The sun slowly vanished from the three horizons until only one remained. Lamps scattered across the ancient site began to shine, yet their flames all turned crimson, like murky blood without mass—a symbol of the Empire's beginning, and of every drop of blood that had been shed.
Within the closing ceremony of the long-awaited festival, an important declaration was about to be made—one that would reveal the Blood Empire's future to the many lands gathered to witness.
A beautiful woman in a gown of authority walked with a resonant rhythm, head held high, her steps perfectly measured. Above all was her radiant expression of joy, enough to entrance anyone.
She stopped at the center of the arena.
"In honor of the First Blood Emperor of the Blood Empire, who laid the foundation of the Empire, the rightful father of the current Blood Emperor, revered as the First Drop of Blood in history, and by blood, my grandfather.
"In the countless millennia of darkness before the birth of the world's liberator, before the Dragon Hunter era—before Nathan Herraj—
"The First Blood Emperor safeguarded this land with a bow forged from the body of an ancient dragon, bearer of the miracle of abundance. He was the first to bring supreme glory to the Empire, raising the Blood Dragon and creating heirs of the Blood Dragon to carry his will into the ages to come.
"His final words, his last testament, remain with us:
'When the grasslands can no longer stretch wide, dreams cannot be born. Lives transformed are exalted amidst cries of defiance. Glory belongs to the living, and the future to those who cannot stay to witness it.
'And so, when the dark age returns, the three skies shall collapse and abandon the world. Loss will lie beneath the feet of life. The breath of hunger shall devour the land. The thirst for means shall return all to fragments. Oceans will invert, revealing the true continent. Countless soulless beasts of the dark age shall rise to rule. Dragons of dread shall cover the sun.
'The fertile plains will become desolate wasteland. The snowy lands shall sink back to the primordial waters. All knowledge shall be twisted into war.
'The radiant temples shall crumble, feeding endless sacrifice.
'The black cloak shall still wave, until distorted time above the ten valleys of the true continent confronts the origin of the light of the end.'"
The speech ended in tears shed by all within the ancient site. Even Victor could not hold back his own, and no matter how much he wiped them away, they did not cease.
What in the world is this madness?!
He looked at Daniel, seeking reason in what had just occurred—but froze in horror. Victor's eyes locked in terror as a chill engulfed his body. The tears, which should have been clear, had turned into streams of blood that poured into the arena.
The eyes in the sky vanished, forcing everyone to their knees in exhaustion. Hearts pounded painfully, blood spilling from nostrils and mouths.
Robart looked upon the two with a smile as he walked closer to the seats, watching the people writhe helplessly on the ground, regardless of class or age.
Everyone suffered in inexplicable agony.
Yet Victor began to lift himself back into his seat. He was adapting to the sensation and managed to stand after a few minutes.
His darkened eyes fixed on his bloodstained palm.
The result of the object in my chest…
He quickly sat back down to check Daniel, who looked as if he were near death. But Robart stopped him, guiding Victor instead to gaze out over the scene from the balcony of the coliseum with pride.
"No one will die from this. Before long, everything will return to normal. Only Her Highness and I can withstand it."
The old knight turned back with a deranged smile.
"Her Highness requests your presence at the carriage hall. Your return journey shall be under her care. Until we meet again, Lord Victor."
"I look forward to it as well, King's Knight Robart."