"... is awakening."
Yaen mused as he looked east, where his mystical senses had just picked up on a strange phenomenon.
Could this be... the turning point that Teacher Yannai was talking about?
His thoughts wandered for a moment before he dismissed them, shaking his head.
Focusing on the battle ahead trumps everything else. I can investigate this later.
In front of him, a gigantic pillar of pale light rose to the sky and branched into two groups of seven and three strands, each extending towards a different direction. They held a massive quantity of Mana, enough to blind his perception magecraft and contend against the might of multiple Divine Apostles at the same time.
However, such an exploit, even for a Horror-class, was sure to be draining. He guessed it was a Principality—a higher rank of Empyrean Eidolons, a notch above Archangels.
Despite still being in the realm of Thaumaturges, Yaen advanced with no fear. He gazed at the gaping hole leading underground, then gracefully jumped down, not wasting time in hesitation or doubt.
The rocky ground rose to intercept him during his fall, softening by its own volition and allowing him a safe landing.
In the now roofless cavern, he noticed the maimed body of Jonam hanging helplessly from a pillar. Not far from him, a Henosis Seekers' magus with long raven-black hair and teal-colored eyes welcomed him with a devious smile.
A pile of white-garbed Temple of Stars' magi stood limp behind him, all dead or in the midst of succumbing to their wounds.
"It took you long enough, Mekkubal bastard," the zealot declared.
Yaen dismissed his taunt with a roll of his eyes, his focus lying elsewhere.
A wretched angelic creature stood in the middle of the subterranean chamber, wearing a crown of chains and holding a bloodstained flog. The lower half of its skeletal body was rooted in the back of a familiar figure with long white hair—Nave Shevach.
He was motionless, his gaze vacant despite the seeping gashes on his shoulders and palms.
"Rahatiel, the Ruler of Gaols," Yaen said, his expression unreadable. "A well-known Principality in our records. How odd for the Henosis Seekers to summon it here, in the midst of Priene."
The two-winged Principality didn't even bother to look at him, its attention wholly directed at the giant tree of pale light and the targets it was currently imprisoning.
"Quivering in fear already, cur?" The man with teal-colored eyes taunted again. "It's a mighty servant of the Primordial Seraphim, able to suppress the Temple of Stars and the Five Graces all at once!"
Yaen faked a smile, slightly amused. "True enough, its sealing ability is fearsome, but even the fickle spawn of the Reverse Boundary of the World must obey a notion of balance. Rahatiel can imprison beings far more powerful than itself, but it possesses no fighting ability to speak of. In other words, it's a sitting duck."
"Oh?" The man exaggeratedly voiced his doubt. "Would you truly strike down your comrade?"
"So that's what it was about." Yaen let out a deep sigh. "The reason you went through the trouble of capturing Nave was merely for this?"
The surroundings trembled, and bluish Mana flew out of Yaen's body in sizzling spikes, mirroring his state of mind. His mismatched gaze shone with a glint of fury as his robe fluttered with the pressure of the displayed power.
"Don't play with me, dog," he spat.
The Henosis Seekers' magus only chuckled, breaking his own finger with a loud snap.
An ethereal mirage immediately appeared behind his back, taking the form of a humanoid figure with hollow eyes and a toothless mouth. It coiled around the man's limbs as its pair of immaculate wings crooked and contorted, looking ever eerier.
"Easily infuriated by so little. You disappoint me, zealot," he replied with a mocking tone.
That same instant, their clash began.
—
A little while before, in the northern underground base.
Geffen and his group of Homunculi swept over the rabble of Occultists from the Henosis Seekers with no difficulty, steadily advancing deeper into their cavernous headquarters.
"Master!" Hadas cut through a line of enemies with his greatsword, paving the way. "Don't you feel something weird going on?"
"Focus on the battle, you damn oaf!" Zur bellowed as he deflected a wave of projectiles with his shield.
Altar twirled his sickle between his hands, decapitating two straggling Homunculi. "No, he's right. We've been fighting for a while now, but there's no sign of an Archangel down here. Not even Delusion-class nameless Angels. It's like they're voluntarily making it easy."
Yalon maintained his pike before him as he shadowed Geffen, surveying his back. "Didn't you hear the tremors a few minutes ago? It's even gotten the Temple of Stars' magi in a panic."
"Now that the concealment spell has been lifted, I can feel the mystical imprint of Ilana. She seems to be in the midst of a fight against a Nightmare-class Eidolon," Geffen noted. "There's also a worrying presence below the Blighted Crater. I would like to clear things down here as quickly as possible and rejoin Master Yaen."
"Right, Master!" The four Homunculi dutifully grunted as they resumed their formation.
Soon enough, they reached a strangely ornamented dead end, with a carved wall bearing obscure inscriptions and illustrations.
The mural showed four men and three women surrounding a sprawled corpse with a third, silvery eye on its forehead. Each one held a bleeding dagger in their hand, looking at their victim with varied expressions.
"What are these drawings?" Zur inquired. "They don't seem to be from the Henosis Seekers."
"No." Geffen frowned. "It's far more ancient. Hadas."
Hadas understood his Master's cue and brandished his greatsword, gorging it with an enhancing spell. The sheer amount of Mana made it glimmer in the dark as he cleaved the wall in a single strike, opening a path to what lay beyond.
Archaic torches lit up with a pale, grayish fire as they revealed an old, nearly empty chamber to their eyes. Unknown scriptures littered the ceiling and the floor, visibly coiling in a spiral towards the very end of the room.
Geffen needed but a glance to hastily restrain his curiosity, warning, "Don't attempt to read the inscriptions. They're in Cimmerian."
The Homunculi all understood his meaning and kept their gazes focused elsewhere, their senses sharpening in alarm.
Cimmerian was the lost language of the Hollow Sea, only found in the floating islands far to the east of the three continents. Worse than the Goddess of Secrets' Zuhor, it was a cursed tongue that would mark anyone attempting to learn it with the taint of the Reverse Boundary of the World, forever trapping them in the cradle of madness and malice.
"Were the Henosis Seekers guarding this place?" asked Altar. "Why would they be concerned with such ruins?"
Geffen remained silent, his instincts picking on an eerie presence at the darkened edge of the chamber. He cautiously advanced, readying his Mana for a trap or an ambush.
The last torches appeared to sense his approach, sparking with the same ghostly fire as the ones near the entrance and revealing what was hidden in the shadows.
A throne of stone and silver, immaculately preserved amidst the crumbling surroundings.
On it sat a skeleton with the grace and poise of a ruler, its aura overwhelming despite having long been dead. It wore a thick, majestic crown with an eye-shaped sigil chiseled in the middle, its mighty glare sending chills down Geffen's spine.
Every inch of his being suddenly screamed at him to escape, prompting him to turn back.
"Everyone, we need to leav—"
His words caught in his throat as he discovered his Homunculi limp on the ground, their lives already forfeited to a sinister force.
A melodious, feminine voice echoed with a severe tone, "Any who disturbs our Lord's peaceful slumber must pay the ultimate price."
Geffen's Mana spilled down his feet in an amber-colored wave, trying to flee with an enhanced leap. However, his flow quickly lost its stability, turning a shade of black as it gushed in and out of his flesh like a piercing torrent.
In a matter of seconds, large gashes opened across his legs, and he collapsed helplessly on the bare rock. His own Mana had escaped his control and had started wreaking havoc inside his body, causing his vessels to rupture and his organs to collapse.
"Ho...- How?" Pale spots grew along his throat, making every uttered sound an agonizing hurdle.
Before the spreading degenerescence could stifle his sight, he glimpsed an approaching figure—a young woman clad in the garb of Hierapetra's Adonal Virgins, her luxurious black hair bearing strands of gray. A silvery eye shone with ominous light on her forehead, further darkening her twisted smile.
"Sleep well in the Netherworld, O servant of the August One," she whispered, her words an enthralling purr.
The next moment, Geffen Yuly died.
—
Maia stepped over the corpse of the Mekkubal Order's magus, taking in the air of this blessed chamber before stopping inches from the throne.
She prostrated herself in an elegant display of reverence, zealous devotion etched on her expression.
After a minute of motionless lull, her gentle hands reached for the lofty crown, raising it above the skeleton's head. Its bones immediately fell apart, turning into a mound of ash atop the resplendent seat.
Her lips curved into a tender smile as they parted, declaring in the silent room:
"The Ritual may now begin."