Present Day: Alistair Illyria's POV
As Alistair Illyria stood at the highest tower of the royal capital, Arcathia, contemplating his next move, a wave of anxiety washed over him. The *Cosmic Chimera*'s warning had unsettled him, but what he saw now confirmed the gravity of his situation.
His vision was filled with an array of ancient symbols—an indication that something far worse was happening.
He extended his divine sense across the city, only to discover that Arcathia was entirely encased in a tier 12 formation.
His heart sank as the realization hit him: he was trapped.
The formation wasn't something that could be cast casually; it was supported by two gods and five demigods. Whoever had come for him was ready for war.
Alistair's eyes narrowed as he scanned the group responsible.
Their faces were obscured by devil masks, and an overwhelming sense of dread washed over him when he recognized the identity of his enemies: members of the Truth Order. His heart clenched, and his expression darkened further.
The Truth Order was infamous, their reputation built on two terrifying pillars: the utter secrecy of their members' identities and the incredible foresight of their master, the Prophet, who was said to peer into the future with alarming accuracy.
Alistair had hoped to take action against the Truth Order soon. He knew that his promotion to tier 11 Godhood would bring him into conflict with them eventually, especially since he had devised plans to undermine them.
But now it seemed they had struck first, which meant only one thing: the Prophet had foreseen his intentions and preemptively moved to stop him.
Since time immemorial, no one had successfully killed a member of the Truth Order. If the Prophet had foreseen casualties within their ranks caused by Alistair, it explained why they were attacking without warning or grievance.
The more he thought about it, the more grim his situation became.
*How far does the Prophet's sight extend?* Alistair wondered, his stomach churning.
The gravity of facing an organization whose leader could predict the future was suffocating. Every move he made might already have been accounted for.
Just as he weighed his options, the tattoo on his neck—the mark of his constellation, *Cosmic Chimera*—began to heat up, sending burning warnings through his body. He had no time to deliberate further.
Drawing upon the cosmic energy provided by his constellation, Alistair rapidly cast a tier 11 reinforced defensive spell, layering the castle in protective magic.
But it was too late.
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Third POV
From the skies above Arcathia, the Truth Order's forces made their move.
The air grew heavy, charged with an overwhelming magical force as they unleashed a catastrophic tier 12 spell—*Meteor Shower*.
Fiery meteors, each the size of buildings, began crashing down on the royal castle, tearing through the sky with devastating velocity.
The first meteor slammed into the outer walls of the fortress, shattering them instantly. An unstoppable cascade of destruction followed, as the enchanted defenses of the castle—reinforced by Alistair's own tier 11 spell—crumbled under the sheer magnitude of the assault.
Towers, once symbols of Illyria's ancient lineage, disintegrated in a flash. The royal castle, a symbol of the kingdom's power and prestige, fell in mere moments.
The enchanted stones and protective wards stood no chance against the overwhelming force of the *Meteor Shower*. With every strike, the ground trembled, and the very air was filled with the sound of shattering stone and collapsing magic.
In minutes, the once-grand royal stronghold had been reduced to smoking rubble. Fires burned across the ruins, and thick clouds of dust and debris rose into the sky, turning the scene into a desolate wasteland.
Where there had once been a beacon of royal authority, now there was only destruction.
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Alistair Illyria's POV
As the dust settled, a solitary figure emerged from the ruins.
Alistair Illyria stood amidst the devastation, bloodied and battered, yet unbroken. His divine aura flickered faintly, a sign of the immense toll the attack had taken on him. The castle was gone—his ancestral home, the heart of the Illyrian dynasty, reduced to nothing in a matter of moments. But Alistair remained.
His eyes, burning with fury, scanned the sky. His newly attained power as a tier 11 God surged within him, bolstered by the celestial energy of the *Cosmic Chimera*, yet even that hadn't been enough to stop the devastation.
The Truth Order had come prepared, not just to kill him, but to utterly erase him.
Rage boiled inside him. He had always known that achieving godhood would make him a target, but he hadn't expected to face such overwhelming force so soon.
The Prophet's foresight was far more terrifying than he had imagined. He realized now that the Truth Order wasn't just reacting to his ascension—they had anticipated every step he would take.
He was caught in a web of their design, and every move he made felt like playing into their hands.
But even in the face of such odds, Alistair's pride as both a god and an Illyrian ancestor refused to let him yield.
The flames of determination burned within him. If the Truth Order thought they could erase him so easily, they were sorely mistaken.
He was no longer just a demigod; he had ascended to godhood, and with that power came a defiance that even the Prophet could not predict.
"I am not finished," Alistair muttered, his voice low but seething with fury. "I will not fall here."
With his enemies closing in, Alistair knew the fight wasn't over. The Truth Order had made their move, but they had underestimated his will to survive.
As he gathered his strength, preparing for the next phase of the battle, he silently vowed that before this war was over, the Truth Order would come to regret the day they had challenged him.