now."
She raised her chin, locking eyes with the Demon King for the first time. Her gaze, fiery with bold ambition, met his unwaveringly. "He was a fool. He chose to perish for a bygone era, blind to the immense potential standing right before him."
"Understanding that true weakness is not an external threat, but rather an internal decay, demands profound insight."
Her brow creased slightly. "I don't quite grasp it."
A deep, resonant hum filled the space as Raiking summoned a swirling orb of dark Void Magic, hovering just above his open palm. "What do you know about the human prisoner of war?"
"Only rumors," Venarayer replied. "My father told my mother they were running experiments in the shadows, trying to see how Void Magic would ravage mortal flesh."
"Do you know how the experiment concluded?"
"One human soldier drained the life force from all the other captives."
"And do you know why?"
"The corruption. The insatiable hunger."
"You're right that hunger was the executioner," Raiking said. "But the driving force behind that massacre... was hope."
Venarayer's intense eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting his will to survive drove him to slaughter his own comrades?"
"Exactly. When I turned him to dust, I glimpsed the echoes of his soul. Initially, he despised the killing. He only crossed that line because he convinced himself that accumulating enough power would allow him to break free and liberate the others."
"A noble lie that spiraled into madness."
"Because once the abyss is fed, its hunger becomes infinite," Raiking declared, letting the Void orb spin over his palm. "Your father understood this paradox. He knew that without absolute law, even the purest intentions could decay into gluttony. He didn't die a fool's death, Venarayer. He died as a martyr, hoping his tribe would never tread that doomed path."
"Regardless of his hopes, it's done," she said, unwavering. "No one rose to avenge him. Doesn't that make his sacrifice meaningless?"
"They didn't draw their swords today," Raiking corrected. "But don't mistake their silence for forgetfulness. A day will come when the memory of his defiance transforms into unyielding resolve."
"If you sense a rebellion brewing, why not crush it before it even begins?"
"Because while everyone else clings desperately to hope and martyrdom, I am the embodiment of certainty," he declared, as he deftly maneuvered the void orb toward her. "Take this. It contains your father's essence. Ensure you absorb it thoroughly. You'll need its power for the challenges that lie ahead."
Her gaze fixated on the dense sphere pulsating with her father's life force. The tale of the starving human had left its mark—Raiking saw her as just another beast to be fed. The chilling realization hit her hard—she finally grasped why her father made his choice. In the face of the Demon King, death was the only true rebellion.
"You are right," Venarayer declared, her crimson eyes ablaze with determination. "My father was no fool. He had a wisdom beyond us all. But I am not my father. I lack the tragic nobility of that prisoner and the conviction to die for a future that may never come. My only ambition—no matter how many of my kin I must surpass—is to reach the ultimate peak of power and outshine everyone who came before me."
Her resolve was unwavering. Her armored fingers clenched around the orb, crushing it. A swirling violet energy surged up her arm, violently merging with her being. She embraced the corruption, allowing it to forcibly propel her toward her dark ascension.
"Good," Raiking remarked, observing the shadows engulf her. "You are the perfect essence of a Void being."
---
In the present timeline, the grand hall of Greenhollow was immobilized by the weight of the vision. They had just unearthed a piece of ancient history, but only Morgal immediately grasped the terrifying implications.
"Queen Venarayer..." Morgal whispered into the silence, as the pieces finally aligned. "The mother of the Demon Emperor..."
Dia'Tia pondered deeply, her eyes narrowing with intrigue. "So, that explains her incredible power."
Morgal flashed a smug smile. "Naturally. Being selected by the Void's Will is a privilege reserved for only the most elite warriors."
Dia'Tia caught the hint of arrogance in Morgal's tone, but refrained from her usual sharp retort, her mind preoccupied with a more pressing mystery. If the current Demon Emperor is only partially of Void descent, who completes the other half of his lineage?
Meanwhile, the entire eternal crowd in Greenhollow had their eyes locked on Raiking.
"Why are you all staring at me? I only have one child," Raiking said, unfazed, effortlessly tossing the giggling Faye into the air and catching her with ease.
If not him, then who could it be? Dia'Tia mused. The ancient legends were explicit—only a True Divinity who had ascended to become a Harbinger of the Void could breach the barriers of the Void Realm. Considering the barbarians' fierce disdain for outsiders, what strange sequence of events could have led them to merge their sacred bloodline with another race?