Satalus paused. He chose his next words carefully, letting silence stretch just long enough to make their weight felt.
"Godhoods," he said, "represent divine authority. There are only so many in existence. Some are created… others inherited. The difference is crucial."
He lifted a hand, fingers glowing faintly with violet mana.
"Think of an authority as a domain—space, time, death, dreams. If one bears a godhood tied to such a domain, they inherit certain unique powers to wield it. Not just as magic—but to suppress others who do."
He glanced sideways, as if weighing how much to confess.
"If I, as a Rank Five Saint, wield space and gravity, and I inherit a godhood of space—say, from the holy God of Night himself—then I may suppress even a Pinnacle-Tier Angel who uses the same authority. That is the difference. Not just in magic… but in dominion."
Astra narrowed his gaze, absorbing every word.
"There are two major kinds of godhoods," Satalus continued. "Those created through ascension—rituals of becoming an Angel. Those who claim an authority which is not in a form. And those inherited from greater beings, one can inherit them from Angels, Devils, Seraphs, and Sins even the dead gods.."
His voice dropped slightly.
"The most powerful godhoods? Those tied to the dead gods. Their quality is… beyond measure. Godhoods can also exist in many forms."
Stalalus looked outside "This very kingdom is a sacred realm left behind by Night himself, it is his dominion hidden away from all, only certain members of the church can enter and even then its only for a limited time, no one has a right to claim this kingdom so far or even mobilize all its latent powers, in fact as it stands you hold the highest authority here based on that crown alone and control who may enter or exit."
Astra nodded this was true. The realm in a sense was now his, yet he only could use it when he was inside the realm. Not outside, here he may be able to mobilize certain features but he knew well that he actually had no real power just yet. But the Church doesn't need to know that Astra mocked inwardly.
Satalus folded his hands as he continued.
"I don't know how many godhoods exist, or what they all do. But from what we've pieced together, the ancient gods possessed seven to nine godhoods each—corresponding to their dominions and names. It is unknown what the current Gods may claim as they all have their own secrets and divine schemes."
Astra remained silent. He didn't offer clarification, but inside he was already cataloging possibilities.
Satalus leaned closer, voice low and reverent.
"I do not know what your godhoods represent exactly, but I know a little on one. The Cloak of Secrecy most likely carries authority over secrecy and concealment as its name states. It is highly sought after by many angels and factions, for its uses as it can cloak one from the from the gazes of even Gods. It explains why we couldn't track you—even using methods stronger than any available to most factions."
He paused, considering the other.
"The Crown of Stars… I cannot say. It may represent sovereignty, celestial insight, certain domains of fate, command. It could be many things."
Astra gave a faint nod, eyes veiled. He wasn't about to reveal what he did know.
"But I haven't exactly claimed them," he said at last.
Satalus shook his head.
"No. Not yet. You've inherited a fraction of their strength. The godhoods themselves… have a will of their own. They detected your presence, found you worthy, and offered you a sliver of their power. They may even have blessed others."
He clasped his hands tightly.
"That fraction will grow. The stronger you become, the more they offer. At Rank Two you may hold 5%. At Rank Three, perhaps 8%. At Rank Four, 15%. At Rank Five—25%, maybe more."
"Only at Rank Five," he said gravely, "can you truly begin to accommodate them. Only then can you prepare for the weight of Angelhood."
Astra was quiet for a long moment before he asked the question directly:
"Are you preparing to ascend to Angelhood?"
Satalus didn't answer right away.
Then he smiled—darkly.
"I have been prepared for years. But I did not dare attempt it."
"Are you making your own godhood or inheriting one?" Astra asked curious.
Satalus smiled. "The Authority of Mass, was destroyed in a material sense, meaning I can make and claim it as my own as I attempt Angel hood."
"I see" Astra smiled. So to simplify it, Godhoods are Authorities. People can either inherit one or make one depending on If a material version existed.To become an angel an authority is needed meaning one must take control of an authority or inherit one. So that must mean there are a limited number of godhoods out there representing their own authority, or law that exists from a dead god, also not every godhood is compatible with each other naturally. This is confusing, how many potential combinations exist? and what godhoods are compatible? Questions Questions.
Saint Satalus sighed as leaned back, the weariness of centuries pressing down on his shoulders.
"If one of us makes that attempt… we risk open war. Shadow supports us in name, yes—but if we grow too strong, if we draw too much light… will they protect us? Truly?"
His eyes narrowed.
"That is why I've waited. Waited and rotted in this silence. I was tired. I am tired."
Then his gaze locked with Astra's.
"Until you came, my prince."
His voice shifted—no longer the voice of a mere archbishop, but a man touched by prophecy.
"You are a sign. A herald of a new age. And I do not speak with blind zeal. You will change many things for us. It is your duty. And it is mine—to rise, to claim the rank of Angel, to take the mantle of Pontiff and become the Lord Protector of this Church."
He bowed low, deeply, reverently.
"You've awoken something in me I thought long dead. For that… I thank you. We the church of Night are under you. I shall notify the remaining Archbishops, They will comply."
Astra didn't move. He accepted the words with a nod.
But inwardly?
He was unmoved.
He didn't care for this church. The dead god they worshipped stirred nothing in him. Blind zeal wrapped in dogma was no guiding light. No—what Satalus truly desired wasn't revival. It was power. Astra offered him a key to it. House Shadows protection, and He had laid claim to the Kingdom of Stars, something Satalus surely did not expect.
He doesn't speak of faith. He speaks of ambition. Of position. Of divine ascent.
I see through you Satalus, Clearly this Demi-god was of noble bearing. Astra had a natural talent for a few things. Adapting to Scenarios, Social settings and cues, as well as drinking, He grew up in a harsh environment and had entangled with many peoples of all backgrounds. Each and Every time he had been able to glimpse at what they wanted.
Satalus had been stuck at rank five for gods know how long. He had been rotting and stagnating, he wanted power and most of all divinity. Astra was an asset that will allow him to reach that level.
perhaps that was the truest glimpse of all. These churches didn't want to raise their gods from slumber. They wanted to become gods themselves—by claiming what was left behind.
The rituals. The relics. The titles.
Perhaps, Astra thought, some truly do believe. Perhaps there are angels who kneel in honest reverence…
But he'd bet that most wear masks.
Astra's voice cut through the chamber. "What is the current state of the Church?"
Satalus responded "Stable… but declining. The city of Evernight holds fast and even grows in size, yet our strength bleeds away with each passing year."
Before he could inquire more Astra suddenly felt weak—illusory, as if the very thread of his being were unraveling.
Satalus stood up from his chair, his tone shifting to one of quiet finality.
"Let us end here, my prince," he said. "This Sacred realm is weak and can only be used for a limited time, it seems your being here has strained it a bit. The only reason your soul has lasted this long… is due to your godhoods and your vast mana reserves."
He lifted a hand, and between his fingers shimmered a regal coin, dark as the abyss and laced with faint celestial light. A Saint Coin—not one forged by mundane means, but a relic of deeper power. Tiny stars glimmered across its surface, forming constellations that shifted as if alive. Etched in the center were the words:
"Forged in Night. Crowned by Stars."
Without hesitation, Satalus sent a request forward. It shimmered, pulsing once, and connected directly with Astra's mage coin. for future contact.
Then, with a second gesture, Satalus revealed something far rarer. A tiny speck of light hovered between his fingers, no larger than a grain of rice, yet it burned with the quiet intensity of a sun.
"This," he said reverently, "is one of the Divine Artifact Emissaries."
He placed it in Astra's palm. The star pulsed, and instantly, it recognized him.
"It will accompany you," Satalus continued. "It serves as both messenger. Should you ever find yourself in danger beyond measure, send a summons through it. I will arrive. Instantly. It is also hidden and cannot be discovered by being below the angelic level. "
The star flickered once, then nestled itself into Astra's shadow—bound.
But Astra could no longer respond. His form grew even more translucent, the edges of his soul warping like heat haze. He couldn't speak. Could barely think. His consciousness was slipping—
"With that said," Satalus whispered, his violet eyes gleaming with quiet conviction,"I shall reach out again soon, my prince. May the stars guide your path..."
He bowed low, regal and composed—even as Astra faded.
—
With a sudden pull, Astra's senses snapped back.
The world reformed around him in a rush of warmth, of breath, of gravity pressing into his skin like a reminder he hadn't slipped into some dream. His chest rose unevenly, lungs catching as if his body itself doubted he had truly returned.
He sat up slowly, each motion deliberate, as though the wrong twitch of a muscle might shatter the fragile thread tethering him to reality.
The Church. The Saints. The Houses of Shadow and Night. The inheritance of godhoods. The Kingdom of Stars. The question of who—or what—was moving the threads from above.
Each name lingered like a whisper at the edge of his ear, crawling back into his skull. He felt them press against him, heavy, choking, and yet unreal.
Astra stared into the quiet darkness of the inn, the candlelight guttering low, its frail glow struggling to touch the corners of the room. The silence pressed in close, the shadows clinging like watchful witnesses.
There was much to think about. Too much.
His body sat on the edge of the bed, but his mind was already unraveling into a thousand directions. He rubbed at his temples, as if he could massage order out of chaos, but it only seemed to scatter further.
His fingers brushed against the coin tucked beneath his sleeve. The weight of it—far heavier than gold—reminded him that this wasn't some hallucination brought on by hunger or exhaustion. It was all real. The coin. The godhoods. The saints. The violet-eyed zealot. Satalus.
It was all real.
"How the hell am I supposed to navigate this?" he muttered, pressing a hand against his temple, the words falling flat in the hollow room. "Fake it 'til I make it?"
He let out a sharp scoff, the sound bouncing back at him from the wood and stone. Bitter. Ugly.
The Saint—that towering zealot cloaked in sanctity, eyes like molten amethyst—had looked at him as if he were something more than human. A prophet. A prophecy incarnate. A prince. A herald of some new age.
But Astra? He couldn't even see himself clearly in the mirror of his own mind. The thought made his lips twist, humorless, cruel.
"I'm no prophet," he whispered to the shadows clinging to the rafters. "I'm not a messiah. I don't even know what I am."
Yesterday, he had been a starving fugitive in an alley. Hunted like vermin. Alone. No friends. No home. A stain of a life clinging to existence by sheer spite.
And now?
"Now I'm a prince with godhoods, a Castellan of a sacred realm? Further more I am now a Caliph of a Holy Church?" He barked out a laugh, the sound hollow, manic, as though mocking himself. "Cloak of Secrecy? Crown of Stars? Kingdom of Stars? Church of Night? Come on. This is madness."
His laughter died quickly, swallowed by the room's silence. It left something heavy behind, something that settled in his chest like stone.
"They don't want me," he muttered, voice breaking quieter. "They want what I represent. The bloodline. The godhoods. The myth."
His eyes closed, but the weight of that truth still pressed down.
"But then again," he exhaled, lips curling into something bitter, "I am a myth now. Who would believe such madness?"
He leaned back against the creaking wall of the inn, staring up at the ceiling beams as though the wood might crack open and whisper him an answer. The stillness no longer felt neutral—it was hostile, heavy with unseen eyes, with the gravity of choices he hadn't asked for.
His mind began to turn, slowly at first, then sharper, quicker. To think. To plan.
Option One.
Hide. Disappear into the undercity. Let Duskfall's shadows swallow him whole. He could vanish the way vermin vanish, gnawing out a space in forgotten corners, living half-alive. But he knew what awaited—angels and saints scouring the night, assassins with blades sharper than silence, inquisitors who would peel his soul apart to see what secrets it held. Captured. Used. Or just killed, discarded like refuse.
"Not a real option," Astra muttered, lips curling faintly. "My old life's gone. And honestly… good riddance."
Option Two.
Seek out House Shadow. Accept their asylum. Bow his head and let them parade him like a relic, a political artifact dragged from myth. He would be a weapon on display, a pawn in games he barely understood. He saw it clearly in his mind's eye—endless feasts where whispers cut sharper than daggers, wars sparked in his name, his bloodline inked into treaties like a noose around his neck.
"I'd probably die…" he said, a shrug rolling off his shoulders as if that didn't matter. A dry grin pulled at his lips, twisted. "But at least I'd die as a prince."
Option Three.
Join Shadow, but on his own terms. Let them shelter him, but sink his claws in deeper than they imagined. Ingratiate himself with the Church of Night, bleed its secrets dry, and wield his bloodline like a blade. He could climb—slow, dangerous, inevitable. Scheme. Devour every ounce of power offered until it was no longer charity but conquest. He could turn the game back on its masters, make the players his pawns. Rise. And perhaps… just perhaps… become something more.
"My very own deity," he whispered, tasting the words like a forbidden fruit. His lips split into something crooked. "Why not? After all, I was offered that quest."
The thought lingered, hot, alive, dangerous. He knew how naive it sounded, how arrogant, but arrogance had kept him alive this long. And besides—did he really have a choice?
Two godhoods burned in his soul. A sacred realm lay tethered to him. These weren't gifts one could throw away. They were chains—and crowns. He couldn't even dream of a normal life now. He could only aim higher. Higher than the saints. Higher than the angels. Higher than anyone. Isn't this exactly what I had dreamed of? fantasied about?
He told himself he knew the dangers. He told himself he understood the risk. But the truth? He was still just a boy on the edge of manhood, planning to rob power from houses as ancient as kingdoms, thinking he could bite into the marrow of the divine and not choke.
Still, the thought thrilled him. Go big or go home. Except…
"I have no home," Astra laughed, shaking his head.
It was do or die. And he smiled brightly, as if the madness itself was a balm. His life had always been do or die. From his first love to his first touch of mana, nothing had ever been simple. Nothing had ever been normal. Everything had always been warped. More.
So why should this be any different?
His gaze fell on the miniature star still pulsing softly in the corner of the room. A piece of divinity, just sitting there like a loyal dog waiting for its master. He dismissed it back. It seems I can summon this anywhere and access the Kingdom of Stars
"Failure means death," Astra said, staring it down. "But death chasing a dream… that's something else entirely."
He exhaled slowly. His heart beat calmer now—not because he was at peace, but because he had direction.Not certainty.But clarity.
He had already died once in the streets of Duskfall.This… whatever this was…This was his rebirth.
And he would rise like a star wreathed in shadows. Or not at all.
Astra leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the flickering miniature star. It pulsed gently in the gloom of the inn room, like some divine heartbeat echoing in time with his own.
"This is it…" he said aloud, like a confession to the dark.
"The plan. My plan. My ambition."
He took a slow breath, counting the steps off in his mind like scripture.
One – Rise. Not just in strength, but in power. Political. Military. Divine. Become someone the realms would whisper about, not chase like a stray dog.
Two – Live a life worth living. Not the hollow survival he'd known for so long, but real excitement. Adventure. Discovery. Mystery. The kind of life that felt like a story—his story.
Three – Women… and alcohol. He let out a tired laugh.
"Yeah… that's staying on the list."
He wasn't ashamed of it. Not really. Astra had never cared for hidden vaults of long-lost treasure or tyrannical empires built on bones and fire. That was someone else's dream.
No, he preferred the elegance of the long game. Subtle manipulation. Quiet leverage. Making things happen without ever lifting a blade.
Even with women, it was the same. He'd never been the type to throw himself at them—never had the luxury, really. He liked it better when they came to him anyway. That was the trick. Let them think it was their idea. Let them want him. He also knew very well he was like this because he an orphan with major attachment and abandonment issues. Astra rolled his eyes as he mocked inwardly. Gods forbid a man is self aware.
He leaned back into the creaking inn chair, shadows pooling around his boots like ink. His thoughts drifted somewhere else—someone else.
A name he didn't want to say aloud. A face he hadn't forgotten .A young noblewoman with clever eyes and a tongue like a blade sheathed in honey.
His second friend.
Cielle Luna. Of the great House Luna—stewards of the Northeast peaks of the Realm, guardians of those frozen deserts and their artifact snowbound citadels where the air thins and the stars burn closer.
She was older, silver-haired and silver-eyed, her skin the color of fallen snow. Beautiful beyond words—beautiful in a way that felt carved from winter itself.
She was Astra's first love, and his second friend.
A year ago, she had been stationed in Duskfall under some political pretense, a mission wrapped in diplomacy and veiled bargains. Astra hadn't cared. Their meeting had been chance, accidental even, but it had split the monotony of his nights.
She used to whisper truths into his ear between tangled sheets and stolen nights:
One — "Always know your place."Not in the sense of submission—no, she meant it like a chess player knows the board. Know where you stand, what you are… and what you're not. Astra learned that fast.
Two — "Don't let greed consume you.""Not for love, not for power, not for gold."Greed made people sloppy, desperate, and loud. And Astra? He prided himself on being quiet, precise, and detached.
Three — "Always smile."She used to say it like it was gospel."There hasn't been a room I couldn't survive just by smiling," She told him once, brushing her hair aside like it was the easiest thing in the world.
That lesson stuck the hardest. There hadn't been a day since he couldn't lie and smile his way out of something. I pray that there isn't a day. Astra spoke out loud.
Even now—divine gifts, ancient bloodlines, saints and angels—he smiled through it all.
But the memory wasn't all sweet. She'd played him in the end. Tossed him aside once he'd served his use, like a coin spent on a meaningless bet. He never saw it coming until it was already done.
Astra sighed and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.
"That's life," he muttered. "You either play or get played."
And he was done being played.