Xeos sat upon his golden throne, the weight of millennia pressing down on him more heavily than ever. Tarrien had finished his report an hour ago, detailing the mundane affairs of the kingdom. Abundant harvests, manageable monster incursions, the usual tribute from vassal states. He dismissed him without a word, the silence of the throne room swallowing the advisor whole.
He should rest. Resolve the exhaustion that had become a constant companion. But sleep eluded him, as it had for so long. He rose from the throne, the polished gold cool beneath his bare feet, and strode towards his private chambers. He would try again, if only to escape the oppressive weight of the throne room.
He settled in his bed staring at the ceiling. Still nothing. It was always like this now.
Xeos stood at the balcony of his private chambers. Another sleepless night descended, the three moons hanging in the sky like cold, uncaring witnesses. He stared at them, a flicker of something akin to disgust twisting his features. Millennia ago, their beauty had captivated him. Now, they were just celestial bodies, indifferent to the woes of his kingdom, to the turmoil within his soul.
He focused his will, the familiar surge of magic coursing through him and in a flash of golden light, Xeos teleported. Not to the Red Wastes, not to any corner of his kingdom, but to the surface of one of the moons hanging above him.
He found himself standing amidst the ruins of a small kingdom. Buildings crafted from moonstone shimmered faintly in the pale light, their architecture delicate, almost ethereal. No signs of life stirred. Dust lay thick upon everything. This tiny kingdom had been abandoned for three thousand years, a forgotten relic of a bygone era.
Xeos walked through the silent streets, his footsteps echoing in the vacuum, his heightened senses protecting from the pressure. He reached a small, unassuming obelisk, its surface marred with age. Kneeling, he brushed away the lunar dust to reveal a crude scribble etched into the stone: "Azazel was here :>". A small, childlike smile accompanied the message.
A ghost of a smile touched Xeos' lips as he looked at it. He remembered Azazel carving those words, laughing at the absurdity of leaving his mark on a world that would never remember him. He stayed looking at the message for a second, lost in reverie.
And then, Xeos' smile vanished. Fury surged through him, a tidal wave of rage that he had kept in check for far too long. He raised his hand, palm open.
The small kingdom began to melt. Moonstone flowed like lava, structures dissolving into glistening puddles. The obelisk, Azazel's message, everything was destroyed with it. The entire kingdom collapsed in an eerie silence, erased from the face of the moon.
When it was over, Xeos stood amidst the ruins, his chest heaving. The rage lingered, a burning ember refusing to be extinguished. He teleported back to his throne room, the sight of the broken landscape vanishing behind him.
Xeos sat upon his golden throne once more, utterly alone. He felt no emotion. He showed no emotion. The golden eyes merely glowed, intense and unwavering, illuminating the cavernous room.
Inside though, all emotions flowed through him. Anger at himself. Disgust for the state of the world. Loss for his friend. A desire for change, for anything other than the stagnation that had defined his existence for millennia.
A decision began to form, hard and unyielding. A decision that would shatter the foundations of his life. He knew what he had to do.
Xeos stood in a dim forest. Ancient trees rose like gnarled fingers towards a sky barely visible through the dense canopy. He was in the northern continent, in the kingdom of Askel.
The air hung heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. This was a world away from the sterile perfection of his golden castle, a land of rugged beauty and untamed wilderness.
He walked deeper into the forest, following a faint trail that led to a clearing. Three figures awaited him, their faces etched with surprise.
"Xeos," a booming voice reverberated through the trees. A giant of a man stepped forward, his features craggy and weathered, his eyes warm with a familiar camaraderie. This was Askel, king of the western continent, his domain ruled by strength and tradition.
"It has been too long, old friend," Askel said, enveloping Xeos in a bone-crushing hug.
The other two men approached, their expressions mirroring Askel's mixture of surprise and pleasure. Vorlag, king of the eastern continent, the master of strategy and innovation. Vorlag was always the most calculating one of all of them. And finally, there was Serin, king of the northern continent, the master of spies and assassins. Xeos could see Serin's smile on his sharp face, even from the distance. he was shrouded in shadows even in the light.
"I did not expect to see you here, Xeos," Vorlag said, his voice precise and measured. "What brings you to our humble corner of the world?"
"Business," Xeos said, his gaze sweeping across their faces. "Matters that require... discussion."
Askel chuckled. "Then let us discuss them over a flagon of ale and a roaring fire. It has been far too long since we shared a drink."
As they settled around a crackling bonfire, the conversation turned to matters of state, to the successes and failures of their respective kingdoms. But Xeos was not interested in trade agreements or border disputes. He was here for something far more profound.
The northern continent was ruled by Serin, a master of secrets and shadows. His kingdom was a land of intrigue and hidden agendas, where information was currency and assassination a fine art. Serin's ace in the hole was "The Whisper," a network of spies and informants so vast and pervasive that he knew the secrets of every court, every city, every village on the continent.
The western continent lay under the stewardship of King Vareth, a traditionalist obsessed with honor and lineage. His powerbase rested on "The Legacy," a bloodline of warriors blessed with superhuman strength and unmatched combat prowess.
The eastern continent was a hotbed of technological innovation, ruled by that Vorlag, whose dominion lay in "The Forge," a place where the greatest minds would create things that would lead even gods into confusion.
Each king held dominion over their own strength, which propelled their kingdom into a new age of prosperity and magic. Every ace was different, yet their similarities were just as apparent.
They were more than just weapons. They were symbols of their power. They were a representation of themselves. They were the key to immortality and dominance over their realms.
And on that fire, stood Xeos, the kind of the southern continent, ruler of the Arogen kingdom, a powerful mage more divine than man. As such, he was blessed with "The Lose," an entity that represented his dominion over others, his ability to destroy and conquer them by draining their potential, and use them against their very own dreams. Xeos only has to touch his enemy, to see him fall with it's glory.
Xeos finally broke the silence, interrupting askel and said. "I came here to ask for your opinion, about my ace... my "Lose""
Askel became frozen looking at him. The fire in his eyes extinguished to a look of fear. It was known that Xeos' ace was the strongest of all 4 kingdoms. not only giving power to Xeos but to spread terror to anyone who faced it.
"Xeos, old friend" Vorlag quickly said, "Don't get me wrong. I value you for as long as i can remember, but i am not ready to fight against you. And especially not to be touched by your "Lose". Please, what is it that you want?"
Xeos' golden eyes narrowed. "I need to ask about something. Do you think that my Lose, is enough? To compare with gods?"
Before any one of them could speak, Serin bursted in laughter. "Gods? You want to compare to gods now, after 3000 years of living... normally? Xeos, i know you as a wise man. don't let the old age hit you so hard. you are stronger than a god, why would you even ask?"
"I don't BELIEVE in these words" Xeos said, hitting the table. "Please answer me directly. IS THIS ACE, ENOUGH TO FIGHT GODS?"
They looked at each other, without a single word. it was clear that they weren't in peace with each other about it.
Vorlag, tried to change the subject. Askel looked at Xeos waiting for his answer. Serin... Serin was the only one smiling.
Xeos stood up, understanding everything as he glanced at their faces. "I see. It seems that you think, that this power, is not enough to even scratch them."
And with a blink, he teleported away.
Xeos stood in the heart of his golden castle. The air crackled with arcane energy as he prepared for the ritual. He had made his decision. There was no turning back.
The summoning circle glowed on the floor, intricate runes etched into the gold. Candles flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced on the walls. The air grew heavy, oppressive.
He reached out, slicing his palm with a silver blade. A single drop of blood, golden like his eyes, fell onto the center of the circle. It sizzled, releasing a plume of black smoke that coiled upwards.
The castle shook as the ritual reached its peak. A tear formed in the fabric of reality, a swirling vortex of darkness that threatened to consume everything. From within the void, a voice whispered, a symphony of suffering and sin.
"You called, mortal?"
A hulking figure emerged from the darkness, wreathed in shadow and flame, his eyes burning with malevolent glee. This was not merely a demon. This was one of the Seven Deadly Sins, one of the Demon Kings of Hell. This was Sloth.
"I have a proposition for you, Demon," Xeos said, his voice unwavering.
Sloth chuckled, a sound that echoed with the torments of countless souls. "I am listening."
Xeos stepped forward, unafraid. "I offer you my soul. In exchange..."
He paused, his voice fading. The very air seemed to resist the words he was about to speak. The universe itself refused to acknowledge the transaction. He continued, his voice barely a whisper, "... I want..."
The deal was struck. Sloth smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He reached out, his clawed hand grasping Xeos' very essence.
The light in Xeos' eyes faded. His body remained standing for a moment, then collapsed onto the floor, lifeless.
The ritual ended. The summoning circle went dark. Sloth vanished, taking Xeos' soul with him into the depths of Hell.
And that's how Xeos: the lord of the lands, the king of the Arogen kingdom, the only ruler of the south continent, the member of the Azazel's empire, Died.