Holy Tritan Temple,
Assembly of Head Echelons
"Is he really as powerful as the reports claim?" a green-haired youth asked, his tone lighthearted yet tinged with curiosity.
"I say, so what if he is strong? Have you even read the report submitted to our Sanctified Order?" Across the grand chamber, a man in his late twenties, clad in ornate robes of authority, scoffed, his expression dismissive.
"And so what if he is? We have enough crises within these walls already. Adding this tyrant to the list is a luxury we cannot afford. I say we dispatch the Judicators without hesitation."
His sharp tone cut through the room, utterly ignoring the green-haired boy's inquiry, as though the question itself was an affront to their precarious situation. The weight of his words hung heavy, sparking murmurs of agreement and dissent among the gathered leaders.
"Lucas Vaylwind, how many times must I remind you not to ignore Sylas's words? Childish as he may be, you would do well to remember—he's stronger than you!"
The irritated voice belonged to another green-haired individual, a woman with an aura of authority and sharpness that silenced the room momentarily. Her piercing gaze bore into Lucas, the man in his late twenties and none other than the Hero of Light.
It was clear she wasn't just any stranger; her resemblance to the green-haired youth revealed their connection—his elder sister, with the same striking features but a sharper, more commanding presence.
Lucas, unfazed, leaned back in his chair with an air of casual indifference. "Tell me, Alestia, what do you think?" he asked, this time directing his inquiry to another figure, purposefully bypassing the green-haired youth yet again.
Alestia Valthorne, a silver-haired beauty seated at the far edge of the round table near the grand window, remained unbothered by the ongoing argument. She turned her gaze briefly from the view outside to glance at the commotion but chose to stay silent.
She was the Heroine of Law, and alongside Lucas Vaylwind and Sylas Sylvannis, the three champions of Law, Light, and Life, they bore the immense responsibility of the realms' balance—a balance now on the brink of upheaval.
*Crack*
*Crack*
The sound echoed through the hall, silencing all in attendance. No one had anticipated the doors to the grand chamber would open at such a moment. What was unfolding before them was one of the most significant events in the history of the temple—the Assembly of Head Echelons.
The disturbance in the air suggested that something significant had transpired outside. It was clear to all present that it was connected to the tyrant's arrival.
Everyone was on edge, awaiting the news and wondering who would be the one to deliver it.
After all, anyone bold enough to interrupt the assembly with urgent news must hold a position of authority far above most here.
Under the scrutinizing gazes of the assembly, four figures entered, accompanied by a small battalion of knights.
What they witnessed next stunned everyone. Three of the figures were immediately recognizable—the Triaches, the supreme representatives of the three goddesses in this world. But what shocked the assembly even more was the sight of the three revered figures showing unmistakable deference to the individual following them.
This person, whose identity was shrouded in mystery, was someone even the upper echelons of the three churches had never encountered, let alone expected to see in such a revered place.
"Bow your head in the presence of Aeloria Lumis, the Triache, the Supreme Faith of Light!"
"Bow your head in the presence of Thalor Vitae, the Triache, the Supreme Faith of Life!"
"Bow your head in the presence of Kaelstryx Lexis, the Triache, the Supreme Faith of Law!"
The announcement echoed through the hall like a divine decree, compelling every member of the Assembly. The head echelons, the three heroes, and even the Sanctified Order stood as one, bowing respectfully to the three supreme representatives of their goddesses.
Yet, amidst their gestures of reverence, their gazes subtly drifted toward the man standing behind the Triaches—a figure draped in long satin garments that seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow. Their curiosity burned as they tried to discern his identity.
"Bow your head in the presence of Lord Deity Vaelquoryneth, the Eternity Incarnation, the Caesar War Guardian!"
The hall fell utterly silent. The honours continued, but the titles themselves sparked confusion and awe. While none present understood the full meaning of "Eternity Incarnation" or "Caesar War Guardian," the truth of the figure before them shattered their composure.
The one standing in their midst was a being of the deity realm—an existence that stood at the pinnacle of power, even among the highest echelons of their faith.
The heroes, though seasoned and having encountered deities in the past, trembled under the oppressive aura radiating from this ancient figure. They knew well who he was.
Vaelquoryneth, the Incarnation of Eternity, was the Holy Tritan Temple's ancient guardian, a being who had endured through an eon of time. One of the oldest deities in existence, his divine charge was to protect the temple from all impurities.
Moreover, Vaelquoryneth was no ordinary deity. He served as the Steward of the Three Churches, a guiding hand to the faiths of Light, Life, and Law. To the deities that guarded these churches, he was a mentor—a Godfather of their divine order.
The tyrant who was also the Hero of Warcraft, an ancient champion of the primordial god of Slaughter, the god who is deemed more dangerous than demon god himself.
"Bow your head to the presence of the Hero of Warcraft, the Champion of Slaughter!"
Gasps rippled through the hall as the final figure stepped into the Assembly of Head Echelons.
Of all those they anticipated, he was the last they expected to see—the Tyrant whose exploits had shaken the very foundations of the world.
This was no ordinary tyrant. He bore a title that sent shivers down even the spines of the fearless: the Hero of Warcraft. He was a champion chosen by the primordial god of Slaughter—a deity whose malevolence was said to eclipse even that of the demon god prophesied to rise.
As the Tyrant strode forward, the air seemed to grow heavier, his mere presence suffocating. The assembly's members, deities and mortals alike, exchanged anxious glances.
For all their strength and authority, they knew this was no ordinary foe, but a harbinger of chaos bearing the will of a god deemed too dangerous to even whisper about.
And now, he stood before the Holy Tritan Temple. What did he seek in this hallowed sanctuary? Or worse—what wrath might follow in his wake?
The hall fell into a suffocating silence, the weight of his presence pressing down on all who stood within. Even the radiant Triaches, embodiments of their goddesses' will, seemed dwarfed by the shadow of the Tyrant.
His gaze swept across the assembly, unwavering and laden with intent—a gaze that seemed to see through the veils of strength, authority, and resolve they wore.
For a moment, time itself seemed to pause.
Then, with a voice as cold and unyielding as steel, he broke the silence:
"I have come not to kneel, but to claim."
His words reverberated like a thunderclap, leaving no room for doubt, no opportunity for protest. Whatever his purpose was, it would not be denied.
And so, the chapter closed, leaving the assembly and the world itself on the precipice of an unfathomable storm.