"How stupid do you think I am?" Balkor replied with a sneer. "I know you and your kin. Once you are done with me, I'd have no memory about what you promised me and even if I did, I wouldn't care if you upheld your end of the bargain or even if you asked me to take my children's life.

"I would only live to please you. You are just like the nobles I hate, if not even worse. I wouldn't be surprised if it was your hand behind what happened to my village."

"I wish I could take credit for that." Night laughed with all her heart at the idea. "Alas, back then you were nothing but one of the many talented youths of the Garlen continent. You were beneath my notice. It was your revenge that made you great.

"It was your revenge that allowed your genius to bloom and piqued my interest. Now choose and choose wisely because I'm a sadist, and I bore easily. Pick the wrong answer and my Chosen ones will stay their hands no more."

"My answer is no. You are no different from the Royals who first ignored my pleas for help and then tried to cajole me once they discovered my talent. Scratch that, you're even worse because you threatened my family.

"Not even the Kingdom's assassins ever dared to do that." Balkor's body pulsed with mana as the darkness of the room swirled at his feet like a loyal dog welcoming its master's return.

"What about this?" Night snapped her fingers and the wall behind her throne disappeared, revealing many sobbing, miserable figures chained to the ceiling.

Children from all the three great countries from four to ten years of age were forcefully brought by her spirit magic in front of her throne as a meat wall.

"Tell me, Ilyum, did fatherhood made you soft, or are you still the same man I fell head over heels for? Do you dare say no once again now that the lives of so many innocents are in your hands?" She asked.

"What about this as an answer?" An enormous amount of darkness magic enveloped Balkor's body.

Night had never seen such a spell before, but she could perceive its might. It was enough to end one or two of her Chosen, if not even injure her.

"Do you have nothing to say about it, dear Manohar?" Night said.

"In my line of work collateral damage is inevitable." He shrugged. "Also, I doubt they would live long even if Balkor says yes. They were dead the moment you captured them."

The god of healing had taken the words out of Balkor's mind. Unbeknownst to Night, during the eleven years Balkor had pursued his revenge, he had shared through the hive-mind connecting his minions all their kills.

He had slaughtered everyone on his path, no matter if they were elderly, infants, or even servants to the families of his enemies. Fatherhood didn't make Balkor softer, on the contrary, it made him more feral.

He had so much blood on his hands that the children in front of him were but a drop in the ocean. Balkor alone had killed more people than most wars and the only reason he had stopped was that his body couldn't handle it anymore.

Now that his word bounded him to Salaark, the only thing that mattered to him was his own family. The rest of Mogar could burn for all he cared.

"Excellent choice, both of you." Another snap of Night's fingers made the little bodies wither and die. Their life force was squeezed to the last drop to feed the Horseman and her Chosen ones.

"My children, make those Magi scream for me!" The Black Night's sensual smile became twisted into a grimace of savage fury.

After spending years courting Balkor, she knew how powerful he was and after her recent skirmish with Manohar, Night had gauged his strength as well.

'I wonder how far they can go against my spawns.' She thought.

Just like Dawn, Night could create prisms that she could share with her minions. The spawn would bestow upon the undead part of her powers and her mastery over the darkness element, leaving her weakened.

Unlike her sister, however, the link wouldn't grant her any knowledge nor control over their actions. Night was a spirit of destruction and as such, she would gain the innate abilities of all the undead she shared a symbiotic relationship with, but none of their weaknesses.

Beregor roared his battle cry and activated the black prism that resided where once was his heart.

It made the shadows that comprised his body became so dense that they took physical form. He wielded his battle-ax, Stormhowl, with two hands and swung it down despite the distance separating him from his mark.

The throne hall was 20 meters (66 feet) long, 10 meters (33 feet) wide and 5 meters high (16.5 feet).

Stormhowl channeled its master's mana, creating a replica of itself made of darkness magic so big that its handle touched the ground while the tip of the battle-ax grazed the ceiling for a split second before slamming into Balkor.

Darkness magic was supposed to be slow, but thanks to Stormhowl, the spell moved as fast as Beregor's hands. The Wraith had never forgiven the god of death for belittling his liege and had waited for a chance to prove that no human could be a Sword better than an undead.

"Hush, little child. Screaming is just bravado. It will not make you stronger." Balkor pressed his right forefinger against his lips while his eyes turned pitch-black due to Domination's effect.

The conjured ax stopped halfway down as Balkor's mana invaded the focal points of the spell and replaced Beregor's energy signature with his own. The spell shapeshifted so that the tip and the handle of the battle-ax switched place.

The dark blade was now aimed at the Wraith and struck with the might of a collapsing mountain. Beregor had gone all-out from the start, making the spell as quick as a bolt of lightning.

Not even its caster could dodge it from point-blank range. All the Wraith could do was to activate the black prism in his chest to defend against the attack. Darkness magic was the only thing that could stop itself and Night's spawn amplified darkness defensive abilities.

Balkor added a bit of his mana to reinforce the spell and used his skill to make it deadlier.

The dark ax cut through Beregor's shadow arms before stopping against his bones.

"A human capable of using Domination?" Night had suddenly lost her spunk, looking at the scene in disbelief.

Even with her great mastery over the darkness element, she was incapable of using Domination. No one of her siblings could and it pained them greatly.

"What's Domination?" Beregor and Manohar asked in unison, the former in the hope of saving his life while the latter poked Balkor for an answer.

"I'll tell you when you grow up." The god of death twirled his fingers, switching the tip of the blade with the handle again.

The following swing struck in an upward slash that cut the Wraith asunder. All of Beregor power was focused into his arms, leaving the rest of his body vulnerable. The Wraith and the black prism shattered, both turning into glass fragments before fading out of existence.