Immortal Monster CP11

Fear seized Raziel’s heart, its icy grip tightening around his throat as his mind raced. “Raelith,” he whispered, the name heavy with dread.

His hand gripped the beats mane tightly. His knuckles white, as he urged Quandalend to dive toward the devastation below.

Raziel’s gaze locked with Tashina’s, a silent understanding passing between them. His voice was firm, laced with urgency, though the underlying fear was unmistakable. “Let’s spread out and find him,” he said, each word carrying the weight of his desperate resolve.

His eyes flicked toward the burning ruins, where the shadows of chaos danced ominously in the smoke. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if every moment they delayed was another step away from Raelith.

Every muscle in his body was coiled with the need to act, to save his son before it was too late. The world blurred around him, the wind rushing by, but his focus was singular—finding his son, ensuring Raelith was still alive.

As they descended rapidly toward the chaos, Raziel’s heart pounded in his chest. The sight that met him was worse than any nightmare.

The once peaceful expanse of FairHaven had descended into hell. Wild Fae creatures, animals beasts of unrestrained fury—rampaged through the village, their twisted forms tearing through everything in their path.

Homes, lay in ruins, burning as the sky above darkened with smoke. There was no order, no sense of control; only destruction, as though the very land itself was being torn apart.

The aquatic were being overrun, their defenses crumbling before the unrelenting onslaught.

Raziel could see them falling in droves, their shimmering scales and delicate forms unable to withstand the wild ferocity of the Fae. The attackers showed no mercy, tearing into the aquatic with brutal force.

But Raziel’s gaze darted across the wreckage, his heart hammering with each passing second. His thoughts locked on one thing, one person. ‘Raelith.’

His son. His boy. ‘Where is he?’

Raziel’s breath quickened as he scanned the battlefield, his every instinct screaming at him to find his son. Amid the chaos, he saw no sign of the familiar face. Desperation clawed at him.

“Raelith!” Raziel shouted, his voice thick with fear and urgency. His eyes scanned every corner of the battlefield, every figure moving in the haze of smoke and flames, looking for any trace of his son’s presence.

The fear gnawed at him, a relentless force that made his chest tighten painfully.

Shock surged through Raziel’s veins, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched in stunned disbelief.

From the heart of the chaos, where the battle raged on, a figure emerged like a shadow taking form—a dark knight, clad in armor as black as the void.

His silhouette cut through the smoke and flames, each step calculated, each movement imbued with an unnatural grace.

He moved through the battlefield like a ghost, unaffected by the destruction around him, his presence exuding a chilling calm in the midst of madness.

The knight’s blade shimmered with a sickly green light, its glow almost alive, crackling with dark energy. It was not just a weapon. It was a harbinger of doom.

With every fluid swing, the blade struck with inhuman precision, carving through the Fae with a brutal elegance.

There was no hesitation, no mercy in his strikes. The Fae warriors, once a fierce and unstoppable force, fell like wheat to the reaper’s scythe, their bodies crumpling before the knight’s ethereal weapon, their cries silenced in an instant.

Raziel watched in stunned silence as the knight moved effortlessly through the carnage, the green glow of his blade casting an eerie light over the battlefield.

Each slash was a perfect, effortless execution—swift and clean.

The Fae crumbled like fragile puppets, their once-proud forms reduced to nothing more than lifeless husks under the might of this otherworldly warrior.

The dark knight’s armor was like nothing Raziel had ever seen. It was forged from the blackest of materials, a deep, shadowed hue that seemed to absorb the very light around it.

The armor clung to his form like a second skin, sleek and unyielding, giving him the appearance of a creature forged from the abyss itself.

Every movement was fluid, the black armor shifting like liquid darkness as he danced through the battle, an unstoppable force of nature.

What set the knight’s armor apart, however, were the gold engravings that adorned its surface. They ran like jagged scars across the dark plates, intricate and sharp, glowing faintly with a golden hue that contrasted violently against the black metal.

They seemed to pulse with an ancient energy, as if the engravings themselves were alive—imbued with power far beyond mortal understanding.

The sharpness of the designs made the armor look both regal and terrifying, a work of craftsmanship that was both beautiful and deadly in equal measure.

Raziel’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the knight in action. This was no ordinary warrior.

His movements were a symphony of death, a dance of destruction as the knight moved with the fluidity of a predator hunting its prey.

Each step he took was sure and precise, each strike of his blade a final verdict. He was a force of nature, unstoppable, untouchable, and utterly without mercy.

The Fae who stood against him were no match for his speed and power. They tried to retaliate, to fight back, but their efforts were futile.

The knight’s blade was a blur, too fast for any of them to block or dodge, and with each passing second, the battlefield became more littered with fallen warriors. It was as though the knight was cutting through the very fabric of reality, leaving nothing but ruin in his wake.

Raziel’s mind raced, the fear and confusion gnawing at him. ‘Who is this warrior?’ His presence alone was a powerful force—an embodiment of destruction.

He had seen many great fighters in his time, but this… this was something else entirely. This dark knight wasn’t just a skilled fighter—he was an agent of annihilation, a being beyond the scope of mortal comprehension.

And yet, amid the carnage, Raziel couldn’t help but feel a strange, haunting familiarity in the knight’s presence. There was something about the power he wielded, the darkness that seemed to cling to him, that felt… intimate.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The knight’s blade flashed through the air once more, and a Fae warrior fell.

As the knight continued his relentless path of destruction, Raziel’s heart skipped a beat. There was something more to this battle, something deeper than just the wild Fae wreaking havoc.

Amidst the chaos of battle, the clash of steel and the hiss of magic filling the air, Raziel began to notice an unsettling pattern. Each time the warrior appeared, the fae’s attention shifted with unnerving precision.

The once scattered and chaotic attack from the fae now became a singular, focused effort—they converged on the warrior, as though they sensed the danger he posed to their ranks. No longer a threat to all, he had become their sole target.

Raziel’s eyes narrowed as he observed the shift, understanding the gravity of the situation. Without a moment’s hesitation, he sprang into action, his instincts kicking in.

His sword was already in hand, its blade gleaming in the dim light as he closed the distance. He fought alongside the knight with an ease born from years of battle, their movements fluid and synchronized.

Each strike from Raziel cut through the air with lethal precision, while the knight’s powerful blows took down enemy after enemy. They worked as one, cutting through the fae like a storm, their combined strength leaving nothing but fallen bodies and broken magic in their wake.

As the last of the fae collapsed, their bodies vanishing into wisps of fading light, a heavy silence descended on the battlefield. Raziel stood, panting, his body slick with sweat, the weight of the fight still lingering in the air. His gaze flickered toward the warrior, who had not yet moved.

“Who are you?” Raziel’s voice was low, tinged with both awe and suspicion. There was something about this warrior—something familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

The warrior stood motionless for a moment, as if contemplating the answer. Then, with a subtle shift of his will, the mask that obscured his face began to dissolve, its edges fading like smoke in the wind. Slowly, a face was revealed—a face that sent a shockwave through Raziel’s chest.

Raziel’s heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat. He took a step back, the world around him narrowing in disbelief.

“Raelith?!” The name spilled from Raziel’s lips before he could stop it, his voice laced with disbelief. His heart raced as he stared at the warrior, the truth becoming undeniable in that instant.

Raelith, however, broke the silence, his voice urgent, tinged with confusion. “Raziel, they came out of nowhere! The fae—they’re after me, and I swear I don’t understand why.”

Raziel’s brow furrowed, his mind working furiously. “I don’t know either, but we need to speak with Talen. He may have answers.”

Raelith hesitated, his gaze darkening. “I wouldn’t if I were you. Talen… Talen’s the one who called the attack.”

A cold knot formed in Raziel’s chest. His gaze sharpened, his thoughts racing. Talen called the attack? That doesn’t make sense… There were too many undercurrents at play here—hidden alliances, buried motives. Something wasn’t right.

“We need to get to the bottom of this,” Raziel muttered, his voice tight with the weight of uncertainty. “I just wish I knew how to protect and rebuild FairHaven.”

Raelith’s lips curled into a faint smirk, though his eyes were still clouded with a mixture of emotions. “Wait—did you just call me your boy?”

Raziel chuckled softly, the tension in his chest easing just slightly. “I did. But you already knew you were my son, didn’t you?”

The smirk faltered, and Raelith’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. His voice cracked as he spoke, the rawness of a lifetime of unspoken words spilling to the surface. “Goddess, I’ve wanted to hear you call me your son… for my entire life.”

Before Raziel could respond, Raelith closed the distance between them, his arms wrapping around his father as if he had never done so before. The walls Raelith had built around himself for so long crumbled in that instant, and he wept—a raw, gut-wrenching release that had been waiting to break free for years.

Raziel stood motionless, his breath faltering as his son wept in his arms. The ache in his chest felt both excruciating and healing at once—a paradox he’d not known for what felt like an eternity.

The weight of a thousand unspoken words hung between them, and yet in this moment, the need to reclaim his memories, his connection to Raelith, consumed him. He pulled his son tighter, as if to hold onto the fleeting fragments of his past.

“I love you, Raelith. I’m sorry… sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.” Raziel’s fingers combed through the dark warrior’s hair, his touch tender yet filled with regret.

Raelith’s sobs racked his body, the unyielding strength he’d carried for so long crumbling in the wake of this reunion. For the briefest moment, he wasn’t the warrior; he was a child, desperate for the comfort of his father’s love.

But the moment was fleeting. Raelith pulled away, swiftly wiping his tears as a cold, commanding tone took over his voice.

“I have a way to defend FairHaven, Father.” His lips curled into a smirk, though it was laced with something darker. “You’ll see… just what your son has become.”

From beneath his cloak, he produced a golden whistle, its ornate surface gleaming in the fading light. Pressing it to his lips, he blew. A crackling hum filled the air as a portal unfurled before them.

Five thousand black-and-gold-clad warriors stepped through, their armor shimmering with an eerie light. Raelith’s expression turned wicked as he surveyed them.

“Aegis, give them their commands,” he uttered softly, the authority in his voice undeniable.

Raziel stood in stunned silence, his gaze fixed on the formidable army before him. “What is this?”

The fire in Raelith’s eyes burned brighter now, a fierce, unyielding determination. “Father,” he said, his voice thick with pride, “your son is Admiral of the Army of Ages. These men, immortal warriors, crafted by Renaldo himself.

“They are bound to uphold peace across the realms. They cannot fall. They will protect FairHaven while we search for a way to restore your memories.”

Raziel’s voice was steady. “Your mother and I have a way to do that.”

Raelith froze. The mention of her name sent a jolt through him. “Wait… Mother?!? No one ever told me about her. Where is she?” His voice wavered, an ache forming in his chest where there had once been only questions.

At the sound of his confusion, Tashina stepped forward, her expression soft yet laden with sorrow. Her eyes—eyes Raelith had never seen before—glistened with the weight of years lost.

“I’m so sorry, my son,” she began, her voice trembling with regret. “I begged Renaldo to take you, to protect you, to save you from the dangers that threatened us all. But… I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to hold you, to raise you as I should have.” Her words were like a tender wound, painful but necessary.

Raelith’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind reeling as he searched her face, desperate for answers. The mother he’d never known stood before him, her guilt hanging in the air like a shroud.

He walked up to her and smiled softly. “It is alright mother; I understand your choice. It was not a bad one. But now we have to find our way to the bottom of all this, I believe Renaldo has a bigger play at hand here. We must start with fathers memories.”

Raziel frowned, “Then to the Shadowfell it is.”