Aiya, overcome by deep sadness, bowed her head, sincerely apologizing to everyone for being deceived by Eron. "I'm so sorry... I really believed he was an ally," she said, her voice broken by guilt and regret. Noticing the weight the heroine carried, Arphaxad approached and placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "Don't blame yourself so much, Aiya. We were all deceived, not just you," he said, trying to ease the pain they all felt.
The place was immersed in a melancholy silence. Each one present struggled against their own feelings of betrayal and loss. For some, the pain was from still feeling affection for Eron, despite everything. For others, it was disgust at realizing they had been used as mere tools by the now servants of evil.
Adonis, holding unconscious Aura on the floor, looked outside and noticed something strange. "When we left Hwin's arena, the sun was rising... but now... the sky is as dark as at wolf hour," he said, his eyes fixed on the darkness covering Zoarlath. Sahara, also observing the sky, furrowed her brow. "It's true... by this time, the sun should be fully visible. What's happening here?" They were all perplexed, not understanding the strangeness of the situation.
Suddenly, a loud, increasing roar of an angry mob approaching began echoing through the streets, alerting everyone in the house. Adonis, heart racing, looked at the others. "Quick, everyone get inside Catoni's house!" he shouted, carrying Aura in his arms as he ran inside. Arphaxad followed, and together they began barricading the doors with boards and furniture.
Inside Catoni's workshop, granddaughter Hilda screamed in despair: "No, you can't go out yet!" Hearing the scream, they all turned and saw a staggering figure emerging through the door. It was Elanor, barely able to stand. Her face was so disfigured that Arphaxad, who knew her well, did not recognize her. Her hair had been cut and burned, and scars marked her once beautiful face.
Elanor babbled unintelligible words, her gaze lost in a void. Those present thought the pain and suffering had finally driven her to madness. Draka and Ninea continued sleeping, unaware of the chaos unfolding around them. Arphaxad, observing the situation, murmured to himself: "We can do nothing against this mob...only wait for them to calm down so we can leave this cursed place."
Markel, who had been silently this whole time, broke the silence with a grim observation. "It's still dark...when it should be light," he said, his voice laden with concern. Adonis, intrigued, replied: "This is clearly some magic from Eron...or the master he serves."
Meglin, visibly restless, remembered something Siba Kamin had mentioned. "When Siba Kamin asked Eron if he was an envoy of Voluptaroth... I've read much about the gods, good and evil, and I know Voluptaroth is the goddess of Lust, Witchcraft, Black Magic and Curses. But I've never seen the direct action of a god on earth."
Arphaxad interrupted, his voice grave. "The gods are always acting in this world, my friend. I myself faced one of their servants." The others were surprised and intrigued by the revelation. Sahara, eyes wide, asked: "You're talking about the war in Nannu, aren't you?"
"Yes," Arphaxad responded seriously. "That war is known in Alnuum as the War of Greed. We faced Morfrey, the avatar of greed's aspect, and Kal managed to defeat him." The others listened attentively, impressed. Meglin, ever the scholar, asked curiously: "What is it like to face a demigod?"
Arphaxad sighed deeply before responding. "If not for the bond with Kal, we never would have won. He used his divine power to bind all the souls of the warriors on that bloody battlefield and gave us strength to face that evil. But if you want the truth, without Kal's power, mankind will never be a match for an Avatar. Morfrey was far from having all the fullness of his power...and still he almost wiped Nannu off the map."
The weight of Arphaxad's words fell upon all in the room, leaving them worried and introspective. Aiya, however, could not allow despair to take hold. As a heroine, she felt the responsibility to lift spirits. Gripping Meglin's shoulder, she spoke firmly: "Even so, we cannot give up. From what we've seen, Eron is very powerful, but I know my friends," she said, looking at Meglin and Cruxe. "And I've seen all of you," she continued, turning her gaze to the others. "You are powerful, and even if we are not as strong as Eron at this moment, we cannot give up."
At that moment, Elanor, now in Catoni's arms, extended her trembling hand toward unconscious Aura and Yorin. Babbling an ancient magic, she murmured: "Divine 3rd Circle Magic: Healing Hands." A soft glow emitted from her hands, restoring consciousness to Aura and Yorin, waking them.
All in the room were stunned by what they had just witnessed. "That was...?" began Meglin, still incredulous.
"Yes, it was," Aiya responded with a tone of admiration and surprise. "Healing magic, a rare combination of water's flow with light and purity of divine magic. Not a common type of magic."
Adonis, visibly impressed, asked: "Who are you, girl?" Sahara, still perplexed by what she had just witnessed, only observed, awaiting an answer that could bring new revelations.
Elanor, struggling to express herself, babbled disconnected words, her attempts at communication frustrated by the severity of the trauma she had suffered. Those present desperately tried to understand what the princess was trying to say, but her speech was unintelligible, lost in the shadows of pain and suffering. With each failure to make herself understood, desperation grew in her heart, and soon, thick tears began rolling down her abused face. It was as if a great waterfall of sadness poured from her eyes, washing away the last glimmer of hope still trying to cling.
She tried to extend her hand to Arphaxad, silently imploring the gods for him to recognize her, for at least one person there to know who she truly was. But Arphaxad, who had witnessed so much horror and despair lately, did not recognize her. His heart, already heavy with pain and guilt, could not connect that shattered figure to the princess he had once known.
Exhausted and defeated by sadness, Elanor succumbed to pain, falling asleep in Catoni's arms while tears still streamed down her mistreated face. Sahara, observing the scene, felt deep compassion for the girl. Her heart ached to see that young woman so devastated, and she remembered Adonis' unique ability, Spiritbending. With that ability, he could look inside a person's spirit and learn more about their true identity and lineage. Sahara softly suggested to Adonis that he use his ability to discover who the girl before them really was.
Adonis hesitated, feeling the moral weight of such a decision. He had always considered this ability invasive and dangerous, a violation of one's most intimate privacy. But before he could definitively refuse, Yorin, now awake and feeling an inexplicable fondness for Elanor from the first moment, encouraged him to use his ability. There was something about that girl that attracted him, a connection he could not explain but could not ignore.
Convinced, though still reluctant, Adonis asked Catoni to prepare the girl so he could initiate the process of discovery. The atmosphere was heavy with expectation and tension, as Adonis prepared to cast his spiritual gaze upon Elanor's soul, seeking answers to who she was and what she had suffered.
Meanwhile, in the distant Sirus Strait, to the south of the great Lake Sirus, Hadon advanced with his army alongside Menoras. Three legions of the gods' paladins marched beneath the rising sun imposing in the sky. The air was heavy with the imminent battle approaching. In the distance, the silhouette of Zoarlath emerged, but what they saw made Hadon's blood run cold: a gigantic black dome enveloped the entire city, hiding it in an unnatural darkness.
Seeing that vision, Cardinal Menoras felt his heart race in panic. "What is that?" he asked, his voice laden with fear.
Hadon, equally perplexed, observed the scene with a grave demeanor. "It seems the situation is even worse than we imagined," he said, his eyes fixed on the strange phenomenon enveloping the city. A feeling of unease overtook him, as if the very atmosphere around Zoarlath was contaminated by some ancient and powerful evil.
Menoras, with a worried look, inhaled deeply and grimaced in disgust. "The smell of rot and death...is in the air, Hadon. The smell of blood is strong," he said, placing a hand to his nose, trying to ward off the nauseating odor.
Impressed with Menoras' ability to detect malice by smell, Hadon nodded, his expression heavy with concern. "Now you understand why we needed the legions. Something terrible is happening here, something beyond anything we've ever faced."
Jahum, leader of the first legion, approached mounted on his imposing war horse. His face was grim, eyes fixed on the black dome enveloping Zoarlath. "This is black magic, Hadon. We cannot linger here, or that city will serve as sacrifice for something greater and more terrible!" he said firmly, his voice full of determination.
With a swift motion, Jahum raised his sword and commanded the troops, ordering them to march to Zoarlath as quickly as possible. No time could be wasted; every second that passed could mean the condemnation of thousands. The ground trembled under the weight of the advancing legions, the sound of shining armor and gleaming swords echoing like distant thunder, as the gods' sacred soldiers neared the city shrouded in shadows, ready to face the evil rising before them.
Set stood before Alnuum's gates, watching with an empty, cruel gaze as his golden-eyed soldiers were massacred. He had given the order to charge headlong, without any strategy, unlike the intelligent and cautious Set - it was almost as if he wished to see the destruction of the men he led. The blood and death spreading across the battlefield seemed a grim reflection of Set's own torments.
Relon, unlike his men who were starting to taste victory, maintained a serious posture. He knew as long as Set lived, the true battle was not yet over. Suzannah, now being carried by Sillard, struggled to recover her mana, determined to prepare for the inevitable confrontation against Set. Even with his enemies dying around him, Set only smiled, a grim, sadistic smile, appreciating the carnage with a pleasure stemming from an inner darkness.
Within Set's mind, memories of the past blended with the present. Saladon's magical summons pulsated within him, reviving painful memories of his men being massacred by these same soldiers, carrying out Saladon's merciless orders. Now, seeing them fall one by one, Set felt a perverse satisfaction, almost a personal vengeance, not against the dying soldiers, but against the world that had molded him.
Amidst this chaos, Set remembered a conversation with Winy, his faithful subordinate, before the massacre. She had always been a joyful, lively presence, a ray of light in the darkness surrounding him. "Winy, forgive me," Set thought, his mind returning to that night. "I lied to you... I said my dream was to live in a country house, peaceful and at rest..." A shadow crossed his gaze as he recalled his true dream he had always hidden. "I didn't tell you my real dream because it was too grim."
His true dream was not peace, but an end to suffering. He wanted to destroy the cycle of pain that dominated his life, to end it all, even his own existence. The desire for death was as deep as the power he possessed. For Set, death was not something to fear, but a liberation from the unbearable burden he carried.
With a fluid motion, Set drew his rapier, and an explosion of mana enveloped his body. The air around him seemed to vibrate with released energy, and then without hesitation, he broke into a furious run toward Nannu's gates. There were no more tactics or plans. There was only the desire to end that battle once and for all, and perhaps finally find the end he so longed for.
As he advanced, the world seemed to slow down around him. With every step, the memories and pains of his life became more intense. The grim smile never left his face as he drew nearer and nearer to the gates, determined to face anyone who stood in his way. It did not matter if they were skilled warriors or children bearing rusty weapons - nothing could prevent Set from achieving his final goal.
Watching Set approach, Relon felt a chill run down his spine. He knew the true challenge lay with Set, and this would be a confrontation like no other. Set's figure, enveloped in an aura of pure destruction, drew near like an inevitable storm, and the city of Nannu was about to face its most difficult test.