Leo was deep in sleep when he suddenly felt a force tugging at him—gentle at first, but persistent. His eyes opened slowly, his vision swimming in a hazy blur. A few seconds later, the fog cleared, and he found himself once again seated on his familiar stone chair at the secret meeting.
Before the session began, Leo glanced around the shadowy chamber. This time, unlike his previous visits, the darkness that surrounded them felt different. There was something oddly familiar about it—not merely because he had been here many times before, but something deeper. A strange sense of recognition stirred inside him, though he couldn't quite grasp its source.
He was still trying to understand the feeling when Mr. Sage's voice broke the silence.
"Welcome, my friends, to another conclave of our order. As is our tradition, let us begin by fulfilling the promises made at our last gathering."
The room came to life with subtle movements as members exchanged items—small enchanted objects, folded scrolls, crystals that hummed faintly with power. Each trade sealed an agreement, a quiet acknowledgment of debts kept.
"I've heard that many legendary items have recently been stolen," Mr. Immortal said once the exchanges concluded. "And from what I've gathered, they all share a connection to the angels of God of Light."
"I received the same reports," Mr. Crow added with a nod.
Mr. Immortal went on. "Some say the thefts are the work of vampires. But this scale? This coordination? Vampires alone don't have that kind of reach. Most of the cities in the Kingdom of Light are in disarray."
Leo and Arthur both shifted slightly in their seats, exchanging no words but fully alert.
"And," Mr. Immortal continued, "all B-ranks and above are now being sent out on missions to stabilize the situation."
He then turned toward Arthur, eyes narrowing slightly. "Speaking of higher ranks, there are whispers about the Pope's son. Some claim he's on a secret mission. A few even suggest he's sailing with the Avalon Pirates as their captain. I wonder—do you know anything about that, Mr. Light?"
It was a trap, veiled in curiosity. But Arthur didn't flinch.
"I don't involve myself in such rumors," he said plainly. "So no—I know nothing."
His response came without hesitation or any sign of evasion. Still, Leo could feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Something had changed. A silent alarm had gone off. It was becoming clear that they wouldn't be able to stay part of this group for much longer—within the next few meetings, they'd likely need to find a way out before things became truly dangerous.
The problem, as always, was the mark. Leo had studied the strange seal etched into his hand many times. It wasn't just a physical mark—it was like an enchantment embedded into his soul. But with the growth of his domain and his deeper connection to it, he felt more confident now. He believed he could remove it, eventually.
A moment later, Mr. King spoke, his voice low and steady.
"A group of adventurers vanished near the Shadow Lands last week. Under normal circumstances, the creatures there can't survive the light. They vanish if they stray beyond the border. So, there's a real chance they were hunted down by orcs."
A new tension crept into the room, replacing the earlier unease with something heavier.
"I've already warned several key figures," Mr. King continued. "Preparations for defensive action are underway, just in case the situation escalates."
"Then I will inform the Kingdom of Magic," said Ms. Shadow without pause.
Mr. King nodded, then turned to Arthur. "Any new findings regarding that beast, Mr. Light?"
"We're collecting as much information as possible," Arthur replied. "With enough data, we might be able to eliminate it during the next encounter. If we fail, stronger reinforcements will be needed—possibly even an S-rank."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," said Mr. Crow, leaning forward. "The Kingdom of Light is already strained. If the orcs and vampires keep moving in the shadows, and a threat rises from the sea too, it could all spiral into catastrophe."
The remainder of the meeting shifted to less urgent matters—none of which concerned Leo. It finally ended with Mr. Crow offering a few rare items to the group, as he often did.
When Leo returned to the real world, he lay still for a moment, organizing his thoughts and setting new priorities. He needed to find a way to pass his prayer to Arthur—some method that would allow him to offer protection during future meetings, in case things went wrong. He also needed to develop countermeasures against Mr. Sage. If anyone discovered that Mr. Light was actually the Pope's son, Mr. Sage might act quickly—and violently. Confronting a being of that caliber would be reckless without preparation.
He wanted to sleep, but since he had already been resting before the meeting, he wasn't tired anymore. So instead, he decided to ascend into his domain and take a closer look at the three candidates.
…
Marco Grabner was trying to sleep, but his thoughts wouldn't let him. More people had gone missing, and he had no idea what to do about it. He'd already searched everywhere he could think of—looking for clues, for proof—but came up empty every time.
He had never been much of a believer, not anymore. In the past few days, though, desperation had led him to pray—to every god he could remember. He received no answer.
Once, he had believed. Back when his parents were still alive. But after they died to an incurable illness, and no divine help came, his faith had withered. Praying had seemed like a waste of time back then—and now, it only confirmed what he already believed: the gods didn't care.
Half an hour passed. Sleep never came. Restless, he gave up and decided to distract himself with a book. He got up, walked over to his small bookshelf, and began scanning the titles, fingers trailing across the worn spines. Eventually, he pulled out a book simply titled Gods and sat down on the chair by his bed.
He'd read the book before. It began with a general overview of the world's religions and Gods—nothing new. But there was one chapter he always found amusing. A section where each page summarized a different god. It had become a habit of his to read that chapter and scoff quietly at the so-called divine beings.
The first page was about the Goddess of the Moon. He skimmed it quickly and turned the page to the next entry—the God of Light.
But as he looked at the title, his vision blurred. The words on the page shimmered, shifting out of focus.
He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The title was The Betrayer. A cold, sharp wave of fear ran through his chest and he dropped the book.
He didn't need to read the rest of the page—he knew exactly what should have been there. It had originally said The God of Light.
With trembling hands, he picked the book back up. The title was back to normal.
"Am I imagining things?" he muttered, trying to calm his nerves. He shook his head and kept reading.
The next entry was about the Goddess of Nature. But again, the title had changed. Now it read, The Beast.
Marco dropped the book a second time. A loose sheet of paper slipped out from between the pages and drifted to the floor. Staring at it with growing dread, he hesitated before bending down to pick it up.
It was formatted like the others, with a bold title at the top—only this was a name he had never read before. The Creator.
He started reading the first few lines beneath the heading.
The Creator — an eternal presence, neither good nor evil, bearer of both light and shadow, who forged balance from chaos and gave form to the formless.
From nothing, You spoke.
The next line was unmistakably the beginning of a prayer. That realization made him stop. Heart pounding, he folded the paper and stuffed it back into the book and then he returned the book to the shelf without looking at it again and went back to his bed.
He didn't sleep for the rest of the night. Fear clung to him, like a weight pressing down on his chest.
He had never heard of a god called The Creator before. And somehow, he knew—what he had seen was no trick of the mind.
…
Deep in the Shadow Land, Alina walked silently with her expedition group. It was her first time this far from home, and the mission was being led by Arlasan himself. She didn't know where they were heading—he hadn't told her, or perhaps he assumed she didn't need to know.
Along the way, they encountered several creatures—twisted things with ink-black skin and hollow eyes—but the others handled them easily. Alina, still not strong enough to contribute meaningfully, kept close to the center of the group and watched, learning. She hated being so weak, but she understood this was just the beginning.
After hours of travel under the gray sky, they reached the ruins of a city. It was completely abandoned.
The buildings were made of black stone—tall, broken structures that still carried the echoes of another time. The design was similar to their own city, and the same dark stone was used, but everything here was decayed and fractured. Dust clung to the sharp edges of collapsed walls and open arches. It felt as though something had sucked the life out of the place long ago.
"We complete our exploration here and go back," said Arlasan. He glanced at Alina briefly. She could tell he was being cautious—for her sake. This was her first expedition beyond the known borders, and he wasn't planning to let her see anything too dangerous.
Everyone nodded and fanned out, each person choosing a house to search.
"Don't go too far," Arlasan added.
Alina entered one of the nearby buildings with two other group members. It was a narrow, two-story house with a shattered roof. They each took a separate room.
She went up the cracked stairs alone. The second floor had only two intact rooms, though the staircase once continued further—it was now snapped in half, the third floor long gone. Cautiously, she stepped into the first room. It was empty, nothing but ash, collapsed shelves, and the remnants of a long-rotted table.
Disappointed, she moved to the second room.
There, in one corner, lay a broken chair and the vague shape of something that might've been a rug or a body, now unrecognizable. Most of it was just dust. A single book rested near the far wall. As soon as she touched it, the cover crumbled to dust between her fingers.
She sighed and began to rise—but paused.
There was something under the debris. It wasn't black, and it wasn't gray—it was pale, almost white. Paper?
She knelt and carefully brushed away the rubble. Somehow, the page had survived—its surface was smooth, cleaner than anything else in this forgotten land. It felt out of place. Untouched.
She picked it up. At the top of the page, written in crisp, bold letters, was a title:
The Creator
She read the text below, her brow furrowed.
The Creator — an eternal presence, neither good nor evil, bearer of both light and shadow, who forged balance from chaos and gave form to the formless.
The writing was elegant, and as she read, the words seemed to hum faintly in the back of her mind. There was no dust on the paper—no signs of aging. It was as if the paper had never been touched by time.
Below the description, a prayer followed. She read it casually, without thought or reverence. The idea of summoning some grand divine being was absurd. And if such a thing did exist, maybe it should destroy this place. There was nothing here worth saving.
When nothing happened, she gave a small shrug, folded the paper carefully, and tucked it into her pocket before heading downstairs.
"Did you find anything?" someone asked her.
"No," she said quickly.
She wasn't sure why she lied. Maybe she wanted to hold on to it a little longer, to that strange moment. Maybe she just wanted… hope. Whatever that meant.
An hour later, the group decided to spend the night in one of the more intact buildings. They reinforced the walls and door with layered protection spells.
Alina and two other girls took one of the side rooms to rest. As they fell asleep, she sat alone in the corner, hugging her knees. The light from their enchantments flickered dimly across the cracked ceiling. When she was certain the others were asleep, she slipped her hand into her pocket and felt the page still there.
She didn't know why it mattered to her. But it did.
Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she lay down and let herself drift off.
…
In her dream, everything was gone. The Shadow Land, the ruins, even the sky.
She stood alone in a vast, endless white. Not snow—not mist—just emptiness, as if the world had been erased and replaced with pure stillness.
Ahead, a platform rose from the void, stretching out like the entrance to a colossal palace. On either side bloomed vibrant flowers—glowing with unnatural color, shifting between red, blue, and gold. They pulsed with life.
She stared, eyes wide in wonder. Then, just as she moved toward them—everything changed.
She was inside. The platform had vanished, and now she stood in a great room, like the distant structure she'd glimpsed only moments before. In front of her, swirling like a storm, was a vast tornado of white mist. It churned slowly in place, crackling with strange pressure.
Something was inside it. Watching her. It was vast—beyond words, beyond understanding. Not just a presence, but a force. It filled the room without shape, without voice. Yet she could feel it pressing on her chest, overwhelming, impossible to look away from.
It was like standing before a god. The feeling was neither warm nor cruel. It was simply there—and it knew her.
Before she could move or speak, the dream shattered.
…
Alina woke in darkness, drenched in sweat. Her breath was shallow, her chest tight. She blinked rapidly, disoriented.
As she sat up, her hand brushed something in her pocket. The paper.
She pulled it out with trembling fingers and read the title again under the faint glow of a nearby crystal.
The Creator
She stared at it for a long time, heart pounding, unable to explain what she had seen—or why she now felt she wasn't alone.