In the grand, echoing chambers of the Kenshire kingdom castle, Zabriel stood at the center of a semicircle of judges, known as the Justicars of the Divine Order. These Justicars, custodians of law and celestial enforcers, maintained the balance between the divine will and mortal actions, interpreting the edicts of the gods through rigorous jurisprudence. At the forefront was Judge Helsong, a figure of imposing authority with slick black hair, dark red eyes, and a striking gold rune tattoo on his face, symbolizing his esteemed position within the Order. Draped in a black and gold robe that reflected his august office, he held a golden balancing scale, a literal and figurative representation of his role: to weigh the actions of men against the dictates of the gods.
"Zabriel," started Judge Helsong, his voice resonating through the hallowed hall, "you stand here accused of defying the express wishes of our king, Arshan, who ordained that no one should attempt to save him during the recent battle. A king's command is sacrosanct, its defiance an affront not only to his sovereignty but to the structure that the deities themselves have ordained."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to imprint upon those present, then continued, "Let us reflect on the divine structure that governs not only our kingdom but also the myriad realms within our world. The deities of Kanaan—Aurelia, Goddess of Light and Wisdom, illuminates our path, while Terrathor, God of Earth and Growth, nourishes our lands. Zephyra, Goddess of Winds and Change, whispers the truths of transformation, and Aquamir, God of Waters and Reflection, reveals the depths of our souls. Ignis, God of Fire and Passion, stokes the flames of our spirit, and Lunara, Goddess of Night and Mystery, cloaks our dreams in her velvet darkness. At the zenith of this pantheon sits Zepharion, the All-Seer, God of Unity and Perfect Order, under whose gaze all is known and all is balanced, and who's being this kingdom looks up to for guidance and justice."
The Justicars around him nodded in solemn agreement, their robes shifting softly with the movement. Helsong's gaze hardened as he addressed the assembly further, "These divine entities are the essential forces that guide and govern the cosmos. Across the varied lands, kingdoms pay homage to these deities in distinct yet interconnected manners. The kingdom of Valor, known for its indomitable fortresses and knights, draws strength from Ignis, worshiping through the flame that eternally burns at the heart of their capital. The ethereal scholars of Elyses seek wisdom under Aurelia's gentle and illuminating glow, their libraries vast repositories of celestial lore."
"Even the mystical creatures of our land, the winged Seraphs of the high mountains or the deep-dwelling Krakens of the Nether Sea, embody aspects of these divine beings, drawing their formidable powers from their celestial patrons. Our entire world, its various races and creatures, are irrevocably tied to the divine essence of these gods."
He turned his penetrating gaze back to Zabriel, "And yet, despite this intricate tapestry of faith and fealty, despite the overarching presence of our beings, you, Zabriel, choose to act as if you stand above this divine order. Your repeated disappearances, your unilateral actions, suggest a belief that you are beholden to none, that the rules carved by divine and mortal hands alike do not apply to you."
Zabriel said nothing.
Behind the door of the court, Holt and Gill stood.
Gill whispered, "What do you think is gonna happen to him?"
Holt replied, "I hope nothing. I want to be the one to battle that masked brat!"
"I think…I think…no disrespect, but he's gonna—."
"Don't even say it, or I'll pop your head open."
"Nevermind."
Helsong's voice rose, echoing dramatically in the high-ceilinged chamber, "But let me remind you, Zabriel, that not even the gods themselves stand alone; each is part of a greater whole—a symphony of cosmic balance. By defying the king's command, you have not only disobeyed a mortal ruler but have also disrupted the divine equilibrium, asserting your will over the collective destiny ordained by the gods."
As the quiet murmur of agreement rose from the surrounding Justicars, Judge Helsong's figure seemed to grow, bolstered by the authority of his words and the sacredness of his office. Holding up the golden scale, he declared, "Today, we measure your deeds against the expectations of both the crown and cosmos. Let this be a reminder that the world does not revolve around any one individual, no matter how mighty. We are all but threads in the divine loom, woven together to fulfill the grand pattern laid out by the deities of Kanaan."
King Arshan was present, sitting on his throne, just watching and listening, thinking, 'What is under that mask of his? To think of it, I've never even seen his face or heard him speak..I don't think anyone has.'
Judge Helsong, with the solemnity befitting a sacred rite, raised the golden balancing scale high above, its intricate details shimmering in the dim light of the chamber. His voice, deep and resonant, began to chant in a tone thick with the power of ancient words, "By the eternal gaze of Zepharion, the All-Seer, God of Unity and Perfect Order, let balance be restored."
As he spoke the deity's name, the atmosphere in the chamber thickened, the air vibrating with the imminent manifestation of divine justice. The scale in Helsong's hand began to glow with a golden light, casting long shadows across the stone floors. Suddenly, the room was plunged into darkness, and when the light returned, Zabriel found himself standing on one side of the scale which Helsong had activated. The other side remained ominously empty, a stark symbol of the imbalance he was being accused of.
In a swift movement, golden chains, gleaming with an otherworldly essence, sprang from the scale and wrapped tightly around Zabriel, constraining him with the weight of his alleged transgressions. Judge Helsong, his face a mask of divine fury, drew a magnificent sword from his side. The weapon was a striking blend of black and gold, its aura pulsating with the same colors, a mythical artifact perhaps forged in the fires of celestial judgment.
With another chant, this time a fervent invocation for justice, Helsong surged forward at an impossible speed, the black and gold sword aimed straight at Zabriel's heart. The blade, certain of its deadly purpose, pierced through the space where Zabriel had been standing but, in a flash of brilliant strategy, Zabriel had vanished, the chains that bound him now ensnaring Helsong's neck. In an instant reversal, Zabriel appeared behind the judge, seizing the golden chains and throwing Helsong with formidable force across the room. The impact was thunderous as Helsong crashed through a wall, dust and debris filling the air.
Everyone gasped:
"What the hell?!"
"He defied justice!"
As the other Justicars and knights around readied their weapons, poised for a fight, a commanding voice cut through the tension. King Arshan himself stood up, his voice resonant with authority, "Enough."
The other Justicars were about to make a move, but Ellie suddenly appeared, holding one Justicar by the throat with a blade to it, and her foot pointed to the others with a blade coming out of her foot.
"I wouldn't do anything crazy, idiots." Ellie said.
The room stilled, the Justicars murmuring their dissent. "But sire, our kingdom's covenant with Zepharion demands reparation for such transgressions," one protested, their devotion to the deity of balance and order evident in their plea.
King Arshan's gaze swept across the room, measured and resolute. "If Zabriel had wished to kill Judge Helsong, he would have. Consider this not clemency, but a warning. Let this be the end of it.."
King Arshan, maintaining the composure of a sovereign who had just averted a potentially volatile confrontation, led Zabriel away from the chaotic scene to a more secluded chamber. His expression mixed with frustration and relief, he faced Zabriel with a stern yet understanding look.
"Zabriel, your strength and capabilities are invaluable assets to this kingdom," Arshan began, his tone firm but fair. "However, even unparalleled strength must bow to the laws that uphold our society. Today, I will spare you from harsher consequences, but let this serve as a clear reminder that the laws must be obeyed."
He paused, his gaze piercing, "I didn't believe Helsong would go as far as to kill you. Disobedience warrants punishment, yes, but the severity must align with the crime. Today's events... they escalated beyond necessity. It happened quickly, so fast that I couldn't comprehend it fully until after he was gonna kill you after. He must've seen me ready to speak up, I guess that's when he dashed forward to try and kill you."
Changing the subject to lighten the atmosphere, Arshan continued with a slight smile, "You should join the banquet tonight. And bring that woman devil Ellie along," he nodded towards where Ellie leaned casually against the wall, her presence almost as formidable as Zabriel's.
Ellie, with her typical fiery demeanor, pushed away from the wall, arms still folded, and shot back, "Stop yapping, I'll go."
Arshan chuckled at her response, then turned back to Zabriel, "And put on something nice, will you? I've arranged a suit for you. It's about time we eased the mood around here with some celebration." With that, he clapped Zabriel on the shoulder and left, adding over his shoulder, "Three hours until we begin."
Zabriel stood there silently, as Ellie approached him, saying, "That nerdy judge guy really wanted you dead huh? Guess he got what he deserved."
Zabriel said nothing.
Ellie continued, "Now then, you're not wearing that to the banquet. I can tell you're not planning on changing. At all. That Shit is dirty. Covered in blood and dirt. I'll help you."
Zabriel said, "No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes. I'll make you. Such a weirdo."
As the king's footsteps receded down the hall, the scene shifted to the exterior of the demolished chamber. Helsong slowly picked himself up from the rubble, his body a tapestry of blood and dust. His expression was one of deep frustration and self-reproach. "By Zepharion's sight, how could I fail in my duty?" he muttered. His devotion to his role as a Justicar and to the deity of balance, Zepharion, weighed heavily on him, and he despised himself for his inability to execute what he believed to be divine justice. "The shame I'm feeling…I can't even bear it. Dammit! How can I call myself a judge and can't carry out what needs to be done?! Why am I a failure..?"
However, he was not alone in his brooding for long. Shadowy figures, cloaked in hooded robes, appeared almost out of thin air, quietly encircling him. One reached out a hand, the gesture both an offer and an omen. "Zepharion sees you, Helsong. He sees how you stood up against a Titan of Chaos they call Zabriel," one of the figures spoke in a voice like a whisper of wind.
"Join us," another said, the invitation hanging heavily in the air, laden with both promise and the weight of unseen consequences.
"This must be a test…from Zepharion himself! To see if I've truly given up on convicting darkness!" Helsong smiled.
In the enveloping darkness of what seemed an endless void, Judge Helsong withdrew his cherished balancing scale, his voice echoing excerpts from the sacred texts of Zepharion, the deity of balance. The words floated through the void, infused with a desperate piety. Behind him loomed a gigantic representation of his scale, shimmering faintly in the gloom, a symbol of the cosmic justice he so fervently upheld.
The shadowed figures, cloaked in darkness and mystery, regarded Helsong with an eerie calm. "You mistake this trial, Helsong. Zepharion does not test you with darkness to provoke defection but to enlighten and strengthen," one whispered, his voice a caressing chill against Helsong's resolve. "So says the Father of the Red Flame."
But Helsong, steadfast and unyielding, was not swayed. Clutching the golden book of sacred chants in one hand, he summoned his divine weapon with the other—a golden hammer aglow with celestial light, runes etched deeply into its surface spelling obliteration for those deemed unjust. With a thunderous cry, he invoked the first spell, golden light arcing through the void as he struck at the nearest figure.
The hooded adversaries responded with fluid grace, their skills in martial arts turning their dodges into a shadowy dance of death. As Helsong's hammer swung with devastating force, one figure touched it, shadow enveloping the golden light, dissolving it into dark wisps. Another figure teleported behind Helsong, leaving a trail of crows in his wake, delivering a swift, punishing strike that sent Helsong sprawling.
Undeterred, Helsong rose, his white wings unfurling majestically, halo burning brightly as he chanted from his book. Chains of radiant light shot forth, aiming to bind and sear his foes. Yet, the figures were relentless, their shadow magic turning his formidable spells into mere shadows of their potential, dissipating upon touch.
One figure closed in, his fists covered in dark mist, striking Helsong squarely in the chest. The impact sounded with a sickening crunch, bones breaking under the force as blood sprayed in a vivid arc. Helsong's body hit the ground hard, yet before darkness claimed him, the shadowy assailants revived him, ready to teach through suffering.
The battle wore on, each of Helsong's attacks met with precise and brutal counterstrikes. A hooded figure grasped Helsong's arm during another golden light attack, the touch corrupting the spell into a burst of dark flames that engulfed Helsong himself. Screams tore from his throat as his skin charred, only for the dark magic to heal him forcibly, thrusting him back into combat.
With each revival, Helsong's resolve waned, his attacks a tick slower, his chants a note shakier. The shadowed figures, embodiments of merciless justice, showed no sign of fatigue, their forms blurring in and out of existence, always evading, always striking with lethal intent. One devastating moment came as a figure appeared directly in front of Helsong, a fist driving into his stomach, shadow energy exploding inside him, splintering his ribs outward in a display of grotesque brutality.
As the fight drew on, Helsong's resistance began to crumble under the continuous onslaught of resurrected agony and relentless darkness. Bloodied, beaten, and repeatedly brought to the brink of death only to be cruelly snatched back to consciousness, the realization dawned upon him; perhaps this was indeed Zepharion's darker teaching — strength through submission to the inevitable.
Finally, with his body broken and spirit tethered to the precipice of despair, Helsong ceased his resistance, dropping his hammer and book as his knees hit the cold ground of the void. A hooded figure approached, extending a shadow-coated hand in invitation, a silent offering of acceptance and unity within the dark.
"Witness true balance through the harmony of light and shadow," the figure intoned solemnly.
Exhausted and defeated, his will overwhelmed by the dark revelations of his ordeal, Helsong took the proffered hand, his last thoughts clinging to a hope that this choice was his salvation, or perhaps his final descent into the depths of a new order of balance. The figures, in unison, pulled him into their midst, the shadows swallowing them whole as the scene faded into an oppressive, suffocating darkness.
"Prepare to meet Father."
As they were engulfed in the shadows, Helsong saw a being sitting on a throne, his head was literally a red sun covered in red flames, wearing nothing for clothing but something covered in his crotch, which was a black leaf.
"Here he is…Father of the Red Flame."