Doom Slayer

At the center of the explosion lay a massive circular crater. The orcs had been reduced to nothingness, and further out, only piles of bleached bones remained, their flesh vaporized by the intense heat, leaving behind nothing but charred skeletons.

At the epicenter sat a man-made machine, its surface etched with runes never seen before.

The machine was damaged, yet a naked human infant lay on the ground, untouched by the heat, jolted awake from a deep slumber.

King Norwick took in the entire scene, his heart stirring as he looked at the baby; the thought that this child, fallen from the heavens, was surely extraordinary and must be raised to adulthood flooded his mind.

The High Priest shared the exact same thought.

Isaac, abandoning his usual grace and composure, tore the hem of his priestly robes and rushed toward the infant in two strides.

But someone was faster. King Norwick strode forward, reached the infant, tore off his own cloak to wrap the child, and cradled him gently in his arms.

The baby had a tuft of black hair, eyes as dark and deep as obsidian, and was a healthy, chubby boy with perfect limbs. As he was lifted, he observed everything around him with clear, steady eyes.

King Norwick shifted his gaze downward, a faint smile breaking through his weary expression: it was a healthy boy in his arms!

A mysterious rune was branded on the infant's chest, emitting pulses of faint red light that flickered in rhythm with the child's breathing, as if the light itself possessed life.

The infant's eyes were clear and flawless, reflecting the King's weary face as he studied him with a mix of curiosity and contemplation.

As his gaze swept over the child, King Norwick's body tensed, a chill running down his spine.

An indescribable sense of awe welled up—an instinctual reaction carried in the base genes of a lower life form facing a higher existence, a primal reverence born from the evolution of survival.

The expression beneath King Norwick's helmet darkened. His body stiffened as instinct and reason warred within him, and he subconsciously wanted to cast the infant away.

Suddenly, a great force tugged at him. Looking down, he saw the infant's chubby little hand clutching the edge of his cloak, pulling at it instinctively.

The moment their eyes met, King Norwick felt his heart tremble.

The scrutiny and contemplation in the child's eyes were as if he were assessing the threats in his surroundings.

Fighting his body's instincts, King Norwick gasped for air. His intuition told him that if he threw the child away now, he would surely be torn to pieces.

This was no exaggeration; it was the life-or-death instinct honed by a warrior through thousands of battles.

Suppressing his awe, King Norwick defied his instincts and used all his strength to stiffen his arms, tightening his grip to protect the "human cub" in his embrace.

Finally, once he committed to the protective gesture, the sense of crisis slowly dissipated, and the child in his arms drifted back to sleep.

All of this occurred in less than two seconds; amidst the chaos, few of the surrounding warriors noticed.

"What is it?" The Swordmaster seemed to sense something, his grip tightening on his dual blades as he looked at the infant in King Norwick's arms.

Norwick shook his head in silence, offering no answer. With gentle, cautious movements, he extended his arms and held the swaddled child high.

Wrapped in a blood-soaked cloak, the human child slept peacefully, his fair, tender body resting in the midst of the crimson carnage.

Seeing this, Isaac turned pale. He stumbled to the ground in a panic, reaching out with empty hands, his voice shrill with grief, indignation, and refusal: "No!!!!!"

Amidst the chaos and destruction, King Norwick shouted the name of the child fallen from the sky:

"He descended from the heavens to bring destruction to the enemies of humanity. He declares his name to Nul: Doom!"

Ash and fire drifted from the sky. In the scorching crater, a king bestowed a name of future legacy upon Du Mu.

The Night Watchers stomped their boots against the ground, trampling the bones of their enemies, and roared the name of the Doom Slayer: "Doom! Doom! Doom!"

In an ancient language of Terra, Doom represented destruction. This child, named by the warrior caste, was destined to become a glorious warrior in the future.

The Doom Slayer!

The orc chieftain had been reduced to dust upon the arrival of the Doom Slayer, and the orcs, terrified by the roaring chants, fled in disarray like headless flies.

Leaderless, the orcs were nothing more than a rabble; in areas the explosion hadn't even reached, groups of orcs began attacking one another.

Amidst the excited crowd, one man watched coldly, lying prone on the ground like a lifeless corpse.

Isaac buried his face in the mud, his heart cold to the core. The current situation was entirely different from the prophecy.

In the revelation shown by the gods, it was he who would lift the child, announce him as the son of the priesthood, and teach him to serve by the gods' side, learning the secrets of arcane knowledge.

It was not like this—becoming a Night Watcher, a warrior bound by law, under the eyes of the masses.

Fate had deviated from its original track; reality had denied the prophecy, and the mission bestowed by the gods had lost its vessel.

"King Norwick," the High Priest rose from the filthy, blood-soaked mud, lacking any semblance of grace.

Beneath his ornate crown, his face was expressionless. He channeled his psychic power to exert pressure, suppressing the cheers of the Night Watchers.

His slender fingers pointed down at the infant in Norwick's arms. Ignoring the King's authority, he spoke with the tone of a command: "This child descended with a revelation. He does not belong to you; you should hand him over to me."

His voice echoed through the crater, abruptly ringing in the ears of every warrior. The jarring echo dispelled the joy of victory, bringing the conflict between the warrior caste and the priestly caste into the open, without any pretense.

Since humanity colonized Nul and developed high-speed technology, and after surviving the machine rebellion, humanity had reorganized through countless struggles, eventually stabilizing into a government held by two castes.

The warrior caste, who revered the way of the warrior, honed their spirit and skills, practiced strict self-discipline, and chose to arm themselves with ancient weapons to protect the populace.

The priestly caste, who worshipped the gods entirely, liberated their souls to explore magical knowledge, and utilized sorcery and incantations to venerate the gods.

These two major castes ruled over most of humanity on Nul, governing the people within their respective spheres of influence. For thousands of years, countless battles, both large and small, had occurred between them due to their differing ideologies.

When the greenskins besieged the city, the High Priest of the City of Truth, the city of the priesthood, had led a team of priests to the Guardian Domain.

Facing the great enemy of humanity, King Norwick, ruler of the Guardian Domain, had set aside past grievances, welcoming them in friendship and accepting their advice and aid.

Some even believed that if humanity were fortunate enough to defeat the greenskins, warriors and priests should sit down for a proper talk, end the millennium-long strife, and step toward a unified future.

Yet now, the High Priest clearly held no regard for the King of Warriors, issuing orders to a monarch.

"High Priest Isaac, according to the warrior laws of the Guardian Domain." King Norwick cradled the infant, stepping back without a trace.

His retreat was by no means an act of concession; rather, it was a signal.

Xilan stood silently before him, as did the Night Watchers surrounding them, shifting their formation in an instant, their weapons instinctively leveled at Isaac.

King Norwick spoke with solemnity: "On the battlefield, any item touched by the victor's finger is his spoils of war; no one else may interfere or demand it."

"This is our law, the foundation upon which we survive. If you want this infant, you may challenge me to a duel. If you defeat me, you may naturally take him."

Isaac's expression grew even gloomier, his eyes flickering with a cold, sinister light, his lips twitching from an unusual rage.

He understood King Norwick's meaning perfectly: the King of Warriors had no intention of backing down and would never surrender the child.

On this planet, no one could defeat the King of Warriors, and furthermore, King Norwick was the youngest monarch in history.

He had assumed the throne upon reaching adulthood, completed countless trials as a warrior, challenged and defeated every legend, and become the "King of Warriors."

Legends of his might were sung among every person of Nul; he was synonymous with invincibility, a symbol of strength and wisdom.

To challenge King Norwick—he could not, at least not now.

"The Orcs have been defeated. To prevent them from making a comeback, I will lead my people in pursuit."

In the end, the High Priest withdrew his psychic energy to ease the tension, bowing slightly in a show of respect. He glanced at the child and said meaningfully, "King of Warriors, we have a long road ahead."

"A long... road ahead." King Norwick saw the resentment and malice in the High Priest's eyes—a viper retracting its fangs, retreating into the shadows to wait for an opportunity.

The Night Watchers cleared a path, watching as the High Priest departed.

"Why not kill him? A viper coiled back in the shadows is more dangerous than a beast running across the wasteland."

The Chief Greatswordsman narrowed his eyes, his twin blades lifting slightly as he stared at the High Priest's retreating back, vaguely seeing the twisted darkness coalescing behind him.

"Killing Isaac is simple, but the class and people behind him are a great trouble; they are staunch fanatics."

King Norwick's broad shoulders slumped with exhaustion as he turned to Xilan: "Too much blood has already been shed in this battle. How much more must we spill in infighting?"

He looked toward the Guardian Domain, with its towering white walls and solemn heights, then smiled as he looked down at the chubby, fair-skinned boy in his arms: "The future has arrived. A new king has descended from the heavens, and I can feel that he possesses power."

"Do you intend for him to inherit the throne?" Xilan was so shocked he nearly misspoke, filled with confusion: "That does not conform to our laws."

Raising a hand to stop the Chief Greatswordsman, King Norwick spoke slowly: "The law is worthy of respect; it keeps us from repeating the mistakes of the past, yet it is by no means immutable. Do not be bound by its rigidity; after all, we face an unprecedented opportunity ahead."

He looked up into the distance, his gaze crossing the scorched wasteland, seeing further than anyone else.

His voice was low, filled with anticipation for the future: "Isaac will not be our enemy for the time being. They are a part of humanity, and humanity has a common enemy: the greenskins."

"This child is highly likely to achieve feats never before seen. He will unify Nul and then ascend the throne."

Xilan knelt slowly, and the Night Watchers knelt with him in the scorching earth, pressing their left fists to their chests in an oath: "We shall follow your will unto death, great King Norwick."

"Doom Norwick!" The King held the infant in his arms aloft, proclaiming his status: a prince.