The Duskfall Wastes were silent, save for the whisper of shifting sands and the faint glow of lanterns woven from shadowfire. Lord Malrik Nocthern, the Shadowbinder and Principal of Umbra Obscura, led a company of his finest agents into the heart of Draegonar. Their destination: the Ashfang Dominion.
The once-proud empire of dragon-blooded warlords had fallen to ruin in mere days. Where banners of crimson and gold once flew, only ash and black smoke remained. The Fang Emperor—once feared, arrogant, and unbending—now rotted in the dungeons beneath his own palace, a prisoner of Abaddon.
Malrik and his shadows moved unseen, cloaked in illusions that bent light and sound. The goblin overseers patrolling the corridors never sensed them pass. Even the monstrous wyverns chained at the gates did not stir.
At last, they reached the cell.
The Fang Emperor sat slumped against cold iron bars. His once-mighty frame was covered in bruises and scars, his dragon-blood reduced to trembling breath. Yet his eyes still burned with fury—against the Demon King, against himself.
When the shadows peeled away, and Malrik stood revealed in his black cloak of dusk, the Emperor stiffened.
“You… you are not his creatures.” His voice was hoarse but sharp. “Who are you?”
“We are Maharlika,” Malrik answered softly, his tone like a whisper of the grave. “And we have not come to mock your chains. We have come to offer you a choice.”
The Emperor’s gaze narrowed. “Why would Maharlika aid me? I spat on your envoys. I dismissed your king’s offers. Why save a fool who bent the knee too late?”
Malrik’s eyes glowed faint violet. “Because even fools may become allies… and because the fate of Elyndra leaves no room for pride. We do not come as saviors, Fang Emperor. We come as bargainers.”
The shadows thickened around them as Malrik leaned closer, his words sliding like daggers.
“Help us unite the kingdoms in diplomacy. Break the fear your Dominion has sown across the continent. If Maharlika rescues you and drives back the Demon King, your word will carry weight. Even your enemies will listen when you endorse our cause.”
The Emperor’s fist clenched weakly. He looked away, shame and pain twisting his features. “You ask much of a broken man.”
“You are not broken,” Malrik said, his voice low and commanding. “Not yet. You are still Emperor, bruised or not. Your chains are not the end, only the beginning of your penance. Swear to stand with Maharlika when the day of reckoning comes—and you will have our aid.”
Silence filled the cell. The Emperor’s breathing grew heavier. Finally, he gave a slight nod.
“…Very well. If you free me from this humiliation… the Ashfang Dominion will stand beside Maharlika.”
The shadows shifted. Malrik’s agents melted back into the dark. Before leaving, the Shadowbinder whispered one final warning:
“Endure, Fang Emperor. Do not let Abaddon break your will. We will return when the time is right.”
The moment the words faded, Umbra Obscura vanished like smoke. By the time the goblin guards came clattering down the corridor, they found only their prisoner—slumped, silent, but with a faint ember of hope in his eyes.
Far beyond the dungeons, as the shadows of Umbra Obscura retreated into the night, Malrik murmured to himself:
“The chains of darkness may bind his body, but we have planted the seed. When the world gathers, Ashfang shall no longer be its enemy, but its shield.”
YOU ARE READING
Reincarnated with power to create my own country and summon technologies
ActionSynopsis: Fernandito, a World War II veteran, was reincarnated into another world-granted the power he personally requested from God: the ability to summon and rule his own kingdom.
