In the heart of the grand palace of Orionis, six warriors stood before the emperor. Each one represented a star in the Orion constellation, their armor distinct and unranked, answering only to the emperor himself. These were the Astral Vanguard: Rovan Stoneheart, Elysia Wyrmslayer, Valthor Ironfist, Cairn Frostblade, Thandor Emberpeak, and Ariath Windshaper. They had been summoned for a gathering unlike any before—only the emperor and his right hand, Gab, were present.
The purpose of the meeting soon became clear: information had been obtained from the ancient Gilgamesh regarding the fabled Seal of Solomon. However, instead of providing a location, the only clue they had was a name: Lucifer, the King of Demons, also known as the Morning Star.
"My lord, the information is incomplete," Rovan, the leader of the Vanguard, spoke with barely restrained frustration. "How can an empire of our might not locate where the demons reside?"
Elysia, ever composed, countered, "Still, Rovan, we have a name. That alone gives us a starting point."
Before the tension could rise, Emperor Sargon silenced them with a powerful strike of his hand on the table. "I didn't summon you to question my power," he growled. "I summoned you to atone for your last failure. I had to retrieve one of the Nyxveil relics myself."
The room went deathly silent until Gab, the emperor's advisor, interjected. "We now have two relics. But there are more."
Sargon's eyes narrowed. "Two?"
Gab nodded. "Yes, my lord. The second relic was connected through Shino and Yacha—both possess the rare Thunder attribute, a key to unlocking the relics' true power."
At this, the room grew tense. The Astral Vanguard exchanged uneasy glances, clearly dissatisfied. Rovan was the first to speak. "With all due respect, their Thunder ability is not reason enough to induct them into the Vanguard."
Gab's gaze darkened. He had long harbored doubts about Shino, feeling something about her was… unnatural. "Perhaps," he muttered under his breath, "but there are other reasons to keep them close."
Before anyone could respond, Gab unleashed his anger. "You arrogant fools," he hissed, magic swirling around the room as invisible binds wrapped around the warriors, forcing them to their knees. His true form appeared—a fiery being with six wings, neither male nor female, radiating a divine power he rarely revealed. "We angels serve only the One. Remember your place!"
An explosion rocked the palace, shaking the very foundation. A guard stumbled in, panic etched on his face. "Your Majesty! Shino—she's battling Lord Naramsin!"
Outside, the palace grounds were in chaos. Yacha lay unconscious, battered, and broken, while Shino faced Naramsin in a brutal duel. Naramsin, though powerful, was barely able to stand against Shino's overwhelming gravitational force. Each of her blows sent him reeling, and with a final punch, she sent him crashing through the palace walls.
Shino raised her hand, her voice ringing out as she chanted a powerful spell:
"Thundara, strike with wrath untold;
By sky and storm, let lightning unfold;
Heed my call, from cloud to ground,
Roar with might, let thunder resound!"
The sky roared as lightning struck the earth beside her. But before she could finish, the Astral Vanguard surrounded her, their blades at her throat.
"That's enough!" Sargon commanded, his aura enveloping the entire city in an oppressive wave. He stepped forward, grabbing Shino's arm, his eyes burning with fury. "What were you thinking? Using an Elemental Dominion spell against my grandson?"
Shino, her expression cold, replied, "Naramsin was trying to shatter Yacha's core. You expect me to stand by and watch?"
Sargon's gaze softened as he looked at Yacha. He knew the boy was unique, destined for something greater, but he couldn't allow anyone—even Shino—to harm his bloodline. "I don't care if he's my grandson. No one touches that boy without consequences."
Gab stepped forward, furious. "How dare you speak to the emperor that way?"
But Sargon held up a hand, silencing his advisor. There was something in Shino's eyes—something even he didn't fully understand. Though he should punish her, the gods themselves had commanded him to protect her and Yacha.
Shino pulled her arm free from the emperor's grasp, kneeling by Yacha's side. Royal healers approached, but none dared to touch the boy after Shino's fierce refusal. One made the mistake of reaching for him, only to be sent flying by a single punch from Shino.
"*I said… NO ONE touches him.*"
Naramsin, humiliated and defeated, screamed in despair. "Why? Why him? He's nothing—no noble, no royalty! Why do you choose him over me?"
His voice broke with anguish. Naramsin had always admired Shino, his twisted affection manifesting in attempts to control her, but now he was left broken, consumed by jealousy. Sargon, despite his anger, ordered the healers to tend to Naramsin while Shino carried Yacha away.
Weeks passed, and Yacha had yet to wake. Shino remained by his side, haunted by her memories. One evening, a knock came at her door. Speira, Ursang, and Eline stood there, but before they could say a word, Speira lashed out, blaming Shino for what had happened to Yacha.
Shino said nothing as Speira's tears fell, pushing her in frustration. Ursang tried to intervene, but Eline held him back. The tension was broken when a figure approached—Sara, the dark elf.
"Before you blame Shino, you should know she's been protecting him since the beginning," Sara said.
The three were confused, demanding an explanation. Sara sighed. "You think you know Yacha, but you don't know their history. Long before you came into his life, Shino knew him."
Years ago, Shino had been a homeless wanderer, rejected by the world. One day, a boy approached her while she cried alone. He had brought her food, played with her, and became her first and only friend. But one day, she disappeared, leaving him with a promise to find him again. That boy was Yacha.
"I don't care if he's a Thunder user or weak," Shino said quietly. "I only wanted him back."
The group fell silent, realizing that Shino's bond with Yacha ran deeper than any of them had known. Shino had defied gods, kings, and armies to protect him. She led them to where Yacha lay, still unconscious but alive. Sara reassured them he would recover, but they left with more questions than answers, the mystery of Shino and Yacha only deepening.
Weeks before this moment, Naramsin sat alone in his quarters, his mind a storm of bitter thoughts. He stared out the window, brooding over recent events, when, as if from nowhere, a cat appeared on the windowsill. Its sleek form slinked along the ledge, and before Naramsin could react, the creature spoke.
"You're really going to let the boy take her away?" the cat said, its eyes gleaming with unnatural intelligence.
Naramsin's heart skipped a beat. A talking cat? He frowned and asked, "Who are you?"
But the cat merely flicked its tail dismissively. "That doesn't matter. What matters is you're letting a nobody take what's yours."
Naramsin stiffened, his face hardening as the cat's words struck a nerve. His obsession with Shino had become well-known in certain circles. She had always rejected his advances, but lately, he'd noticed something different—her interest in a newcomer, someone not of royal blood or status. It enraged him to think she might prefer this... Yacha. His eyes drifted out the window, and there they were, Shino and Yacha, sitting beneath a tree, chatting and laughing. A low growl rumbled in his throat.
Without another word to the cat, Naramsin stood abruptly and called for one of his guards. When the guard arrived, he ordered him to summon Shino to his office—alone.
As the guard carried out his duty, Naramsin leaped from the window, landing gracefully on the ground before Yacha. His royal presence was immediate, and Yacha quickly bowed in deference.
Naramsin's sneer was cruel. "A boy from the villages like you," he said, circling Yacha like a predator, "has no chance with her."
Before Yacha could respond, Naramsin kicked him viciously in the face, sending him sprawling. Yacha groaned in pain, blood trickling from his mouth as Naramsin stood over him, his expression twisting with malice. He raised a hand, and his eyes gleamed an unnatural purple—his magic, mind control, coming into play.
Yacha's body stiffened as Naramsin's power took hold, his limbs moving against his will. With a wave of his hand, Naramsin summoned a dagger, letting it clatter to the ground at Yacha's feet. His voice dripped with venom. "Pick it up," he commanded.
Yacha, sweat beading on his brow, reached for the dagger, his hand trembling as he gripped the hilt.
"And now, boy, stab yourself," Naramsin ordered his grin widening.
Yacha's arm rose slowly, the blade glinting in the sunlight as he angled it toward his chest. His eyes, wide with fear, fought against the magic, but his body was no longer his own. The blade inched closer to his heart.
Just as it seemed Yacha was about to plunge the dagger into his flesh, a blur of movement shot toward them. In a flash, Shino appeared, her fist connecting with Naramsin's jaw, the force sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact left a deep crack in the stone, and Naramsin slumped to the ground, dazed.
Shino wasted no time. Her hand shot forward, summoning shadows from the earth to bind Naramsin in place. The tendrils of darkness wrapped around him like chains, pinning him to the ground. Her eyes blazed with fury, and for a moment, it seemed like she would finish him then and there.
"Why?!" Naramsin screamed, struggling against the shadowy restraints. "Why him?!" His face twisted in a mix of rage and desperation. "Why choose that boy over me?!"
Shino said nothing, her face cold and unreadable as she dodged his frantic attacks. Naramsin finally broke free of the shadows, lashing out with his magic, but Shino was faster. She dodged every strike with ease, her movements fluid, and precise.
Finally, she saw an opening and struck with brutal force, landing a blow on Naramsin's ribs. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the courtyard as he gasped in pain. Before he could recover, Shino followed up with a gravity-infused punch that sent him crashing into the earth, creating a crater where he landed.
Naramsin lay there, broken, his body wracked with pain. He could barely move. Shino was about to deliver the final blow when a group of vanguards rushed in, stopping her magic just in time.
Breathing heavily, Shino stood over Naramsin's shattered form, her chest heaving with exertion. She looked back at Yacha, who lay bloodied and battered on the ground. A pang of guilt stabbed through her heart. This was her fault.