Chapter Three: The Cracks Beneath Celebration
Atlas pulsed with life.
Music filled the air. Songs of joy danced through the golden streets. Families clapped, children laughed, and vendors tossed colorful petals into the sky. At the very heart of the kingdom, thousands had gathered to witness the Festival of the Cube—a celebration of the sacred energy source that had powered their realm for generations.
The Cube, ancient and revered, was not just a power source. It was history. It was pride. It was Atlas itself.
This year's awakening was said to be unlike any before. The people believed it. They hoped it. And high above them, on the grand balcony of the royal castle, their king stood to deliver that promise.
Clad in regal black and gold, the King of Atlas raised his hand. His wife, the queen, stood beside him in her flowing white gown, her eyes soft and observant. Advisors and nobles flanked them, clad in deep royal blues and silvers, each bearing the crest of Atlas on their chests.
Fireworks painted the sky in shades of red and blue as the people erupted in cheers. Behind the king, four young figures stood slightly back, not yet part of the front line of leadership, but not unseen.
Issac—the prince—stood tall, his braid falling neatly across his shoulder, eyes wide with anticipation. At his side stood Klaus, his cousin, forever with a crooked grin. Idris, brooding as always, crossed his arms and looked away. And Lena, graceful and sharp, watched with careful eyes.
Klaus leaned toward Issac with a smirk. "All of this," he whispered, nodding toward the roaring crowd, "will be yours one day."
Issac gave a mild smile, his voice soft. "I hope so."
He looked out across the city, its towers stretching toward the horizon, the people below glowing with joy. Then he turned to Klaus and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"But it won't be mine alone. You, Idris, Lena—we'll rule together. I can't do it all just because I'm king."
Klaus dramatically wiped at his cheek, pretending to cry. "That's the nicest thing you've said to me since forever. I feel seen."
Lena rolled her eyes and stepped closer. "Hate to interrupt this heartfelt moment, but we're kind of in the middle of a coronation."
The boys burst into muffled laughter, trying to avoid the cold stares of nearby advisors.
Idris, who had remained silent, locked eyes with Issac for a second. Then he scoffed and turned away.
Suddenly, the king raised his right arm, and the cheering settled. A silence, deep and almost reverent, blanketed Atlas. The castle walls shimmered as arcane projectors activated, displaying the king's image across the kingdom.
"I stand before you today," the king began, his voice calm, confident, but commanding, "not just as your ruler—but as the voice of your will. Today, we witness the awakening of the Cube. For centuries, it has powered our homes, our machines, our lives. It is the very breath of Atlas."
A distant mechanical hum followed his words. Then, on the outskirts of the square, a great contraption slowly unfolded. Metal plates curled open like petals of a flower. Inside, glowing with blue arcs of energy, hovered the Cube.
Massive. Mystical . Sacred.
Runes shifted along its surface. Light pulsed from its core, casting brilliant shades into the sky. The people gasped, many falling to their knees in awe.
But Issac didn't look at the Cube.
His eyes locked onto a figure in the crowd below.
A hooded man.
The man stood unnaturally still. Even with so much movement around him, he seemed untouched by the chaos. But as Issac narrowed his gaze, the figure vanished.
"Did you see that?" Issac asked quickly, tugging at Klaus's sleeve. "There was someone in the crowd—he just disappeared."
Klaus looked around and laughed, trying to ease his cousin's nerves. "Must've been the wind. Come on, your imagination's acting up again."
He fixed the sash across Issac's chest, straightened his braid, and tapped his shoulder. "There. Prince-like again."
At that moment, the queen leaned toward the king, her voice soft. "Isn't it beautiful?"
The king nodded, then raised his arms. "Glory to the Kingdom of Atlas!"
The crowd responded with thunderous unity: "Glory to the King!"
The sky erupted with fireworks.
Then—
A thunderous crack shattered the moment. Not fireworks. Louder. Heavier.
A red flare hissed into the sky. Smoke followed.
The people turned.
Nobles on the balcony stiffened. Panic began to ripple through the crowd like cracks in glass.
Issac leaned forward, searching for the source. Azar—clad in gleaming gold armor—rushed into the square, accompanied by royal guards. They encircled the town center.
Klaus stepped back.
His face changed.
No longer smiling. Not frightened either. But... delighted.
An eerie grin crept across his lips as he turned and slipped into the castle.
Lena caught the movement and nearly tripped. Her pulse raced. That grin—it wasn't Klaus. Not the cousin she knew.
Issac noticed her stagger. "Lena? What's wrong?"
She pointed. "Your brother… go check on him. Now."
Issac didn't ask questions. He ran.
Idris watched both of them disappear. Then, with a sharp breath, he sought permission from the advisors and bolted after them.
In the square, Azar approached the source of the chaos—a lone man, cloaked and hooded, standing in the open.
The guards surrounded him. He smiled.
He removed his hood slowly, revealing dark hair that curled at his nape. In his right hand, he held a glowing orb covered in ancient symbols.
Azar narrowed his gaze. "Who are you?"
The man grinned. "Grandmaster Azar. It pains me to see you so predictable. You really thought I was the threat?"
Azar vanished, reappeared beside the man, and struck. The man burst into flame and ash—then reformed behind Azar.
"Perhaps," he whispered, "you should check on the children, I almost killed the one who almost placed his cousin in the grave, whats his name again....Aghh yes Issac."
And with that, he dissolved into sparks again, appearing high on a nearby rooftop.
Azar's eyes widened. With a roar of fury and panic, he shot into the air, heading back toward the castle.
The children…
The Queen…
The castle...
Meanwhile, the mysterious man raised the orb. Its color changed—blue to purple. The air grew heavy. He tossed it into the sky.
"Come forth, Guards of Arcacia. Swords of the Trident. Lords of Destruction. Claim this land in the name of Arcacia."
A portal split the clouds.
The winds roared.
Lightning struck.
And from the vortex descended nine figures. White uniforms. Gold stars. Capes flaring like wings.
Behind them, a twelfth star shimmered.
He landed with weight that could be felt through stone.
His aura wasn't loud—but it was terrifying.
The man with the orb stepped back and bowed to the twelve-star general.
Then came the King of Atlas—bursting through the sky, glowing with raw energy. He landed, his presence silencing the winds themselves.
"You come here to take what is not yours?" he said.
The general stepped forward. "Atlas belongs to Arcacia now."
The king's eyes lit white. "And who decided that?"
Behind him, nine warriors appeared—silent as ghosts. The Nine Wolves of Atlas. - elite guardians cloaked in battle-fur, their white eyes glowing like white sapphires.
The two leaders stared one another down.
One to protect.
One to conquer.
Above them, the portal still pulsed. The war which would reshape the world... had begun.