In the dimly lit chamber of his secluded castle, Hector, the once feared Devil Forgemaster, sat hunched over an ancient tome, his quill scratching against the parchment as he documented his latest findings. The room was filled with the soft glow of candlelight, casting shadows that danced on the stone walls. Outside, a violent thunderstorm raged, the sound of rain hammering against the windows a constant backdrop to his solitary work.

It had been ten years since the major battles that changed the course of his life and the world around him. Under King Isaac's rule, Hector had found a semblance of peace, dedicating himself to the pursuit of knowledge and the redemption of his soul through his writings and research.

Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through the castle, breaking his concentration. Hector straightened, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the heavy wooden door. The knock came again, more insistent this time. Rising from his chair, he moved towards the door, his footsteps barely audible over the storm's roar. He paused for a moment, hand hovering over the handle, before calling out.

"Who seeks shelter at such an hour?" he asked, his voice steady but edged with curiosity. "Speak, or be gone with the storm."