The moon was little more than a pale smear behind the smog-choked sky.
Altharion stood in the forgehouse once more, tracing new glyphs into the ash-coated stone with the tip of his finger. The lines shimmered faintly, pulsing to the rhythm of his breath. It was a crude attempt at restoring a lost warding array, the kind used once to protect entire cities. Now, it barely protected a single room.
But it worked.
He stepped back, surveying the array, then whispered, "It holds."
The fragile mana field solidified around the forgehouse, cloaking it in illusion. To the average passerby, it looked abandoned and forgotten. Inside, however, it had become a place of rebirth.
Books salvaged from the trash were stacked in one corner—spellbooks, cultivation guides, divine technique scrolls—all pitiful compared to what Altharion once wielded, but they would serve as kindling.
He needed knowledge.
He needed tools.
He needed power.
Elsewhere - The Southern Outpost of the Shadow Order
Serik of the Void Fang received the parchment without ceremony. The seal was unbroken—the emblem of the Celestial Dome.
He opened it.
Target: Subject-924 (Kael Draven)
Classification: Possessed Entity
Designation: S-Level Threat
Directive: Terminate Quietly. No Public Display. No Survivors.
Serik folded the note.
His expression did not change. He had killed emperors, devoured demigods, and erased bloodlines.
This was just another job.
He vanished into shadow.
Back in Duskfall - Midnight
Altharion sat in silent meditation, surrounded by glowing glyphs. He had begun restoring the Fifth Circle—a technique allowing manipulation of surrounding elemental energy without needing mana crystals. The body he inhabited was weak, but his soul burned brighter by the hour.
Then he felt it.
The ripple.
The disturbance.
A presence that didn't belong in the natural weave.
His eyes opened.
"So soon?" he whispered. "You underestimate me still."
He stood and walked toward the cathedral ruins.
Rooftop - Duskfall Cathedral
Serik crouched in the rafters, eyes scanning for the boy.
He didn't sense anything unusual—not at first.
Then he blinked.
And Altharion was standing ten feet in front of him.
"You tread lightly, assassin," Altharion said. "But I built the paths you're walking."
Serik moved fast. Blade drawn, shadowstep activated. He appeared behind Altharion, slicing toward his neck.
The blade passed through smoke.
Illusion.
Then a blast of pressure threw him across the rooftop.
Altharion emerged from the shadows.
"Do you think me bound by mortal laws still?"
Serik rolled, flung daggers etched with soul-poison.
Altharion raised one hand. A glyph flared midair. The daggers froze, crumbled into dust.
Serik's eyes widened.
Too late.
The Archon whispered, "Sleep."
Serik's body stiffened, eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.
Altharion walked over, examining him. "The Shadow Order. Hmm. They still teach death before failure."
He raised a finger. Serik's heart slowed.
Paused.
And then Altharion released him.
"No," he muttered. "Not yet. Let them know I remember. Let them fear."
He carved a glyph into Serik's chest—one only the Sky Lords would understand.
A mark of return.
Final Scene - Celestial Dome Council Hall
A scout burst into the chamber, panting, eyes wide.
"Serik returned... alive."
Helios stood. "Alive?"
"He bears the Mark."
The room fell silent.
One of the sages whispered, "He left a message."
Helios clenched his fist. "Then the game begins."