Trila, Theales. Year 2602.
In a small office, two Special Force officers are reporting their latest mission to their superior officer, General Alanus Abiah.
The soldier on the left, with thin black hair and a receding hairline, began his report. "Sir, over the past year, we have obstructed 130 terrorists pretending to be military personnel and inspecting civilians."
The second soldier, who was more on the heavier side with a patchy beard, continued, "Unfortunately, during the process of termination, 78 of our soldiers died. Many of those terrorists possessed supernatural abilities that are dissimilar to the Elevated."
"We have yet to discover the root of their power, and it has hindered our ability to stop these murderers." The first soldier, Ignal, exhaled.
Alanus sighed, his luscious golden hair fluttered from the wind coming out of the open window beside him.
"I see, tell me about the murder of the High Chancellor of the city of Spait, Christa Hartmol."
The broad-shouldered soldier, Ramus, flipped through some papers, "High Chancellor Hartmol was assassinated on June 13th. She was leaving her home to head to the minister's office for work before being apprehended for a crime she did not commit. While in her holding cell, she was brutally murdered by an infiltrator.
"We suspect that the officers arresting her are also a part of the scheme. When analyzed, her body had visible signs of restraint, meaning she fought back valiantly."
Alanus placed his hand right above his heart, "I pray her death does not go to waste. We will not stop at anything to find the assassins and their organization and put a stop once and for all."
Ignal and Ramus followed suit and prayed as well.
After opening his eyes, Alanus stared at the two men and opened his mouth, "Continue."
"Of course. The resignation of General Jay Wallus has sparked outrage throughout the naval military, his reason for departure is to protect his family."
Jay Wallus, one of the four naval generals, was once Alanus' battle rival. They split paths after the Selection.
Ignal continued, "The riots that stemmed from his departure have gotten so bad that commander Flora Wales warned them about decorum. The protests terminated immediately."
It was not an overstatement to say that Flora Wales had the most influence in Theales after the emperor. Her being was the epitome of strength and power. It was stated that when she wants it to, her gaze alone can knock out and even kill civilians.
Her swordsmanship is unmatched, not even Alanus can hold a candle to her. The trusted weapon by her side that she called Righteous Might, has never once disappointed her in battle.
And even though Alanus could pose a challenge and maybe even defeat her, he had never wanted to face her in any way.
Alanus heaved a sigh of disappointment, "Even though the issued command of not leaving their homes has been lifted by emperor Magnus, it's still forbidden to meet up in large groups. The rule applies to the Naval Military as well."
Why did they care so much that Jay resigned?
"Is that all? How are our relationships with Gliasia and Lebrad currently?" He massaged his temples.
Ramus began speaking this time, "Emperor Edmund Evermoor has not made things easy for us. Gliasia has been slowly conquering the islands surrounding the Western Cradle."
Edmund.. The man responsible for the massacre of Quinton Maxi, the former emperor of Gliasia. It is still unknown how he managed to kill Quinton and proclaim himself emperor. The citizens have not once spoken out either.
Gliasia was once a powerful nation, but once Edmund took control, he slowly began to crater its economy. He allocated all funds and budgets towards the military.
What he had planned for the future, no one knew. Speculations are on the rise about him waging war on and conquering Lebrad first, cutting the total number of kingdoms in the Western Cradle from three to two.
A sinister man he was, unpredictable and cunning.
"They want Preole Grye that badly I see." Alanus heaved an exhale,
Who wouldn't? Preole Grye, an island south of the Western Cradle was full of mystery and power.
It was stated that the sole conqueror of the world, a man whose name has been erased from history, had left his riches in Preole Grye. However, despite numerous attempts, no country has been able to locate anything.
It was mainly due to the fact monsters appeared in Preole Grye much more often than they would in any other area. Leaving expeditions extremely dangerous.
"Thank you for the report, you may leave now." Ramus and Ignal bowed before scurrying out of the office.
Alanus looked out the window, he could see the vast houses of east Trila, he remembered his childhood. A boy neglected by both his parents, raised by his brother in the slumps of a rural area.
He remembered crying out for his parents to come, but they never did. His brother trying his very hardest to make life easier for Alanus.
Stretching his feet for a brief second, he yawned uncontrollably. I'll go check up on Kaila, it's been a while since I've seen her.
A faint smile unhid itself from his face.
The air cracked around him before he warped out of the vicinity.
. . .
34 Hind Street,
"Yes, Emory! Good!" Darian was clapping his hands periodically while he watched the infant in front of him wobble around on his feet.
Emory was a little over a year old and was now achieving the great milestone of walking. He grew out of his fish era and instead opted for a more general toy, the teddy rat.
The teddy rat was made by a young girl over 300 years ago. The way in which she made it was she took many leaves and wrapped them around dead rats.
Many years, and editions later, the teddy rat was a toy with fake fur stuffing and wrapped in leather. Emory constantly bit it, trying to tear the leather apart.
"Wow Emory, you're walking so well!" Darian's eyes were lit as he watched the silent struggling boy try to wobble his way to the couch.
Once reaching his destination, little Emory wrestled his way onto the couch before sitting down with his toy in hand.
Darian came and sat beside him, a couple of seconds later, he lifted the boy into the air before placing Emory on his lap.
"How about we try saying some words now?" He turned Emory gently so they could be face to face. "Say.. dada. Dada."
Emory analyzed the man's face, not a word escaping his mouth. "Come on Em, dada!" Emory's red eyes pierced into Darian's chest.
"What are you thinking Darian? He's only one." Darian reprimanded himself while sighing.
"Dawian."
It was Emory, his baby tone heavily affected the word. Darian's eyes lit up. "Wha-"
"Dawian," Emory repeated himself. Darian couldn't believe his eyes. "Yes! That's me! How could you say Darian but not Dada? Haha"
"Dawian."
. . .
In a mysterious space suspended above a purple and black fog, the sky cracked as a deafening blast ruptured the area.
A tear was made visible in the fog, and solemn footsteps could be heard. Slow, calculated, with purpose.
Behedet the Mourner emerged from the crack in the sky, his face grim with anguish.
As he traversed this mystical space, he was met with an obsidian table, circled by seven magnificent thrones.
Behedet approached the magisterial table and chairs. A pale, muscular hand stretched forward, and with the tip of his finger, he touched the edge of the table.
The moment he made contact with the table, it shook violently before crumbling into nothingness.
Behedet's eye's constricted, only one cult held the capabilities to perform what he had just witnessed.
Behind him, a faint light made it's way slowly throughout the area, illuminating the once cloudy and dark fog.
A single footstep echoed across the void. Then another. The ground beneath Behedet vanished, replaced by sky, he was hovering, as if weightless in a forgotten cosmos.
The footsteps continued, slow, deliberate. The figure behind him was approaching quickly, and Behedet had already figured out who it was.
"Icas," He spat, glaring at the man standing near him.
"Thaaaat's right~!"
In a split second, Icas had reappeared right in front of Behedet. The soft white hair that covered his forehead paired nicely with his deep green eyes. A feminine touch was present but did not affect his beauty at all.
Behedet reached for his bow and arrow, ready to engage in combat at any time.
Icas grinned, raising his arms in a mock surrender, "Whoa, whoa, Betty! I'm not here to fight you!" His tone was childish but was still riddled with malice.
Behedet remained serious, his expression not shifting one bit.
"Address me with respect, follower of Caesar."
Icas' face changed instantly, turning grim and hateful.
When he spoke again, it was with the voice that had once silenced twelve-robed men in a single breath.
"Do not utter 'His' name so carelessly. You will refer to 'His' Eminence, Lord Caesar, the New Sovereign of All Worlds and the Archon of Imagination, with the utmost dignity."
Behedet scoffed,
"I only serve His Majesty; the Phantom. I will not speak of other entities as if they rule over me."
Tension had risen in the air, in any second, a fight could break out.
Then, a voice. Soft. Yet it shattered the atmosphere like glass.
"Now, now. Calm yourselves, children."
In an instant, Icas dropped to one knee. Behedet staggered as the pressure in the space multiplied, crushing, divine, unbearable.
"Lord…" Icas whispered, still bowed.
Behedet didn't hesitate. He vanished, escaping the presence before it ground him to dust.
"There you go, Icas. We don't like fights, do we?"
"No, your eminence," Icas replied, meek as a mole.
"Check in on our little friends, will you? It's almost time."
"Yes, sir."
Whatever awaited those "friends"... it would be worse than hell.
END OF PART 1
Volume 1 will have a total of 4 parts.