Chapter 3

Everything changed in Gandon after the devastating Eld-RE war, marking the period when the most tragic event struck the Overlord himself.

Lord Xzander suffered an unimaginable loss, as his wife and son fell to the ruthless blades of his rivals. Lord Xzander had lost his wife and son to the hungry blades of his rivals.

He discovered the lifeless body of his beloved wife, leading him to believe his son was also dead, despite never finding his son's corpse.

Since then, Gandon descended into an era of gloom and despair. The once vibrant celebrations, festive events, ranking rituals and what-not ceased under the Overlord's eternal grievance order.

His rule became marked by an iron fist, his cruelty boundless and his merciless nature intensifying with each passing day, rooted in the anguish of his profound loss.

Driven by a thirst for vengeance, he annihilated many entire kingdoms, leaving only desolate wastelands in his wake; one of such was the small town Midas was from.

His subjects lived in constant fear, for any hint of rebellion was met with swift and brutal punishment. No one dared question his rule, and his grip on power remained fixed and unchallenged.

Nothing appeased him-neither the beautiful women he could have at will, nor the enormous wealth and power he had acquired. The loss of his wife and son kept him from truly living, plunging him into darkness over the years.

Now, he is driven by an insatiable hunger for conquest on anything that stood in his way, a relentless force that threatens to engulf the world in eternal night.

His castle, the Dragon's Lair looms over the 1st division, its towers shrouded in perpetual darkness.

"It truly is a long journey, old man," Midas said, spitting out a strand of hair that had blown into his mouth.

A charitable breeze whipped his long black hair across his face as he rode. He had never traveled this far, his life revolving around his town and the 5th division.

"It ain't. It's in your head." The old man scorned, laughing freely as he rode skillfully ahead of him.

"What a show-off," Midas called after him, growing more comfortable around Lord Gray.

As they approached their destination, the landscape transformed into a foreboding terrain. The skies darkened, and the air thickened with an eerie energy.

Midas couldn't help but feel a surge of panic inside, fearing that if things went sideways, it could be the end for him. Shaking off the feeling, he steeled himself.

He had come too far to back out now. If this was to be his last stand, so be it. The ground beneath his feet became dry and cracked, as if the earth was parched and waiting for his blood to revive it.

"We're close, kid," Lord Gray said, snapping Midas out of his thoughts.

Midas didn't say anything, instead smiling sadly and regaining his composure.

The entrance to the 1st division was marked by a massive stone gate, adorned with twisted ironwork resembling serpents entwined around the pillars. The gates was flanked by two imposing stone statues of fearsome warriors, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly red light in the dark.

As they neared, sweat rolled down Midas's chin. He coughed, loosening his muscles and preparing for whatever awaited him.

Hearing the neighing of horses, the gatekeeper-a towering, masked figure clad in black armor-scanned the horizon to see who the travelers were. Two riders approached, their silhouettes growing clearer with each step.

Kryp's breath caught in his throat as the warhorse snorted and came to a halt before the gate.

He recognized the unmistakable crest the rider displayed with a wave. It was Lord Gray Montgomery, the Shadow Reaper.

Lord Gray's piercing gaze met Kryp's and the gatekeeper felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Open the gates," Kryp ordered his fellowmen inside, giving a three bang signal. As the gate swung open, he stepped aside, bowing deeply.

Lord Gray signaled Midas's bewildered face to proceed, spurring his horse forward.

Midas remained puzzled and intrigued. He had expected a thorough search and scrutiny. As they rode in, he voiced his burning question.

"Who are you really, old man?"

Lord Gray chuckled at Midas's rising curiosity.

"The Shadow Reaper," he said casually, without the gruesome aura he had previously had.

"Everyone knows me by that."

Midas coughed loudly in shock, his voice choking in wonder.

Of course, he knew him. Who didn't?

The feared and respected brother of the Overlord, whose exploits were the stuff of legends. A master tactician and a shrewd diplomat.

He manipulates rival factions against each other, owning a vast network of spies and informants, making any dissent nearly impossible to conceal. Rumors claimed he had gained immortality and unparalleled strength through a dark pact with an ancient, malevolent deity.

"Careful there." Lord Gray warned.

"I need to bring you alive to your father."

The eerie energy that had since been weighing heavily on Midas gave way to solemnity.

Collecting himself, Midas spoke as if genuinely requesting to make up for his ignorance.

"My apologies, Lord Gray."

"Don't you have a pocket knife to point at me again?" the old man mocked, smiling at his sudden composure.

Hooking a finger on his forehead as he realized his earlier obscenity, Midas broke into a genuine laugh, riding off ahead of Lord Gray in a race.

"One more thing," Lord Gray said, riding past him.

"Yeah?"

"Stick with 'old man', kid."

"You have it, old man." Midas replied, both smiling in synchronization as they raced forward.

"Hyah!"

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Midas stared in awe at the Ooka Pinoit, a long stairway made of hand-fashioned coral stones, paved with precise slate squares. He walked towards the first step, climbing with an unsteady gait as an eerie feeling enveloped him once again.

"You're really not coming with me?" Midas asked, blinking.

"Go on. I'll meet you inside." Lord Gray replied.

"How so?"

"A private passage."

Then why can't I join you?" Midas lifted his brows.

"You'll soon find out."

"I won't dignify that with a show of curiosity. Guarantee my safety," he demanded, somewhat intimidated.

Turning away from his whines, Lord Gray said,   "You're one interesting kid. Meet me at the top."

Gazing up at the Dragon's Lair above, Midas mentally pictured himself for a 100-step climb.

The Ooka Pinoit was a lengthy and frightening ascent, with skulls and shattered bones placed on curving iron rods tangled like octopus tentacles.

His footsteps caused black vultures to storm the edges. Walking fast, clipping past cactus edges and rock walls, he struggled with each step, almost stumbling.

As he neared the top, the terrifying scenery gave way to a ten-foot iron gate. He looked back down for a moment, enjoying the illusion of omnipotence radiating from the climb.

Hooking a palm to the massive iron gate, he pushed it open, and it groaned without tension.

Walking in carefully, he met the dangerous glare of two Cane Corso wardogs. In shock, he retraced his steps backward, his brows lifting as he realized the gates were shut and wouldn't open from the inside.

He stood still, anticipating their approach as they ran wildly towards him.

Hungry-looking, scary dogs, with saliva drooling from their stuck-out tongue. Midas knew that if this was his end, he wouldn't go down without a fight. Bravely pulling out his sword, he held it forward in a tight grip.

"They're immortal. Nothing cuts through them." came a familiar voice that weakened him. "Relax, they know their masters," Lord Gray said, emerging from one of the hallways.

Calmly lowering his sword, Midas closed his eyes, awaiting his reality.

He staggered in shock to the full force of the wardogs' greetings as they jumped on him.

The impact sent him sprawling, his back brushing the cobblestones, echoing through the fortress. Whines of pure elation vibrated from the wardogs' throat as they showered Midas's face with wet kisses, their giant tongue leaving a trail of slobber across his cheek.

Midas chuckled, scratching behind their ears in obligation.

"My instincts don't lie."

"I'm sorry it took this long to find you."

"Welcome home, kid." Lord Gray said, bowing slightly with a genuine smile.

"What if I wasn't?" Midas asked objectively, shading the danger he'd just escaped.

"You'd be lunch then," the old man responded easily, letting out a guffaw.

Midas's shoulders rose and fell in resignation.

From this moment forward, he knew it was a whole new ball game.That nothing would ever be the same again.

The realization of being Xzander's firstborn dawned completely on him, spiking up his confidence and progressing to the release of pent-up emotions. Glaring deadly into the atmosphere, his bloodshot eyes flamed with awakened rage. He resolved into an ominous smile.

Two bulky men in their thirties approached them in synchrony, careful with their steps as if paid to meet unison.

Kneeling simultaneously, and removing their helmet, they bowed deeply.

The older one wore a Samurai Yoroi made of lacquered iron plates tied together with silk cords, a vicious face and a patched eyes. Strapped to his back was a formidable great sword, its hilt wrapped in worn leather.

The younger one was darker, wearing a dragon scale vest crafted from the scales of a fallen dragon, shimmering in various hues. His eyes held sharp intensity, vigilant and ready for the next threat.

"At your service, my Lord" they thundered to Midas.

Placing his sword on their shoulders in response, Midas acknowledged them.

The warriors stood up at an imposing height, their frame both muscular and agile, honed through years of rigorous training and countless battles.

The patched-eyed man spoke first. "I'm Ragnar Thorin, my Lord."

Darker face muttered, "Kaelan Aldrich"

Midas nodded, turning to Lord Gray with a questioning eye.

The old man explained,

"These are your henchmen."   "They'll go with you wherever. Their lives are now yours."

"They have been trained since birth to serve you, waiting on your return."

"Together they call themselves 'the Wolfsbane'."   "Their loyalty is to you and you alone."

"I'll leave you for now." Lord Gray said.

"Why so?" Midas frowned.

"I have a mission to see through," with that Lord Gray departed.

Midas assessed his henchmen briefly, concluding that he'd liked their aura. They were just the right pick for his newfound life.

To Kaelan, he commanded, "Prepare a chamber for me." Kaelan nodded and headed off.

Turning to Ragnar, Midas paused before speaking, "Take me to my father."

"Follow me, my Lord."

Midas nodded, walking forward behind him.

His eyes widened as he took in the fortress's grandeur.

The corridor was dimly lit by torches mounted on the stone walls, their flames casting flickering shadows that danced in his path.

Towering stone pillars lined the hallway, each intricately carved with scenes of past conquests and legendary battles.

They passed by grand archways that led into vast halls filled with armor and weaponry. Every soldier they passed stood at rigid attention, their faces set in expressions of disciplined resolve.

As they ascended a wide, spiraling staircase, Midas's gaze was drawn to a massive stained-glass window depicting the Overlord in all fearsome glory, wearing his full armor and wielding a sword that seemed to cleave through armies.

At the top of the staircase, they reached a set of double doors, intricately carved with images of dragons and mythical beasts.

Ragnar stopped.

"I'll be out here if you need me, my Lord."

Midas nodded, reaching out to the door, he pushed them open, swiping into the room. The room was vast, with high ceilings supported by gothic arches. On the opposite side of all that intimidating outlook, it was beautiful-captivatingly so.

As he waded deeper into the room, he found what he was looking for: his father, standing out on the terrace.

The Overlord stood tall and imposing, his presence commanding the room with an aura of absolute authority.

As he turned to Midas, his cold gray eyes lit up. The wolf-like glare was softened into sincere ethereal emotions, causing his heart to leap.

He could identify those eyes anywhere-they belonged to his son. Looking down at the amulet Midas wore, his heart pounded with a mix of desperation and joy.

They walked up briskly toward each other, and Lord Xzander enveloped Midas in a tight embrace, holding him as if he would never let go.

Tears streamed down Midas's face unconsciously as past memories of survival reminisced.

"I thought I'd lost you," Lord Xzander whispered, his voice choking with emotions.

"I thought I'd never see you again."

"Gray was right all along. He always said he felt your spirit."

"I'm sorry it took this long to find you."

With trembling hands, Midas looked into his father's wet eyes. The Overlord, his father? It felt scripted, dawning on him anew every single time.

This man in front of him was beautiful, his features laser-cut.

His hair, white as snow, flowed down to his shoulders, framing an ethereal face carved with a scar running down the length of his left cheek-a testament to battles fought and enemies vanquished.

The rumors did no justice to his beauty. One couldn't blame the tales, as the face of the Overlord and the entire person's of the 1st division were never seen in the outside world, always appearing only in full armor publicly.

Hence the easy disguise for Lord Gray on missions.

Opening his mouth to speak, the words died in his throat. Midas just hugged his father again, tighter this time, as if trying to make up for all the lost time.

They stayed like that for a long moment, father and son reunited, the world around them forgotten. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The rhythm of their heartbeats matched as one.

As they finally pulled away, Lord Xzander looked deeply into Midas's eyes. "We have much to discuss, but first, you must rest and prepare. You've been through a great deal, and now I'll give you the world as a footstool for the stress."

"I'll make your enemies pay for whatever they have done. Whoever messed with my son, messed with me."

Midas nodded, feeling the weight of the past dying a natural death. "I understand, Father. But I am ready to haunt my foes, my way. They'll grovel at my feet, begging to die, but there will be no sweet release of death, even as they get eviscerated and their hearts stop."

Xzander smiled, a rare and genuine expression. "Good. You are my son, after all."

Letting out his signature sound-the howl of a wolf-for the first time in a long time, he passed a message to the entire division that his son was alive.

As they turned to leave the terrace, Midas felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

His journey had only just begun, and with the world in his hands, he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.