Practically no one could resist. The divine majesty of the Imaginary Tree was simply too great for mortals to even witness, much less to face. To be on the receiving end of its influence was nothing short of a miracle.
They knelt down in unison. Some kept their heads low as though in willing servitude while some others looked to the man whose visage was reflected in the scarlet heaven, their eyes lit with reverence. Then Caelum continued.
"Most of you likely already know of me and of what I have done. I shall make it clear. I do not intend to beg for forgiveness.
My Sin is mine to bear, along with the souls of those who had perished by my flames. But that does not absolve all of you of your Sins, of your apathy and vanity.
Thus I urge you all, show me that you are worthy of salvation. Your survival is in your hands, not in mine."
With his words, everyone looked around them. The ruins of their homes still lay as black as coal. The corpses that were no longer in their sight seemed to vie for their attention from the afterlife. And the haggard looks of those who remained reminded them of the doom they faced.
It was true. He could have easily killed them all or just as easily left them to die, but he did not. He reined in his anger and gave them a chance.
If they still continued to feign ignorance, if they still indulged in their own comforts, if they still valued their pride over the fate of their world, then they ought to be drowned in a sea of remorse from which there would be no salvation.
"I shall give you all a task. Rebuild this world. Halo will be leading this endeavour, but I expect you all to work well on it. I will be leaving for another world soon and I do not know how long it will take me to return. So you had best work fast or you will die from another invasion before long."
When everyone heard he was leaving, they panicked. The threat they faced was real. And without Caelum, they were certain that they would not survive for long. They realised that he really was giving them a chance by even telling them this.
At the same time, it was a trial. This was their first trial to show they were worthy of his care and protection.
As all their thoughts converged into one, the leaders of different nations and organisations were finally witnessing the change they had always felt was coming.
From this day onward, the world will be ruled by only one man and no one would even dare fight him for it.
Caelum, however, could not care less about ruling the world. This world was just one of countless others in the Myriad Worlds. It was only one out of countless others in Existence.
There was so much more for him to focus on than ruling one inconsequential land whose civilisation was not even advanced enough to aid him whatsoever. His thoughts have already shifted toward his next agenda.
[All who bear the Blood of Grace, hear me.]
Before the people of Earth could even fully digest the news, they were shocked once again. Caelum's voice was now dripping with an authority they could not comprehend, a power beyond their mundane imaginations.
They turned their gazes back toward the sky. Some wondered if he was actually going to make the House of Grace the ruling organisation so soon, but their thoughts could not be any further from the truth.
After all, they could not tell that the Scarlet Moon itself pulsed with every word he spoke at that moment. Its Scarlet Light spread across the Myriad Worlds, reaching even the edges of Reality.
And all those who carried the Blood of Grace heard his voice and felt their blood submitting to him. They all knelt toward him, regardless of where they were, even those who did not know of their heritage.
[Among the countless branches of the House of Grace, the one that settled on Earth had inherited the legacy of the first generation of your race, the Astels. You carry the Breath of Oaths with you thus marking you as the current Heavenly Roundtable. And as the Pillar of Grace, I shall give you a task. Prepare to welcome your kin.]
For most of the people of Earth, they could not understand what he meant. All they understood was that the House of Grace was not just an ordinary clan.
To the former leaders of the world who knew the House of Grace to be an ancient Queendom, they were even more confused. Never had they heard of the title 'Pillar of Grace' nor did they know its significance to the House of Grace. So they could not understand how Caelum could simply command the House of Grace without the permission of the Matriarch.
But to those who carried the Blood of Grace, even those who were not formally part of the House of Grace, they felt their blood boiling.
Every single one of them, regardless of which world they were from or what background and status they had, they all understood one thing.
The Pillar of Grace has finally returned. And with his return, the House of Grace will awaken to the dawn of their promised future.
Every single one of them felt their minds being flooded with ancient knowledge kept within their very blood. To those who did not know their heritage, they were made to know and more. And to those who already knew, they were given revelations of their origin.
Their race was one that took on countless forms of other races from all across the Myriad Worlds. But regardless of their features, they were all Astels created by the Ancestor of Grace.
He was not only their King. He was their God. And he was their father.
[All who bear the Blood of Grace, you who were born from the Star of Grace, who were born of my Original Breath, I welcome you.
By the Scarlet and the Imaginary Lights, I call upon the Golden Light. Lend me your power and bless my children, they who were born from your radiant gift.]
This was something Caelum had prepared for a while now. After regaining some of the memories of the previous cycles and successfully completing the Scarlet Tribulation, he had one singular opportunity to unleash his divine will in however manner he wished.
The Scarlet Moon and the Imaginary Tree would be the ones to make it a reality. It was a boon that was tied to every form of his tribulations.
This was a legacy from an archaic time, from a time that he still could not remember. There was a name tied to it, one that was always at the tip of his tongue, but could not remember. Regardless, he needed it now.
As he unleashed his divine will, both the Scarlet Moon and the Imaginary Tree responded. They burst out with a bright scarlet light and a mystical pinkish light, fusing together as they swept across Reality.
When the two lights reached a certain golden star, the star erupted with a radiant golden light that contained a tremendous amount of Divinity.
It fused with the crimson and pinkish lights as they bathed the Myriad Worlds with their power. And at that moment, every single person who carried even just a trace of the Blood of Grace was baptised by three divine lights carrying an ancient aura.
Their blood was awakened, giving them greater power than they ever had. But most importantly, they felt a calling. Their souls were being tugged toward the origin of this ancient power, calling them back to his embrace.
[House of Grace, my dear children, return to me. And prepare for war.]
~~~
The cold chill in the air was biting. The evening darkness was suffocating. They all wandered about aimlessly, but they all wished to be free.
The moonlight above was changing. It was once a caring thing, but now they could feel it. It pierces them with a gentle touch. The pain it brought was addicting.
Throughout the days, they howled. Their cries of anguish resounding in the dark, luring the unfortunate and the fools who fall prey to an early demise. They join them in the carnival of torture.
They were the forgotten, the lost and the forsaken.
The light was said to be the greatest gift to all, that it was the instrument of paradise that brings happiness and peace. Misfortune vanishes, never to be seen, never to be known.
The gullible children sleep knowing that the light will keep them in its warm embrace. But they could not be any more wrong.
The forgotten call out, but their voices are unheard.
The lost continue to walk, but the light blinds their way.
The forsaken struggle to even think of life beyond the illusion.
They were the forbidden of the world, forbidden by the light.
They too were living, but they were treated like blight. A plague that gnaws at the greatest lie there ever was, the light's little paradise.
Their tortured screams were the heaven's music, and the children cheer with every chorus. They want to stop, but the pain was addicting. It was maddenning how the light had turned them into kindling, fuel for its everlasting brilliance.
And so the children sleep once more amidst the humming howls of forbidden souls. The paradise is at peace, a utopia at repose.