Sand hissed beneath his boots as Eryndor ran, lungs burning, his mana steadily dwindling as blood trickled down his arm. Behind him, faint shouts echoed—raiders' voices scattering into the wind, growing distant. The world tilted, colors blurring. The air tasted of dust and copper.
At last, he managed to duck into a hidden chamber filled with collapsed shelves, their contents spilling like a frozen river of parchments. Faint sigils marked the walls—warnings, perhaps, or guidance left by the ancients.
"This is…" he muttered, stepping forward carefully.
A hollow sound rang beneath his boot—not sand, not stone, but something older. He knelt and brushed the dust aside. Beneath it lay a smooth seam, an engraved outline. The desert had hidden it well the shape of a door buried in the bones of the world.
Eryndor pressed his blood-stained hand against the surface.
A pulse answered his blood.
The stone trembled faintly beneath his touch. Light seeped through the cracks like dawn breaking through a tomb. The ground shuddered, then split open, revealing a spiral staircase descending into darkness. A breath of cold and heavy air rose from below, tasting of old incense and the ghosts of forgotten prayers.
He hesitated but then he heard a raider slam into the chamber behind him.
Taking a deep breath, he murmured,
"Well then… down we go, sunshine."
He descended into the dark.
Each step echoed softly, swallowed by the vast silence below. The air grew still, heavy with memory of seemingly ancient story. His black iron gauntlet flickered faintly, it's dull surface reflecting the glow of crystal veins embedded in the walls. The deeper he went, the quieter the world became, until even his breathing felt intrusive.
When reached at the bottom of the stairs, he found himself stood before a colossal obsidian door, laced with veins of gold, etched with sigil that seemed to pulse faintly and alive despite their age.
"What symbol is this…?" Eryndor whispered. "I've never seen it—not even in the Temple's records." His fingers hovered before a radiant emblem engraved at the centre, a sun encircled by a crown of six stars.
The sigil hummed faintly when he touched it.
His pulse quickened.
"Don't tell me… this is from before the Kingdom Era?"
Before he could think further, a voice echoed in his mind—deep and distant, like thunder heard through water. It spoke from within his blood.
"The mark of the First Empire of Mortals."
Eryndor froze.
The obsidian door began to open. Light poured outward—slow, deliberate—not the harsh glare of day, but something gentler, sacred. A dawn that never ended.
Feeling a sense of calling he shielding his eyes and stepped through.
And the world changed.
He stood in a vast marble hall, immense as a cathedral and untouched by time. Pillars rose like frozen rays of light. The air shimmered with incense and storm. At the heart of the chamber stood a throne—gilded, immense—its surface etched with scenes of conquest and coronation.
Upon it sat a figure of light and bronze, unmoving, yet eternally alive.
Eryndor's breath caught. The air itself bowed before that presence. He felt no fear—only reverence, and a strange familiarity rising from deep within his blood.
"The Radiant Emperor," the voice within him spoke.
"The one who bore the sun within his blood."
Eryndor swallowed.
"…Excuse me," he muttered dryly, "but isn't it rude to speak inside someone's head?"
The Emperor's eyes opened—not eyes, but twin suns, blazing with eternal flame. The chamber filled with distant horns, the memory of war.
The marble dissolved into sky, and Eryndor saw it all.
He stood upon the endless plains of Terra Proper. Beneath a blazing sun, banners of every mortal race rippled across the horizon—human, elf, dwarf, beastman, golem, even the treefolk—united beneath a single banner of gold.
Before them stood the Radiant Emperor. Beside him, planted into the earth, was a great sword nearly as tall as the man himself. Its blade was black as night, yet wreathed in golden flame, humming with restrained power.
With an ears splitting roar, the crystalline sky tore open. Descending in rays of light came the radiant hosts of Malakh, their wings burning with divine pride. The horizon ignited as legions of Assura marched in arrogant procession, their forms like living thunder and shadowed flame. The ground shattered as Svapada, the primordial beasts of the deep, tore through the plains, their howls haunting the soul.
The First Emperor raised his sword.
A blade of dawn, cloaked in golden flame, humming with faith and honor.
The mortals roared as one.
The war was not glorious.
It was ruin and revelation intertwined.
Devils, seraphs, immortals—even the primordial Svapada—fell and perished in the clash. Mountains cracked. Rivers turned to glass. Cities became ash.
Yet through it all, the Emperor stood unbroken. His eyes burned with defiance, his voice carrying an oath that bound all mortals together.
"No being shall chain the will of mortals.
Not flame. Not law. Not heaven."
The vision shattered.
Silence returned to the chamber, leaving only the echo of that vow—reverberating through Eryndor's blood.
He trembled.
His mortal body, fragile and unworthy, pulsed in answer to something far older. Perhaps faith had led him here. Perhaps fate. But the truth lingered like fire in his bones: the ancient wars had once shaken heaven itself.
"…Ragnarök," he whispered.
"The Battle of Gods."
The truth was far more terrifying.
And far more exhilarating.
He looked up. The throne stood empty now. The Emperor was gone—but a faint crimson glimmer clung to the seat. A fragment of radiance, waiting.
Before Eryndor could reach for it, the light leapt into his hand.
Cold as snow. Bright as dawn.
The light flickered, then sank into his palm and His blood erupted.
Pain ripped through his body as scripture ignited across his flesh, carving itself into every fiber of his being. Words burned into his skin, his eyes, even his tongue. He collapsed to his knees, gasping as his body convulsed, every nerve screaming.
One phrase engraved itself into his mind, absolute and undeniable:
"The Absolute Scripture —
The Legacy of the Mortal Paragon."