The cathedral's stone floor was still wet with blood and the water used to extinguish the flames. The cold light of dawn streamed through the shattered stained-glass windows, illuminating the weary faces of the wounded and the priests who continued to move among them.
A heavy smell of smoke hung in the air.
Valdor stood in silence for a moment, looking at the burning part of the city beyond the shattered windows.
Then he looked at Faisa.
"If there really is a way to stop this… we'll go with you."
Noah snorted quietly, folding his arms.
"You probably wouldn't let us refuse anyway."
"No," Faisa replied calmly. "I won't."
Kael sighed heavily, leaning against a column.
"Great. Another trip to a place no sane person has even heard of." He nodded. "Fine. But I promise that if I come face-to-face with some 'ancient evil' again, someone's paying for new shoes."
Valdor smiled.
"I think we can arrange that," he replied.
Faisa nodded.
"Then we're leaving immediately."
Faisa turned toward the altar standing at the back of the cathedral.
"Follow me."
They moved slowly through the nave. The priests stepped aside without a word, watching them with a mixture of fear and hope.
When they reached the enormous white altar, Faisa stopped and placed his hand on the cold stone. His words bore no resemblance to any language they knew. They were calm, melodious, and yet so ancient, as if spoken by light itself.
In response, the stone beneath his hand began to pulsate with a soft, silvery glow. Delicate silver lines appeared on its surface, quickly forming a complex, pulsating pattern — a map.
And then, in the heart of the ruined cathedral, the world around them crumbled. It wasn't a sudden rupture, but rather a gentle, mesmerizing disintegration. The colors dissolved, the sound vanished, and the cathedral turned into a boundless, white void. The void was absolute, yet full of potential. They felt as if they were in the heart of the universe before the Big Bang.
"What is this place?" Faiza whispered, her voice sounding strange, as if coming from far away.
"A hiding place," Faisa replied. "A place that exists beyond time and space. Created by the first mages to hide what the world was not ready to comprehend. This is where we store the bodies of those who fell in the battle against the Curse."
"Their potential. Their power. Their memories. Everything that defined them as defenders. You never know when it might come in handy again."
Noah nodded, though he still had his doubts. He looked at the others. Valdor stood calmly with his hands behind his back, watching the white void intently. Kael looked bored, but his clenched jaw and trembling fingers betrayed his anxiety.
At the same time, far from the ruins of the capital, in the very heart of the imperial palace, a silence heavier than any scream reigned.
The vast council chamber was lit by rows of golden lamps. The long tables were filled with aristocrats, ministers, and military commanders who had been shouting over one another for over an hour.
But now everyone was silent.
For the heir to the throne had taken his seat.
The imperial heir, Lord Alaric, stood by one of the enormous windows, looking out over the city. He was a tall, slender man in scarlet robes, with a gray beard that he kept neatly trimmed. At first glance, he seemed calm. Patient. But his eyes, clear and cold as ice, gave him away.
"Azrok has broken the pact!"
"We should begin mobilization immediately!"
"This is a provocation!"
"We don't have enough forces!"
The emperor sat at the far end of the hall.
Beside him stood his seventeen-year-old daughter, dressed in the royal family's white and navy blue attire. Her hands were clenched on the armrests of the throne.
Finally, the emperor raised his hand.
The hall fell silent at once.
His gaze swept over everyone present.
"What are the casualties?"
One of the ministers rose slowly. He held trembling documents in his hands.
"As a result of the attack, 389 residents and 42 adventurers were killed. Nearly 30 percent of the population was injured… while 69 percent of the city's residents survived unscathed."
"Random civilians," Lord Alaric muttered under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear.
Alaric turned away from the window.
"Your Majesty," he said quietly. "We have a problem. Our defenders are powerless. Azrok is destroying our cities, and we can't do anything about it. We're just waiting for him to come for us. I agree with the council. We must take control of the situation before it's too late."
The emperor looked at him, and something dangerous flashed in his eyes.
"Lord Alaric. You speak of control, but in reality, it is about power. You want me to lay the crown at your feet."
Lord Alaric smiled, but not in his eyes.
"I speak of the empire's survival."
"And I am speaking of honor," replied the emperor, rising from his throne
Suddenly, the hall doors burst open. A bloodied soldier ran inside, stumbled, and fell to one knee.
"Your Imperial Majesty…!"
The soldier was breathing heavily.
— I report… Azrok has taken the cities of Norfolk… and Whitebreak…
Absolute silence fell over the hall.
Lord Alaric nodded.
"You see?"
The Emperor paid him no mind. His gaze was fixed on the soldier, who was struggling to catch his breath.
"More cities?"
"Westmoor… and… Greyfort."
The Emperor closed his eyes.
Then his daughter stepped forward.
"Father…"
He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was calm, and her voice was soft but firm.
"Lord Alaric is right. Waiting is a death sentence."
The Emperor looked at her for a moment in silence, his face a inscrutable mask of calm.
"Prepare the guard," he said quietly.
Lord Alaric smiled broadly.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Lord Alaric," said the emperor.
Alaric froze.
"I was speaking to my daughter," said the emperor.
Silence fell over the hall.
Alaric looked at the emperor, then at his daughter, who was staring at him with a defiant look in her eyes.
"I understand," he said quietly.
As Lord Alaric and the rest of the council left the hall, the emperor walked over to the window. He looked out at his city.
"I'm waiting," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm waiting for the signal."
In the endless white void of the Vault, time was meaningless. Minutes could be centuries, and seconds — the blink of an eye. Faisa stood in the center of this nothingness and raised his hands. This time his movements were precise, geometric, like a ritual performed thousands of times.
Silvery lines on the floor began to shimmer, forming three-dimensional corridors of light. Walls of pure energy rose around them, shaping a labyrinth whose very existence defied logic.
"Do you see them?" Faisa asked, his voice echoing off nothing. "These are not corridors. They are memories. They are places where the power of our ancestors has been imprisoned."
Noah stepped closer, reaching out toward one of the shimmering walls. As his fingers were an inch away from touching the surface, he saw fragments of an image — a mighty warrior in golden armor, wielding a flaming sword, standing on a battlefield littered with bodies. He felt the heat radiating from this vision, striking straight into his soul. It was pure, untamed power.
"Is this the legendary Eight?" he muttered, taking a step back.
"In their day, they were called something else," replied Faisa. "But yes, it's them. Each of them left a part of themselves here, just in case the world ever needed defenders again."
Valdor watched it all with astonishing calm, as if the sight were natural to him, and then they were transported, finding themselves high above the clouds.
Before them stretched a vast palace floating in the air. White towers pierced the sky, and between them flowed luminous streams of energy resembling rivers of light.
A woman stood before them. Long silver hair fell over a white gown that moved slightly despite the absence of wind. Her eyes were the color of pale gold.
And they looked at them with a calmness that seemed inhuman.
"Welcome, warriors," she said gently. "I am Luna. The Goddess of Harmony."
For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the soft murmur of the luminous rivers.
"So it's all true," Noah finally spoke, his voice full of disbelief. "Gods. Cursed beasts. These aren't just legends."
Luna smiled gently.
"People love stories. They change them, embellish them, tailor them to their own imaginations. Sometimes, however, at the very heart of a legend, the truth lies dormant." Her gaze swept across their faces. "And it is that truth that has brought you here."
Kael rolled his eyes, though a hint of respect could be detected in his voice.
"Great. We've been summoned to an audience with the goddess. Let's hope we don't have to solve any riddles."
Luna nodded, ignoring his sarcasm.
"Thank you, Faisa, for bringing them here," Luna nodded.
Faisa turned without a word and walked toward the palace stairs.
Valdor took a step forward and slowly knelt down.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Goddess Luna. I am Valdor Kanami… and this is my team."
Luna smiled gently. "Stand up, Valdor."
He rose slowly.
"I've heard about your country… I'm sorry."
For a moment, his gaze darkened, but he quickly changed the subject.
"Faisa said you'd explain everything to us."
Luna looked up at the sky above them. "You are in Aurelion. The kingdom I created."
Silence fell.
"It was created… to prevent the Demon Lord from entering the realm of the living."
Noah furrowed his brow.
"The Demon Lord?"
"It was Nathan who brought destruction upon your kingdom, not your empire, Valdor."
Valdor clenched his jaw.
Luna continued in a calm voice.
"My powers alone are not enough to stop him. Nor his forces."
Her golden eyes swept over the entire team.
"That is why I created the Demon Arc." She said calmly, "The Demon Arc contains a portion of my energy. It grants the user greater power… but only if they make it their own."
Luna shuddered slightly. "Maybe I'm asking too much, but please, help me stop him."
Arwen took a step forward: "So you just had us come here to do your dirty work!?" Her eyes blazed with anger.
Luna looked at her calmly.
"No, Arwen. I wanted you to have a choice. I wanted you to understand."
Silence fell again.
Arwen was still staring at Luna with a look of fury on her face, but her shoulders slumped.
"I know I'm asking a lot. I know you're risking everything by fighting in a war that isn't yours. But Nathan doesn't choose his victims. He destroys everything in his path, no matter who stands in his way."
Her voice was soft, but it carried the weight of thousands of years.
"And if we don't stop him… there will be nothing left for you to defend."
Valdor looked at his companions. Their faces were masks of various emotions — fear, anger, determination.
"We'll do it," he said quietly.
Luna smiled. "Thank you…" she uttered the divine words, and five Demon Arcs appeared before them.
"Oh, so these are the Demon Arcs… Hold out your right hand…" The Dragon Hound did so, and the Demon Arcs clipped onto their wrists; each one was a different color: Mayuri's was purple, Noah's was orange, Valdor's was green, Kael's was blue, and Arwen's was brown.
Noah raised his hand to the light, examining the orange band that now wrapped around his wrist. He felt a subtle tremor within it, reminiscent of a beating heart. Warmth radiated from it, filling his veins with a strange energy that was both foreign and familiar. Like a memory of a power he had never possessed.
"They're all different," he remarked. His voice was quiet, full of contemplation.
"Because each of you is different," Luna replied, her golden eyes shining in the palace's light. "The Arc Demon isn't a tool you can assign at will. It responds to your soul, to your potential. It's a reflection of your inner nature."
Mayuri brushed her fingers against the purple headband, and a faint smile appeared on her face. Purple light began to swirl around her hand, forming delicate, almost ethereal patterns. "I can feel it… It's like the magic I've been learning my whole life, but amplified a thousandfold."
Kael frowned, staring in disbelief at his blue headband. "Great. I've been bonded to a magical bracelet. Does that mean I'm supposed to start throwing powerful punches and shouting battle cries now?"
"I think so," Luna replied patiently. "Your abilities will take the form that best suits your temperament. Power doesn't change who you are. It merely reveals what you already have within you."
Valdor was silent, his green band pulsing gently in time with his heartbeat. He fell deep in thought, feeling the energy flow through him, connecting with some deeper part of his being he hadn't been in touch with for a long time. It wasn't just power. It was a promise.
Luna stood before Valdor. "Sylphia and Arthur, whom you met, also possess a Demon Arc," she said.
Valdor looked at her, his eyes widening slightly. "Sylphia and Arthur… That explains a lot. Her strength… It was almost inhuman even before this."
"Sylphia wore the White Demon Arc, granting her the ability to manipulate time for a short period and precision; Arthur wore the Red one, granting unmatched endurance and physical strength," Luna explained. "They both gave their lives in battle for Nathan."
Her gaze swept over their faces, pausing for a moment on each of them.
"Now it is your time. But remember that the power of the Demon Arc is a burden. Every time you use it, it binds you more closely to me, to Aurelion, to this place outside of time. But also... to Nathan. He will sense your awakening. And he will come for you."
Arwen clenched her fists; her brown headband glowed with a bright light. "Fine. Let him come. We've been waiting for him."
Luna nodded. "This won't be an easy battle. Nathan has also chosen his five Demon Arc users."
Her golden eyes darkened, and the calm on her face gave way to dread.
"I made a pact with Nathan during our last fight that there was no point in continuing this. We were on the same level, so I created the Demon Arc with Nathan, and we were to each choose five warriors to fight for us," Luna said.
"A pact…" Valdor repeated, his voice hard as steel. "A pact with a demon? Is that the whole truth? All this war, all this destruction — it's just… a game?"
"Yes…" Luna admitted, and a note of exhaustion she had hidden for thousands of years finally resonated in her voice. "There was no other way to stop him from completely annihilating the world. It was our only chance for survival. A game where everything is at stake."
"Of course," Noah whispered, looking away to hide the look of rage on his face. "All our struggle, our pain... It's just a hand in cosmic poker." He looked back at Luna, and his orange Demon Arc pulsed more violently, as if responding to his anger. "What if we don't want to be your pawns?"
Luna looked up, her eyes meeting his. For the first time, they saw something more than divine serenity in them. Pain.
"You're afraid you have no choice. And I'm afraid you have no chance without it. Nathan isn't playing fair. He destroys everything he touches, whether you're in the game or not. The Demon Arc isn't a chain — it's a weapon. I'm giving you a chance I never had." Her voice grew quiet, yet filled the vast hall of the palace. "A chance to win."
At the same time, Arthur and Sylphia stood before the Abandoned Sanctuary
"Are you sure about this?" Sylphia asked, her white outfit glistening in the pale moonlight. Before them stood the ruins of an ancient sanctuary, partially buried underground and overgrown with black ivy. A heavy, musty smell hung in the air.
Arthur nodded. His Demon Arc pulsed quietly, as if in response to the proximity of their target. "Nathan said this is where the heart of darkness lies…"
Sylphia frowned, clutching her white headband. "But why? This place has no power. It used to be a temple, but it's been abandoned for centuries."
"Power isn't always what we see at first glance," Arthur replied, taking a step forward. "Sometimes it hides in places that have been forgotten. In pain. In fear."
They entered the sanctuary. The interior was in ruins. The ceiling had partially collapsed, and the floor was covered in rubble and moss. Moonlight streamed through cracks in the walls, casting long, choreographed shadows.
"Everyone is here," Arthur said, his voice echoing in the empty space. "Everyone is waiting for orders."
At his words, four figures emerged from the shadows. The first was a tall, thin man in a black cloak, with short, dark hair and eyes that seemed to absorb the light. Standing beside him was a woman with fiery red hair, clad in leather armor, with two daggers at her side. Next stood a powerful, muscular man with a massive two-handed hammer resting on his shoulders. The last was a figure in a long, gray robe with a hood so deep it hid his entire face.
"These are the guards Nathan spoke of," said Sylphia, drawing her sword.
"Greetings," said the thin man, his voice quiet, melodious, yet cold as ice. "You are early. But that is well. You need not wait any longer for your destiny."
"You are on the wrong path," Sylphia retorted, her white Demon Arc flashing with a bright light, illuminating their faces. "Nathan is using you. We are the ones on the side of order."
"Order?" laughed the red-haired woman, twirling a dagger between her fingers. "Order is boring. It's stagnation. We represent freedom. Freedom from rules. Freedom from God. Freedom from... everything."
"Freedom that leads to destruction," Arthur growled, raising his spear. The Red Demon Arc pulsed violently on his wrist. "We're only taking what Nathan ordered — the heart of darkness," Arthur replied
The burly man with the hammer grinned widely, revealing his broken teeth. "Whether we listen or not, it'll be fun either way. In the end, the only thing that matters is who's standing on the ruins."
Sylphia looked at Arthur. Their eyes met for a split second. They understood each other without words.
"This will be the end," Arthur muttered under his breath.
And then the fight began.