Two years had forged Shubham into a warrior beyond recognition. The timid boy who had cowered under the bullies' taunts was gone, replaced
by a confdent, skilled swordsman. Susuba's rigorous training had honed his natural talent, unlocking the potential Lyra had foreseen. He moved
with a grace and power that belied his former frailty, his blade a blur of deadly precision.
The war against the demon army had been brutal. Shubham had fought valiantly, his skills cutting through the demonic hordes like a hot knife
through butter. He had saved countless lives, inspiring his fellow heroes with his courage and unwavering determination. But the war had taken
its toll. Of the twenty-fve students who had arrived in Aethel, only six remained.
The others… their fates were a mystery. They had fallen one by one, not on the battlefeld, but in strange, unsettling circumstances. Some had
simply vanished, leaving no trace. Others had been found dead, their bodies unmarked, their deaths shrouded in an eerie silence. The prevailing
theory, whispered amongst the survivors, was that the Demon King was responsible. They believed he possessed some dark, insidious power
that allowed him to eliminate his enemies without direct confrontation.
Now, Shubham and his fve remaining companions stood on the precipice of their fnal battle. They had tracked the Demon King to his fortress,
a towering monolith of dark stone that seemed to pulse with malevolent energy. The air around it crackled with dark magic, a palpable sense of
dread hanging heavy in the air.
Shubham gripped his sword, the familiar weight a comfort in the face of the looming darkness. He thought of his fallen comrades, their faces
fashing before his eyes. He would avenge them. He would defeat the Demon King. He would bring peace back to Aethel.
"Are you ready, Shubham?" asked one of his companions, a young woman named Anya who had developed remarkable healing abilities. Her
voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed her fear.
Shubham nodded, his gaze fxed on the fortress. "Let's fnish this," he said, his voice frm and resolute. He knew the battle ahead would be the
greatest challenge they had ever faced. But he also knew that they had come too far to turn back now. They were the last hope of Aethel. And
Shubham, the boy who had once been bullied, was now their leader, their shield, their sword. He would not fail them.