The flickering shadows of a half-destroyed street stretched long under a dim red sky. Smoke and debris swirled as jagged rifts hissed and pulsed along the cracked asphalt.
Among the ruins, a figure stumbled dramatically. Crimson skin glinted in the dying light, small horns curved back over his head, and a massive broadsword swung clumsily in his hands. He tripped over a broken pipe, crashed into a half-collapsed wall, and rolled to the ground.
Kael (groaning, muttering): "Ow… hmm… okay… minor setback… nothing I can't recover from… just a scratch… totally fine."
He heaved himself upright, tail flicking with determination. His grin was wide, his confidence unshaken by bruises, scrapes, or the fact that he was clearly completely clumsy with a weapon far too large for him.
Kael (pacing, talking to himself): "One day… one glorious day… I'll be a demon warrior. Not just any warrior… THE warrior. They'll remember my name… the earth will shake at my feet… monsters will cower… and, most importantly…"
He paused dramatically, eyes glimmering with awe.
Kael (whispering in reverence): "Irithel. Lord of demons… master of blades… wielder of absolute power. One day… one day I'll be like him. I'll carve my name into history and… and maybe… get a few epic scars while I'm at it!"
Kael swung his broadsword experimentally, missing a pile of rubble entirely and tumbling over again. He groaned but didn't lose his grin.
Kael: "Hm… okay… maybe I need more practice… a lot more practice. But confidence is half the battle, right? Right!"
He paused, sensing a faint dimensional tremor nearby. A rift shimmered at the far end of the street, faintly glowing with unstable energy. Kael's eyes sparkled with excitement.
Kael (eagerly): "Ah! A rift! Could be… a legendary weapon! Yes! My first step to glory! Irithel would be proud…"
He approached the rift cautiously, swinging his broadsword with exaggerated precision, tripping twice but somehow recovering each time. Despite his clumsiness, there was a spark of raw potential in his movements. He had agility, determination, and resilience, the ingredients of a future warrior, if he survived long enough to hone them.
Suddenly, a faint, almost imperceptible memory flickered in him, a flash of Irithel's battlefield mastery. Kael froze, eyes wide.
Kael (awed, whispering): "Wait… that… that's her… that's the lord himself… the great Irithel… I can feel it… her power, his will… yes… someday…"
Kael didn't know that across another district, a human named Isaac was slowly awakening to the memory and prowess of Irithel, the very being Kael idolized. For now, Kael simply stood before the rift, dreams of glory and recognition burning in his chest, unaware that fate had already begun intertwining their paths.
He swung his broadsword experimentally again, tripped over the rubble, and fell face-first into the dust. Then, scrambling upright with a triumphant grin:
Kael: "Practice makes perfect… someday… perfect… and then… Irithel, watch me!"