### **After the Clash Between Hiro and Thorgrim (3-4 Years Ago)**
Thorgrim strode through the dense forest, clutching the stump of his right hand. The bleeding had stopped, but pain throbbed with every heartbeat. Beside him, struggling to keep up with his long strides, was Lara—the girl in the white mask, her fingers nervously gripping the edge of her cloak.
**Lara (hesitant):** *"Are you sure it was… him?"*
Thorgrim didn’t answer, only shook his head sharply. *Not now.*
Ahead, hidden among ancient trees, loomed a castle—a monstrous structure of dark stone, as if grown from the forest itself. The gates swung open soundlessly, revealing Alfred, the butler—tall, gaunt, his face impassive.
**Alfred:** *"Welcome, Lord Thorgrim."* His voice was flat, but his eyes flickered to the missing arm.
**Thorgrim:** *"No time for formalities, Alfred."* He brushed past without slowing.
---
In the audience room, he sank into a chair by the fireplace, gritting his teeth. The muscles on the stump began to move as the flesh slowly regenerated, restoring what it had lost. Lara came closer, her eyes full of anxiety behind the mask.
— ** He was.* Thorgrim finally spoke, his voice sounding hollow, as if through his teeth. — **Reborn. The one we've been waiting for.**
Lara froze.
— ** But... aren't you glad? You always said that his appearance was a chance.**
— ** I'm glad.* Thorgrim turned abruptly to her, and something icy flashed in his eyes. — ** But the power that is hidden in it… I've never seen such power before. He doesn't even realize what he's doing. When I hit him, my arm didn't just fly off, it crumbled, Lara. Like sand.**
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The girl slowly knelt down next to him, her fingers gripping the edge of his cloak.
— **What are we going to do?**
Before he could answer, the door opened and Alfred entered the hall.
— ** Mr. Thorgrim... the Council of the Strongest is meeting.**
Thorgrim squeezed his eyes shut, as if in sudden pain.
— ** Damn… That wasn't enough yet.* He exhaled sharply, then waved his good hand. — ** Dismissed, Alfred.**
The butler bowed and disappeared as silently as he had appeared.
### **The Council of the Strongest**
The Council’s hall stood deep in the forbidden woods—a monolithic slab of dark marble, its walls vanishing into mist. Silence reigned, broken only by echoing footsteps.
Thorgrim entered last.
At the center stood a massive round table, large enough to seat giants. Around it sat nine figures—men and one woman, their faces marked by glowing blue-white scars. **The Scars of Power.**
Beside each stood a child—masked boys and girls no older than ten. Lara pressed closer to Thorgrim, feeling the weight of their stares.
**Ilmira (the scarred woman):** *"Thorgrim. We began without you."*
**Thorgrim (sinking into his seat):** *"Apologies. I was… occupied."*
**A mocking voice:** *"As usual."*
The Council convened.
One by one, the Strongest reported anomalies—unexplained mana surges, disappearances, rising monster hordes.
**A scarred man:** *"Any traces of the Reborn?"*
Silence.
**Ilmira (turning to Thorgrim):** *"Well?"*
He lifted his gaze slowly.
**Thorgrim:** *"Nothing."*
Lara stiffened but stayed silent.
---
### **Aftermath**
Once the others left, Lara finally snapped.
**Lara (trembling):** *"Why lie? They’re searching for him too!"*
Thorgrim crouched to her level, eyes sharp.
**Thorgrim:** *"Because now, only we know he’s here."* His voice dropped. *"And we’ll be the first to learn the Creator’s weakness."*
**Lara (clenching her fists):** *"What now?"*
**Thorgrim (straightening):** *"Now, we find him. And you, Lara—tell no one."*
She nodded, but doubt lingered in her eyes.
---
### **The Demon King’s Thoughts**
Snow crunched under Zodric’s feet as he marched through the blizzard. The wind howled, but his brick-red skin felt nothing. Four arms crossed over his chest, his mind replaying Hiro’s touch—the way his hand had **shattered like glass.**
**Zodric (grinning):** *"Fascinating magic…"*
He’d seen many auras—flickering embers of peasants, blazing suns of archmages. But Hiro’s…
**It was wrong.**
---
### **The Legend**
A passage from the *"Book of the World"* surfaced in his mind—an outlawed text penned by a sage executed for revealing forbidden truths:
*"He whose aura eclipses all, steeped in chaos deeper than any…*
*…to men, he is calamity.*
*…to demons, he is God."*
Zodric halted.
**Zodric (laughing):** *"Oh, this’ll be fun."*
If Hiro truly was **The One**, everything would change.
**Men** would hunt him.
**Demons…**
Zodric turned toward the **Temple of Oblivion**, where the oldest prophecies lay etched in stone—the **Stone of the Strongest**, where the world itself inscribed the names of the ten most powerful beings.
**For a thousand years, no new name had appeared.**
But if an eleventh ever did…
**The demons’ God would rise.**
---
*(To be continued…)*
