The crimson veil of the sky still lingered heavily above the Terra Neralis. Night had fallen, but the darkness was not peaceful. It was scarlet, violent, and wrong.
The streets were deserted. There was no sound of celebration, no fire lanterns dancing in the wind, no midnight hymns. Just silence. The kind that made even breathing feel intrusive.
In the temple quarters, the fire of the prayer rituals had long been extinguished. Pilgrims who had traveled from far lands to pay homage to Lord Nera now lay in rest—some sleeping, some whispering chants in their meditations, others wide awake, hearts unsettled.
Guru Yama stood alone beneath the open sky in the eastern courtyard, his eyes fixed on the celestial phenomenon above.
"Is this truly the end?" he whispered.
He hadn't closed his eyes since the eclipse began. He had felt the shift—not only in the sky, but in the soil, in the air, in the very breath of the world. Something ancient had awakened.
A high-ranking Brawn approached quietly, breaking his trance.
"Guru Yama," he said. "There is a news you must hear."
Yama turned slowly.
"I know," he said. "You've come to speak about the court's meeting."
The Brawn nodded. "The scroll was indeed stolen. The records confirm it was a low-class Tula girl. And there was someone with her—a man in a black cloak. They say he might have broken the seal."
"What about Zerem?"
"He is still unconscious. No injuries. No wounds. Just... silence."
Yama shut his eyes. The weight of generations pressed down upon him.
"Then the voice I heard..."
"You heard it too?" the Brawn asked, eyes widening. "I thought it was just me... a whisper in the wind... The name..."
"Yes," Yama answered. "The sky speaks. And it only speaks that name in times of reckoning."
"But it could be a ploy!" the Brawn insisted. "Someone using the legend to stir fear, to confuse the masses."
Yama looked at him with the weight of centuries.
"Then tell me," he asked softly, "in our world, who but him could do this?"
The Brawn had no answer.
Their moment of quiet was shattered by a sudden scream—raw, panicked, human.
"Fire!"
Both men turned as flames erupted from the temple's inner sanctum. Smoke and ash spiraled into the blood-red sky. Panic spread like a plague.
Brawns and pilgrims scattered—some rushing to extinguish the blaze, others desperately pulling the scrolls and the sacred relics from the flames.
Yama ran forward, robes flying like wings.
A wounded Brawn collapsed before him, blood soaking through his ceremonial garb.
Yama dropped to his knees, cradling the man's head. "Hold on! Tell me—what happened?!"
"It was... one of the pilgrims..." he gasped. "He attacked us in our sleep... others helped him... they had the spell..."
"Spell?" Yama asked, voice taut.
"Spell of reincarnation..." the man whispered. "He's going to the palace... they want to... bring something back..."
Yama's eyes darkened.
"No... It can't be..."
He turned to the remaining Brawns.
"Secure the scriptures! Guard the sacred vault! I'll go after them."
He vanished into the shadows like a vengeful spirit.
–––
Inside the Royal Palace, everything starts to collapse as well.
The palace halls were in chaos.
Zerem lay on the grand bed in the healer's chamber, surrounded by the finest Medas of the kingdom. Their hands glowed with arcane light, weaving spells of healing and preservation—but none worked.
The foreign dignitary still breathed, but only just barely. His pulse was faint. His soul was unreachable.
"Everyone! Keep trying!" Yuu, the chief Meda, barked. "Do not let him slip!"
General Merix stood outside, listening to the cries, the crackling magic, the desperation.
"Stay alive, Zerem..." he whispered to himself. "We need you to finish this."
A palace guard ran up, breathless.
"General!" he cried. "Something is wrong in the vault!"
"Speak!"
"The three ancient swords—they're glowing! Voices are coming out of them! No one dares go near!"
Merix's face froze. "Those swords you mean...?"
He stormed toward the vault, ordering guards to stay with Zerem and Yuu.
The vault door was ajar when he arrived. Strange, warping voices echoed from within. A deep hum vibrated through the floor. The energy was ancient. Hostile.
The vault guards trembled.
"No one's been inside..." one said. "But the voices started after the fire at the temple."
"Step aside," Merix ordered. "Only those in charge, with me."
Two hesitant guards joined him.
The air inside the vault was wrong. Cold, dry, yet somehow burning.
The swords of the Brothers of Destruction floated inches above their pedestals, humming with the red, the golden, and the violet light. The runes carved into their blades pulsed with unnatural rhythm, like heartbeats.
Merix stepped forward.
Then smiled.
The vault guards stared at him in confusion.
"General?" one stammered. "What's happening?"
He didn't answer.
He turned slowly.
Then, without warning, drove his blade through the first guard's chest.
Blood sprayed across the golden floor.
"GENERAL?!" the second screamed.
But it was too late.
More figures entered through the window, dressed in pilgrim robes. One held a parchment glowing with dark energy—the spell of reincarnation.
They bowed before Merix.
"We brought it," the man said. "As we promised."
Merix took the scroll with reverence.
"Finally," he murmured. "The gods fell silent. The nobles grew soft. But now... It's the time to end this all."
His eyes gleamed.
"Now the age of 'True Rule' will begin."
–––
Far beyond the palace, leaping across rooftops and running through the dense alleys, Yama followed the trail of the imposters. His robes no longer flowing gently—they whipped like storm banners.
His senses sharpened. Magic pulsed in the air. The trail was strange—too fast for simple pilgrims.
"They're soldiers," Yama muttered. "Trained. Disciplined. Cloaked as innocents."
And worse...
"They have someone who knows the language of Woll."
He picked up speed.
"If they perform the ritual... if they use the scroll... it's not just the people of Terra Neralis who's in danger."
His eyes narrowed.
"It's the whole world."