Legend of the Misfit

[Light? A tunnel? An angel? Oww…there's darkness now. Light!]

Killian's mind wandered, yet the light felt too close to be at the end of a tunnel.

[Are they bowing?] 

His eyes opened to thousands of humanoid figures—living lightning and shadows—bowing before him. Their aura was dense enough to form a city's clouds, yet Killian felt a sense of immunity.

The soft air brushed against him, feeling like a craftsman's relief after hours of work—warm and gentle against a hot, sweaty body. He smiled. It smelled like home, yet there was still so much more to take in.

[What is going on?] His eyes darted around in confusion.

The creatures stood amidst a ruined city, with collapsed buildings scattered around and their overwhelming numbers spreading across the debris

And there Killian was, standing in the middle of what seemed to be a ruined palace with four distinct creatures bowing before him.

Their aura was leagues above the others, mildly overwhelming everyone he had met. Yet, it looked unstable.

A massive spherical ball of darkness and light suddenly caught his eye. It hovered in the sky, slowly rotating. It seemed as if it was the main life source of this world, but the light and darkness seemed to be in a constant battle, each struggling for dominance.

A bolt of lightning constantly struck through the darkness as the darkness gradually tried to overwhelm the light, swallowing it inch by inch.

A deep, thick, masculine voice echoed from behind, making his body turn instinctively. 

[The king?]

It was a humanoid shadow, its aura matching the intensity of the four, yet seemingly stable. It was seated on a throne, its head rested carefully on its fist, with its elbow propped on the armrest.

He was a towering, shadowy warrior, his presence a silent roar of darkness.

From Killian's position, his face was obscured. His white hair ruffled in the wind—a thorough reflection of Killian's hair.

His muscular torso, a fusion of shadow and flesh, rippling with an eerie, fluid motion. 

His arms were sharp and appeared as if they could tear through dimensions. 

His eyes darted around, filled with confusion. 

Killian quickly glanced at himself. He looked the same—except for a translucency. He reached for his face, feeling its familiar contours. 

[Where am I, and why am I translucent?]

The king suddenly got up, strolling toward Killian. But without a moment's hesitation, the other four hurried, shielding Killian from him.

"You are the Sire, huh?"

The four looked way taller than Killian had imagined. They shielded him completely from the shadow's grasp.

[Wait… Isn't he supposed to be their king? Me? Sire?] 

Killian giggled.

[Interesting.]

The language felt unfamiliar yet perfectly understandable—similar to the shadows he had encountered earlier, but this time, he could hear everything.

"The Conqueror. The Messiah. Evolution. And yet, you couldn't even stand against a mere wolf."

He stood before his thousand army, his arms outstretched.

"Soldiers of Evolution, what do you say about a duel? A chance for our 'Sire' to prove himself?"

The soldiers erupted into cheers.

He turned to Killian, a smirk playing on his lips.

"There you have it. Prove your might, 'Sire.'"

[What did he just say? Fight who? I just died.]

"Have some shame, Merikh"

One of the four, a figure of light, spoke, but Merikh turned to her, his gaze burning with rage.

"Shut up, Bia."

"No, Merikh. At least show Sire some respect."

[Sire, huh?]

Killian drifted into his thoughts. He could hear Bia and Merikh arguing, but their voices felt distant, as if coming from another world. The only thing on his mind was sadness, his death, and the overwhelming confusion of this world.

Killian wasn't naive. He could tell everyone acknowledged him, but the warrior clearly doubted his worth as a Sire—but why? How? It remained a mystery.

Killian remained silent, his mind drifting as he stared at the ground.

Killian took a deep breath and smiled. [I'm still breathing… that means I can still conquer the world.]

The four immediately turned to him. He glanced at Marikh—but he was gone.

"We are sorry, Sire. Are you okay?" 

A shadow asked, bowing her head.

Killian gave a firm nod and a faint smile.

"I'm certain you don't remember me, but my name is Lyssa."

Before he knew it, her hands were wrapped tightly around him in a hug.

[Why do girls always do this? What's with the hugs?]

"I miss you, Sire."

Killian was already uncomfortable with the hug, but the abrupt title—'Sire'—startled him so much that he barely registered her grip tightening around him.

"Oh… okay. But can anyone explain to me what's going on?" He said awkwardly, his teeth gritted.

She quickly let go, her words tumbling out.

"I'm sorry, Sire."

In an instant, she snapped her fingers, and they were in a furnished room.

It was a rustic living room with a grand stone fireplace as its focal point. It had a high vaulted ceiling with exposed wooden beams, creating a warm and cozy cabin-like atmosphere, and the decor included rich leather sofas.

Killian's head snapped around in confusion. 

"How…? Wait—how?"

Lyssa giggled while covering her mouth.

"Allow us to introduce ourselves properly, Sire." They bowed their heads.

[Hehe…]

"Go on."

Though baffled, Killian enjoyed being placed on the pedestal and treated like a king.

They began the introduction. A crackling living lightning was the first to speak, her voice calm and warm—soothing enough to be a lullaby.

"The name you graciously bestowed upon me is Bia, Sire."

Bia was a living being composed entirely of crackling lightning. Her form surged with arcs of electric energy, shifting and flickering like a silent storm.

Instead of a traditional face, her head was a swirling mass of electric blue and violet bolts, radiating an intense glow.

Jagged, metallic, seemingly forged from condensed plasma, wrapped around her like armor.

Killian hardly paid attention to her words, but gave a firm nod.

"I am Deimos, Sire." His voice was deep and gentle. 

He was a lightning humanoid, jagged and chaotic, with arcs of lightning coursing through his body like veins of energy.

His head was crowned with sharp, flame-like spikes of pure electric energy, giving him a wild, untamed appearance. His eyes glowed intensely, radiating an ominous and overwhelming power.

The next in line was a mysterious humanoid shadow.

"I am your most true-hearted disciple, Sire.

Endanger is what you call me." He said, bowing his head respectfully while his hand rested across his chest. 

"It's a pleasure to have you back, Sire."

[True-hearted, huh?] 

He looked mysterious—someone no one would dare to trust. His eyes glowed darkness beneath his dark hair, and the air around him felt strangely at ease. 

He was dressed in a black cloak, laced with hints of gold and silver. Shadows flickered around him, shifting as if they had a mind of their own.

Lyssa hurried her words in an enthusiastic manner. 

"Lyssa, Sire. Your most devoted disciple."

[Like seriously? She must love Sire a lot.]

She looked less of a shadow compared to the others. Her face, with glimmering white marked by two streaks of gold. Her blue eyes glowed warmth, and the shadow from her dark cloak, flickering her white hair. 

After Lyssa's introduction, Killian took a deep breath, his hands resting on his waist. 

They stood in front of him, decently assembled. 

"Bia, Deimos, Endanger, Lyssa, and the other one is Merikh, right?"

"Yes, Sire," Endanger said, sipping on a cup of coffee.

[Where did the coffee come from? When did he even move?]

Killian wondered, staring at him, his expression etched with confusion.

Before he could unleash his confusion, Endanger hurried his words.

"We know you have a lot of questions, Sire. We have answers to only a few, but I would suggest you rest for now."

"No… no… Endanger. I'd rather hear them now."

Killian doubted they had mistaken him for someone else. If not, that means he truly was someone important—but couldn't remember. So, waiting on an opportunity to know he was stronger, wasn't something he wanted to do.

"If you wish, Sire." He bowed, his hand across his chest.

With a snap of his fingers, they were in the throne room and beside Killian was the throne. Deimos gestured for him to take his seat.

Killian smiled and sank into the seat, his hands resting lazily on the armrest as he leaned back.

"By the way, how are we teleporting?"

Endanger strode forward. "We aren't teleporting, Sire. This is your realm, The Evolution Realm. I just changed the surroundings into a suitable atmosphere."

"Can it take any form?"

"Yes, Sire. It's only limit is your imagination."

He spoke like he had served an absolute being, bowing on each of his words. Yet, the subject piqued Killian's interest. He wanted to know more about my situation.

"Why do you call me Sire? And most importantly, Who am I?"

"You are our creator, Sire. You are Evolution."

Killian let out a sigh.

"Can you explain evolution? You've gone on and on about it."

"I'm sorry, Sire. You never trusted me with such classified information. But we do know you are Evolution."

Killian had expected things to be easier—an immediate and reliable response to all his questions. But now, he knew he was in for a long ride.

[These beings may be of no use, but I'm loving the authority.]