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?!"