Arkhan ⟶

"I was once like you," Arkhan said, stepping forward. "Full of hope and righteous fury. But the world does not bend to the will of the pure. It bends to the strong."

Then, the crowd parted. Standing before him was the young warrior the scout had mentioned. She was clad in silver armor that glowed with a pure, brilliant light, holding a sword that seemed to be forged from a fallen star. Arkhan

Arkhan paused, looking at the young hero. He saw in her the same burning passion he had possessed centuries ago. For a fleeting second, he felt a pang of something he hadn't felt in ages: regret. He raised his heavy blade. "I was once like you," Arkhan said, stepping forward

A scout approached, kneeling in the dirt. "My Lord Arkhan, the enemy forces have gathered at the river pass. They are led by a young warrior who wields the Light of the Sun." It bends to the strong

Arkhan surveyed the battlefield from the jagged cliffs of the Dragon’s Teeth. Below, his army of iron-clad legionnaires stood motionless, their shields reflecting the crimson glow of a dying sun. For centuries, he had lived by the blade, carving his name into the annals of history as the ultimate conqueror.

"No," Arkhan said softly. "The world has had enough of conquerors."