The Strongest With Nothing Left

The battlefield was drenched in blood. The stench of iron filled the air, mixing with the acrid smoke of burned villages and shattered fortresses. But this was no war between nations, no desperate struggle to defend a homeland. This battle had one purpose.

To kill one man. Li Vrak. The Living Nightmare.

Thousands of soldiers, mages, knights, and adventurers had gathered, their weapons drawn, their spells prepared. They surrounded him from every direction, a sea of steel and magic, yet not a single one dared to step forward. Their bodies trembled, their hearts pounded. They had heard the stories. 

How entire cities had fallen in a single night.How heroes of legend had challenged him only to be cut down like weeds.How no army, no tactic, no divine blessing had ever been enough.

And now, he stood before them. Alone. 

His katana dripped with fresh blood, bodies piled around him like discarded corpses on a battlefield of hell. His piercing purple eyes, once devoid of purpose, now burned with an insatiable wrath. His black coat, tattered and torn, fluttered in the wind, soaked in the lifeblood of those who dared to stand in his way. 

"Come." His voice was quiet, but it carried across the battlefield like a death sentence.

The soldiers flinched. Some stepped back. Others clutched their weapons tighter, whispering prayers to gods that had long abandoned them. Then, the order was given.

"ATTACK!" Magic surged, arrows rained, blades clashed yet it was meaningless.

Because Li Vrak did not fight like a man. He fought like death itself. 

The battlefield erupted into chaos. 

The first wave of soldiers charged, their battle cries drowned by the howling wind only for silence to follow. Li Vrak vanished from sight. Then, in an instant, a dozen heads soared through the air, their bodies collapsing like lifeless dolls before their brains could even process the pain. Blood sprayed like a fountain, painting the ground in rivers of crimson. Screams followed.

A knight swung his greatsword down at Li, but before the blade could even touch him, Li's katana cleaved through his wrist, severing it cleanly. The knight barely had time to register the pain before Li twisted and plunged his hand straight into his chest. Fingers curled around a still-beating heart then yanked it free.

The knight's eyes widened in horror, his mouth opening as if to speak. No words came. Only blood. Li tossed the heart aside, stepping forward as another soldier lunged at him. A spear aimed for his skull. He tilted his head, letting it scrape against his cheek. His free hand lashed out, gripping the man's face before lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

With a sickening crunch, Li crushed the soldier's skull between his fingers. Brain matter splattered across his cheek, mixing with the blood already staining his face. He didn't even blink. A mage, trembling, raised his staff.

"FIREBALL!" A blazing sphere of flame shot toward Li, heat rippling the air. Li merely flicked his katana, slicing the spell in half as if it were nothing. The mage's breath hitched then, without warning, Li was behind him.

"Pathetic." The katana slid across the mage's throat, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the kill. The mage's eyes bulged, hands flying to his neck as blood poured through his fingers. He choked, gurgled then collapsed.

The battlefield stank of death. Limbs lay scattered across the ground, torsos split open, intestines spilling like grotesque decorations. Li stepped over the corpses, his movements calm, unhurried. The once-proud army that came to kill him had been reduced to a writhing mass of the dying and the damned. And he was just getting started.

Li Vrak stood amidst the carnage, drenched in blood, his piercing purple eyes glowing with an unholy light. A wide, twisted grin stretched across his face as he threw his head back and let out a crazed, bone-chilling laugh. 

"Hahaha… HAHAHAHA!" His laughter echoed across the battlefield, drowning out the dying screams around him. He gripped his katana tightly, the blade dripping with fresh crimson, his entire body soaked in the lifeblood of those who dared to stand against him.

Then, with a voice filled with sheer madness, he declared, "No matter how many soldiers you send! No matter how many armies you gather! No matter how many high-ranking adventurers or so-called heroes you throw at me—" He spread his arms wide, as if welcoming them all. "They will ALL die by my hands!"

The remaining survivors—wounded knights, trembling mages, and terrified archers—felt their hearts sink. Their hands shook as they clutched their weapons, but deep down, they knew the truth.

They couldn't win. This wasn't a battle. This was a massacre.

Some dropped their weapons, too stricken with fear to fight. Others turned to run, knowing that retreat was the only chance at survival. But Li Vrak only smiled wider.

"Run! Crawl! Scream!" he roared, eyes blazing with madness. "It doesn't matter! The moment you stood against me, your fate was already sealed!" With inhuman speed, he lunged forward. Another scream rang out as he cleaved a man in half with a single slash, his laughter never ceasing. 

For Li Vrak, this was not war. This was vengeance. And he would not stop until the entire world drowned in blood."

Days passed since the massacre, yet the stench of blood still clung to the air. The kingdom was in shambles, mourning the thousands who had fallen to a single man Li Vrak. The once-proud soldiers who had marched onto the battlefield now lay buried in mass graves, their names barely whispered in fear of summoning the nightmare that had slain them.

The royal court was in chaos. King Aldric sat on his throne, his face pale, his fingers gripping the armrest so tightly his knuckles turned white. Around him, nobles and generals argued, their voices laced with desperation. 

"We must strike back before he comes for the capital!" one general shouted, slamming his fist onto the table.

"Strike back?" another scoffed, his face drenched in sweat. "We threw everything at him! Thousands of soldiers, war mages, even our strongest adventurers—he slaughtered them like cattle!"

The war room fell silent, the weight of their failure suffocating. The people of the kingdom were terrified. Villages near the battlefield had been abandoned overnight, citizens fleeing with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Rumors spread like wildfire. 

"He's a demon in human form."

"His blade drinks the souls of those he slays."

"No one who fights him lives to tell the tale."

Even the most seasoned warriors hesitated at the thought of facing Li Vrak. "...We need a plan," King Aldric finally spoke, his voice cold and heavy with exhaustion. "If we don't stop him soon, there will be no kingdom left to protect."

A heavy silence followed King Aldric's words, the weight of impending doom pressing down on everyone in the room. Then, General Venkur took a deep breath and stepped forward. His expression was grim, but there was a fire in his eyes the fire of a man ready to do the unthinkable.

"Your Majesty," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos in the room. "If we truly have no other choice… we must consider making a deal." The room stiffened. 

"A deal?" one noble scoffed. "With whom? No nation would dare aid us against him." 

Venkur's jaw tightened. "Not with a nation… but with the Archdemon sealed beneath our kingdom." A sharp intake of breath swept across the room. Fear, disbelief, and rage clashed among the gathered officials.

"Have you lost your mind?!" a bishop roared, his face twisted with horror. "That thing was sealed away centuries ago because it nearly destroyed the world!" 

"And yet," Venkur snapped, "we now face a threat that will destroy us if we do nothing. The Archdemon was sealed within our own land for a reason—perhaps fate has given us the only weapon strong enough to match Li Vrak."

King Aldric's hands clenched into fists. He knew the cost of such a decision. To unseal the Archdemon was to unleash a force of pure destruction. But if Li Vrak was left unchecked, the kingdom was doomed regardless.

"…How would we control it?" the king finally asked, his voice strained. Venkur exhaled, his gaze dark. "We don't." The room fell into chaos. Shouts of protest, fear, and desperation echoed through the chamber.

As the room filled with shouts of fear and desperation, King Aldric raised his hand. His voice, though calm, carried a weight that silenced the room. "If this is truly the time for such measures," he said, his gaze heavy with regret, "then we have no choice. We must make a deal with the Archdemon."

A heavy stillness followed. The nobles and generals exchanged wary glances. Even Venkur, who had suggested the idea, felt a chill run down his spine.

To bargain with the sealed Archdemon was to invite ruin upon the world… but against Li Vrak, what other choice did they have?