That not so important character turned out to be important

Before his descent into infamy, the Warden of Aeons, once named Aethralis, roamed his boundless lands not as a ruler but as a guardian spirit. Neither mortal nor divine, Aethralis was a demi, primordial being tied to the pulse of existence—a living conduit of the land's vitality, attuned to its rhythms and tempered by its storms. His presence was a hymn to the elements, his dominion a sanctuary of unyielding beauty.

Yet serenity breeds envy, and peace invites predators. The greed of mortal and immortal alike became his undoing.

They came in hordes, covetous and cunning, bound by their mutual lust for his power and his domain:

The Elven Conclaves: Masters of the arcane arts, they saw Aethralis as a fount of magic to exploit, dreaming of spells that would bend existence to their will.

The Demon Hordes: Creatures of chaos and destruction, they craved the primal energy coursing through Aethralis to amplify their infernal power.

The Human Kingdoms: Wielders of ambition, they hungered for the fertile lands and resources he safeguarded, seeing an empire waiting to rise from his fall.

The Beastkin Tribes: Drawn by their primal instincts, they believed devouring his essence would elevate them to dominion over nature itself.

The Dragon Flight of Kharlun: A race of ancient arrogance, they claimed his power as their birthright, a treasure to hoard and a strength to wield.

Bound by ambition but driven by their own interests, these factions forged an uneasy alliance, their purpose singular: the subjugation of Aethralis.

Aethralis, though peaceful by nature, met their assault with ferocity born of desperation. The winds howled as his wrath manifested in cyclones, rivers rose to drown armies, and the earth shattered beneath his fury. For every warrior who dared approach, a hundred fell, and their ambitions turned to ash.

Yet he showed mercy. When the tide turned, and their forces broke, he granted their survivors life—a chance to retreat, to reflect, to leave his domain unspoiled.

Mercy, however, was a luxury the greedy could not afford.

The shattered clans returned to their peoples with venom on their tongues. They painted Aethralis as a tyrant, a force of unchecked chaos that threatened the balance of the world. Their lies reached the ears of the gods themselves. Swayed by the tales and eager to protect their realms, the divine descended with their scions to wage the final war.

This time, Aethralis could not prevail. Against the combined might of mortals and gods, his connection to the land was severed, he lost his divinity, His form, once radiant and unyielding, crumbled into a shadow of its former self—a mass of raw energy, writhing in agony and hostility.

Thus was Aeltharys undone.

The land, once verdant and teeming with life, mirrored its Warden's fall. The Veil became a wasteland of storms and despair, its skies perpetually darkened, its rivers choked with ash. Monstrous creatures, birthed from the corrupted essence of Aeltharys, roamed the blighted land, a testament to the folly of those who had sought to claim his power.

For decades, the Veil remained a scar upon the world. The clans who had orchestrated the Warden's downfall found no triumph in their victory. The very forces they had unleashed turned upon them, their lands ravaged by the chaos they had sown.

And then came the so-called hero

Manipulated by the same lies that had led the Scions astray, the hero sought to vanquish what remained of Aeltharys. Armed with relics forged in celestial forges, the hero shattered the corrupted mass that had once been the Warden, scattering fragments of his essence across the ruined Veil.

Only one fragment resisted destruction—a single eye, gleaming with the faintest trace of Aeltharys's once-boundless will.

But the Veil, like its Warden, was not so easily silenced. The land groaned under the weight of its chains, its storms growing fiercer with each passing year, as if the very earth mourned the loss of its guardian.

Fearing the consequences of remnant of his power, the gods descendant, elf, other mighty beign devised a prison unlike any other. They exiled the Warden of Aeons to a land hidden in the Excessive Sea, an uncharted abyss where no mortal dared tread. To seal him further, they encased the land in an eternal tempest of unyielding storms, a labyrinth of mist, and an impenetrable spatial barrier. No soul could enter, and none could leave.

The prison was both a grave and a curse. The corruption born of his betrayal festered, birthing monstrous abominations from the land's decay. His domain became a celestial oubliette, his agony feeding a growing curse that warped the very fabric of the prison.

To ensure his essence would dissipate into nothingness over time, they anchored the prison with the Aeternus Silva, an ancient forest of unyielding vitality. Its roots wove through dimensions, channeling divine energy to suppress his power and bind the storm-shrouded prison.

But even chains forged by gods were not immune to the curse of betrayal. Over the millennia, the corruption emanating from Aethralis seeped into the Aeternus Silva. The roots, meant to contain his power, began to feed on it instead. What was once a seal became a siphon, drawing strength from the very essence it sought to restrain.

Within his storm-wrapped prison, the Warden of Aeons awaited an end that seemed both inevitable and eternal. His left eye, the last fragment of his being, bore silent witness to the chaos and waited for his return. 

The Warden's story, twisted by time and treachery, evolved from an ancient mystery to a forgotten tale. Neither the clans that once sought his downfall nor the land that bore his prison remained in the memory of living beings. Yet, what lingered in the void of history was something far more dangerous—an undying desire to destroy and reclaim, passed down like an echo in the hearts of those who would seek power at any cost.

The castle's interior was a labyrinth of scorched stone and shattered remnants, echoes of grandeur now reduced to ash and ruin. Shaun, flanked by his avian companions—Ignis, Tempest, and Umbra—moved with a steady, unhurried pace. His eyes scanned the crumbling corridors, every step deliberate. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and ozone, a lingering testament to Ignis's fiery assault.

As they ventured deeper, the atmosphere shifted, a palpable and undeniable change. It wasn't just the residual heat of flames or the faint crackle of dissipating energy. This was something far older, far darker. The oppressive weight of an unseen presence pressed down on them, heavy and malevolent. The air itself seemed alive, charged with a violent energy that pulsed like the heartbeat of some ancient beast.

Shaun faltered momentarily, caught off guard by the sudden surge of power. His aura instinctively flared, forming a protective barrier around himself and his birds. Even Tempest, the volatile storm-bird, ruffled its feathers uneasily, its usual bravado replaced with caution. Umbra, ever the enigma, remained calm, its shadowy form melding into the darkness, its aura absorbing the hostile energy like a void.

"So, this is how it welcomes its guests?" Shaun murmured, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. But there was no mirth in his voice, only a thinly veiled tension. This wasn't the cryptic power he'd brushed against before in the forest—it was something far more concentrated. Ancient. Malevolent. Unrestrained.

The oppressive force didn't relent; instead, it intensified. Waves of pressure pulsed outward, rattling the foundations of the castle. Dust cascaded from fractured ceilings as the groaning walls seemed ready to collapse under the strain of an unseen will.

Shaun's grin faded, his amusement replaced by grim determination. He had expected a challenge, but this... this was something else. This wasn't just power; it was a raw, primal force that seemed to warp reality itself.

They pressed onward, each step dragging them deeper into the castle's malevolent heart. The corridors twisted unnaturally, the path ahead feeling less like a structure and more like the innards of a living thing. The temperature plummeted, and the silence grew deafening, broken only by the echo of their footfalls.

Shaun halted abruptly, his patience worn razor-thin. He'd had his fill of cryptic threats and oppressive games. Raising his hand, his aura erupted outward—not as a shield, but as a weapon. The air hissed with raw energy, Shaun's power laced with cold fury and hostility. The unseen force recoiled, the oppressive pressure faltering under the weight of his defiance.

"Enough of this nonsense!" Shaun's voice boomed through the ruined halls, reverberating with unyielding authority. "You wanted to test me? Fine. Let's see if you can handle what you've invited."

The malevolent presence lingered, but its once-overwhelming force was now muted, cowed by the sheer might of Shaun's aura. Without hesitation, he resumed his stride, quicker now, his gaze fixed and unrelenting. He would not be intimidated. He would not retreat.

sence reached its zenith as Shaun, Ignis, Tempest, and Umbra ventured deeper into the castle. Each step closer to the chamber that housed the Eye of Aethralis seemed to amplify the tension. The walls groaned, and faint tremors rippled through the ground, as if the ancient power sealed within was testing the limits of its prison.

Then the silence shattered.

From the shadows ahead, a tide of monstrous beings surged forth. Corrupted beasts, grotesque hybrids of flesh and jagged metal, flooded the corridor. Their forms were a nightmare brought to life—limbs twisting at impossible angles, mouths filled with rows of jagged teeth, and eyes glowing with an unnatural, malevolent light. Among them were creatures native to the Excessive Sea, their aquatic forms fused with crude implants that pulsed with stolen mana. Towering above the horde, five Iron Golem Knights strode forward, their runed armor radiating a dark energy that seemed to warp the air around them.

Shaun raised an eyebrow, his trademark smirk creeping onto his face. "Well, I'd say this is overkill, but let's be honest—this is just bad hospitality."

Before the first of the beasts could charge, Umbra moved.

There was no warning, no flicker of shadow or sound. One moment, Umbra stood at Shaun's side, a dark silhouette amidst the chaos. The next, the bird was gone, swallowed whole by the surrounding darkness, a void that seemed to collapse in on itself, creating an eerie silence.

Then, from nowhere, the creatures began to vanish. One by one, the beasts were simply gone. They didn't scream, didn't flinch. They were consumed by nothingness, their bodies and souls erased as though they had never existed. The space around them warped and twisted, becoming a void so deep, so absolute, that not even their twisted forms could escape its grasp.

The Iron Golem Knights were next. With an unnerving, silent force, they too were pulled into the void. Their massive armored forms, once so intimidating, dissolved into the emptiness with a single, quiet snatch. There was no explosion, no struggle—just the quiet collapse of space around them. The runes on their armor flickered once, twice, and then blinked out entirely as the Golem Knights ceased to be.

The air grew thick with a strange stillness as the last of the beasts disappeared. The corridor that had been filled with the sounds of savage creatures, their guttural roars and heavy footsteps, was now completely silent. Nothing remained, not even the faintest trace of their existence. Just a hollow, infinite space where they had once been.

Shaun blinked, a bit stunned, before chuckling softly under his breath. "Well... that was efficient. Guess that's one way to handle a crowd good job Umbra.". Umbra reappeared at his side, its form materializing from the void as if nothing had happened, its eerie presence even more unsettling now. Its eyes, devoid of emotion, flickered with an unnatural gleam.

Shaun gave it a mock salute. "You've got to teach me that trick sometime. I'd love to see my enemies just poof out of existence."

Ignoring the lingering weight of the void around them, Shaun continued forward. The oppressive energy in the air had not dissipated, but the unsettling force of Umbra's display had changed the atmosphere, if only for a moment.

"Come on, castle. Don't be shy. Show me what you've got left." Shaun's voice rang through the halls, a defiant challenge in the face of the castle's malevolent presence.

The chamber shuddered with a life of its own, its walls breathing in rhythm with the pulsing light of the Eye. The air was thick with a palpable dread, heavy and suffocating, as if the very space had been steeped in the memories of an ancient and cursed existence. 

At the center of it all, the kneeling figure remained motionless, Its presence was a mere whisper in the vastness of the room, but deep within the Eye, a presence stirred. A consciousness that had lain dormant for eons now began to awaken.

The voice that erupted was not from the figure, but from the Eye itself—a sound like the gnashing of rusted chains, filled with malice and echoing through the very marrow of the stone. It was a voice suffused with centuries of suffering, betrayal, and boundless rage. It reverberated through the chamber, shaking the air and twisting the space around them.

"A presence..." it hissed, the words elongated, drawn out in a venomous whisper. "A strong presence... who dares approach my tomb?"

"This aura…" the voice continued, tinged with disgust and something far darker—an ancient rage that felt as though it could tear apart the very fabric of existence. "So brash... so bold. So... defiant. It reeks of a will that refuses to be broken. How... fascinating."

The presence within the Eye turned its attention inward, its gaze cutting through the veil of reality, locking onto Shaun with a hunger that was both predatory and knowing. It tasted his every movement, felt the destruction he had left in his wake—the ruined remnants of the castle's defenses, the obliterated iron golems, the vanquished beasts of the cursed horde. And with it, a pulse of anger shot through the chamber.

"Those... fools. The keepers." The voice whispered, dripping with contempt, as the walls seemed to tremble with its fury. "They were meant to cage me. To contain what they could never control. And you... you annihilated them without so much as a thought. Did you think that would make me grateful?"

The air grew thick with a coldness that seemed to freeze the very blood in Shaun's veins. The voice turned sharper, more piercing, as the chamber quaked under its weight.

"You think you can survive me?" The voice echoed, its tone suddenly bitter, laced with a cruel amusement that twisted the atmosphere like a knife. "Why? Do you plan to leech my power? To use me? Or perhaps... you believe you can end me?"

"All for nothing, mortal." The voice rumbled, as deep and resonant as the earth itself. "My freedom was stolen the day I lost everything. There is nothing left to leech... I have become what I devour. I leech from myself..."

The Eye pulsed again, its light flickering like the last embers of a dying fire. The intensity of its presence, however, remained relentless, cold, and infinite in its reach.

"I refused to be used. I survived this long... not to be killed or enslaved again." The voice hissed, its tone now venomous, the very air quaking beneath its wrath. "So, visitor... you who dare tread upon my grave... know this—"

A silence fell over the chamber, a suffocating stillness, as if the very stones held their breath.

"Make your steps carefully." The voice finished, its words dripping with the weight of a thousand forgotten ages, a warning laced with the promise of endless torment for those foolish enough to cross it.