Waterpond village.

Walking to the back of the storage chamber, Arundel checked the large granite jars of honey and smiled in satisfaction. Why wouldn't he be happy? These weren't just jars of honey, they were jars of the finest honey in the entire Waterpond.

This was his payment for providing the needed rare herbs for a wealthy merchant from a distant city. He was told the honey was from a rare colony of mountain wasps, and from it samples, it was truly the best he had ever tasted.

Beside the jars of honey, were the precious and rare herbs they had been gathering over time. Despite being the village chieftain, he greatly loved his work as a herbs gatherer.

He was still making tallies of what they had in store when he heard the sound of the blowing horns and screams outside his storage barn. Quickly, he rose to his feet and conjured the Harbinger blade from his soulspace.

Running out into the street, the sight before him was of utter chaos. His own village in complete disorder.

Folks of all ages, crying and running down the street, away from mountains of flames, in absolute terror. The whole place was filled with ash and anguish.

Enraged, Arundel began to search for the source of the chaos. Where are the village watch and the guardians? Well, as the village chieftain, it was his responsibility to protect his people. And now, they needed him more than ever.

From the direction which the villagers were running from, Arundel saw a haze in the air. That would be his destination.

The Harbinger blade, oldest treasure of the Stormfire clan, shone brighter as Arundel came out into the sunlight. The longsword hummed with ancient magic, eager to be unleashed.

Feeling lighter in his hand, the heavy sword flared brighter while he looked around. Anger brought tears to his eyes as the sharp smell of burning came to him.

Folks were shrieking and running wildly down the alleys, faces white in sheer terror. The terraces were full of his own people, running south towards the woods. Some were weeping as they ran, dark cloud of smoke following them in their flight.

But who or what could be attacking his village at this time? Orcs, Scavens, goblins or trolls? Couldn't be the ogres, could it? Waterpond had no disagreement with any neighbouring or foreign folks. So why would any of them attack his village? His home.

Although his son had gone to the mountains to search for herbs, his wife was at home. She had developed a mild illness that confined her to the house.

His wife, Amora.

With his mind on his home, Arundel uttered the longstrider jump spell, and he leapt up the road in bounds. The enchanted blade was now humming uncontrollably with power.

As he rounded the alchemist's shop, he saw some of the burned bodies of the village guardians. They were still holding their steel weapons when they were churned in flames.

A sick fear was already developing in his soul. Behind the alchemist shop was his own cottage, all caught up in a raging inferno of redflame.

"Amora!" he screamed in great agony as he tried to enter the fiery furnace but his defence couldn't withstand the power. He fell on his knees, resting his head on the hilt of the longsword.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he wiped at them with the torn sleeve of his garment. Somewhere in all that roaring flames was her bones.

Alongside his son, she was the joy of his life. She was a monk and a herbs gatherer, and Arundel had loved her for who she was. Her smiles, her voice, everything about her was like the finest honey to his soul.

Some villagers had gossiped that she had placed enchantment on him, but Arundel knew better than them. She was just a woman of pure soul. As a monk, she could have escaped if not for her illness.

He continued staring at the burning fire in horror, and in his memory saw her happy face. As the tears rolled down, Arundel fell into a dark rage.

"Aargh" he roared, and the rest of his tattered upper garment fell off his body, showing his muscular naked torso.

His shout echoed back from the vacant shops and houses of Waterpond. He looked around as the flames crackled and roared aloud that the buildings around trembled. Even the cobbles of the street shifted under him.

A distance from him, Arundel saw the source of the flames.

Wheeling over the trees was a massive black dragon, its scales dark as the abyss itself. On it was a figure who wore a thick, black robe. Arundel had never seen the dragonrider before but he was without doubt the man was a high level warlock. But why would a warlock attack his village and his home?

The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that it had to be one of the pretenders to the throne. Who else could have such hatred for him at the cost of a whole village.

Looking at the warlock, memories of the distant past came flooding into his mind. Being a kind-hearted and hardworking child growing up, he, alongside his brother had gained more favor in the eyes of the people.

Before the death of their father, he had given Arundel the Harbinger blade, his ancestral heirloom, when he learned of his son's decision to leave royal life for a simpler life. The only thing he had from his father, and it had served him well over the years.

Hearing the warlock's laugh, and seeing him hurled down spells at the fleeing villagers, Arundel gazed at the sky and had a premonition of his own death. Wheeling on the mighty wings of a giant beast, was his own demise. But death or not, the gods would bear witness to this day.

He closed his eyes and raised the Harbinger sword, summoning the image of his son to mind. His son, the only one left for him. He could only wish for him to take heart and be strong in order to survive this chaotic world. Since his son already had traces of the magus way, maybe the gods even had a special plan in mind for his son, apart from being a ruler.

Arundel dismissed the image of his son, and focus on the memories of his wife. Clinging to the possible image of her fiery death, he opened his eyes and gazed at the warlock.

His yellow, glowing eyes watched in burning anger as the dragonrider continued to hurl down spells after spells on the fleeing villagers, while the dragon followed it up with searing flames.

Non-stop, Arundel continued to draw on the reserved power of the large sapphire ring on his finger. His body vibrated with uncontrolled energy.

As the dragon swept over him, Arundel jumped into the mid-air and cast the level six sapphire spell, Flames Of A Thousand Saints. One of the two top-tier magical spell of his ancestors as the wearer of the sapphire ring.

There was a flash of blue light, and then the whole sky seemed to be crawling in a trance. Blue-White lightning surrounded both the dragon and its rider, containing them in a death ring. The circle continued to implode inwards.

Arundel held the longsword like a spear and hurled it at the dragon, piercing its side under the right wing. The dragon roared in pain while the rider howled in agony. Arundel uttered the return spell and blade flew back into his hand.

Seeing their predicament, the warlock quickly raised his two hands and uttered some magic words. Immediately, an enormous black skull was formed above his head, halting the deadly lightning ring.

The skull roared thuderously before colliding with the ring. There was an outwards explosion before the two spells vanished.

Angry frown on his face now, the warlock sent down more deadly spells at the chieftain, but the spells were absorbed by the glowing Harbinger blade.

That drew the full attention of the dragon rider. He leapt off the dragon and landed on the ground like an earthquake. He unsheated his sword and the blade crackled with black lightning.

The hex blade!

Only one warlock wield the legendary Hexblade, a warlock at the level of total destruction, a fathomless warlock!

"Cragore, the deathbringer" Arundel muttered under his breath, shocked by this development.

True warlocks never held grudges against others below them. Their vendettas were only against other warlocks, and other powerful figures.

Did someone actually hired a true warlock just to have him killed? The offer had to be unrefusable for the warlock to accept and attack a whole village with no remorse.

This was pure madness, and it could only be someone who detested him more than anything else in the world.

Well, It didn't matter anymore. Both the warlock and the people who hired him had now become his enemy. There was no other way around this. The warlock had taken too much from him, and from the village he swore an oath to protect. The spirits of the dead would never let him rest in peace.

He had to avenge them. If he had to die, he would die a warrior. That was the only way he could face his ancestors with a little pride?

Two magical strides brought the warlock within two feet of Arundel. An obsidian longsword arced towards the chieftain's head. Arundel who had been absorbing magical essence from his sapphire ring was able to parry the strike at the nick of time.

He flicked his own sword horizontally as the two engaged their swords in a brutal battle. Spells and counter-spells as they parried and lunged with their swords.

After some minutes of fast-paced swords clashes, Arundel saw an opening and withdrew several yards. He raised his sword and quickly uttered a high level spell. Blue-white flames gathered around the sword.

Thrusting the sword forward, a mighty ball of flames burst forward towards the dragonrider.

The warlock smirked and made some hand gestures. He jabbed his sword and a massive bolt of black lightning streaked forward. It collided with the blue-white ball of fire in an earth-shattering impact. The warlock shook his head, giving another sinister smile.

Arundel realized that the warlock was more powerful than he appeared. But he had already passed the point of caring about that aspect. He would have to give this battle his all and hoped it would be something, even if he was to die. But he refused to lay low and die without trying.

He glanced at the sapphire ring on his finger and smiled bitterly. He crushed the crystal, releasing the full energy of the artifact.

Arundel plunged his awareness into the energy and began to draw its power into his body. His body ache badly while his veins pulsed painfully but he didn't stop. He continued until his bones strained inside his body for holding that vast amount of magic before directing the rest into his sword.

Filled with incredible power, Arundel moved like lightning. He pressed the warlock back with a series of ferocious slashes while reciting the second of his ancestral ultimate spells.

Although his level had not reached the stage where he could perform the spells safely, he forged ahead with it.

By the time the spell was completed, blood was already trickling from his ears and eyes. Arundel took several steps backward and swung the broadsword in an arc before pointing it forward, releasing the spell, Curse Of The Thousand Saints.

Hundreds of ghost blades shot forward in great fury. Seeing the ghost blades, the warlock eyes went wide. He took several steps back and raised his left hand while his mouth moved rapidly.

All the rings on the dragonrider's five fingers glowed fervently as he conjured his own counter-spell. Dark energy whirled around him like a giant fortress.

The blades attacked the fortress of dark energy with fervent wrath. Each strike was like a thunderous roar. The fortress managed to hold off the blades, but by the time the last of the blades was dispersed, the warlock was sent scrawling backwards. His cloak displaying several marks of swords slashes.

"Courage in the presence of a true warlock, are you not digging your own grave?" The warlock uttered solemnly at the beaming Arundel before bellowing in rage. "Or do you really think you can defeat me?"

On one knee, Arundel looked at the warlock and smiled. "At least, I tried."

"You're only a level 45 ancient champion, yet you displayed such a great a power. I'm really impressed, but you have no chance against me. Now, let me show you the power of a Fathomless Warlord.' He threw his sword into the air and took a few steps back. "Embrace your death, Arundel Stormfire."

He raised his hands and started chanting a spell. The hex blade split into four, forming pillars of dark cloud around Arundel before converging inwards. Litany Of The Afterlife.

The Harbinger blade glowed fiercely as Arundel tried to move. He was furious to see that he couldn't even move his leg. Slowly, as the dark cloud enveloped Arundel, realization about the nature of the spell and the true power of a warlock dawned on him.

The warlord spoke the truth, he had no chance.

"Living gods." Arundel uttered in shock before sending out a single word. "Lindley..."

There was a blinding flash of blue-black light before silence took over the village.