1951
The room had no windows.
No doors anyone remembered entering through.
Light existed there, but it did not fall from above or rise from below. It simply rested in the air, pale and unmoving. The atmosphere carried neither holiness nor malice — only the quiet tension that exists between virtue and sin, where judgment has not yet chosen a side.
At the center stood a round table.
Nine figures sat around it.
They were not kings.They were not gods.They were not merely human.
History would one day forget their names, but in that moment, they were known as the Holders.
Silence ruled until one man leaned forward.
Leon.
Heir of the ancient Luna Empire, a lineage that once stood as one of the original towers of strength. His presence was measured, his expression calm — not because he doubted, but because the decision had already been made.
"This is not cruelty," Leon said, his voice steady."It is alignment."
The room listened.
"To preserve balance, the pillars must be demolished. All of them," he continued. "Their clans included."
A pause followed — deliberate, respectful.
"This is not an act of evil," Leon added. "It is sacrifice. Their erasure will lead us closer to divination… closer to order."
The word sacrifice lingered in the still air.
Then — a soft sound.
A finger tapped lightly against stone.
Lady Arasa leaned back in her chair.
Heir of the Hoax Empire, the bloodline that once served the god of delusion, she carried herself with effortless composure. A faint smile rested on her lips — not mocking, not approving — simply observant.
"I understand the elegance of your solution," she said, her voice smooth, thoughtful, cautious rather than defiant."To erase the pillars is… efficient."
Her gaze drifted across the table, lingering nowhere in particular.
"But fragments remain," she continued calmly. "Scattered, weakened, barely remembered — yet alive. Why risk stirring what is already fading?"
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
Leon met her gaze.
He did not argue.He did not explain.
One by one, the others nodded.
The decision was sealed.
Orders were issued quietly.Chosen leaders were summoned.
And history was sentenced to erasure.
1951 – 1989
The world never called it a war.
There were no banners.No declarations.No victories recorded.
Clans vanished overnight.Bloodlines shattered.Names dissolved into rumor and coincidence.
Accidents, they said.Internal collapses.Natural ends.
By the time the dust settled, most of the pillar clans were gone.
Not defeated.
Deleted.
1989
Only remnants remained.
A few clans still breathing.Still remembering — carefully.
The nine Holders gathered once more.
This time, there were no speeches.
Only a treaty.
The remaining clans were given a single condition:
Erase the legends.Remove every trace.Let the world forget itself.
Spirits became myths.Pacts became fairy tales.Bloodlines became "old families."
The balance was preserved.
At least… on the surface.
Present Day
The old park lay quiet under a thin veil of night.
Leaves rustled softly.The gazebo creaked with age and memory.
Sparsh adjusted his collar and spoke as if nothing significant lingered in the air.
"I'll head back. Get some rest."
He left without waiting for a reply, footsteps fading into the darkness.
Ananth remained.
The cold breeze brushed past him as he stood still, watching shadows stretch across the ground.
His phone vibrated.
He answered without checking the screen.
"…It's been a long time, Mr. Shah."
A low chuckle answered him.
"My side's work is done."
Ananth's expression tightened.
"I trained three," the voice continued. "Two boys. One girl."
Silence.
"They come from clans ruined during that old conflict," Mr. Shah added. "Holders versus You know..."
A brief pause.
"But they're talented and i'll send them in 18 days,".
Ananth smiled — thin, unreadable.
"…Good," he replied. "Eighteen days will be enough for me as well."
The wind shifted.
A pause lingered on the line — then Mr. Shah spoke again, his voice lower now, almost casual.
"I hear you're watching him."
Ananth's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I don't know the boy's name," Shah continued, "but they say his grandfather was once believed to be the reincarnation of Re—"
"Enough," Ananth cut in calmly.
The word carried no anger, only dismissal.
"You still believe in that?" Ananth asked. "Those stories were crafted to frighten the Holders. Nothing more."
A brief silence followed.
Then Shah let out a quiet breath, half a chuckle.
"Yes… I suppose you're right," he said. "Just another legend. We all know the man died in 2011."
Ananth did not respond.
Some truths did not require correction.
"My trainees will arrive in eighteen days," Shah said after a moment. "See that your side is prepared."
"…It will be," Ananth replied.
The call ended.