They bow down one by one to the demon of the Netherworld, a fist over their heart in loyal fortitude the four Chaos Lords must find the old relic that will open the gate. Hidden by good forces, and only known by them, they know that humans have joined the evil forces too and the forces are fortified against them should an ambush on the world be imminent.
A woman walked in Kay Pong clutching her swollen belly that was nine months grown, in great pain she fell at a merchant's table and pulled herself underneath it. "By fire, this child will be the death of me!" Giving birth to this infant would normally bring joy to a new mother but she feared it and when she gave birth, she kicked the baby away from her. Covered in blood she crawled out from the table as the merchant returned and noticed her.
"Lady, why were you under the table?" The baby let out a squeal and the man lifted the cloth to peer under. "My lord! A child."
The mother shook her head and slithered away on all fours leaving a trail of crimson behind her. She was crying hysterically and in a great panic as if someone was out to kill her.
"Guards! Apprehend that woman, she has given birth and has forsaken it to die!" The merchant yelled.
Townsfolk came in place of the guards and took her up by her arms, she started to tremble ferociously and suffered a massive heart attack. No one was sure as to what had just happened or why, but her corpse was dragged away…
"Poor little thing, you weren't worth two croggies in Karn according to your mom, but we will see about that one." The smiling merchant, a hefty older gentleman wrapped the baby up in a blanket and took the infant boy into his loving arms, carried him over to a blacksmith named Tamal.
Although Tamal was a childless widow, he accepted the newborn as his own and named him Razzaq. Later changed to Razaak, his name meant the one who provides the necessities of life, and the one who can take it away.
Razaak was raised as a blacksmith by his honorable father and at the age of twelve the young boy crafted a sword of his own unlike any other. At first the sword was just a plaything and he eventually sewn together a scabbard for it. He took it into the wilderness and practiced swiping, lunging, and thrusting and by the age of fourteen had mastered shadow sword fighting. Tamal didn't dissuade his son, but upon his deathbed he clutched Razaak's hand, "Do you know why I nurtured you?"
"No, father. Although it seems it to be your duty to do so?"
"I had a dream of a little boy who would grow up to be an avenger, but then the dream became darkened and that righter of wrongs that Allansia came to love so much had a duel with the Lord of Death and instead of defeat him, he became him." Tamal became sleepy. "You must promise me, son, that you will never fight on the side of evil for profit, but if you must do so because your heart is set upon it, then do so with such a might that it equals your awards as a renowned hero. Never accept tyranny like one accepts a quick death to avoid the pain. You were born with a curse a witch once told me, but you are not a cursed soul, you are a clever craftsman who was born with the spirit of an unmatchable divinity."
Razaak didn't understand the message but his father gasped, mouth open, and blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth.