The dawn came slowly and ruddy, bleeding into the clouds like an open sore that refused to heal. The air over the Scar Plateau was changed with thicker, heavier, as if the world hung in arrested respiration. Alongside the monoliths, the dead coals of the campfire smoldered in stillness. Even the wind lingered to disturb it.
Lucifer stood at the edge of the cliff, his coat billowing behind him, gazing out at the horizon where four monoliths rose like the skeletons of gods. Early sunlight kissed their faces, putting a soft glow on the divine sigils. He could feel the pulse under the stone, something old and angry stirring beneath.
A clang in the distance rents the silence. Steel boots on blackened earth.
From the north ridge, the second group arrived in full armor: twenty men and women clad in white-and-gold sigils of the Sun Empire. Leading them was a man who exuded aura, as if every step proclaimed his rank. Gareth Albrin, S-rank knight of the Temple Of Light. His armor shone like a mirror in the poor light of dawn, and from his belt hung a sword written with prayers to the Light.
Lucifer did not move. He simply stood there and observed them approach.
As Gareth stopped a few steps short of the Valkarion's banners, his voice cut through the morning fog. "This place is under the jurisdiction of the Temple of Light. You and your people will depart immediately."
The phrases were calculated, too calculated. A command disguised as courtesy.
Lucifer's reply came soft, almost weary. "You came a long way to repeat the same I've heard since birth."
Gareth's eyes narrowed. "Then hear it one more time. The Dungeons of Apocalypse were sealed by divine decree. They are not yours to—"
"—to touch? To breathe near? To understand?" Lucifer's tone sharpened. "You speak as if your gods still look this way. But they don't, do they?"
Caelyra stepped forward before Gareth could say a word. Her silver-white hair glowed faintly in the scarlet dawn, her bow slung over her shoulder. A fierce light pulsed softly from her aura. It was soft, yet unmistakenly strong.
She gazed at Gareth unflinchingly.
"Both of us are well aware that the gods abandoned these lands," she said to him. "Don't come here waving a banner they long since ceased holding centuries ago."
A silence. The air was charged between them. Gareth's jaw clenched, but he remained silent. The tension hung in the air like drawn swords until one of his priests placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered warning.
Gareth finally exhaled. "Very well. We shall enter together. But don't forget, those who violate divine seals pay the price."
Lucifer smiled, a thin curve. "Then let's watch who pays first."
---
At noon, the uneasy alliance began to gear up close to the East Dungeon. A cracked crater where half of the cliff had partially collapsed, exposing half-buried ruins. The ground pulsed beneath their feet, dainty threads of light showing through the earth.
Lucifer marshaled his armies and began delegating with sharp, military specificity:
Six fighters for the front lines shield masters and spear-specialists trained in mana resonance combat.
Five mages for barrier creation and mana control, each capable of spinning short-range dimensional wards.
Four Vagrant Moon Tribe rangers to scout and detect, their spirit-perceiving eyes capable of seeing invisible objects.
Three healers and one alchemist to heal in the field and mana stabilizing potions.
In the center: Lucifer, Caelyra, and Gareth.
When Gareth attempted to assert authority, his aura flared with dazzling, holy, meant to intimidate. The soldiers behind him drew breath, expecting compliance.
Lucifer did not blink.
He flung up his hand. The earth beneath them shook. Shadows writhed, and from the ground leapt the skeletons of monsters with wolves with black crystal horns, the skeletons of the beast-people they had slaughtered last night. Their empty eyes burned with purple fire.
When the undead appeared, Gareth's aura faltered. The glow that surrounded him fluctuated, and a quiver of dread swept through his ranks.
Lucifer's voice was deep, but it carried across the whole plateau.
"Strength and not light nor darkness is what counts here, knight. Plain strength. Do you still wish to command?"
The wind answered him for a moment alone. Then Gareth backed away, his features impassive. "You command," he said icily.
Lucifer's red eyes flickered. "Wise choice."
---
Hours passed in tense readiness. Camps were guarded, mana levels calibrated, spells woven into the air like invisible nets. The four monoliths hummed with increasing intensity from each sweep of wind, their resonance tuning like pulses.
Lucifer remained distant from the others, gaze fixed on the horizon. Thin lines of mana extended from the other three dungeons were west, south, north curving upwards into the clouds. Whatever lay dormant beneath was stirring.
"Don't pass through the other gates," he warned, his tone sharp as a knife to slice between both factions. "Not yet. The seals are linked. Break one, you risk awakening all of them."
Caelyra walked beside him, quiet and firm. "You're afraid."
Lucifer smiled weakly, without mirth. "I do not fear. I calculate."
She tilted her head, eyes relaxing ever so fractionally. "Then do the calculations for how much time before they wake up on their own?"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. The air was already trembling.
---
The first shudder was like a breath from the very depths. The second rented the earth so hard it knocked down tents.
And then the sky darkened.
All four monoliths erupted into fire at the same time, each with its own hue red, blue, gold, and dark-black. The divine seals blazed to life, ancient runes unwinding into the sky like burning stars. Mana surged upwards in a frenzied tide, tearing apart the clouds. Lightning screamed through the heavens, crashing against cliffsides in blinding arcs.
"Back!" someone shouted, but the world had already screamed.
The East Monolith broke along its middle, light spilling from inside. The symbols melted, breaking up into smoke. Something came out of the ground.
Lucifer did not stir in the ruin, his coat streaming across the gale, his hair burning softly in the stormlight. His eyes glowed the reflection of the open gate, red-hued irises pulsating like hot coals.
"That's what they called 'Apocalypse,'" he drew in his breath.
Beside him, Caelyra drew on an arrow. Her bowstring glinted in pure silver light, her chest shining and unshattered. "Then let us create history."
The earth split into two.
Through the gash, light blinded its way up, enveloping the camp in light and darkness.
Lucifer went out first with his shadow against the tempest, his silhouette reaching out into the abyss below.
Behind him, the rest followed, their forms consumed one by one by the excitement of the dungeon's light.
The East Dungeon had opened.
And the world would never close it again.