Long before the beginning of time, before the first stars burned in the void, there existed a singular presence—
The Great Sol.
A primordial mind, infinite and unknowable in its purpose. From its boundless will, the universe was born, surging into existence with a force beyond comprehension.
But in that very moment of creation, the Great Sol was shattered, its consciousness splintering into five divine beings, each cast across the vast expanse of the cosmos.
These fragments became the gods, the caretakers of all existence:
Sol Arachdicht, the god of eternal fire and life.
Sol Bezene, the god of space and time.
Sol Anastene, the goddess of love and consciousness.
Sol Illian, the god of order and chaos.
Sol Tab'r, the god of death and the abyss.
For eons, they watched over the balance of creation, shaping the stars, guiding the tides of fate. But among the countless worlds that flourished under their gaze, one planet stood apart—a world unlike any other, a world teeming with untamed potential.
Earth.
Humanity grew in staggering numbers, a species defiant and unpredictable. To Sol Tab'r, they were a threat—beings too reckless, too ambitious, too uncontrolled. They would one day challenge the gods themselves.
They needed to be destroyed.
But Sol Arachdicht stood against him. Where Tab'r saw a plague, Arachdicht saw a miracle. Humanity, flawed as they were, carried a spark that no other race possessed.
The dispute turned to conflict.
Sol Tab'r would not be swayed. If the other gods would not see reason, then he would take matters into his own hands. With no remorse, he tore open the gates of the Abyss, unleashing a horde of Hollowed Beasts upon the mortal world—abominations born of darkness, a punishment meant to erase humanity from existence.
Since that day, the tale has been whispered across generations—a legend of divine wrath, of a war that shaped the fate of mankind.
Chapter 4: The Omni's
"WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOU STUPID BRAT?!"
Kandril winced, pulling the phone away from his ear as his grandfather's enraged voice nearly shattered his eardrums. The old man's fury was palpable, his words laced with frustration.
"Didn't I tell you not to get into trouble the moment you got there?!"
Kandril sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had expected this reaction the moment he told his grandfather about the trouble he got into.
"I couldn't just stand by and do nothing, Grandpa," he reasoned, his voice firm but respectful. "That man was just trying to make a living, and they were treating him like garbage."
But his grandfather wasn't having any of it.
"You foolish kid!" the old man snapped. "Even if you have good intentions, the world is cruel and unfair and you have to mind your own business! How many times do I have to drill that into your thick skull?!"
"You're just lucky you managed to escape from that syndicate! If things had gone wrong, you'd be dead meat by now!"
Kandril clenched his jaw. He knew his grandfather was right in a way, but it still frustrated him.
Manila was nothing like their colony. Back home, he was only used to fighting rogue Hollowed Beasts, not dealing with organized crime.
Syndicates were nothing he had ever dealt with before—not even street gangs came close—and now, he was learning the hard way why his grandfather had always warned him.
Still, he was Kandril. And Kandril never second-guessed his choices.
With an irritated huff, he ended the call.
"Geh! So annoying," he muttered, tossing his phone onto the bed.
Kandril flopped onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling, his fingers absently twisting the piece of paper that he'd probbably gotten from the noodle shop owner.
His gaze lingered on the strange inscribed cross symbol printed on it—bold, intricate, almost hypnotic in its design.
"Templars…?" he muttered under his breath, brow furrowing.
'Who were they? Why had the shop owner slipped this at me'
The longer he stared, the more the symbol seemed to pull him in, a dull thrum of unease settling in his gut.
He exhaled sharply and shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside. Dwelling on it wouldn't get him anywhere.
Instead, he grabbed his phone and started scrolling, trying to pinpoint the noodle shop's location. He wants answer from the shop owner himself. But the colony was massive, an endless maze of streets and districts. The search was proving frustrating.
Then—
TING!
A message popped up on his screen.
[Hey Kandril, I heard from your younger sister about what happened. Are you really in trouble?]
Kandril sighed, staring at the message for a moment before sitting up.
"News travels fast, huh?" he muttered, debating whether to reply.
It was from Jamie—his childhood friend, the one person who always stuck around no matter how much of a pain Kandril could be.
He ignored the message and continued scrolling, tracking through the colony's endless network of streets and buildings.
Then—
RING! RING!
His phone buzzed in his hand. Jamie. Again.
Kandril scowled, his thumb hovering over the decline button. He really wasn't in the mood to talk at someone. But in the end, he sighed and answered.
The moment he did, a loud woman's voice practically exploded in his ear.
"Why the hell did you ignore my message, you douche?!"
Kandril winced, pulling the phone away for a second.
"Nice to hear from you too, Jamie," he deadpanned.
"Don't 'nice to hear from you' me! What's going on? Your sister said something about you getting into trouble!"
Kandril ran a hand through his hair, irritation prickling at him. Of course his sister would go blabbing.
"It's nothing," he muttered.
"Bullshit. Spill it."
Kandril hesitated. He could already hear Jamie's disapproving sigh through the receiver.
"Look, I don't have time for this right now. I just need to find a noodle soup shop."
"A what?" Jamie sounded incredulous. "You're in trouble, and you're worried about—wait, are you even eating properly?"
"Not the point." Kandril pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'll explain later, alright? I just need to figure something out first."
Jamie huffed. "Fine. But if you die from whatever stupid mess you got yourself into, I swear I'll find a way to bring you back just to kill you again."
Kandril smirked. "Noted."
He hung up the phone with a sigh, tossing it onto the bed beside him. His eyes lingered on the dim ceiling before he pushed himself up, walking over to the glass window of his small, rented apartment.
The place was cheap, far from the towering Headquarters of the Ark Knights, yet from here, he could still see it—an imposing fortress of steel and light in the heart of the colony.
The Headquarters stood like a titan, its twin structures reaching high into the night sky.
Between them, a massive central spire pierced upward, its sleek surface pulsing faintly with energy. Hovering platforms floated near the buildings, serving as docking stations for VTOL (VTOL stands for Vertical take-off landing) jet powered aircraft and drones that buzzed around like mechanical insects.
Giant holographic banners flickered across the skyscrapers, displaying the emblem of the Ark Knights—a sun with eight golden rays, a sword at its center, all encased within a silver shield.
"It's different from how it looks on TV," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
With a deep breath, he turned away from the window and sat back down on the bed. His gaze landed on a folded handout near his belongings.
He picked it up, unfolded it, and stared at the bold letters printed on its surface—
'Ark Knights Recruitment Examination: Official Guidelines.'
Tomorrow was the test. The first step toward joining the Ark Knights.
His fingers traced the edges of the paper as he read through the requirements once again.
Phase One: Physical Endurance Test
A basic assessment, similar to what soldiers or police recruits go through. Applicants had to complete a three-kilometer run in under fifteen minutes. Fail to do so, and you were out. No exceptions. Push-ups and curl-ups were also required, though they were secondary.
He scoffed. 'Easy enough.'
Phase Two: Power Strength Test
This was where things got serious. Each applicant had to undergo a measurement of their 'Blessing'—also known as their Adamic Aura. The rankings were strict, categorized by numerical values:
A-Class (1,000 - 2,000): Low probability of selection.
AA-Class (2,000 - 3,000): A fifty-fifty chance.
AAA-Class (3,000 - 5,000): A high chance of being picked.
S-Class (5,000 - 10,000): Guaranteed selection.
SS-Class (12,000+): Automatic selection, but with a twist. Instead of a captain choosing them, a computer algorithm assigned them to a division.
SS-Class applicants were on another level were comparable to those of the vice captains blessings. And those blessing who scored below 1,000?
Immediate disqualification.
Phase Three: The Test of Strength
A randomized one-on-one battle between remaining applicants. Time limits applied. Winning wasn't everything, but proving your combat ability was crucial.
The Final Judgment: Captain's Selection
After the combat trials, the remaining hopefuls would stand before the seventeen Division Captains. Each captain could pick up to three recruits—or none at all. If no one picked you? Tough luck. Try again next time.
Kandril leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
A smirk played on his lips.
"Guess I better make sure they don't overlook me tomorrow."
--
ARK KNIGHTS HEADQUARTERS
A pair of heavy boots echoed through the grand hallway, their steady rhythm demanding attention.
The man wearing them carried an aura of absolute authority—his sheer presence enough to make the guards instinctively straighten their posture.
Clad in a dark suit, his towering frame bore the scars of countless battles. A thick, jagged cross-shaped scar marred his face, and an eye patch covered his right eye. His arms crossed rested as he strode forward, radiating authority with every step.
Great Elder Eduardo Cojuanco.
The thousand Island's Great Elder of the Ark Knights.
At his right, a woman moved with feline grace—sharp-eyed, alluring, and effortlessly dangerous. Her silky dark hair framed a face that could stop men in their tracks, and her outfit—cropped black leather jacket, white crop top, and a short leather skirt—exuded confidence.
A pair of three-inch heels clicked against the floor, amplifying her presence.
Guards couldn't help but steal glances, some even wiping at their bleeding noses.
Aliyah Brown.
The Great Elder Cojuanco's secretary.
As they approached an enormous set of double doors, the guards stationed outside reacted instantly.
Without a word, they pushed the heavy doors open, revealing a vast chamber dominated by a long obsidian table.
At its far end, a massive screen flickered to life, displaying the stern faces of five other Elders from across the world.
Each one—
a TITAN in their own right.
Elder Gruebert Maxim, the Old World's Great Elder of the Legionnaires (Colony 12, Monaco).
Elder Harry McMillan, the New World's Great Elder of the Cavaliers (Colony 56, San Diego).
Elder Malik al-Suyuf, the Middle East's Great Elder of the Mujahideens (Colony 103, Jeddah).
Elder Lóng Wei, the East's Great Elder of the Storm-walkers (Colony 76, Pohang).
Elder Jabari Okafor, the Saharaterra's Great Elder of the Sentinels (Colony 113, Durban).
As soon as Cojuanco stepped inside, Elder Wei's gaze narrowed.
"You're late, Cojuanco," he said, voice calm but edged with disapproval.
Cojuanco barely spared him a glance as he pulled out a chair and took his seat. "I had business."
"We all have business," Elder Malik muttered, adjusting the rings on his fingers.
Before the exchange could escalate, the massive screen flickered again. The air in the room seemed to tighten as a shadowed figure emerged at the center.
Silence.
Absolute and suffocating.
Without hesitation, the Elders lowered their heads. Then, the voice spoke—not loud, not soft, but carrying the force of something eternal.
"My honor is to you, my Great Elders."
Sovereign Maximus.
The High Chief of the Omnis.
"It is our pleasure, our Sovereign," the great elders responded in unison.
Unlike the Elders, he was ancient—over a century old. A second-generation Theurgist, a man whose very existence was legend.
Yet, despite his age, there was no frailty in his posture, no weakness in his presence. His gaze, dark and unreadable, swept across them like an executioner weighing judgment.
Then he spoke again.
"I have only come to remind you, my Great Elders..."
He paused, letting the silence stretch, letting the tension coil tighter and tighter around them.
"The Veilborn are on the move."
The weight of the Sovereign's words pressed down on them, heavier than any battlefield they had ever faced.
All of the Elders' eyes sharpened, as if sensing the distant rumble of an approaching storm.
A slow exhale escaped Elder McMillan's lips.
Elder Jabari's fingers curled into a fist. Elder Wei's expression remained unreadable, but the way his shoulders stiffened did not go unnoticed.
Then the screen cut to black.
As soon as the meeting ended, Elder Cojuanco's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Sara." His gaze was sharp, unwavering.
"Call all the Captains. Now."