They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and now, I finally understand why.
My name is Rahn Tanner, and this is the tale of how I became what I hated the most. I was born into an era where the supernatural existed, where the truths of magic, spirits, demons, and other phenomena were as real as the rising sun.
I was a child of the Tanner House, a lineage of mages who had served the royal capital of Sereah for generations. My childhood was steeped in the whispers of ancient spells, the scent of old parchment, and the hum of energy emanating from mystical artifacts that adorned our halls.
My parents, both highly respected mages, recognized my affinity for magic at a young age. They began my training, teaching me the fundamentals from intricate gestures to summon power to the delicate balance required to control elemental forces. I proved to be a quick learner, and their pride in me grew with each passing day.
I was destined for greatness or so they said. The weight of my family’s legacy pressed heavily upon me, and I resolved to live up to it, no matter the cost.
As I grew older, my ambition burned brighter. I devoted every waking moment to honing my craft, pouring over ancient tomes and practicing spells until my fingers bled. My goal was clear: to become the most powerful mage Sereah had ever known and to use my abilities to shield my homeland from the shadows.
When I joined the Sereahian Guard years later, I was one of the youngest mages to do so or so I thought.
Another young mage, Harry Stilwell, had also earned a place in the Guard. Harry, unlike me, came from a less prominent lineage. His family lacked wealth and magical prestige, but what he lacked in resources, he more than made up for in determination.
Harry and I became fast friends, sparring partners, and comrades. We pushed each other to the limits of our abilities. We spent long nights in the royal library, devouring arcane knowledge, and trained alongside the Sereahian Knights to master combat magic. Together, we rose through the ranks, and our bond deepened.
Yet, despite my achievements, something felt amiss. It was as if I was merely following a predestined script, my every step dictated by duty. It wasn’t until the war began that I discovered the void in my soul and the darkness lurking within it.
Act 1: The War of Kaiju
The War of Kaiju, later named for the monstrous horrors it unleashed, was a clash between Sereah and its war-hardened neighbor, Asgeda. Unlike Sereah’s peaceful, scholarly culture, Asgeda’s warriors reveled in chaos. They embraced forbidden magics and demonic arts, and their savagery knew no bounds. I despised Asgeda and its people. The war only deepened my hatred.
The conflict began on the day of the Coalition a summit held within Sereah’s castle walls, where nations of the continent of Arkadia gathered to negotiate peace. Harry and I were part of the royal guard assigned to protect the delegates. While heading to a private corridor, we overheard our General in Arms in a hushed conversation with an Asgedan admiral.
We eavesdropped and were horrified to hear the general selling Sereah’s military plans to the enemy. Before we could act, chaos erupted. Screams echoed through the castle as fiery arrows rained down from the sky. War had come.
Asgeda’s invasion was led by the dark sorcerer Malakar, who unleashed his demonic creatures upon Sereah. I fought on the front lines with Harry, our spells clashing against Asgeda’s hordes. The early battles were brutal, neither side gaining ground. But as the war dragged on, I realized our greatest enemy wasn’t just Asgeda it was the growing despair within us.
I watched comrades fall, their bodies shattered and lifeless. I saw innocent civilians caught in the crossfire, their screams haunting me long after the battles ended. And worst of all, I saw Harry die.
I dragged him from the battlefield, his lifeless body heavy in my arms. I tried spell after spell, but his injuries were beyond healing. As I cradled him, he looked at me one last time and whispered, “I know you’ll make it right. You’re the great Rahn... and my best friend.”
His words became my curse.
Despite our efforts, Sereah fell. Its armies were decimated, its strongholds overrun, and its people enslaved. In the ruins of my homeland, I realized the true horror of war it wasn’t just the death or destruction. It was how it twisted you, hollowed you, and left you desperate to make the pain stop.
Act 2: The Cave of Titu( referencing the t2 community)
In the aftermath, I uncovered the corruption within Sereah’s own ranks. Our leaders had betrayed us, trading the lives of our people for their own survival. Anger consumed me. The world was broken, and I resolved to fix it at any cost.
I sought the legendary Cave of Titu, said to grant the deepest desires of those who dared enter. After months of searching, I found it. The cave was dark, oppressive, and cursed, but I didn’t care. My resolve burned brighter than my fear.
Inside, I found a podium with an inscription: “Say his name three times, and he shall appear.”
I spoke: “Beelzebub. Beelzebub. Beelzebub.”
A demon emerged, his human-like form framed by two curling horns. His voice, deep and distorted, sent shivers through me. “What do you truly desire?” he asked.
I thought of Harry’s death, of my fallen comrades, of my shattered homeland. Raising my head, I answered, “I want the power to liberate.”
The demon smiled a smile colder than any winter. Pain wracked my body as darkness coursed through my veins. My humanity burned away, replaced by unimaginable power. I saw visions of the past, present, and future. I had become something far beyond human.
Act 3 :The Rise of the Archon
With my newfound power, I obliterated the Asgedan forces occupying Sereah. The war that had raged for months ended in minutes. I then turned my wrath on the corrupt Sereahian generals, executing them without mercy. The people hailed me as their savior.
But liberation wasn’t enough. With this power, I could do more I could reshape the entire world. My ambition consumed me. I waged war against nations, toppling rulers who opposed me. What began as justice became tyranny.
They called me the Archon, a godlike figure ruling with an iron fist. I told myself it was for the greater good, but deep down, I knew the truth. I was addicted to the power, to the control, to the belief that I alone knew what was best.
Final Act: The Fall of the Tyrant
Two centuries passed under my rule. My pact with the demon granted me an unnaturally long life, but it could not protect me from destiny. A hero emerged a young warrior prophesied to end my reign.
In our final battle, his blade pierced my heart. As I fell to the ground, memories flooded my mind. I saw myself as a child, full of hope and wonder. I saw Harry’s smiling face and heard his final words.
For the first time in centuries, I felt peace. Tears streamed down my face as I whispered, “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry, Sereah. I lost my way.”
As the light faded from my eyes, I finally understood. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I had paved it well.
