Reborn as the Dark General

Dark clouds hung low, blanketing the sky like a curtain of death. The full moon bled crimson light, piercing through the darkness and casting its glow over the land—now nothing more than a battlefield drenched in blood. At the foot of the hills, thousands of soldiers had fought endlessly for five days and five nights. The valley, once lush and green, had turned into a sea of corpses, its ground soaked with blood and the remains of scorched magic. “Traitor! Curse-bearer!” The scream echoed from the lower plains. Villagers watched the battle unfold through a hovering surveillance orb in the sky. They shouted Aiden’s name with hatred, as if witnessing the long-awaited end of a cursed legend. He was Aiden Hartmann—the Grand Commander, a man whose power ranked just beneath King Alaric, the ruler of the continent of Euphoria. Leader of the Black Moon Sect, commander of ten thousand elite soldiers—the strongest unit guarding the kingdom’s frontlines. Aiden was once the King’s most loyal protector, willing to lay down his life for the land he swore to defend. His name used to be revered, praised like a divine guardian. But all of that crumbled in a single night. Everything changed the moment the truth about his bloodline was revealed. In an instant, the people turned against him. They no longer saw a hero on the battlefield—but a monster that needed to be destroyed. The only thing they wanted was to see Aiden’s body turn to ash, after learning one devastating truth: He was a descendant of the cursed bloodline—Marako. The Marako were known in legend as an ancient tribe who once ruled half the world using pure dark magic—power so wild and untamed that no existing magical law could contain it. They were said to raise the dead, control souls, and create shadow beasts from the fears of man. Two centuries ago, the ancestors of the Five Kingdoms united to burn down Marako’s homeland and seal away their bloodline. Their name was erased from history, their magic forbidden, and anyone bearing even a drop of Marako blood… was marked as a curse that must be eradicated. And Aiden… was one of the last. The rightful heir to a power the world believed had already been extinguished. The world now saw him as a threat—a cursed bloodline trying to overthrow the king and claim Euphoria for himself. “Kill the Marako heir! He brings ruin!” “He deserves to die!” “He’s no commander of ours—he’s a demon!” “After all the trust from King Alaric, he repays it with darkness! He wants the throne for himself!” None of them knew that everything they shouted… was a lie. A perfectly crafted trap—one the King had been weaving for years. The truth was far more twisted than they could ever imagine. Euphoria Valley was no longer a place of peace, despite its name. The once-fertile land now lay shattered—torn apart and scarred by war. Trees were set ablaze, the air thick with ash, and every inch of soil soaked in blood. Thousands of soldiers clashed, magic spells tore through the skies, and screams mixed with explosions, echoing like a requiem of the apocalypse. At the summit of the mountain, two figures stood facing each other. Aiden Hartmann—the legendary High Commander, the leader of the greatest 10,000 elite troops the continent had ever seen—now stood on the edge of collapse. His black cloak was torn at the shoulder, streaked with blood and ash. Silver hair tangled. Cuts scattered across his face. Yet his eyes… still burned—burned with betrayal, rage, and a truth no one else dared to carry. Opposite him stood King Alaric. The supreme ruler Aiden had sworn his entire life to protect. Draped in a pristine silver-and-gold embroidered robe, Alaric looked divine—radiant even. But those eyes... they were hollow. Sharp. Serpentine. They held no remorse. “You still don’t understand, Aiden,” Alaric’s voice was soft, calm. “From the very beginning… this was always your fate.” He raised both hands, the wind whispering around them like ghosts. Aiden struck first. His blade, coated with dark magic, unleashed a surge of energy shaped like a shadowy dragon. Alaric countered with a glowing crystal shield. Cracks spread. The ground quaked violently. The explosion blasted them apart, shaking the mountaintop. Aiden staggered. Blood trickled from his temple. But the fury burning inside his chest refused to fade. He summoned Shadow Torrent—a wave of black energy forming dozens of floating spears, all darting straight toward his enemy. One pierced through Alaric’s chest. The King dropped to his knees. Blood soaked his majestic cloak. Aiden stepped forward. His crimson eyes trembled. “So this… was your plan all along,” he muttered, breath ragged, his body trembling. Alaric let out a small laugh. “Of course. I knew who you were the moment I saw your eyes. The blood of Marako... That dark power you’ve been hiding—it's the key to the gates of immortality. Did you really think I’d let it go to waste?” Aiden clenched his fists, struggling to hold back the rage erupting inside him. Both hands summoned dark flames, forming a spinning magic spear, then hurled it at the King. Alaric blocked it again with his radiant shield. Calmly, he stepped forward. “You know, Aiden,” he said, “I’ve always admired your power. That’s why… I wanted it for myself.” Aiden’s body was covered in wounds. His knees were giving out. But his gaze remained sharp, unwavering. “I won’t let your twisted ambition come true,” he said coldly. “You’re worse than any demon. You slaughtered the very soldiers who swore loyalty to you!” He lunged forward, throwing another flaming spear. The blast of light exploded again from Alaric’s shield. “You stole the people’s trust! Sacrificed your own army for the throne!” Alaric only chuckled. “They were nothing but pawns, Aiden. And you… you’re my final piece. Now, fulfill your last duty. Sacrifice yourself… for your King.” He laughed again, gripping the black pendant hanging from his neck. His lips moved, chanting an incantation. His low voice echoed with ancient power: "By blood once sworn, by souls now taken… I command the abyss—Devour All!" A blast of thick black light erupted from Alaric’s body, shooting into the sky and forming a massive magic circle above the mountain. Ancient symbols lit up one by one, etching themselves into the night like an eternal curse. Then… one by one, Aiden’s soldiers below stopped moving. Their bodies froze. Limbs locked. A scorching wave swept through the ranks, burning them from within. Screams tore through the night. Their skin turned blue, eyes rolled white… and from their chests—beams of light were ripped out, shot into the sky, and merged with the black circle above. And their bodies—vanished. Turned to ash. Crumbling like dust in the wind. “General!!!” A single voice pierced the sky—a cry from a young soldier named Vion. His face was wet with tears, his body consumed by magical flames, yet he still managed to shout with a hoarse voice: “Thank you… for once protecting us… General… In the next life, I swear I’ll find you… and serve you again…” Aiden stood frozen. His breath caught. The world felt like it was collapsing around him. They—his soldiers, his family, the ones who had sworn to live and die with him—were turning into ash, one by one. “Vion!! Hold on!” Aiden shouted, running to the cliff’s edge, his eyes red and brimming with tears. But just before he could reach him—claaang! His body was yanked back. Black chains rose from the ground, coiling tightly around both his wrists. The forbidden spell had begun to bind him. And in front of him… Vion gave a faint smile, just before his body vanished in a blaze of black fire. “Witness it, Aiden,” came Alaric’s cold, satisfied voice from behind him. “See how all your sacrifices ended in vain. They all died… for me. For my eternal life.” Aiden roared. His rage burst out wildly. Dark aura exploded from his skin. The air around him shrank back, as if afraid of the overwhelming power. Winds howled. Magic wailed in panic. His body trembled. Dark veins pulsed violently beneath his skin. His wounds sealed themselves, forcefully stitched by the brutal dark energy inside him. His expression shifted. Cold. No more mercy. Shadowy horns began to rise faintly from his temples, and from his back, two black wings spread wide—like the wings of a fallen angel. “If I die… then you’re coming with me, Alaric. Along with everything you stole from me,” Aiden whispered, like a cursed vow. He began chanting the forbidden spell—The Final Curse. An ancient spell passed down by the Marako tribe, once used to tear open the sky and destroy the world. A spell that demanded a price: the soul of its wielder. But Aiden didn’t care. If that was the price for his soldiers… he would pay it. A thick black fog gathered around him. The heat was so intense that it felt as if the flesh on his entire body was being forcibly peeled off, but he continued to absorb the energy. Then—he attacked. The ground split beneath every step. Each swing of his blade cracked the air. Alaric was hurled several meters away—yet he laughed. “Finally…” Alaric grinned, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Finally, your true power awakens. I’ve waited so long for this moment, Aiden!” Suddenly, the ground beneath Aiden's feet glowed—a layered magic circle appeared, filled with ancient curse symbols. Sealing chains shot out from every direction—shaped like black snakes, writhing and piercing Aiden's body one by one, shoulder, chest, back, up to his forehead. Aiden collapsed. Blood spurted from his mouth, his power beginning to drain, flowing out like a river forcibly split. His body couldn't move. The aura within him began to shatter. The black color that had enveloped his body faded to gray—a sign his strength was slowly being eaten from within. "What is this..." Aiden hissed, his breath ragged. Alaric stepped slowly, his palm raised, absorbing Aiden's power into the obsidian crystal embedded in his arm. "I planted that seal the day you saved me from the northern gate... the day you swore to be my commander." Aiden roared. His pain was unbearable, like his body was being burned and flayed at the same time. "NO!" Alaric approached. He knelt before Aiden, a cold smile hanging on his lips. "Thank you for your power, Commander. Rest in hell." Aiden smiled bitterly, blood dripping from the corner of his lips. "I will live again... to avenge the deaths of my soldiers." With his last breath, he whispered a single spell. A rumbling sound began to echo. One by one, the magic cores in his body shattered. Black energy seeped out, forming ancient symbols that glowed on his skin—a seal from the Vritra Monastery. A self-destruction spell, only used by those willing to sacrifice their soul. His hands clenched. Blood dripped from between his fingers. When his spell was complete, the ground shook violently. Aiden's body became the center of a vortex of black magic. Dark flames burned from his feet, spreading to his chest, then rising to his face. "For every life you stole from me... I will destroy thousands of yours, Alaric," he whispered in agony. Alaric flinched. His eyes widened at the sight of the Vritra Monastery symbols glowing on Aiden's body. "No... that—a soul annihilation spell?" he muttered in disbelief. "Fool! You'll burn your own soul!" But Aiden only looked at him with a bitter smile full of rage. Alaric stepped back. His face began to panic. "No... no! I won't perish with you!" he shrieked. With a quick movement, he pulled out the black pendant from his neck, clutching it tightly. His lips murmured an emergency transport spell. "Aiden! Even if you sacrifice your body and soul... I will live eternally!" In an instant, Alaric's body was surrounded by thick black mist. The air trembled, and in a blink of an eye—Alaric vanished. Evaporating with the pendant into a dimensional. Then... BOOM! Aiden's body exploded. The explosion shook the sky, deafening. Birds fell from the air. Black light surged, sweeping across the entire valley like a wave from hell. Cracks split the earth from the valley to the northern border. The kingdom's protective formation—hitherto called impenetrable—cracked, then shattered, vanishing like mist swept away by a storm. Stones melted. The air hissed, turning into hot poison. A magical mist swirled, forming a massive vortex in the center of the valley. Everything it touched—stone walls, iron armor, human skin—crumbled to ash. Alaric's troops ran in panic. But not one survived. Their bodies burned from within. Their magic exploded inside their own bodies. Screams filled the night, before finally... all was silent. The sky changed color. Purplish-black, like a moonless night. In the distance, mountains crumbled. Rivers dried up. The world seemed swallowed by an eternal curse. And one thing continued to echo... Aiden Hartmann... the Traitor of Euphoria. That's what the world believed. And that was the beginning of a great lie... which Aiden would destroy when he returned.