The day had come—the trial.
The people gathered in front of the Runic Stage of Truth, a vast obsidian platform etched with living symbols.
At the center stood Monarch Ash and the Old Man, silent and grim. Yara entered with her men, dragging the accused—
Erik Skayr, of the Vastos fleet under Captain Zis Skayr.
Before the Monarch, three old peoples
stepped forward. Cloaked in shadow, they were known as the Trinity of Obsidian. Their voices carried like stone grinding against stone:
"Erik Skayr. Born of the Vastos line. Working under Zis Skayr. He bears the crime of slaying a sacred Glycon using a forbidden Dark Scroll. The origin of these scrolls remains unknown… they must be traced, for they poison our world.
The leader of the Vastos dares not stand here. Such absence is unwelcome.
In the Monarch's name, Erik Skayr shall now be judged upon the Runic Stage of Truth."
Erik was dragged to the stage. Yara cut his skin, spilling blood into the runes. He trembled violently, but in his struggle the blade nicked Yara as well—her blood too fell upon the stage, unnoticed by most.
Only Renji, Ash, the Old Man, and the Monarch saw it.
Renji froze, his heart hammering in terror. The others' faces darkened in shock.
The ancient symbols began to pulse. Among them gleamed the mark of the Glycon—the same mark Renji had once seen in the forbidden book.
The blood crept into the carvings like a living river, threading through the runes as though along veins. It followed the nerve-path of the Glycon, from its tail up toward
its eye -through the Crynthos, the Warrior's Mirage, and the Abyss of Agony in Eyes.
And then—everything changed.
The sky, though it was morning, darkened as if swallowed by eternal night. Clouds churned, torn by silver lightning veined with crimson shadows.
The air grew too heavy to breathe. A storm of cyclone-force winds battered the crowd.
Even Monarch Ash was forced to his knees. The common folk collapsed to the ground, gasping and clutching at the earth. Renji's fear doubled—if even the Monarch could not withstand this power, then what horror was being summoned?
Then,
A bolt of silver and red lightning crashed onto the stage.
The sound tore the heavens. But it did not vanish—it stayed, rooted to the earth, splitting the world with its roar.
Energy itself stood before them, writhing lightning made flesh.
The red and silver currents surged across the stage, devouring every rune in blinding light.
The silver and red lightning shrank, folding in on itself, and from that storm of energy emerged two colossal beings.
Ten feet tall, each carrying a blade as vast as the Runic Stage itself.
The Monarch, on his knees, trembled—not from the storm's wind but from the crushing aura that bled from the giants. Their presence alone threatened to split the air, to tear the earth apart.
Renji had never seen anything like them. His heart screamed in terror.
The Silver Sentinel slammed his sword into the ground—
and the world cracked open.
Stone split in two beneath him. His veins glowed with coursing silver lightning. The other, shadowed in crimson, pulsed with red lightning across his body. Their blades were storms made steel, infused with the wrath of thunder.
They raised their weapons, voices booming in unison, shaking the marrow of every soul present:
"Monarch. Stand up!"
The Monarch struggled, limbs heavy under their gaze, forcing himself to his feet. But before he could fully rise, the Sentinels swung—two swords descending in perfect harmony, arcs of silver and red aimed for his neck.
Their intent was absolute: execution.
And then—
they stopped.
The blades froze inches from the Monarch's head.
Across the stage, Ash's eyes burned with tears, body trembling beneath the weight of the aura. Ash saw who held them back—
it was Renji.
Renji stood still, vacant-eyed, his body bound to a sword. Not any sword—but the blade of the Monarch's castle, the one once used to test power. The blade with veins like nerves, the Blood Vanity Sword.
Now those nerves had grown into Renji's own flesh. Cursed roots spread from his hand curse mark, wrapping the weapon until the steel vanished beneath living cords. The sword held itself through him, not by him.
The Monarch's thoughts raced:
This boy… this isn't his will. The sword has chosen. It came to him. It is using him.
The impossible became truth:
Where the Monarch and Ash were crushed by the Reapers' aura, Renji—unconscious, barely human—stood firm, blade pressed against their divine weapons.
The storm broke.
The air calmed.
Silence fell like a tomb.
The Reapers withdrew their swords, lifting them upright. Each set the hilt against their chest, blade pointed to the ground—a gesture of reverence.
And then, their voices thundered again, no longer with wrath but with solemn weight:
"The wisdom of the ancients was not forgotten. It has guided us, even in your silence."
They were not bowing to the Renji.
They bowed to the sword Renji bore.
Their voices rolled like mountains breaking:
"We, the deities of Glycon—Vulcan Reaper and Raijin Reaper—offer our salvation to the symbol of the Great Obsidian Circle of Basaltos, Oculon, Skayr "The blood vanity sword".
We came here to kill you, Monarch, in the name of Valerius.
For no Reaper's blood must ever stain the Runic Stage of Truth.
But it has been shed—on your watch.
You betrayed your own. You broke the word of Valerius.
Yet… the Blood Vanity Sword does not demand your punishment.
We honor its judgment."
The Monarch, breath ragged, dropped his gaze and answered with a voice nearly broken:
"Forgive me, great Reapers of Red Crynthos and Silver Crynthos.
I did not know… that the blood of a Reaper flowed here.
I beg pardon for my blindness."
Ash froze at the name Crynthos, the word striking him like a hidden key turned in a lock.
And Renji—still bound, eyes open but mind absent—watched, a vessel of silence, the nerve-link between his arm and the sword glowing like roots feeding a tree of thunder.
He remembered the name of silver and red Crynthos in the glycon diagram.