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Satus Consilium

🇩🇴KennyVera
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Everyone believed it was over—everyone except him. One day, the man who deceived the very gods stood tall and shouted his name. “Behold, the one who dares to stand against me,” he declared. *Satus Consilium* tells the story of how the prophecy of the Seven Invasions was thwarted by a group of individuals who, trapped by the bonds of destiny, were forced to unite their strengths.
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Chapter 1 - To Remember Is to Live

I must wake up! Isaurí!

I had a dream. In it were my siblings, my friends, and also a woman and a baby. I suppose they were my wife and child. Every time I got closer, their faces became unrecognizable, as if someone had scratched them out.

I kept wondering whether that dream was real or false, whether they were looking for me, or if it was simply the desire for something I longed for.

With heavy steps, I dragged myself to the bathroom and stopped in front of the sink. I grabbed my green toothbrush and cleaned yesterday's food from my teeth. Rinsing and spitting, I then proceeded to wash my face. Staring back at me in the mirror was the face of a miserable man.

It had been an intense week, and I didn't want to think about what was coming next. The training only kept getting harder.

I pulled on some jeans and laced up my boots, a white t-shirt, and a denim jacket over it. In just five steps, I went from the bathroom to the door. I looked back—I had forgotten to turn off the lamp.

"What a pain."

Ignoring my anxiety over "what if," I closed the door.

I live on the third floor, in a housing complex behind one of the busiest cafes in town. Though, to be honest, I call it busy because it's the only fast-service cafe we have right now.

A few blocks away is my destination: the "Burning Sun."

I ended up here after being rescued back in December 2000. Almost a year has passed since I arrived. Back then, I barely knew how to speak Spanish and struggled to remember anything.

Located on one of the largest islands in the Caribbean, with the unfortunate title of holding the most disasters in a single year, I can say I've survived it all.

Apparently, I fought a mad scientist before I was rescued.

"Everything was a complete mess."

I fought smugglers trying to export endangered species illegally.

"All for that incident to happen anyway."

I fought Gerald after a misunderstanding caused by my inability to communicate, and we nearly destroyed the town.

"All because I didn't know how to speak Spanish."

I fought a group of assassins who attempted to capture a possessed child.

"The world has gone insane."

A crazy girl appeared in front of me and almost burned me alive.

"I still wonder if it was necessary for her to show up topless."

My friend's brother kidnapped me for sinister purposes, only to end up being lectured by my friend.

"Good thing I don't have siblings—at least, I think."

The mad scientist's henchmen tried to recapture me again.

"Damn lunatics."

I fought terrorists, and we barely made it out alive.

"…"

And I discovered things about myself that I'm still trying to process.

I've loved, cried, laughed, and raged. Sometimes, I forgot my nightmares, and other times, they returned.

"But above all, I feel like I've accomplished nothing."

The town, once full of life, has become somber. Military vehicles, the press, and national security haven't left since the last incident. People don't feel safe, and many have moved away. But it's not just the town—this is happening across the entire country.

What seemed like a simple case of exotic species smuggling turned out to be much more serious: terrorists, a coup d'état, the threat of war, and even rebellion.

"Everyone wants to escape, but everything is already decided."

Decided? Why did I say that? Wait, no.

"How pathetic."

As I walked, I bought a mint-flavored cigarette. I'd never tried one before, and judging by my body's reaction, I'd never wanted to. But against all odds, I lit it and put it in my mouth.

Cough! Cough!

It tastes like mint, but also like loneliness.

As I moved forward, ambulances and fire trucks became more frequent. This side of town used to house the market. I say "used to" because it's been burned down twice already, and this time, it's gone for good.

"You can't be here; this is a restricted area."

A uniformed man, nearly two meters tall, wearing a suit and mask, stopped me as I approached the security tape. It seemed like if I took another step, handcuffs would be the least of my worries.

"I'm a member of Burning Sun. I need to get to the guild," I said, blowing smoke in his face.

After a few seconds of an intense stare-down, the tough guy let me pass.

Beyond the security tape, everything resembled a scene from a horror story.

While the other side of the street looked like it had been hit by a typhoon, this side was blackened as if a bucket of black paint had spilled, staining half the wall. But this wasn't paint—in the chaos, skeletons were visible, all in the classic pose of running, each one burned until they looked like charcoal. Despite the absence of flesh or eyes, their terror was frozen in their bones.

Sigh.

At this point, my feet hesitated. I didn't want to take another step forward; I didn't want to reach the end. But I forced myself to keep going. By this point, I was going to get what I wanted. Yet now, I wanted something more.

Burning Sun stood at the top of the hill, visible from the market and at a considerable distance. It was a cozy building with a lively lobby. The laughter never ceased.

This was also where I first opened my eyes.

"Nurse Larado."

Where they offered me fiery water.

"Bartolomé, your drinks are disgusting."

Where advice was never in short supply.

"Your nonsensical words, Samoset."

My steps stopped in front of the great "Burning Sun."

The grand, golden-painted door was crooked and broken, stripped of its characteristic shine.

The small two-story building had been reduced to the ground, burned to ash.

The green grass and always-clean pool were no longer pristine, as Hanae used to keep them.

The cigarette in my hand lay crushed between my fingers, destroyed by a fury I never thought I'd feel.

Sobbing.

Two silhouettes approached me and stood on either side.

"Your face looks terrible when you cry," said the boy.

"So, are we ready?" asked the girl.

The fire that destroyed this place may have been extinguished, but it ignited the spark of something much greater, something much fiercer.

"I want revenge!"