The Imperial Grand Hall was a testament to the empire's power—vast, resplendent, and overwhelming. Gilded pillars stretched toward the heavens, their intricate carvings woven with enchantments that pulsed with ancient authority. The ceiling was a tapestry of celestial bodies, shifting in real-time, mirroring the boundless cosmos beyond.
At the pinnacle of the room, a raised platform stood, the Emperor's throne positioned at its heart.
The great hall of the imperial palace stood in utter silence, save for the soft flicker of mana-lit braziers casting golden reflections upon the polished obsidian floors. The four ducal houses—Valtor, Valeria, Delphine, and Draconis—had taken their seats, each beneath their respective banners. Their patriarchs sat poised, their expressions schooled into the careful neutrality expected of the empire's highest nobility. Despite their immense influence, they were all bound beneath the shadow of the Krion Empire—all save for one.
The air shifted. A faint pulse of divinity swept through the chamber, causing even seasoned warriors to straighten their postures.
The grand doors swung open.
Stepping into the hall was Emperor Carlos Kestides, sovereign of the Human Domain, his expression calm yet commanding. Power radiated from him—not overwhelming, not oppressive, but something greater: absolute. A will so resolute it required no force to subdue those before him.
Behind him walked a boy, no older than fifteen. Though young, his presence mirrored the emperor's, refined yet filled with potential. His golden hair shone beneath the ethereal chandeliers, and his sapphire eyes held a sharpness beyond his years. Cassius Kestides, the Crown Prince of Krion, had arrived.
The two moved with seamless grace, ascending the platform at the head of the chamber. As Carlos took his throne, Cassius settled beside him, the unspoken weight of expectation upon his shoulders.
And then, the doors opened again.
This time, fear flooded the chamber.
A presence so overwhelming, so absolute, it sent shivers down the spines of even Transcendent-ranked beings. The air itself seemed to recoil, suffocating under the sheer weight of authority.
Klien von Oltheros had arrived.
The patriarch of the Oltheros family, the only lineage equal to the imperial throne, strode forward. His crimson hair fell past his shoulders, and his piercing crimson eyes—cold and unrelenting—swept across the room. Unlike Carlos, his presence was not one of quiet control, but one that threatened to crush all opposition beneath its weight.
For the first time, Amon saw his father like this.Amon saw his father not as the distant yet composed figure of his childhood, but as the titan that he truly was. A force of nature, one that even the emperor acknowledged as an equal.
There was no warmth, no subtle amusement in his gaze—only an overwhelming sense of power.
He did not hesitate, nor did he acknowledge the gathering nobles. Instead, he took the seat beside the emperor, his position equal to Krion's sovereign in every way.
Carlos finally spoke, his voice carrying through the vast hall.
"Today, we stand witness to a moment of great significance." His sapphire gaze swept over the gathered nobility. "On this day, my son, Crown Prince Cassius Kestides, shall begin his path to throne —his true journey as a force of Krion. And in two months, he shall enter the Path, the academy founded by the Archon's, where he will face trials meant for those destined for greatness."
Murmurs broke out among the nobles.
The Path. The proving grounds where only the strongest survived. The place where legends were forged.
Murmurs rippled through the hall. This was expected. Cassius and Anastasia were both the brightest stars of their generation.
But Amon knew.
The real story hadn't begun yet.
Cassius and Anastasia were merely pieces on a grander board.
The true players had yet to reveal themselves.
And then, the true story would begin.
Those two figures would take their first steps toward changing the fate of existence itself.
The emperor raised his chalice. "Now, let the banquet begin."
The hall erupted into movement.
Servants glided between the tables, carrying dishes adorned with celestial engravings. Wine, infused with stardust, was poured into diamond goblets. Laughter and conversation filled the air, though Amon remained indifferent.
He strode through the hall, eyes scanning the luxurious feast laid before him. He piled his plate high, overloading it with every delicacy in sight.
Moonlit Kraken Tendrils.
Celestial Glaze Wyvern Ribs.
And Perses favorite grilled Griffins.
Even though this guy doesn't eat he says that he can feel it thorough my senses .
* How creepy.*
He ignored the hushed conversations and probing gazes as he walked toward the garden, his shadow, Selene, trailing behind in his shadow .
The moment he left the hall, the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. The sound of children laughing echoed through the courtyard, a fleeting reminder of the innocence that still existed in this world.
Yet even here, he could not escape reality.
Amon felt it—the cold, creeping dread pooling in his stomach.
A presence, subtle yet undeniable.
He glanced toward the palace terrace, where his father spoke in hushed tones with the Empress and his grandmother.
*…they must have pulled back at the last moment.*
*Just like in the game.*
"It could begin at any moment now."
Amon's fingers curled into a fist.
Then, Perses, perched atop his head, spoke. "Listen, kid. You're afraid. That's natural. But fear alone won't change anything. Your will must be stronger than fate itself."
Amon exhaled sharply.
*…I know.*
The sky shattered.
A sound like breaking glass echoed across the heavens.
Amon's head snapped up, his heart pounding as he saw it—a crack stretching beyond the horizon, pulsing with eerie energy.
Selene moved instantly, her will enveloping him in an invisible barrier.
And then, the weight fell.
An immense, suffocating pressure descended upon the entire planet. Every individual froze—their bodies crushed beneath an unseen force.
Then, the clash of wills began.
The Emperor and Klien moved first, ascending toward the sky in blurs of golden and crimson light. Weapons drawn. Power ignited.
The transcendent-ranked nobles followed, their presences igniting like falling stars.
But the rift in the sky did not waver.
And then, they descended.
Countless black figures poured from the tear in space, their forms distorted space , their eyes burning with an endless, insatiable hunger.
The Harbingers had arrived.
Amon's pulse pounded in his ears.
*Survival. Above all else.*
Perses' words echoed in his mind as he summoned his blade. The black-hilted weapon rested at his waist, its phoenix feathers rustling in the wind. Its cold weight grounded him.
This was no longer just a banquet.
This was war.