The sky over Aethelgard's capital bled crimson three days after Lena's rescue.
It wasn't sunset. It was **Malrik's doing**.
From the Grand Cathedral's spire, the Archbishop's voice boomed across the city—not with words, but with **soul-pressure**, a psychic scream that made windows shatter and children weep. "**The Age of Light Ends! The Eclipse Begins! Purge the Unclean!**"
Templars, their eyes glowing white, marched through the streets. Penitent Omega Units—now dozens strong, fueled by stolen souls—smashed through barricades. The Holy War had begun, not against enemies, but against **dissent itself**. Anyone who questioned the Church was "unclean." Anyone who helped the Crimson Lotus was marked for death.
But the Dawn District didn't fall.
They **rose**.
Inspired by Lena's rescue, the weavers, tanners, and dockworkers formed militias. They barricaded streets with carts and furniture. They poured boiling dye—Blackwood's famed crimson pigment—onto Templar patrols, blinding them. And at their center stood Lord Arion, not in gilded armor, but in simple leather, his black oak banner flying high.
Kael met him on the district's main bridge, the river churning below. Arion was older than his letters suggested—late fifties, face lined with worry, but eyes sharp as flint. "Malrik's calling down a celestial event," he said, voice tight. "An actual eclipse. At its peak, he'll open the **Godswound**—a rift beneath the Cathedral—and offer the capital's souls to his god. We have until moonrise."
Kael nodded. "Then we end this tonight."
The Crimson Lotus coordinated with Arion's forces like a single organism:
- **Arion's archers** rained fire arrows on Templar formations, creating chaos.
- **Dawn District militias** used Bastian's traps—acid-slicked alleys, collapsing rooftops—to funnel Omega Units into kill zones.
- **Elara**, from bell towers, mimicked Malrik's voice to issue false orders, turning Templars against each other.
- **Garrick** led freed Penitent Blades—those whose souls Lyra had partially healed—to duel their Omega kin, their shared pain a weapon.
Kael moved through the battle like a ghost. **Void Step IV** let him phase for 15 seconds. He didn't kill indiscriminately. He targeted **command**. A Templar captain's throat slit. An Omega's control tube severed. A soul-conduit shattered.
In the chaos, Lyra reached Kael, her face streaked with soot. "The Godswound isn't just a rift," she panted. "It's a **prison**. The Devourer was sealed there millennia ago. Malrik isn't its priest—he's its **jailer**, and he's about to break the lock."
Bastian handed Kael a new weapon—a **Lotus Dagger**, its blade forged from obsidian, temple steel, and the ashes of Valerius. "It drinks light," he grunted. "And lies."
As the moon began to eclipse the sun, casting the city in an eerie twilight, the Cathedral doors burst open. Malrik emerged, floating ten feet above the ground, his body wreathed in black flame. Behind him, the earth split open—a jagged wound in reality, leaking shadows and screams.
"**COME, RATS!**" Malrik bellowed, his voice now fully the Devourer's. "**FEAST ON THE END OF ALL THINGS!**"
Kael looked at his guild. At Arion's weary but determined face. At the people of the Dawn District, fighting for their homes.
He raised the Lotus Dagger. "For Veridia. For Oakhaven. For Lena."
The Crimson Lotus charged—not as assassins, but as **saviors**.
> **[QUEST INITIATED: SEAL THE GODSWOUND.]**
> **[WARNING: DEVOURER OF LIGHT — COSMIC ENTITY (POWER LEVEL: GOD TIER).]**
> **[NEW STATUS (TEAM): ALL MEMBERS +2 VOD, +1 STR/AGI (ADRENALINE SURGE).]**
> **[VOID ARTS EVOLUTION: SOUL-SHROUD (GUILD-WIDE) — COMPLETE SOUL INVISIBILITY FOR 30 SECONDS. COOLDOWN: 1 HOUR.]**
The final reckoning had begun.