As Astra awoke, the soft glow of twilight crept through the window, painting delicate shadows across the walls of his luxurious room. Another night in Duskfall—the city that never sleeps. Another night to play the game.
He stretched, surprised at how strong, how alive his body felt. So this is what rest feels like? Gone were the aches of alleys and cold floors or even shitty inns, the exhaustion that used to gnaw at him like a parasite. His body hummed with vitality, a gift he hadn't asked for but would not waste.
The change had been gradual, yet staring at his reflection now, it was undeniable. His curls no longer wild, but falling in soft waves. His skin faintly aglow, like starlight had brushed him. His violet eyes—once dull and weary—now sharper, alive with something that could not be mistaken for weakness.
He leaned closer to the mirror. A noble's face looked back, handsome, poised, far removed from the ragged boy who had first walked these streets. Astra smirked. Strange. I've worn disguises all my life, yet this one feels the most convincing. Almost like I belong among them. Almost
But the thought lingered bitterly. Belong? No. This is armor, not truth. The old Astra still walks with me, buried under silk and shadow.
With a soft exhale, he turned toward the window. Night unfurled its cloak across Duskfall, the cities violet twilight drowning the stars, though he imagined they still watched. The gods, the hunters, the enemies I cannot see—they're all out there. But so is opportunity.
His jaw tightened, the smirk fading into something steadier. It was time to move.
....
Astra descended into the inn's dining hall, the scent of sizzling meats and fresh bread washing over him. Voices rose and fell in a low, cultivated murmur—nobles speaking of politics, markets, rumors. The occasional clink of cutlery against fine glass rang like punctuation marks to their conversations.
He moved through the hall with unhurried steps, Nightshroud draped over his shoulders like a quiet declaration of belonging. Here, he wasn't the street-worn survivor of Duskfall—he was someone to be noticed, but never questioned.
At the counter, Astra leaned casually, violet eyes glinting. "A plate of eggs, mana beast steak—something domesticated, not wild—and…" his lips curved in a sly smile, "an alcoholic lemonade."
The innkeeper, a sharp-eyed woman seasoned by years of dealing with wealthy brats and mercenaries alike, arched a brow. "Drinking already, my lord?"
"Breakfast isn't complete without a touch of indulgence," Astra replied, tone smooth as silk.
She shrugged, scribbled the order, and left him to his thoughts. Soon, the meal arrived—golden eggs steaming, a thick slab of steak glistening with juices, and a frosted glass that smelled faintly of citrus and spirits.
Astra cut into the meat, savoring the tenderness, the rich burst of flavor. Gods, when was the last time I ate like this? He couldn't remember. Meals like this weren't food; they were reminders of a world he had always been barred from, until now. He relished each bite as though trying to make up for lost years.
But halfway through, reality jabbed at him. His funds. He had been spending as though the weight of money meant little, but the truth was uglier—he was down to scraps. At this pace, he would be broke in days.
His brow furrowed. I can't keep bleeding coin like this. I'll need work… or theft. No—think smarter. The House must have left something behind.
He drew out the Regal Coin, tapping it lightly. The artifact pulsed faintly, opening the House of Night's archives within his vision. He sifted quickly through records, half-expecting nothing of worth.
Then his gaze froze.
[Funds: 1000 Gold Standards (Monthly Stipend)]
Astra blinked. Tapped again. Refreshed. Looked closer.
Still there. 1000 gold. Every single month.
His thoughts stalled, the numbers circling his mind with a surreal glow. This… this can't be real. This is more wealth than I've ever touched in my life. This is freedom. This is—
The revelation hit him so hard his balance faltered. His chair tipped, and he crashed onto the polished floor with a graceless thud.
A few nobles turned, amused smirks tugging at their lips, assuming he had simply overindulged in morning drink. None cared beyond the momentary entertainment.
But Astra, sprawled on the floor, didn't notice their laughter.
He was too busy staring at the ceiling, mind reeling, heart hammering, lips twisting into a disbelieving grin.
I'm rich.
For the first time in years, money was no longer a problem. The weight of survival—the gnawing questions of where the next meal would come from, whether the blade at his side would last another fight, or if he'd have to sell scraps of dignity just to buy ink and parchment for spellwork—evaporated in an instant.
He could afford training halls. Weapons forged to specification. Rare tomes, spell reagents, tutors. He could even afford to waste coin—hell, he could drown himself in alcoholic lemonade for a century and barely dent his stipend.
Flat on his back, staring up at the carved wooden ceiling beams of the dining hall, Astra let out a long, incredulous breath. A grin tugged at his lips before he could stop it.
"…Well, damn."
He sat up slowly, Regal Coin gleaming in his palm, and stared at it as though it had just handed him the keys to heaven itself. A thousand gold standards. Every. Single. Month.
His thumb brushed over its surface, tracing the crest etched into its face, the faint mana hum thrumming like a heartbeat against his skin.
He pulled the coin closer, accessing the network again, mind racing. Gossip articles. Market ledgers. Noble accounts. He skimmed through the dull, meticulous data with wide eyes.
Most minor house nobles only spent around a thousand gold every four months.
Astra froze. Blinked. Read it again.
He shut the projection and leaned back, breathless laughter spilling from him.
That meant—him, the boy who used to steal stale bread from gutter stalls—he now had more raw spending power than titled nobles whose families had ruled land for generations. More than entire bloodlines that clung desperately to prestige while watching their estates crumble to dust.
And this was just the stipend. Just the baseline, the allowance. The pocket change.
The coin sat in his hand like a mocking miracle. House Night had been dust for centuries, a relic whispered about in temples and curses—and yet here it was, casually funneling wealth into his hands as though the House still sat unchallenged on the throne of the world.
His grip tightened. His violet eyes reflected the coin's glow, an emotion somewhere between wonder and fury clawing at his chest.
How many years had I bled, starved, clawed, stolen… for scraps? How many times did I curse myself for being born to a forgotten name? And now, with one artifact—one glimpse of an inheritance—I'm wealthier than men who have known nothing but luxury their entire lives.
He sank into the chair again, his breath unsteady. For once, words failed him. He wasn't just rich.
He was absurdly, ridiculously, stupidly rich.
A dry laugh broke from him, quiet enough that only he heard it.
"…I need another drink."
Astra sat in the noble lounge of the inn, his Regal Coin in hand, still scrolling through the mana network. The interface shimmered with a clip of a News mage from the guild of News reporting.
It was titled The Stars and Shadows—A Celestial Phenomenon?
He was a tall man with handsome features striking green eyes and a soothing voice. It was the famed Information Saint, Hilbert Edison. A powerful Saint who wields a strange magic and authority. He also loved to report and was a reporter for the realms. Perhaps the most known saint in the world simply due to his position.
"Scholars and mages alike are still at a loss to explain the strange celestial disturbance from last night. Witnesses reported the stars flaring with unnatural intensity while shadows writhed like living things. The Officials of House Dusk, when asked for comment, merely stated: 'Interesting.'"
"Our own analyst however do not care for the secrets of great houses and their ploys, We are the Guild of News, We report events how they go, not how certain people want them to go. Major disturbances were caused in certain realms, The churches have even mobilized saints, The commotion was certainly caused by perhaps a divine artifact, that we do not know the full details of. One thing is certain, There will be plenty to report. The saint smiled.
"What a crazy guy." Astra smiled, obviously a mere mortal wasn't going to talk like that about great houses and churches, but a saint of the guild of news protected by many powerful angels and divine artifacts not only had the status to do it but also the power.
Astra arched a brow. Hmm but that's it? No grand proclamations? Just 'interesting'? He supposed that was expected—House Dusk was ancient, and they had probably seen worse. Still, the fact that the shadows reacted so violently meant something had definitely changed. Churches saints have mobilized, great... Astra paled, but they did not state which churches.
He scrolled further. The next clips were far less mystical and much more entertaining.
A knight of the guild reported.
She was short gorgeous and had a dangerous smile with dark features. Definitely not the reason for Astra to even look at this clip.
House Palm and House Scorpion at Odds Once Again—A Duel to Settle the Score?
"The age-old feud between the prodigies of House Palm and House Scorpion continues to escalate, with whispers of a formal duel set to take place before the Springtime Advent Tournament. If sanctioned, this will be the tenth public duel in the past three years between these noble houses.
"Meanwhile, House Hunt's young heir, Aster Hunt, Champion of the Gladriel Life trials remains undefeated in the arenas, having recently crushed her latest challenger in a one-sided bout that lasted less than a minute. Experts predict she will dominate the upcoming tournament."
Astra's lips curled slightly. Aster Hunt… huh. The young heir from House Hunt—One of the Royal Stewards of Alfhiem and the Masters of Artemis, the one of the legendary capitals of Alfhiem..the same house that eradicated my ancestors and people.....She was obviously strong, but he hadn't paid much attention before. Still, if she was undefeated and absolutely stunning.
He shook his head and kept scrolling.
Another knight reporter male short and pretty.
The Four Divisions of the Springtime Advent Tournament Announced!
"As always, the Springtime Advent Tournament will be divided into four divisions, allowing warriors of all levels to compete."
Division One – Rank One- One mana core.. (young lords and apprentices face off exciting talents and simple bouts)
Division Two-Two Mana Cores – Rank Two participants, Squires experienced combatants with refined techniques.
Division Three – three mana cores- Rank Three warriors.Knights and seasoned Mages.(All Paths to power welcome)
Division Four –Demi-Gods, Friendly Bouts.
"The tournament will last Nine days and Nine nights, drawing participants from all over the Realms."
Astra exhaled. This was big. The city had already been filled with energy, but now he understood why the streets were so alive with excitement. This wasn't just a festival—it was a battlefield where reputations were built and shattered.
He glanced at the last bit of text, an open call for competitors.
Anyone can participate, he didn't miss the subtle, (All Paths to Power welcome), this meant Jesters, and Blasphemers were participating....the danger of this tournament rose....for those divisions, thankfully Astra was but a mere rank one.
Astra scoffed, closing the Regal Coin's interface. Not interested. He wasn't looking to expose himself just yet. He still had a long way to go before he was ready for that kind of attention.
With a stretch, he rose from his seat, gulping down the beverage before stepping out of the noble lounge. The innkeeper, a stocky beastkin with long wolf-like ears, nodded as Astra passed.
"Thanks for your hospitality," Astra said smoothly, adjusting the Nightshroud's travel mode around his shoulders.
The innkeeper gave a lazy nod. "Come back anytime, Esteemed Lord."
Astra stepped onto the streets just as night fell upon Duskfall once again. The city was reborn in its true form—a nocturnal kingdom of light and shadow.
The towering spires gleamed under the flickering lanterns, and above, the Twilight Tower activated once more, casting its eerie, otherworldly glow across the skyline.
Boom!
Fireworks erupted overhead, showering the night with golden sparks. Heavy metallic transport air ships flooded the twilight skies as they transported people from all across the realm, Their heavier more military counterparts flying high in the sky as they watch the festival grounds with utmost vigilance. Music surged back to life, a cacophony of instruments and voices, as the festival roared back into motion. Dancers twirled in the streets, masked revelers laughed over glasses of enchanted wine, and merchants called out their wares.
Astra exhaled, stepping forward into the lively chaos of Duskfall's Festival.
It was time to get moving.
The streets of Duskfall's Grand Bazaar were alive with the renewed energy of the festival.
The second night had begun, and the sky above shimmered with the glow of lanterns and fireworks, casting a dreamlike hue over the city.
This time, Astra did not walk as a street rat, as a runaway, or as a man with no name. No, tonight, he strode through the market as an arrogant young noble of House Shadow—his steps confident, his Nightshroud now refined into a traveling noble's ensemble, and his Regal Coin hanging visibly at his hip, gleaming under the lantern light.
The moment he stepped into the tailor's boutique, he could feel the shift in atmosphere. The attendants, once dismissive of the rabble that wandered in from the lower districts, immediately straightened up, their trained eyes recognizing the cut of his armor and the unmistakable presence of wealth.
Astra didn't even need to say anything. Within seconds, a tailor was already guiding him toward a section reserved for high-ranking nobles, where dark silks, embroidered coats, and exquisitely crafted attire awaited.
As he stood before the grand mirror, being measured for his new wardrobe, Astra couldn't help but notice the lingering gazes.
Several young noblewomen all rank one, were seated on a nearby cushioned bench, they whispered amongst themselves, all the while stealing glances at him.
He smirked.
Without turning to face them, he felt a little nervous and bored, the shadows around him mirrored his mood, making the light dim a little around them as shadows danced playfully. Their hushed giggles immediately stopped as they tensed, glancing around nervously.
Astra, still facing the mirror, tilted his head slightly.
"Ladies," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with amusement. "My eyes are up here not down there" He joked.
One of the young women squeaked in surprise, her face turning red. The others stifled laughter, trying and failing to act as if they hadn't been staring.
Another one, a bolder noblewoman with Sapphire eyes and long black hair, crossed her arms and smirked. "And what if I didn't care?"
Astra finally turned to them, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. His eyes met hers and he simply laughed as he rolled them.
The tailor nearly stabbed him with a pin, muttering under his breath about nobles with too much confidence.
The girls laughed, a mix of amusement and exasperation at how silly this was, while Astra simply returned his attention to his fitting, thoroughly enjoying himself.
After all, if he was to walk the streets of Duskfall as a true noble of House Shadow, he had to play the part.
.....
Astra stepped out onto the cobblestone streets of the Grand Bazaar, now clad in his new noble attire—an obsidian-black long coat adorned with subtle gray embroidery, the pattern resembling intertwining celestial constellations. The fabric was smooth yet resilient, crafted from enchanted silk that shimmered faintly under the festival lights. The high collar added a regal air, while the golden embroidery along the cuffs and buttons exuded extravagance without being gaudy. Beneath the coat, a form-fitting dark vest hugged his frame, fastened with delicate gold chains connecting its buttons, while black trousers and sleek leather boots completed the ensemble.
With this, Astra no longer looked like a common noble. He looked like someone who belonged among the greater houses—dangerous, untouchable, and wealthy.
But he wasn't done shopping just yet.
Inside the boutique, Astra selected a variety of training clothes—lightweight, form-fitting tunics in shades of gray and black, reinforced with subtle mana-woven threading for durability. He also picked up several utility accessories—leather gloves lined with minor enchantments for grip, a black-and-gold sash, he stored his items in the mana coins internal storage.
The storage could house a plethora of materials and items, there was a limit however to Standards, as the more powerful standards held some sort of unique residual signature that made it difficult to store or something, Astra always thought that it was just some divine plot for banks to make money but he had no idea. The 1000 gold standards he had were wire transferable from gods knows what bank, House Night collapsed so it definitely was not theirs but it could be either shadow or steel as those two houses were heavily invested in banking.
Astra pursed his lips.
By the time he was done, his total spending amounted to thirty gold standards—a hefty sum, but with his newfound wealth, it barely made a dent.
As he turned to leave, however, a familiar voice stopped him.
"Leaving so soon?"
Astra turned, already expecting to see her—the bold noblewoman from earlier.
Now that she was up close, he could appreciate just how stunning she truly was. She wore a flowing black and gold dress, tailored to perfection, with a deep-cut neckline that left little to the imagination.
A delicate gray capelet draped over her shoulders, fastened by a golden brooch shaped like a sun, marking her as a noble of House Dune—one of the Royal Stewards of Sahara. She gave off the subtle aura of a rank two....but it felt off? Astra felt that her shadow was deeper than it should be and his intuition for some reason told him...this woman was powerful...very powerful...
Her Saphire-blue eyes gleamed with mischief as she took a slow step toward him. "You never did give me your name."
Astra tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning. "And you never gave me yours."
She chuckled. "Fair. Princess Seraphine of House Dune. A pleasure." She extended her hand gracefully.
Astra took it, brushing his lips against the back of her knuckles in a mock display of chivalry. as he spoke "Astra of Shadow. At your service." but in his mind, he was panicking"Prin...Princess. of Dune?! Just my luck! I can't get caught!, Wait she definitely knows where Shadow nobles might be!."
She arched a brow. "Astra of House Shadow huh..?"
He only smiled in response
Seraphine leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a sultry whisper. "You're interesting, Astra. A noble of House Shadow, yet I've never seen you before."
He chuckled. "I prefer to keep a low profile."
"Shame, but how fitting for your lineage" she said, eyes flickering with intrigue. "With a face like yours, you'd have quite the following."
Astra couldn't tell if she was genuinely interested in him or just playing the noble's game of flirtation and intrigue. Either way, he played along. "Flattery will get you everywhere, my Princess."
Seraphine smirked. "Perhaps. So tell me, what brings you to the Grand Bazaar? Shopping for a new look, or are you scouting for connections?"
Astra's eyes gleamed. Smart. She sees right through me.
He leaned slightly closer, his voice low and smooth. "Does it have to be just one?"
Seraphine laughed softly, seemingly pleased with his answer. "I like you, Astra. Perhaps we should exchange information?"
With a flick of her wrist, she activated her Regal Coin, allowing Astra to connect his own with hers—an exchange of direct communication access, something only nobles or high-ranking figures could do.
He accepted it smoothly, all the while keeping his true intentions hidden. This was his way into higher social circles, a potential stepping stone toward House Shadow's true elites.
"I literally just got the contact of a Princess...what the actual.."
Just as Astra was about to make another witty remark, his entire body tensed.
It was faint—almost imperceptible—but now that he had stopped focusing entirely on Seraphine, he could feel them.
The hidden gazes.
Around the boutique, lurking in the shadows, positioned strategically across the room—bodyguards.
Powerful ones.
He hadn't noticed them before, but now he could sense at least five. All of them stronger than him. All of them watching.
So this is the protection of a Royal Steward…
Astra kept his expression neutral, though inside, his mind was racing. He had been careless. Too focused on the interaction, too entertained by the flirtation. If he had made even the slightest wrong move, these invisible sentinels would have cut him down or captured him in an instant.
Seraphine must have noticed his shift in focus, because she smirked knowingly. "Oh? you noticed them, didn't you?, Impressive Astra, for a rank one to notice my guards... you really are interesting"
Astra forced a lazy smile, masking his tension. "Took you this long to bring them up?"
She laughed. "Eh most people don't even notice them I'm impressed you even did. Don't worry—they won't bite." Her voice dropped slightly. "Unless, of course, you give them a reason to."
Astra met her gaze, his smirk never faltering. "I'll be sure to behave, then."
Seraphine chuckled. "Good boy."
Astra only smiled as he turned away, playing it cool, but deep inside, he made a note....Seraphine of House Dune..was terrifyingly pretty and definitely not to be underestimated.
As Astra walked out of the boutique, keeping his usual calm and composed expression, his thoughts were anything but.
"Gods, why are all these noble women so damn pretty… and so damn crazy?"
He sighed internally, glancing at his Regal Coin where Seraphine's contact information now sat. She was dangerous—not in the way a warrior was, but in the way a viper slowly coiled around its prey before striking.
"'Good boy?'" His eye twitched slightly as he replayed the moment. "Gods, she's gonna eat me alive."
The worst part? He wasn't entirely sure if he minded.
.....
Back at the inn, Astra ordered a hearty lunch—a roasted mana beast steak, spiced potatoes, fresh bread, and, of course, a tankard of alcoholic lemonade. The food was rich and filling, a far cry from the scraps he used to scavenge. He ate with quiet satisfaction, savoring every bite as he watched the festival's lights flicker outside the window.
"Alright," he thought, finishing his drink with a sharp exhale. "Time to get to work."
Astra found himself in a quiet, secluded training yard behind the inn, where few would disturb him. The air was cool, the moon beginning to rise, and the hum of distant celebrations filled the night.
He unsheathed his new longsword—a sleek, black-bladed weapon forged by the legendary Angel of Steel.
He took his stance and began practicing the Sword of Shadows. Immediately, he struggled.
The style demanded unparalleled flexibility, adaptability, and, above all, speed. It wasn't about power—it was about fluidity, deception, and overwhelming the opponent with movement. His footwork was all wrong. But he had a foundation in it.
His swings lacked finesse. His transitions were stiff. He stumbled more times than he cared to admit, and his muscles burned from the unnatural movements.
"Damn it." Astra grit his teeth, stepping back and wiping sweat from his brow. He knew he was improving—he had to be—but it felt like every step forward came with ten more things to fix. His body simply wasn't trained for this yet.
"How the hell am I supposed to get better at this quickly?"
He swung again—faster, looser, adapting on the fly. The more he moved, the more he felt himself adjusting instinctively.
His body, though untrained, was learning faster than he realized. Every failed step, every awkward cut—his muscles were absorbing them, correcting themselves little by little.
He was rapidly improving!
But he was too focused on his failures to see just how terrifyingly fast he was improving.
After his grueling training session, Astra collapsed onto his bed, flipping open his Regal Coin to the Sword of Shadows' archived teachings.
The first passage made him scowl.
"To master the shadows, one must first become the shadow."
He stared at the words, running a hand through his still-damp curls. What the hell did that even mean? Was he supposed to disappear? Move without thought? He studied the recorded movements, watching how Shadow Masters flowed like liquid, struck like phantoms, and evaded like ghosts. It wasn't about memorizing steps—it was about being the blade within the dark, unseen until the moment of impact.
"Easier said than done," he muttered, tossing the coin onto the nightstand as he stepped into the shower.
The hot water soothed his sore muscles, and he let himself relax, mind still circling the concept. To be a shadow… does that mean I need to let go? He frowned, No. Not just let go… He sighed, rubbing the tension from his neck. I need to embrace the dark completely.
Just as Astra stepped out, a soft chime echoed from his Regal Coin.
[New Message: Seraphine Dune]
Seraphin: Astra, dear, I simply can't allow you to waste away all alone, I made sure to extend the invitation of your house to include you specifically. You see. I'm hosting a minor ball this evening—nothing too formal, just a little gathering of friends, drinks, and entertainment.
Seraphine: And of course, you'll be my honored guest~
Seraphine: You look like you could use some fun....
She messaged Shadow!!! and from the looks of it they didn't sell me out. Hmm is this a trap perhaps? No I doubt it. Dune is neutral and I bear Shadows emblems they cant risk it. Wow she really is politically apt. Fine I'll go, its only a small ball, I should be fine.
Astra smirked as he tapped his reply into the Regal Coin.
Astra: I wouldn't dare miss it.
It's in a couple of Hours I should rest and get ready.
As Astra was thinking his intuition was alerted! Something had found him!
He turned instantly, almost stumbling, panic rising in his chest. As he steadied himself for a battle or great escape.
Nothing.
No figure. No sound.
Just… a speck. A tiny mote of light, floating toward him like a drifting ember. It shimmered with a soft, starlit glow, pulsing gently as if alive. Yet Astra didn't sense danger. There was something oddly friendly about it.
What the actual fuck is that? Am I going to get evaporated?
The star responded before he could act.
It recognized him.
It formed a weak, undeniable connection. Panic thundered in Astra's chest. Someone had found him. He was supposed to be protected—shielded by the divine symbol of Umbra herself! No one should have been able to locate him, and yet here it was.
Whoever they were, they'd pierced that divine veil.
He felt helpless.
Then the world shifted—violently, but without pain.
Astra didn't move, yet everything around him did. It was not his body that had traveled, but his soul. As if wrenched from the fabric of reality, he was taken elsewhere. A place beyond waking. Beyond explanation.
And there—he saw himself.
He stood within a starry town, one that bent the laws of nature. The sky shifted constantly, an ever-turning mural of constellations and divine light. The very air shimmered with magic and celestial weight.
In a town—no, a realm—that shimmered with swirling constellations, cosmic winds, and an endless sky of nebulae. It was almost as if the town was hand-painted by a god, the stars vibrant and alive above swirling in the distant sky.
A figure emerged out of thin air, cloaked in ancient shadows so deep they swallowed the light. His soul burned with the fire of stars. His eyes glowed violet, jet-black curls crowned his head, and upon it—glorious and undeniable—a faint Crown of Stars. His entire form was draped in a Cloak of Shadows, Secrets whirring around as they masked him, The shadows were unfathomable in depth and ancient in power.
This was none other than Astra.
His soul body.
Swirling stars and vast nebulae rolled above him, illuminating cobblestone streets and towering gothic buildings. It was a place of impossible beauty, suspended between dream and divinity. The sky churned like liquid starlight, colors blooming across the heavens. This was no ordinary space. He felt that this was a sacred realm. Further more, Astra felt a deep connection with this realm, as if he can almost control it.
As he turned, a second figure stepped into view. Tall. Regal. Draped in a linen robe embroidered with flecks of starlight. His violet eyes shone like distant galaxies. His violet eyes locked onto Astra's—then widened with awe.
And then, without hesitation, the man knelt.
Astra was stunned for a second. The mana around this man was subtle but unfathomable in depth.
This man was no mortal. He was rank five. A Saint!
The man's voice echoed like the tolling of a great celestial bell.
"I greet the heir of Night. Kin to the Night god."
Astra's mind raced.
Astra instantly made the connection. The Church of Night is this powerful? They found me this fast? How?
And more than that… a literal demigod is kneeling at my feet. I feel sick.
Then it clicked.
I bear the godhoods of Noctis and Umbra. To the Church, I must appear as a messiah… a prophet… a divine chosen. A herald of their potential resurgence.
"To whom do I have the honor of speaking?" Astra asked, tension in his voice.
The man remained kneeling. His tone was strong, reverent.
"Saint Satalus Starial, Archbishop of the Church of Night. May I have the honor of your name, my Prince?"
Astra's chest tightened as a chill ran through him. Archbishop. One of the highest-ranking leaders of the faith. He composed himself with effort.
"I am Astra Noctis, of House Night. Where exactly am I, Saint?"
Saint Satalus smiled softly, eyes still lowered.
"Oh yes," Satalus smiled "My Prince Astra, I humbly apologize for the sudden summoning. I dispatched emissaries through a divine relic of our Church—one capable of hiding from even the Gods. It struggled to find you. But your godhood the one inherited from The Night God… it allowed for a weak lock. Through that connection, your soul was drawn here.
He gestured to the painted sky.
"This is the Kingdom of Stars, our sacred headquarters. A sacred realm of the Night Gods shattered divine seat. We are beyond all external eyes here. No one knows this is happening. No Gods, No angels. Not even the other Saints of the church."
Astra glanced around now with a new understanding.
Tall gothic buildings littered the scenery, ancient cathedrals and Academies, Stars trapped in lamps in the empty streets and a river made out of celestial mana ran through the center of the city, curling around the largest cathedral, which he assumed to be the headquarters of the church. The stars above were strange as if painted rather than natural and they spun eerily and majestically.
Astra glanced around now with a new understanding.
Towering cathedrals with spires of black stone pierced the painted sky. Stars hovered in ornate lanterns along the streets. A river of flowing celestial mana wound through the city, glowing as it encircled the grandest cathedral of them all.
The stars above weren't natural. They spun in eerie, perfect harmony—like brushstrokes brought to life. The air itself was charged with magic, soaking into him. Replenishing. Embracing.
It really feels like the realm welcomes me, Astra thought.
Astra stood still for a moment, then composed himself further.
"I must admit, Saint Satalus… I am new to this. All of this happened just last night, and I have a plethora of questions. I'm sure you do as well."
He adjusted his voice, letting it rise with formality—half-imitating a nobleman from a popular drama series. It felt ridiculous, but also strangely fitting.
"Let us talk."
Satalus nodded solemnly. "Indeed."
With a blink, the city vanished—and Astra now stood inside a vast chamber.
Scrolls, mana stones, celestial instruments, and trinkets lined every shelf. A globe of constellations rotated slowly above. The ceiling mirrored the heavens. And in one corner stood a staff that exuded raw divinity.
Astra felt a holy presence one akin to Odin himself. It was a staff that stood upright in a weird extravagant metal of sorts, Matte black wood curled up into a spiral, encasing a shifting star at its tip. The metal shimmered with an unplaceable hue, as if from another world. Astra knew this was a divine artifact of extreme power!
Its presence was undeniable.
A divine artifact.
Satalus, noticing his gaze, smiled faintly.
"That is the Staff of the Stars. One of the Six Holy Artifacts the Church preserves."
Astra's Crown of Stars pulsed in response—and the staff dimmed. Obedient. Bowed.
A link formed.
Understanding poured into Astra's mind unbidden.
The Crown gives me sovereignty over all things star-magic related. That includes the staff and..gods this sacred realm!
The Staff… it empowers the user temporarily. Amplifies their magic. Makes them a pseudo-Star Mage Angel. But only for a short while. There are limits and Set backs, for example if one were to use this too long, they may be lost in the cosmos forever. Or attract some hidden cosmic horror. Gods...How terrifying.
He muttered, voice barely audible.
"It's extremely powerful" he muttered as he felt a faint understanding of its power and the Crowns.
Satalus beamed. "It reacted to the Crown. Your godhood, however faint, dominates it. As it dominates this realm, you really are our prince"
With a graceful motion, Satalus waved his hand. The cluttered desk was cleared instantly, and two tall chairs—each shaped like radiant stars—manifested.
He motioned respectfully for Astra to sit.
Astra complied nervously, seating himself. Satalus followed, his posture reverent yet poised.
Silence hung in the air. Neither spoke.
Astra coughed awkwardly and gestured.
"Let's begin. You ask first."
The Saint nodded seriously.
"My Prince… what exactly happened?"
Astra sighed inwardly.
Straight to the point, I see.
He began to speak, recounting the events as best he could naturally he carefully omitted the pieces that didn't fit a Prince or a chosen heir. The hunger. The thievery. The nights without shelter.
He shaped the tale as they wanted it to be.
Not a vagabond's tale, but a prophecy unfolding.
....
"After that I sought out Asylum for House Shadow and they granted me it on the surface anyways I have yet to meet up with them. I do not fully know why Shadow would choose to bear a such a burden but I have some guesses Astra explained trying to sound more smart and mature. "I also met a princess of Dune who seemed privy to secrets as she harbors a few herself. She invited me to a small gathering"
Satalus listened intently, nodding once, eyes unreadable.
"It is clearly a ploy," he said at last, tone heavy. "A remnant from ancient times. House Night's contingencies must have begun their awakening. For you to bear the legacy of both Shadow and Night? That is unheard of. No one in living memory has inherited both mana types—to such a degree."
The Archbishop leaned forward, his voice lowering.
"And for you to 'stumble' upon the Angel of Craftsmanship High Duke Odinson Steel, who—by divine irony—is in contract with Her Holiness Queen Layla? No. Too coincidental. This reeks of influence. Threads older than this era are moving."
He exhaled slowly, violet eyes shimmering faintly beneath heavy lids.
"Shadow must house you. Perhaps even forge deeper ties with the Church of Night. Annexation, unification, something. If not by divine will—then by political necessity."
Astra nodded, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Indeed. The Angel of Craftsmanship seemed certain that Shadow would accept the political dangers I bring. Maybe… something is brewing between Dusk, Dawn, and Shadow. A triad shifting beneath the surface."
"Perhaps," Satalus said softly. "Shadow plays the longest game of all."
He glanced out the false window, where stars twisted slowly like oil over canvas.
"I must confess something, my Prince." His tone hardened. "We—the Church—cannot house you. We are strong, yes. We could withstand attacks from a few great houses. But not indefinitely. In the end, we would fall."
A silence fell between them. The Saint looked ashamed, not of weakness, but of reality.
"The only reason we are not already wiped from existence is because a few of us can ascend—temporarily—to the Angelic Level. That alone makes any assault on us costly, slow, and uncertain. But you…" He looked Astra dead in the eyes.
"You make the cost worth it."
Astra understood. He was not a student of politics, but he had watched people. And people, like cities, cracked under pressure or hunger. Everyone had a threshold.
"Only a Great House," Satalus said finally, "Can stop another Great House."
The Archbishop straightened his spine, something old and noble in his posture.
"Seek them out. They are allies of the Church. You even share a divine bloodline. They will not dare treat you poorly—not unless they wish to invite the wrath of the Night itself. They will likely train you. Test you. Screen your loyalties. It will be dangerous and treacherous… but it will also be your path."
He folded his hands together, gaze darkening.
"The Angels of Shadow have been quiet lately. Too quiet. Even for them. They are schemers—more than any other lineage. If you are to survive this, follow their schemes to their source. I shall aid you if needed."
Astra inclined his head, eyes narrowing just slightly.
"I must bother you, Saint. It seems I am quite alone in navigating such… endeavors. I plan on using the church and need support from them, I take it you will enjoy such a roll. I by right am the leader of the Church, yet I am not so stupid and naive to claim such a position, not now, not yet. But as it stands I need you more than ever. I plan on using the Church to barter with Shadow. "
The words were humble. Perhaps even naïve to the ear. But inside, Astra sharpened.
I won't trust him either. No matter how kind he appears. Everyone has a price. Even saints.
Satalus nodded, "As expected, No worries my Prince, The Archbishops were all notified as soon as we detected the godhoods movements and are ready to accept you, however I do not know whom are to be trusted completely. I must advise you however to not fall under Shadows banners or some members of the church will defect. I can tell however you are not that kind of person after all you do claim His lineage" he smiled.
Astra laughed, "I will never submit to enslavement. Be it political or out of desperation. I would rather die. Perhaps that is why I am Crowned with Stars. As to Shadows case, the most I will promise them is assistance of the Church in times of need, I do have a theory however. It seems war is brewing which can explain their motive to house me, and if that were to happen they would no doubt use me to take over the Church. However that will not happen. I refuse." Astra spoke words that he knew this Saint had been praying to hear. Playing on his emotions a bit knowing he's still too green to even begin attempting manipulation on a Demi god.
He smiled as he spoke "As you wish my prince, I too have had similar theories but I do not truly know. However the Church would like to maintain its independence from Shadow, you have our support."
"I swear this Upon the God of Night and Mana itself."
[Contract set] Accept?
[Caliph of the Church of Night] — pending.
Astra exhaled through his nose, tired and strained from even imagining the weight of such contracts. His fingers twitched against his knee, betraying the stress beneath his controlled posture. Still pending. But it might as well be signed already. The church grows desperate—I can hear it in the saint's tone.
"Very well," he said, nodding once, voice smooth but edged with exhaustion. "Of course, I won't dare claim real power yet over the church just yet."
Saint Satalus inclined his head with the patience of one who measured centuries, his golden eyes unreadable. "Naturally. You are only an heir. But your influence will rise."
Something in Astra clicked. A thread of intuition, sharp as a blade, wove itself through him. His breath caught. Like remembering something that was on the tip of tour tongue, Knowledge flooded his mind. "Wait… this sacred realm—it's responding to me. Granting me a measure of control. Small, so minute it could be overlooked—but real. Real authority. Real bearing.
The realization filled him like fire in dry timber. Suddenly his plans changed drastically, He had planned on slowly gaining little influence with the church as he attempts to bribe some into higher positions using his status, he was the rightful heir and that was a law set in mana, contracts even demigods had to follow lest face immense backlash, but realistically who will listen to a mere mortal, worst yet a kid. They would outmaneuver him and sorts due to his lack of real power. But this...This changes a lot!
A slow smile cut across Astra's face. His heart pounded, arrogance swelling like a tide. And then he laughed—low at first, then fuller, until it echoed unnaturally in the realm.
"Oh, but I do claim real power, Saint."
Satalus froze. His expression betrayed nothing, but his thoughts roared in panic. What madness is this? A rank one… a vagabond, nothing more! To claim power before me—a demi-god? Is he a fool? A lunatic? For the first time in centuries, Satalus felt the cold bite of doubt—his hopes for a reborn Church, a restored Kingdom, faltering before this boy's impossible arrogance.
Then Astra lifted his hand.
The Kingdom of Stars trembled.
The painted sky above rippled, and from its depths a river of miniature stars descended like molten fire. They whirled around him in a radiant stream, light so fierce it banished shadow. Astra knew—instinctively, undeniably—that these were real stars, fragments of the divine tapestry itself. Yet in this realm, they bent to his will.
The crown upon his brow ignited. Its glow pressed outward, suffocating, regal, divine.
Satalus staggered. His eyes widened, his composure shattered. The weight he felt was unmistakable. Divinity.
The stars circled Astra like worshippers around a throne. The crown drank their light, and in that brilliance Astra's gaze turned distant, unfocused. In truth Astra just did whatever he could to move the realm.
Destiny, he realized in the haze. The stars are conduits of fate. I can peer into destiny and some minute parts of fate?
Scenes flickered across his vision—flashes of futures, scattered whispers of what might be. He followed the strongest one, the question buried deepest in his heart: Can the Church be trusted?
The answer came—not as words, but as a pressure. Yes. But only if he wielded overwhelming force. Only if he pressed his will upon them until they bent.
The vision bled away. The crown's brilliance faded. The river of stars dissipated, dissolving back into the still, painted sky of the sacred realm.
Astra staggered, dizzy from the weight of what he'd just touched. He had divined without intention, by pure accident—yet it had worked. His mana was also drained and he felt the realms mana reserves drain a bit. "How intriguing " Astra thought.
Across from him, Saint Satalus looked stricken. His mind reeled. Impossible. He just witnessed a rank one mobilize a sacred realm. Not only that—he divined the future. And worse— His throat went dry. He now holds control of the Kingdom of Stars itself.
The thought alone was heresy against the order of the world.
Astra dragged a hand down his face, grounding himself. His heart thundered. He was no longer simply an heir in the Saint's eyes. No—he had become an asset.
Saint Satalus bent the knee, head lowered in submission. His voice trembled with sincerity. "Forgive me, my prince. It seems we have grown too arrogant."
Astra waved him off with a lazy smile, masking the storm within with practiced nonchalance. "Oh, I know. But do make sure the other Saints hear of what transpired."
"As you command," Satalus whispered, obedient now where before he had been calculating.
"Good." Astra leaned back, feigning ease, though his pulse still raced. He gestured lightly, almost playfully. "And do forgive the… experimentation."
Satalus inclined his head, silent, waiting.
"Now," Astra said, his smile sharpening, "Go on with your questions."
Satalus tilted his head, clearly sensing the tension. But he said nothing. Instead, his voice dropped into a darker tone.
"My prince what godhood did you obtain?"
Astra met his gaze, his voice even, steady.
"The Crown of Stars… and the Cloak of Secrecy."
He waited—curious what truth might be drawn from the Saint's reaction.
Satalus eyes widened.
He had dreamt of this day for years.
The day the Church would rise again. And here it was—finally, undeniably—unfolding before him. The boy in front of him wasn't just any stray heir. No, he bore the direct bloodline of the main family. And more than that, he carried the right for two godhoods and preliminary control over a Sacred realm.
The Archbishop had felt the shift in the realms even before Astra stepped through the threshold. As a wielder of gravity and space, his senses extended far beyond the mundane; he could read subtle warps in the world like a scholar read texts. His attunement to the cosmos, enhanced by a personal relic woven with star mana, made him unusually sensitive to divine movement.
Yet nothing had prepared him for this. An artifact of the Goddess of Shadow herself—here, now—responding to a boy who was barely Rank One.
Incredible. Angels, in all their glory, would kill for a second godhood. Most spent decades searching for even one. And here stood a mortal, barely blooded, holding two.
As expected of the Last Heir… Satalus thought, a rare swell of awe blooming in his chest.
He praised inwardly
This wasn't coincidence. This was a divine scheme, and it was moving before his very eyes.
"My prince," Satalus said softly, "We are at your service. I am the current acting leader of the Church—as one of the senior Archbishops. The Pontiff seat has remained empty for many years, but… if needed, I will take up the mantle."
He lowered his head slightly, voice tinged with honest shame.
"I had planned on keeping this conversation remains between us. I regret to admit, I do not trust all my fellow Archbishops. Not anymore. However after this? They will follow my will and the will of the House of Night, they are obliged to obey. Especially now that the Kingdom of Stars has crowned a Castellan"
It seems the church's internal affairs are more precarious than thought. Interesting, just how zealous are these high ranking members? is it even real zeal? Could it simply be false faith thats driven by selfish desires fooling the masses? The gods are dead after all what divine retribution might there be? It's not like one of the newer churches of the Seraphs. Gods Im still too new to the workings of the upper echelons of society Astra sighed inwardly
Astra gave a slow nod. "That's to be expected," he said, almost casually. "Tell me… what exactly are godhoods?"