Date: ???
A man sat upon a towering throne, dressed in robes of flawless white adorned with gold trim, diamonds stitched like stars across his chest. Atop his nose rested a pair of glasses forged from molten lava, still faintly glowing. His eyes were bright amethyst, not violent nor burning, but tranquil, as if his gaze alone could still storms and mend chaos.
The chamber around him was vast, with a long ceremonial path leading to the throne. At the far end stood two enormous doors crafted from solid gold and encrusted with diamond veins. The walls pulsed gently, a mixture of molten rock and translucent aura shielding them from all intrusion. The enchantment was ancient, an incantation known only by the twelve highest orders: Divine Barrier of Golden Order.
Without warning, the doors began to part.
A man entered, his body wreathed in a dark pink aura that shimmered like twilight flame. As he walked forward, the floor rippled. Knights began to rise—naked at first, but quickly encased in heavy golden armor forged midair, the metal falling and locking into place over their bodies. Each piece of armor pulsed with the same divine barrier that protected the walls.
The man's eyes were a radiant blue. With a simple breath, his aura expanded outward in a wave, consuming the chamber like an invisible tide. One by one, every knight dropped to a knee, unable to resist the pressure. They bowed without command. He paid them no mind.
"Saint Loros of the Golden Order," the man spoke. "The Council granted you one month before your execution date. Why must you defy the orders of me?"
Saint Loros looked down from his throne and slowly rose to his feet. Silver aura spilled from his form, clashing against the pink flood with equal might. The pressure in the chamber doubled.
"I recall never granting you permission to step foot in my family's homestead, Rover," Loros replied. His voice was smooth, but there was a sort of sharpness underneath. He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. His patience thinned like paper held to flame.
Rover exhaled, cleared his throat, and drew a scroll from his robes. With one motion, the red string holding it together unraveled.
"By decree of the Council of Thorns, a Contract of Elimination is hereby placed upon the name of Loros Etraius, titled Saint of the Golden Order. This decree has passed with eight affirmatives and one abstention."
Loros did not flinch. His silver aura danced like silent thunder, curling upward in waves that refused to fade. His stare pierced through Rover, who continued reading.
"The following charges stand: Subversion of imperial will. Unauthorized summoning of divine-class incantations in sanctified zones. Defiance of the Supreme Mandate. Withholding classified Relics from the Dominion Registry. Unlawful harboring of voidborne entities. Interference with sealed relics. Weaponization of holy scripture. Breach of the Eternal Silence Accord. Manipulation of contracts without council oversight. Concealment of an unrecorded Arbiter. Fabrication of Arbiter credentials for exiled individuals. Unauthorized resurrection of ancient entities deemed extinct by the Order. Obstruction of a Council-grade verdict. Contempt of thronebound lineage. And lastly, violation of divine clause 37-B: tampering with the soul cycle of a Prime Anchor."
The scroll glowed softly now, a golden pulse radiating from the blood-red ink.
"Upon activation of this contract," Rover continued, "the subject's soul shall be marked by the branded seal of Karth, God of Wills. The executioner may be any Arbiter of Fifth Order or higher. The act must be witnessed by either a Seer of Law or a Diviner of Chain."
He lowered the scroll, his gaze narrowing.
"You are given three final choices, Saint Loros. One: stand trial before the Council, stripped of all titles and aura. Two: exile yourself to the Hollow Realm and surrender your Seal to the Flame-Tongue Archivists. Three..." Rover raised the scroll again. A black sigil flared to life, floating in the air between them like a bleeding brand.
"…die here. By my hand. Or by the one I brought."
The ground trembled.
From the shadowed corner of the chamber emerged a figure wrapped in a cloak darker than night itself. It walked soundlessly. Each step devoured a piece of the room's warmth, draining the light from the air.
Saint Loros exhaled quietly and sank back into the throne. His fingers tapped against the armrest. Each click was soft, yet each one echoed like a countdown.
"I do so love dramatic entrances," he murmured. "But I despise paperwork."
He leaned forward, and his eyes shimmered with a burning brilliance.
"Tell me, Rover. Before I turn you into ash... who signed this decree?"
Rover held his stare for a moment, then gave a single nod. "All eleven members, as you were not present."
Loros' smile vanished. Not with fear, but with a stillness deeper than anger. The room fell utterly silent. "All eleven," he repeated. "Even the Cradlebound?"
Rover's face tensed. "She was the first to sign."
Loros closed his eyes briefly. His fingers ran down his jaw as if smoothing away unseen cracks.
"And the Ashen Voice?"
"She carved her name into the council stone," Rover replied. "Said your 'Era of Grace has rotted into an Era of Arrogance.'"
The Divine Barrier flickered, its golden light dimming. Loros stared down at the floor. Then he laughed.
"So," he whispered. "They really do mean to end me?"
Saint Loros suddenly burst into mad laughter and rose. His silver aura poured from his body, curling upward like the breath of a slumbering god. The knights on the floor twitched in their bows, their armor humming, resonating with the change in the air.
"Then let them come," he said while laughing. "One by one, or all at once! I'll fucking kill them all with my bare hands if I must."
He raised his right hand. Golden script filled the air, divine characters weaving into chains of celestial energy. In an instant, the script lashed toward the cloaked figure. It struck with absolute judgment, sealing and then obliterating the executioner before it could move. Not even ashes remained.
Rover coughed, stunned, then steadied himself. "Death by my hand, as you choose then."
His dark pink aura surged, wrapping tightly around his body. A blade formed in his hand. Without hesitation, he appeared in front of Loros, releasing a delayed burst of sound behind. Rover had broken through the sound barrier by just taking a step forward.
But Loros, unmoving, caught the blade with a bare hand. Blood spilled across the floor. He laughed as the aura-forged sword cracked, then shattered in his grasp.
"I did not give you permission to kill me, young one," Loros said. "I remained still only out of honor, bound by ancient contracts with those decrepit fools. But since you drew first..."
A burst of silver light erupted from his body. The wound healed in an instant. A dagger formed in his hand, etched with living script. His necklace glowed with the power of divinity.
'Shit... I knew he was strong, but this?' Rover thought, leaping back as panic took hold. 'This is not what the council told me. This is something else... something beyond.'
Another blade took form in his hand. He lunged again.
The floating script began to move, etching new words into the air in a language Rover could not read. Yet the meaning was clear in his mind. Eradication.
A beam of golden energy tore down from the heavens, annihilating the ceiling of the palace. The light struck faster than light. Rover was gone. Not even ash remained.
The knights were erased. Saint Loros vanished with them, undone by the very script he wielded, unable to properly attune to it—its origin tied to a Resonance Shard torn from an Empyrean beast he had slain with his bare hands.
The palace, the land around it, five hundred miles in every direction, were all erased.
In the aftermath, silence returned. Underground rivers flooded the land where the castle once stood.
And floating at the center of the crater was the only thing left behind: a single, glowing necklace forged from the Resonance Shard itself.