The Soltherion Vanguard is god.
It is the group that holds the most divinity within Kulveria and boasts a pantheon comprising hundreds of gods. Even the weakest is given an Epitaph, that is, the path of righteousness.
Their creed is salvation — when there aren't any outbreaks of Firmaments that is. When out of combat, they act like a benevolent organization, saving and even giving shelter and rehabilitation to victims caught within outbreaks until they feel they are ready to rejoin society.
In normal circumstances, it's impossible to save those caught within outbreaks because of Concept Erosion. It's an affection both the divine and mortals can contract.
Everyone holds some amount of divinity within them, as humanity has been created in the image of the gods, imbued with very minuscule amounts of their power. When caught within an outbreak, their divinity is drained along with their life force and very thing that makes them... them.
Their memories.
"They say there is going to be an outbreak today." A voice echoed down the dark alley.
"Do they? I wouldn't listen to them much, if at all. They are always wrong!"
As a mercenary, Lucien's line of work deals directly with Firmament outbreaks... among other things. As such, even common rumors can prove usable sources of information. Even more so since using his epitaph meant Concept Errosion.
The god supporting him was a forgotten constellation. Unable to speak and without any sort of consciousness, Naerathul has no way of gaining remembrance, the very energy fueling the Epitaphs.
In the most technical way, Lucien was his god's avatar or could even be called Naerathul himself, but that didn't mean he had the capability of using Invocation. That's only reserved for those with already established Concepts.
The whole ground shook as a flood of light raced through the dark alleyway Lucien had been frequenting.
He had been the first to notice that an outbreak had actually just started and quickly tapped his Orwenth Band with his finger, the device mercenaries use to browse and accept commissions.
"What in the... ten million solis? That's an incredible amount of money! That's... unbelievably suspicious..."
Lucien wrestled with the reason why the estimated reward was set that high.
"Is it that dangerous an outbreak? Or is it worth that much to the vanguard that the outbreak gets dealt with?"
It was then that he realized the two men chatting at the other end of the alleyway had stopped speaking. For that matter... the people around him were also gone. He had been using a light for one of his Epitaph Arts, Night Walk. He should have been invisible to most people...
"That's... Come out, you Soltherion dogs!" Lucien shouted, prepared to take the two men who had just been speaking down.
Rays of sunlight poked through the vomit of light spilling out of the outbreak entrance.
Lucien had prepared to face them as soon as he turned around, but a flash of blisteringly hot sunlight had passed right by his face.
"Huh. You really must be nobodies if you can't see through this technique." Lucien said, goading the two into revealing their positions.
Two orbs of light danced around the street, moving at an incredible speed, trying their absolute hardest to locate Lucien.
The thought of using a certain Epitaph Art had been incredibly tempting as the two lackeys kept failing to locate Lucien. He couldn't see their bodies, but the way they had been running through the empty street like headless chickens told him that he had an opportunity to slip past them and head inside the Firmament.
Lucien dashed towards the entrance, but even with such light Epitaph Arts, a small amount of divinity could be easily traced to lead straight to the user.
First came the sound of a blade cutting through the air. Then came that incredible heat, as if a small portion of the sun had just passed by his face.
He didn't have time to calculate the risk of using proper Epitaph Arts to fight back. He had already lost so much, there was no way to know what memories his divinity devoured.
A reflex... or something similar to that. It was the only way to explain what he had done next.
Lucien's body entered clear view, in his hand a small orb of pitch-black darkness.
"Graviton Descent." Lucien muttered as his pursuer's bodies were pressed into the ground with so much force it cracked the concrete.
They had stayed alive for exactly one second, enough to get a view of what their opponent looked like.
His eyes were as black as night, dotted with the light of the stars. He had looked down at them as if they were nothing more than ants, even less than that. That was exactly what they felt. The unknown. An indelible being.
Their organs imploded all at once, blood spurting out of every single orifice like hot sauce. Their intestines popped like bits out of a birthday popper. There was a slightly audible squelch as the one right pressed his stomach down to the ground with his palm. They had offered their last breaths to the Father of the Night.
Turning back to face the portal sitting just meters away from him, a strange sense of purpose overtook him. Even though he had lost another precious memory, the look on his face gave the impression of an unfazed automaton, constantly looking for his next goal, his next commission.
The truth was that there was nothing to feel bad about. How can you mourn a loss when you don't know that you've lost something?
He put his hand in first, hesitant about what was about to come. He was very well aware that if the commission had been set so high, he would have to use his Epitaph Arts.
His jaw clenched at the mere thought of losing even more, without even being able to know what you've lost. It was maddening. It was unbearable. He could have broken right then and there. It wouldn't have been the first opportunity for Lucien to go mad. There were countless, but his divinity even took those memories.
Why did he have to be the one to go through such things?
It was a question he had asked himself numerous times, but never found an answer he was satisfied with.
As he walked through the portal, the heat blasted every single pore on his body.
It was a broken realm, suspended in space. The world around an abyss of pitch-black darkness. The light of the stars could not breach through to that forsaken realm.
Before him lay the broken fragments of a bridge made out of what looked like brick and exotic metal, certainly nothing Earth had ever seen.
The cheery sound of a notification coming from his Orwenth Band. On it, the god whose Firmament belongs to appeared as if it were buffering like an old computer
"Ferros Aen. The Eternal Forge."