The Birth of the First Shadow — Narkaal’s Forgotten Past

The sky trembled as the golden dust settled around the battlefield.

Kemp wiped the blood from his cheek. The heroes gathered again, forming a line—or more like a wall—between Narkaal and the rest of the world.

But the god-like being of darkness did not move.

He simply watched them with emotionless curiosity, like he was studying insects.

Sumit, panting heavily, pointed at him.

Sumit:
“Hey! Shadow guy! If you want to fight, then FIGHT! Why are you just staring?!”

Narkaal turned its hollow mask toward Sumit.

Narkaal:
“Because you are all unprepared.
You do not even understand what you fight against.”

Ajmal stepped forward, gripping his staff.

Ajmal:
“Then tell us. No more riddles.
You said you existed before the universe… but what does that truly mean?”

Narkaal looked up at the darkened sky.

Narkaal:
“You wish to know the truth?
Then see it with your own mortal eyes.”

He raised a hand.

The ground beneath everyone cracked into pieces.

A wave of dark energy spread out, not attacking—but showing something.

Like a giant mirror forming across the sky.

A window into a time before history.

A time before light.

A time before creation.

The heroes gasped as the vision formed above them.

At first, there was nothing.

No sky.
No stars.
No warmth.
No sound.

Only endless black emptiness.

It wasn’t peaceful.
It wasn’t calm.
It was simply… nothing.

Narkaal’s voice echoed:

Narkaal:
“This… is the Void Before Creation.
The place where I was born.”

A flicker of movement in the darkness.

A shape.

A being.

A consciousness forming from the emptiness itself.

Something that should not exist.

Ayon whispered:

Ayon:
“S-So you were alive… when there was nothing…?”

Narkaal:
“I was not alive.
Nor dead.
I simply was.”

In the vision, young Narkaal drifted in the Void like a shadow without a body, a thought without a shape.

He floated aimlessly for endless time.

No hunger.
No pain.
No happiness.
No emotion.

Just silence.

Kemp frowned.

Kemp:
“You were… alone?”

Narkaal:
“Yes. For longer than you can imagine.”

The heroes saw it—

Narkaal drifting endlessly, unaware of anything except the infinite black.

A being born with no purpose.

No identity.

No direction.

Until—

A spark appeared.

A single point of golden light burst into existence in the darkness.

Small.
Weak.
Fragile.

But brighter than anything Narkaal had ever witnessed.

It wasn’t even as bright as a candle.

But to Narkaal—

It was blinding.

Narkaal’s whisper deepened.

Narkaal:
“This was the first light.
The first creation.
The beginning of everything.”

The heroes watched Narkaal stretch a shadowy hand toward it.

But the light burned him.

Narkaal:
“I hated it.
Because it hurt me.”

In the vision, young Narkaal recoiled in pain.

But after a moment—

He moved closer again.

He reached out.

The light hurt him again…

But this time, Narkaal didn’t pull away.

Serdihun 2 gasped softly.

Serdihun 2:
“He forced himself to touch it… even though it hurt?”

Serdihun 1:
“Why… why would he do that?”

Ajmal answered quietly.

Ajmal:
“Because he was alone.
Even pain is something… compared to eternal nothing.”

The heroes looked at Narkaal with something unexpected.

Not fear.

Not anger.

But a bit of pity.

Even if he was a monster…

He was once alone in the Void.

For an eternity.

The vision continued.

Narkaal absorbed the light slowly, painfully.

He twisted it.

Bent it.

Corrupted it.

Until a new kind of energy formed—

Shadow.

Not pure darkness.

Not pure light.

A twisted mix of both.

Narkaal:
“By absorbing the first light…
I gained form.
Power.
Awareness.”

The heroes watched as Narkaal gained shape—arms, legs, a body… but always shifting and unstable.

Ayon swallowed nervously.

Ayon:
“So you… made yourself using light?”

Narkaal:
“Yes.
Light gave me power.”

He paused.

Narkaal:
“And light gave me hatred.”

The vision changed.

The tiny spark of light exploded—creating stars, swirling galaxies, and the first world.

A beautiful world of pure light.

Floating like a glowing crystal in an ocean of dark.

Narkaal approached it slowly in the vision.

But every time he got near—

The world rejected him.

It pushed him away.

Burned him.

Blinded him.

Jirsong clenched his fists.

Jirsong:
“That world treated him like a disease…”

Ajmal nodded grimly.

Ajmal:
“The world of light could not accept a being of shadow.”

Narkaal:
“I wanted to enter.
To learn.
To exist.
But the light rejected me.”

In the vision, Narkaal screamed silently, pounding on the barrier of light around the world.

No matter how hard he tried…

He was always pushed away.

Alir covered her mouth softly.

Alir:
“He… he was trapped outside.”

Sumit whispered:

Sumit:
“He just wanted to exist…”

But soon—

Narkaal’s pain turned into rage.

Narkaal’s voice became colder.

Narkaal:
“So I created my own world.”

The vision showed a new realm forming behind him—

A world made of darkness.

But it was empty.

Lifeless.

Silent.

Narkaal:
“This was not enough.
Darkness alone cannot grow.”

So Narkaal created life.

The first demons.

Born from shadow.

Shaped from fragments of his being.

The heroes watched demon soldiers being created like swirling smoke taking form.

Ajmal:
“He created demons… because he wanted to fill his empty world.”

Narkaal:
“Correct.”

Sumit muttered:

Sumit:
“Damn… that’s sad but scary.”

The vision darkened.

Narkaal held a sphere of swirling black and light.

Pure power.

Condensed evil.

Narkaal:
“To enter the world of light…
I needed a key.”

He placed the sphere into a humanoid shape.

And the Demon King was born—tall, powerful, filled with hatred and shadow.

Narkaal:
“He was my strongest creation.
My most loyal servant.
My gateway to worlds of light.”

The heroes watched the Demon King bow to Narkaal.

Jirsong exhaled sharply.

Jirsong:
“So the Demon King was basically… his son.”

Serdihun 1:
“A shadow son…”

Serdihun 2:
“Who tried to destroy our world.”

Narkaal:
“Yes.
Because that was his purpose.”

Narkaal’s voice deepened.

Narkaal:
“But you destroyed him.”

His hollow mask turned toward Kemp.

Kemp stood silently, golden aura quietly shimmering.

Narkaal:
“You destroyed my gateway.
You killed my creation.
And now… I shall take your world for myself.”

The vision ended with a violent snap.

The sky returned to darkness.

The battlefield stood silent.

No one spoke for several seconds.

The story… had shaken them.

Narkaal had been many things:

A lonely being.
A rejected creature.
A creator.
A father to the Demon King.
A god of darkness.

Ayon finally whispered:

Ayon:
“So this is… Narkaal’s truth…”

Ajmal nodded slowly.

Ajmal:
“A being born before light itself.
Rejected by the first world.
Driven to build his own.
And now… desperate to consume ours.”

Sumit pointed at Narkaal again.

Sumit:
“Okay… his life was sad.
But that does NOT give him the right to destroy our world.”

Kemp stepped forward, golden light rising once again.

Kemp:
“Narkaal.
Thank you for showing us your past.”

Narkaal tilted his head.

Narkaal:
“And now that you know… will you surrender?”

Kemp’s eyes sharpened.

Kemp:
“No.”

He lifted his spear.

Kemp:
“Your past explains your pain.
But it does not excuse your actions.
You want to destroy our world?
Then you’ll have to pass through us.”

Narkaal slowly raised his hands.

Darkness gathered.

The final stage of the battle began.

Narkaal:
“Then come, mortals.
Let the last chapter of your world… begin.”

The sky cracked.

Gold and shadow collided.

And the battle restarted.