—Trigger Warning: This chapter contains graphic violence and detailed descriptions of gore. Read at your own risk.—
---Flashback to 100 years ago---
The city of Blovik had once been a place of grandeur, but beneath its impressive facades lay an empire built on fear.
As the Nuista army marched through the thick woods toward Blovik's gates, their breaths misting in the cold dawn air, whispers of dread swept through the ranks. This was no ordinary war. Nuista soldiers knew Blovik's reputation, but few were prepared for the horrors awaiting them.
When they were ambushed by Blovik's soldiers in the shadow of its imposing walls, the assault was swift. Captured and bound, they were brought to the city, but instead of swift execution, the soldiers were confined and left in dreadful anticipation.
For three days, they languished in darkness, enduring tortures that burned their minds and twisted their bodies, each one etched with pain and stripped of humanity. Some tried to cry out, pleading for mercy; others lay silent, hollowed out by suffering.
At dawn on the third day, the Grand Master himself appeared before them. Cloaked in dark robes, his face obscured but for his piercing, unnatural gaze, he pronounced their fate with a chilling calm.
"You will be sacrificed to protect our city," he said, though his words carried the hollow ring of deceit.
When his orders were complete, the prisoners were dragged to a pit deep underground and cast into its depths, their pleas swallowed by silence. No one would see them again.
The city, once thriving, grew still. The few who dared remain lived in fear, hiding themselves in the shadows of Blovik's grandeur, which slowly crumbled.
Rumors spread, growing darker with each passing year, until word reached the distant kingdom of Nuista: a new religion had risen in Blovik.
Intrigued, Nuista's king called a council. After careful deliberation, he dispatched an elite squad to investigate this strange order.
The squad traveled under strict orders not to interfere with the practices they observed unless forced to defend themselves.
Disguised as travelers, they crossed Blovik's border and entered its eerie silence, following a path of whispered rumors until they found the center of the city.
As they approached a vast temple complex, they saw corpses lining the temple steps and scattered along the walls, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. The scene was dominated by robed priests praying amidst the dead, with the Grand Master himself presiding over a bloodied altar. In an unnatural, rhythmic motion, he thrust a dagger into his own heart, then removed it with a dreadful calm.
Blood poured down his robes, spilling onto the floor as he chanted in a language that twisted through the air with an almost physical weight.
The Grand Master's hollow voice echoed through the silence: "I am eternal; death is but a passage. Obey me, and I grant you life beyond life. Drink of my blood and eat of my flesh, and know pain no longer." The surrounding priests echoed his words, clutching their own wounds as if drawing strength from their agony.
Unable to intervene, the Nuista soldiers watched in revulsion as the priests fell in tortured devotion, each sacrificing themselves in turn.
Only two survived, their faces serene yet twisted as they donned rings and took vows of obedience, becoming the Grand Master's immortal servants. The disguised soldiers felt the spell in the air, a weight of darkness so heavy they feared even their presence might bind them to the ritual.
When it ended, they returned to Nuista, unable to find anything valuable or incriminating, yet aware of the ominous power lingering in Blovik.
After the bloodied ritual, the soldiers moved stealthily, hoping to find something useful in the temple.
They searched everywhere, and discovered a secret entrance leading underground. They followed it through a narrow passage and then came to a door with iron bars. The captain lifted them and let the soldiers enter the building.
There they found a room full of dead bodies, all dressed in black robes. They recognized some of them similar to the ones praying outside the city walls, and some, seems that they had been killed inside the church. There were piles of bones and skulls, covered in rotten stench of decay.
Another thing the squad had found out was that the so-called Grand Master had used magic to compel all the inhabitants of the city to attend mass, at which he preached.
The squad returned to Nuista reporting of the heinous crimes committed, and the whole of Nuista were now aware of the ominous power lingering in Blovik.
Eventually, the king sent an army to destroy the city and its priests. Blovik fell into ruin, and though the Grand Master disappeared, Nuista's king vowed that his cult would rise again. The elite Shadow Guards took up the task, with one leading them—Reinhart Bellator—tracking the elusive Grand Master through villages and forests, until at last, he confronted him in a dark cave.
In their final confrontation, the Grand Master spat bitterly, "I have fulfilled my purpose. End me, and watch my shadow grow in your kingdom."
With a swift blow, Reinhart ended his life, delivering Blovik from his terror and returning his body to Nuista to mark the end of his reign.
---Flashback End---
Valens listened quietly to the shadow's story, absorbing the grim history that shaped Clareo's—and his own—fate. "So Nuista was Clareo's name before," he murmured, piecing together the details he'd learned.
"Yes," the shadow affirmed, its voice a soft rumble in his mind.
"And Blovik?" Valens asked. "If several kingdoms invaded not from the south, then the Blovik Empire…"
"Yes, it's in the southern lands," the shadow confirmed.
Valens glanced at the general, who sat in front of him with an attentive expression, waiting for him to speak. Valens took a breath and said, "Sir, I think I know where the Blovik Empire was located."
The general arched an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his gaze. "Where?"
"South," Valens said simply.
The general's eyes held Valens in silence before he leaned back, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "Interesting. And how did you come across this knowledge?"
Valens hesitated, and the shadow's voice nudged at his thoughts. "Tell him it came from the symbols and images you saw when you awakened your ability."
Valens nodded, following its advice. "When I first awakened my ability, I saw symbols and images—visions of places and rituals. I didn't understand them at first, but it seems they're connected to our missions now."
The general regarded him quietly for a moment before nodding, a faint understanding in his gaze. "I won't pry further, but you should consider sharing this with your brothers. Trust is hard to come by in our line of work. They'll likely value it more than you think."
Valens looked down, conflicted. "I haven't told them everything yet. It's…complicated."
The general put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "They won't care so much about the 'everything' as they will about knowing you trust them. Just remember that."
With that, the general left the room, leaving Valens alone to contemplate his words. Valens knew he had to tell his brothers sooner rather than later, but he also knew the weight of his knowledge wasn't something he wanted to burden them with—not yet, at least.
A knock broke his reverie, and he looked up to see Exeo stepping inside, carrying a bundle of letters. His expression softened with a flicker of surprise on seeing Valens alone in the general's office. "What did you talk about with the general?" Exeo asked casually.
Valens shifted, unsure of how to respond. But finally, he murmured, "I need to tell you and Ember something. About my ability."
Exeo's eyebrows lifted. "About when you first awakened it?"
Valens nodded, his voice quiet but steady. "I didn't tell you everything before. There were symbols and images…visions that are connected to our missions."
Exeo regarded him, curiosity mixed with concern. "Alright. We'll talk with Ember. But whatever it is, Val, you know you can trust us."
Valens took a deep breath, nodding. Together, they left the office to find Ember, Valens carrying with him the weight of his past—and a newfound resolve to share it.