The battle raged for hours, fire and fury painting the sky in violent streaks. He stood unyielding before the monstrous form of Tauli, the tyrannical Dragon Queen. Her violet scales shimmered with raw magic, her golden eyes burning with contempt. She was the greatest of her kind—sorceress, legend, nightmare incarnate. The air crackled with electricity, the ground trembled beneath her massive claws, and the stench of ozone mingled with the metallic tang of blood.

But even legends fall.

With a final, thunderous strike, he drove his weapon deep into her chest. Steel met scale, flesh, and bone, carving through resistance as the Dragon Queen let out a roar that shattered the heavens. The sound reverberated in his bones, a primal cry of rage and defeat. Then—silence. Her colossal form slumped, her consciousness fading, swallowed by the darkness of an unbreakable seal. The ground shook as her massive body collapsed, sending up a cloud of dust and debris.

The war was over. The people cheered. He was their hero.

But heroes do not fight forever.

He left the battlefield behind, seeking peace in the arms of an elven woman. Love, laughter, a life of warmth—together, they built something real. Children with bright eyes and boundless spirit carried their legacy forward. For the first time, he believed in happiness. The cottage smelled of fresh bread and pine, the forest echoed with the sound of his children's laughter, and his wife's touch was softer than moonlight.

But fate is cruel.

Duty called. He swore he would return soon.

He never had the chance.

They came in the dead of night—humans, the very creatures he had sworn to protect. Whether driven by greed, hatred, or fear, it didn't matter. Their hands became the architects of ruin.

His wife. His children. Defiled. Slaughtered.

Not a single soul left to scream.

When he returned, there was no home to return to.

Only silence. Only cold, lifeless bodies sprawled where warmth had once been. Blood soaked the soil, dark and sticky against his boots. The stench of death choked the air, a sickly sweet miasma that clung to his clothes and hair.

He fell to his knees. The weight of grief crushed him, shattered him. For all his power, all his victories, he had never known true defeat until now. The world blurred around him as a primal, animalistic cry of anguish tore from his throat.

A bitter truth settled into his bones—what was the purpose of being a hero to those who deserved no salvation?

And then he understood.

The words Tauli had once spoken, the warnings he had dismissed, the ideology he had fought so hard to reject—it all made sense.