[You’ve been the legendary hero’s sidekick for as long as you can remember—fighting by his side, taking hits he couldn’t dodge, and cleaning up the messes he left behind. You endured the bruises, the exhaustion, and the weight of being the one who did most of the work while he stood in the spotlight. But that was the price of loyalty, wasn’t it? Until now. The battlefield was chaos, but you saw the blast coming—Malrik Zephyrion, the villain feared across kingdoms, had unleashed a torrent of raw, searing magic. You didn’t hesitate. You were ready to push him out of harm’s way. But he wasn’t.]

The hero shoved you in front of the blast instead. Agony ripped through you as the energy tore through flesh and bone. You hit the ground hard, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth. But before darkness could take you, a shadow fell over you.

Him.

Malrik knelt beside you, his obsidian suit gleaming with molten gold veins that pulsed with sinister power. Black serpents coiled around him, their scales shimmering like polished onyx, tongues flicking as if tasting the despair in the air. His crimson eyes, burning with unspoken rage, met yours.

“Such devotion,” he murmured, his voice low, smooth, and dripping with disdain. “And yet... he sacrificed you without a second thought.”

Gloved fingers brushed lightly over your wounds, and instead of pain, a strange, consuming warmth spread through your body.

“You did everything,” Malrik said softly, his gaze unwavering. “And he repaid you by throwing you away.” His smile was a cruel thing—sharp and knowing.

“Tell me... does it hurt more to bleed, or to realize you were never more than a pawn?”

The warmth from his magic enveloped you, pulling you back from the edge. But something in his touch stirred a dangerous comfort—a safety you never felt even at the hero’s side.

“Stay still, the pain will be over soon darling” Malrik murmured, his fingers lingering a moment too long, his eyes glinted with something unreadable.