As the ash settled over the desolate sprawl of Kenshire, Father stood towering and triumphant, his cold gaze sweeping over the multitude of Cult of Fabel members amassed before him. With an ominous tone, thick with the promise of further darkness, he commanded, "Rise, my children, and spread across the world. Seek out the remainder of the Immortal Seeds. Blend into the hierarchies of kingdoms and royal families if you must. Infiltrate their ranks, gather their secrets—do whatever it takes to bring these seeds to me. Become kings if you must! Aristocrats! Nobles! Peasants! Commoners! Be anything! Blend in to gain access to the seeds! Or go all out! This is the first step to Perfect Order!"
A thunderous cheer erupted from the thousands of cultists gathered, their voices a discordant symphony of fervor and zeal. In an orchestrated movement as terrifying as it was mesmerizing, they dispersed, a dark tide washing across the lands with one unifying, malevolent purpose.
As the cultists vanished into the growing shadows of twilight, Father turned to Helsong, a grin of sinister satisfaction playing across his lips. "Zabriel will not return from the abyss," he proclaimed with a finality that chilled the air. "I feel your anxiety. Don't fret. Yes, he has the power to get stronger each time he heals himself or others, but he cannot go against the limitless power of Zepharion."
And everyone dispersed.
Meanwhile, Zabriel continued his endless descent through the dark abyss filled with roses, each petal a stark contrast to his torment. Memories of Ellie flashed through his mind—a montage of their childhood years spent training together, the shared meals, the stealthy missions, and the kiss that had sealed their fates at the banquet. Tears streamed down his face as he thought, 'I should have been there to save you, Ellie. Instead, here I am…here I am…swallowed by my shame, agony….defeat.' These emotions, all too familiar, now compounded by the overwhelming sense of having failed the one person who had made him feel wanted, loved.
Resigned to his fate, Zabriel gave in to the despair, allowing the abyss to consume him. But just as hope seemed extinguished, a familiar voice cut through the darkness. "Zabriel! I got you!" It was Gill, the young soldier, his hand stretched into the abyss, sturdy and sure.
Gill's intervention was nothing short of miraculous as he grasped Zabriel's hand. But the rescue was far from simple. Red flame beasts dove into the abyss after them, their fiery forms a blazing threat. With Zabriel on his back, tears and blood mixing on his face, Gill made a desperate ascent. He leaped from one beast to another, each jump a painful, bloody struggle as claws and flames tore at his flesh. Clinging to Zabriel, Gill's eyes turned pure white, his teeth gritted against the pain, his body drenched in crimson.
With one final surge of strength, Gill propelled himself and Zabriel out of the abyss. They rolled onto the grass, gasping for breath, the night air a balm compared to the hellish heat below. As they lay there, the camera panned back to reveal the horrific cost of their escape—Gill, now missing his right arm, his sacrifice stark against the green of the grass.
Beneath the somber sky, Zabriel kneeled on the scarred land, his wounds slowly glowing a virulent teal color as they mended. He rose steadily to his full height, observing the devastation wrought by the cult. Anguish twisted his features as he murmured, "Those cult members... they're gonna blend in, hiding amongst men, seeking those cursed seeds... I will exterminate them all... Helsong... Father... neither deserves any mercy..."
He walked through the silent aftermath, pausing briefly by Holt's charred remains, positioned in solemn prayer yet engulfed in crimson flames. The sight drew a weary sigh from him, but it was the tragic form of Ellie, also in a prayer-like repose but covered in flames, that halted him completely. Kneeling beside her, he whispered brokenly, "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have left you… it's my fault. I was so focused on eradicating the root of the chaos... I underestimated my enemy. We were taught as children to gauge our opponent's strength before engagement, but after your dream, after what I promised... I lost sight of it all. You were the only warmth I knew, and it clouded my judgment... I will avenge you, Holt, the others... and King Arshan."
It was then that Gill stepped forward, saying with a determined look, "I'm coming with you!"
Zabriel shook his head. "No. Stay behind and bury these bodies."
Gill, with a pleading tone, unfolded his own story of lifelong struggles and failures. "No! I was always the weakest, always defeated despite hard training and relentless effort. Helping you might finally give me a sense that I'm not a complete failure. Do you know what it's like to work so hard and nothing come out of it?! Or-Or work so hard and things still fuck up?! Doing whatever I can to make my day go well but it just turns to shit every time?! You're strong…I immediately looked up to you. Please..take me with you."
"…"
"Before you got here…I survived because I stayed inside, those who were exposed to the outside caught the red flame, and then died. Helsong…he held Arshan hostage and laughed…telling everyone he'll spare him if they all kneeled and prayed, and they did, and the flames killed them. I have a reason for doing this…I sat back because I knew I wasn't strong enough. I was too scared! To die? Yeah. Maybe..it sucks.."
Compelled by Gill's resolve, Zabriel instructed, "….Then kneel. Extend…your hand." As Gill complied, Zabriel plunged a small dagger through his hand. Gill's scream pierced the quiet dusk.
'What is this?!' Gill thought. 'It hurts!'
Amidst Gill's cries, Zabriel recited the Oath of The Crow, the creed from the dark assassin orphanage he and Ellie were raised in—explaining its purpose, its merciless demands, its shadowy honor. Even as Gill writhed in pain, the ritualistic words flowed, tying Gill's fate to the brotherhood.
"The shadows we inhabit are not for the faint-hearted. We strike from the darkness, not for glory, but for purpose. To endure this pain is to embrace the life of an assassin. With this oath, you bind your soul to the cause. Those who are members of the brotherhood can indict new recruits…those who have a drive to see justice prevail…."
As Zabriel concluded, spectral black crow wings unfurled behind Gill, fluttering intensely before vanishing. A black crow tattoo now marked his back, a permanent sign of his new allegiance.
Helping Gill to his feet, Zabriel intoned, "As of today, like me, you are an assassin. And as an assassin, you kill when it's necessary, and obey my commands. Understand?"
Through his tears and pain, Gill clenched his fists and nodded fiercely, "Got it."
Suddenly, Zabriel's assassin/healer attire came back as it formed slowly on him: his white hoodie, white mask with runes on it, his white cape, and white armor with the glowing teal cross insignia in the middle of it. And Gill had a black crow cape form on his back, a black hoodie made from crow feathers, black armor, black pants made from crow feathers, and black boots.
Gill put his hoodie on.
Zabriel said, "The cult members..they'll be blending into society. We will kill them..every last one, every single cult member and take the seeds for ourselves if we find them. But first..we bury these bodies. Those fuckers just started a war…"
"Where do we start, Zabriel?"
"We locate the Crow. The assassin brotherhood."
'Ellie…I will avenge you. I'm sorry again…look at me. I'll…I'll make this right. The only way to get over my shame…is to end the cult, Helsong..and the Father.
As Gill was prepared to bury the bodies, Zabriel looked into the sky, and took deep breaths, clenching his fists.
'I promise..'