A few minutes before midnight, the world outside was stunningly serene.
The dark sky glittered with harmonious stars, and at its center, the moon cast down its graceful light.
A chilling breeze swept across the continent, carrying a soothing calmness that made the night perfect for sleep.
At the Wolven Fortress, guards patrolled the fortified walls, their fire torches flickering in the wind. Elsewhere, some guards had built bonfires, warming their booze-soaked bodies against the night's chill. A quiet stillness settled over the fortress as the clock struck midnight.
Inside the fortress, Abaddon lay in bed, his head hanging off the edge while his feet rested on the pillows. He was an unusually still sleeper, lost in a dream.
In his dream, Abaddon fantasized about becoming a hero like his father. He imagined the day when he would prove his worth to Kain and everyone who had ever looked down on him. He would show them all.
But his dream was abruptly interrupted when a slow, rumbling sound echoed through the sky, deep and foreboding. The once tranquil night was shattered as the dark sky split in two, a radiant golden light piercing through, overwhelming the stars and moonlight.
"What is going on?" one of the Wolven guards asked, his voice tinged with fear.
"I have no idea, man. It just happened in a flash! By the gods, what is this?" another guard replied.
Before they could comprehend the phenomenon, the ground beneath them began to quake violently, tremors rippling across the entire continent.
Above, the golden light expanded in a twisting, wide arc, like a colossal tornado bearing down on them. Then, it happened.
A deafening, thunderous roar erupted from the heavens, slicing through the night and jolting everyone awake.
Without warning, the blast of a trumpet echoed across the earth, its sound so powerful it seemed to travel five times over in a single second.
Mountains began to crumble, the tremors intensified into violent shaking, buildings collapsed, and the very ground beneath them split apart.
The once calm world was thrown into chaos. The sky darkened further as thick, churning clouds swallowed the moon, plunging the land into total darkness. Lightning tore through the heavens in furious streaks, shaking the earth to its core.
Abaddon jolted upright in bed, abruptly awakened by the ongoing phenomenon. Sitting there for a moment, he tried to make sense of what was happening, but the echoing cries of servants and animals throughout the fortress quickly drew his attention.
Panic seized him as he dashed to the window, desperate to understand what was going on.
What he saw sent chills through his very soul. The sky was alive with violent flashes of lightning and roaring thunder, so intense that the sound reverberated through his bones.
"What in the name of Zuryxal is happening?" he murmured, his voice trembling.
But his shock deepened when he saw a silhouette, distinctly human in shape, emerging from the golden storm in the sky. The figure held a trumpet, its presence both majestic and terrifying.
Then, as if the storm itself found a voice, a booming decree rang out, echoing across the land.
Mortals who bore witness trembled in fear, their very souls quaking as they fell to their knees, bowing in reverence to the divine messenger.
The voice belonged to Xyrakoth, the divine herald of the Erythrian gods.
"Hear me, mortals of the human continent!" the voice thundered. "I am Xyrakoth, the divine messenger. By the decree of the Elder God Zuryxal, the mortal woman named Helle Valor, who dared to disrespect the Elder God within his temple, is hereby sentenced to death by mortal hands.
Anyone who captures this woman and delivers her to an Erythrian temple shall be rewarded with god-tier blessings. Let the hunt begin!"
The decree echoed across the lands, carried by winds to every corner of the known world. Empires were shocked, surprised—but also relieved. It was an outcome even I, the writer, never saw coming.
The scene shifted to the Argoz Empire, located in the polar north of Avalon. In their grand castle, the emperor sat on his throne, engaged in discussions with his ministers.
"By the gods, I never thought I'd see the day when the gods themselves turned their backs on the hero," one minister said mockingly.
"Asher is a good man," the emperor replied with a scheming tone. "But his thirst for peace has offended too many people. The only thing shielding him was his strength. Now, with the gods intervening, many empires will surely join forces against him."
Meanwhile, in Sparta Empire, the Spartan King stood by the tall columns of his chamber, gazing out at the hollow skies.
"Helle Valor, the Shadow Saint and wife to humanity's hero... Never have I felt so alive," he said venomously. "The great hero will soon become history in the storm that's coming."
Back in the Avalon Empire, Asher's brother stood beside the emperor.
"Father, your plan worked perfectly," he said.
"The era of my little brother dominating the world is ending. I feel sorry for him, but he has no one to blame but himself."
The emperor's expression remained neutral, saying nothing.
"Many empires will unite to destroy Asher and his wife," his son continued. "I know my brother won't stand idle while they take her. He's supposed to be humanity's hero, but..."
The emperor finally spoke, his tone heavy.
"When the time comes, they'll ensure he doesn't live to see another sunset. After all, who wouldn't want a god-tier artifact? Its rank alone is enough to spark wars."
Despite his words, guilt flickered in Emperor Wolven Leo's eyes.
Back at the Wolven mansion, the decree hit like a dagger to the heart, especially for Abaddon. He stood frozen, staring at the sky, lost in thought.
"They want Mother dead?" he whispered to himself. "But she would never disrespect any elder god. What's going on?"
Suddenly, an overwhelming force of urgency jolted him. He stumbled as he rushed down the dim corridors toward the main hall, fear etched into his expression.
When he burst into the hall, gasping for breath, all eyes turned to him. His father, Asher, stood with a furious expression, his clenched jaw radiating restrained anger. Beside him stood Helle, Abaddon's mother.
She sat pale and expressionless, showing no sign of fear. Belladon, her sister, clung to their mother's arm, trembling in fear Abaddon shared. Confusion clouded her face as she stared at the floor.
Abaddon moved closer and sat beside their mother, holding her hands for reassurance before looking at his still-frustrated father.
"Father, Mother!" Abaddon's voice trembled. "What's happening? Why would the gods want you dead?"
Helle looked at him with a soft, yet shaking hand on his shoulder.
"Abaddon... I don't know why this is happening, only that my life is now in danger."
"But why?" Abaddon's voice cracked in desperation. "After everything you and Father did for them?"
Asher raised his head, barely containing his fury, his golden eyes glinting like a raging lion's. He raised his hands to the sky and roared,
"Erythrian gods! After all my sacrifices, all my loyalty—is this your justice? Why have you forsaken us? What did we do wrong?!"
His voice thundered through the stone fortress.
Belladon tightened her grip on Helle, fear filling her eyes. "Why would they betray us?" she whispered, trembling.
Helle gave a sorrowful smile, gently squeezing Belladon's cheeks.
"Because, my children, power is dangerous. When gods fear something, they destroy it before it grows."
Abaddon stared at her, the words twisting painfully in his mind. "But they're gods, Mother. Why would a god fear you?"
Helle glanced at Asher, their silent telepathy revealing her thoughts.
"Someone betrayed us to the gods, likely about you... My father. Never did I think he'd see me destroyed."
Asher's response was steady but filled with fury. "The Emperor revealed your secret. Forgive me, Helle."
"It's about that secret," Helle replied through telepathy, sorrowful.
"The gods are using it as an excuse, claiming I disrespected Zuryxal. Such petty acts."
Abaddon sat lost in thought, wondering if escape was possible. Before he could speak, a scout burst into the hall, pale-faced and stammering.
"My Lord Asher, Spartan warriors—hundreds of them—are marching here. Armies from Cretian, Corinth, and the Athenian Empire are coming too. Even Duke Gad is leading the royal elite. They demand Lady Helle's capture... or worse."
Asher, though furious, remained calm, signaling the scout to prepare for battle. Moments later, the fortress's horn blared, calling everyone to arms.
The guards quickly assembled into ranks: mages, warriors, beast-masters, and clerics readying for war.
Asher's golden aura flared as armor materialized around him. Belladon rose, summoning her magic staff and unleashing a suffocating energy, prepared to stand with her father.
Abaddon, powerless, sat frozen. His heart screamed to act, but what could a human do against Rankers? Betrayal stung—after all his father had done for the continent, the world seemed eager to strike the moment it could.
In the Sparta Empire, elite Rankers armed for war were dispatched to Avalon. Sparta, a Warrior Class of Spartan specialty-breeding stronghold, sent its best to fulfill the gods' orders.
News of the hunt spread, and ambitious warriors from all empires joined in. The prize—a god-tier rank—was irresistible.
Back at the fortress, Helle stood by the window, gazing at the night sky, her mind burdened with saving her children. In the distance, torches illuminated the horizon—an approaching army.
She inhaled deeply, the ground trembling under the enemy's march. Abaddon approached her, took her hand, and murmured with fierce determination,
"I won't let them take you, Mother. We'll fight, won't we? Father...?"
Asher, standing beside Belladon, glanced at them with pride. A faint smile crossed his face—his son's resolve proved he hadn't failed as a father.
At the Lyseum Temple of Camelot,
Arthur was training intensely in the hall when he was shaken by a sudden the phenomenon.
"What?!"
Arthur dropped his wooden sword, stunned by the decree from the divine messenger Xyrakoth. He muttered, "This can't be true. Lady Helle would never disrespect the gods, let alone Zuryxal, the God of Creation."
Without hesitation, Arthur dashed out of the training room, heading for the Oracle Chamber.
His thoughts raced. 𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝐴𝑏𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑜 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑑? 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑘𝑦, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑖𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑.
Approaching the temple entrance, Arthur decided to leave for the Wolven Fortress to aid his friend. But before he could, two figures blocked his path.
Arthur stumbled, startled, then recognized them. "Big Brother! Big Sis! Why are you in my way?"
It was Artheus Pendragon and Arthurra Pendragon, their piercing blue eyes reflecting caution.
"Arthur, I know what you're planning," Artheus said calmly. "As your elder brother, I can't let you go."
Arthurra added firmly, "You need to think, Arthur. You're forbidden to leave the sanctuary."
Arthur's frustration boiled over. "Think?! My friend needs me! Didn't you hear the decree? And you both serve the Hero! Why are you doing nothing when you should be helping them?"
Before they could respond, an icy presence silenced them.
A slow, deliberate tapping echoed through the sanctuary. An old woman in a flowing white robe, her hair silver like moonlight, approached. She leaned on a wooden staff, her gaze serene yet commanding.
"And what exactly do you plan to do, Arthur?"
The siblings turned and immediately bowed. "Greetings, Oracle Merlina."
The Oracle's steps ceased as she smiled at Arthur and motioned for him to step forward. He obeyed without hesitation.
"My child, it's not that we don't wish to help your friends. But even if we wanted to, we cannot," she said softly, her voice brimming with quiet authority.
"Why not?" Arthur asked desperately. "Aren't we powerful enough?"
Merlina nodded.
"Yes, but this temple is neutral ground—a place where empires' fates are judged. If we aid the Wolvens, it will provoke the other empires and anger the gods themselves. Defying the heavens brings only destruction."
Her words sank deep, and Arthur realized the grim truth. Even if he intervened, his actions could doom the temple and its people. He clenched his fists in silent fury.
His siblings placed comforting hands on his shoulders as Merlina turned her gaze to the storm-darkened sky.
"The days ahead will not be peaceful," she murmured. "May the gods have mercy on us all."
Back at the Wolven Fortress, Asher and Helle were already on the move, standing atop the thick fortified walls. They gazed down at the mass of rankers gathered below, all in pursuit of Helle.
Asher turned to look at Helle, who stood with a fierce determination in her eyes, ready to fight for her life and her children.
Reaching out, Asher placed a reassuring hand over hers. "We'll face them together," he whispered.
Helle met his gaze, her expression speaking volumes. A faint smile crossed her lips as she gave a brief nod.
Asher's attention shifted back to the enemies below. Among the throng, a single figure emerged from the masses, glittering against the firelit darkness.
It was a man, mounted atop a colossal, mechanical steed—a monstrous beast with gleaming metal limbs and eyes that glowed like embers in the night.
The rider wore no helm; his bald head shone in the dim light, and his wide, muscular frame cast an imposing shadow. He looked up at the couple with a smug smile, his gaze locking onto theirs.
It was Gad.
Asher's cousin—the man he had once called brother. Gad, whom Asher had trusted with his life countless times on the battlefield.
And yet, here he was, leading the charge against him, commanding the famed Lion Guards, the elite soldiers of Avalon—his family's own royal force.
Neither Asher nor Helle could have imagined such a betrayal in a million years. The sting cut deeper than any blade.
Not only had Asher's father, the man he had served his entire life, betrayed him, but now even the cousin he called a brother had come to take his wife.
Asher closed his eyes, forcing himself to rein in the storm of emotions raging within.
All he had done... all he had sacrificed… for this? Every moment he could have spent with his family had been given in service to humanity, fighting under the watchful gaze of the gods.
And now, in the dead of night, they had come to take what little he had left.
The silence was broken by the blast of a horn, its booming echo reverberating across the battlefield.
"Asher, son of Emperor Leo," Gad's commanding voice rang out. "I am here under the orders of the gods and the throne of Avalon. Surrender Helle Valor, and no harm shall come to you or your kin."
Asher's golden gaze burned with rage as he stared intently at Gad. His voice was low, trembling with controlled fury.
"You come to demand my wife, Gad? After everything I've done for the mortal continents? For the gods? I fought beside you, bled beside you—and now you stand here as my enemy?"
Gad smirked, replying with a mocking tone.
"The gods have decreed it, Asher. They offer great rewards to anyone who delivers Helle Valor to their temples. The artifact promised can raise a ranker by two full levels. The world cannot ignore such a prize."
Asher's expression darkened. He scanned the mass of rankers, their silence speaking volumes. Then, coldly, he asked, "The world—or you?"
Gad hesitated, momentarily silenced.
"You would betray me for a god's trinket, cousin?" Asher demanded, his voice sharp as steel.
Gad placed a hand on his chin, feigning thought before responding, "Is it betrayal to follow the gods' will, brother? This is the path set before me. Stand aside."
As the conversation continued, ripples of unease spread through the ranks of soldiers below.
Some of the rankers, burdened with guilt, hesitated, their hands faltering on their weapons. They remembered the hero who had once saved them.
Others, however, were resolute, willing to cut down anyone standing in their way to claim the gods' reward—even the hero himself.
Helle, unable to contain her fury, interrupted. "You would tear apart our family, Gad? You, who have sat at our table, who held my children when they were born?"
For a fleeting moment, Gad's gaze wavered, but it was gone in an instant. He straightened in the saddle, his expression hardening into mockery. "This is not personal, Helle. This is the gods' will."
That was it. The man they thought they knew was no more.
Asher and Helle exchanged a brief, chilling glance before turning away.
Inside the fortress grounds, the Wolven Warriors stood ready, prepared to lay down their lives for the family they served. Asher's chest swelled with pride as he looked upon them, knowing how far they had come under his command.
Helle and Asher entered the mansion, where their children, Abaddon and his elder sister, waited anxiously.
The children rushed toward their parents, relieved by their return.
After a brief exchange, Asher and Helle made their decision. Helle would stay to protect the children, while Asher led the Wolven Warriors into battle.
Before leaving, Asher turned to his family one last time.
"Helle," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. "I promise to return victorious."
"I know, my love," she replied, her voice trembling. "But I can't stand by and let you face them alone. This is my battle too."
Asher gently squeezed her hands, managing a small smile. "If you're out there with me… who will keep them safe?"
Helle nodded reluctantly as Asher turned away, leaving the hall. Abaddon watched his father's retreating figure, unable to find the words to stop him.
Walking through the ranks of his warriors, Asher's eyes gleamed with a golden light. His voice was low, a whisper carried only by the cold night air.
"They will regret this," he murmured, his fists clenched. "Every last one of them. Tonight, the Erythrians will remember who I am. I will send every filthy soul here to Xerathar."
Outside, the army of rankers waited, restless and murmuring as they eyed the fortress's silent walls with growing impatience.
"What's this?" a sneering voice called out from the crowd, loud enough to reach Gad's ears.
"The mighty hero of humanity, cowering behind his walls?"
Another ranker laughed and shook his head. "So much for bravery. Maybe he's not so great after all."
Gad raised a hand, silencing the chatter. Though he relished hearing such remarks, he sought to stoke the flames even further.
"It seems Asher has lost his nerve," he declared, his voice booming over the crowd. "A hero in name only, hiding behind stone and mortar, too afraid to face his own people."
The crowd murmured in agreement, and mocking laughter spread, punctuated by insults hurled at the fortress.
"If he's such a hero, why isn't he here to face us? Why the silence?"
Seeing the growing unrest, Gad felt a surge of satisfaction. Overcome with excitement, he raised his hand and signaled the Lion Guards to bring down the fortress gates.
"If the hero won't come to us, we'll take the fight to him—and drag him and his wife out ourselves."
But just as the Lion Guards surged forward, a deep rumble rolled through the ground. The heavy iron gates of the fortress began to creak open, their echoing groan chilling the air.
The laughter and jeers died instantly, replaced by an eerie silence. All eyes turned to the gates. Breath caught in the throats of the rankers as a figure emerged from the shadows, followed by the imposing Wolven Battalion, their banners raised high.
Their presence seemed to part the oppressive clouds, allowing the moonlight to pierce through once more, casting an ethereal glow upon the scene.
Asher.
Clad in golden war gear, his armor radiated a soft, supernatural luminescence under the pale moonlight. The etchings of the Avalon Empire adorned its edges, symbols that spoke of his lineage and the honor he once bore with pride.
His helmet rested under his arm, leaving his cold, unyielding face exposed as he strode forward with deliberate, measured steps.
Each step he took reverberated through the air, sending waves of energy that pressed against the rankers like an invisible weight. A glimpse of the power that had earned him the title of humanity's strongest left even the boldest among them retreating a step in fear.
For the first time, they began to understand. This was no ordinary man.
The Lion Guards, so eager moments ago, now hesitated, backing away behind Gad. Perched atop his steed, Gad felt the crushing pressure of Asher's presence.
"So, you finally come out," Gad sneered, though his voice wavered with uncertainty. "Took you long enough."
Asher didn't respond. His golden eyes, alight with fury, bore into Gad with such intensity that he felt stripped bare—reduced to nothing more than a petty thief caught in the act.
"You come here," Asher said in a low, menacing tone, "to the home I built, to take from me what I've fought my entire life to protect. And you call yourselves allies. Friends. Family."
The words hung heavy in the air, laced with raw pain and simmering rage.
"You served the gods, Asher," Gad replied, struggling to regain his composure. "And the gods demand what is theirs. We're only here to fulfill their will."
"Their will?" Asher growled, his voice trembling with restrained wrath.
"You serve them so willingly, yet they ask for nothing from you, do they? Always from me. I've given them my all—my service, my time, my youth. And yet…"
Gad, sensing the growing danger, snatched a sword from a nearby soldier. The killing intent radiating from Asher was palpable, a force that seemed to constrict the air.
"You have no right to question the gods we serve!" Gad snapped, clutching the blade tightly. "This is bigger than you—bigger than your family! The gods gave us everything, and now they seek to reclaim what is theirs. You're the one who disrespects them."
Asher's teeth clenched, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of rankers. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as if he might lose control entirely. His body moved instinctively, taking a step forward.
"I will not let them take what is mine," he said, his voice calm yet thunderous. "If any of you still wish to try… step forward."
The quiet fury in his words made the rankers shudder. Their confidence wavered as glances of doubt spread among them.
Even Gad, for all his pride and ambition, hesitated, questioning for a fleeting second whether he could survive the path he had chosen. But his pride burned away the doubt, urging him forward.
"You cannot fight the Erythrians, Asher," Gad said firmly. "Stand down, and you might yet survive. This isn't about you."
But Asher had heard enough. Without another word, a torrent of golden mantra energy erupted from his body, spiraling into the air like a roaring tempest. The radiant aura surrounded him, a relentless flood of power that seemed endless.
His long golden hair shimmered in the wind as he pointed at the crowd, his voice ringing out like a thunderclap.
"From this day forward, I serve no gods. I'll use your corpses to send a message to the beings you call gods."
It was a declaration of defiance—words no mortal would dare to speak. Yet here he stood, a man alone, prepared to defy the divine.
- TO BE CONTINUED...