The Golden Slab.
It wasn't a brick. It was a buried Cathedral.
The part that was outside for everyone to touch was only its head. Barely a fourth of its body. The rest…
It was underground. Stabbed into the core of Dwarkam.
When the third pillar was erected, the ground around Zane and the priest rumbled. It wasn't a once-in-a-while earthquake. It was the slab.
And just after the third pillar, the pillar that falsely made the Priest and everyone else believe Zane received three Gleam Skills, went back inside… things happened.
On the outside, the slab may have stopped glowing.
But the part hidden deep in the ground, after years, glowed like a stranded dog seeing hope for the first time.
A golden beam shot out from the bottom of the slab and spread through Dwarkam from inside, like blood through veins.
And as it moved… the whole world felt it.
———
Continent Vaelreth.
A silver castle sat in the ribs of the wildlands like it owned the wind itself.
On a bed big enough for five families, an old man lay still, hollow cheeks, twigs for limbs, eyes shut for five years.
Beside him, his son kept reading from a gold-covered book, even though the words were falling into a grave.
The young man had tears in his eyes. His father was alive the way statues were alive. He was just… there.
Old age, the Priests, the Alchemists had called it. But the young man believed otherwise.
This was no old age. If it was, then his father would have conquered it. There was nothing impossible for him. He was the First Head of this family. He was alive for more than a hundred years.
He recited as usual and then…
ZRRR!
He heard something.
A vibration.
It came from his father.
He hurriedly came closer to the man and found the source.
It came from the heirloom on his chest.
It was vibrating.
The son leaned in.
Before his fingers could touch it, the old man's eyes snapped open.
The young man shivered and backed off.
The old man jerked his head at his son.
The son frowned.
His father… he wasn't warm. Or relieved.
He was terrified.
With wide eyes, he grabbed his son's wrist with a strength that didn't belong to a dying man.
"It's… it's… it's happening," he rasped. "It's here…"
"Wh- what is, father?" The son asked, holding back his five years' tears.
The old man tore the heirloom off his neck and shoved it into his son's palms.
His hands shook like the world was shaking inside him.
The son dropped the book he was holding and held the heirloom on his palms.
With shivering hands and voice to the point of shattering, the old man waited not one second for his son to ask anything and said:
"It's all on you now."
"What are you talki—"
ZRRR!
One last violent pulse.
Then silence.
And with it…
The family head took his last breath as well.
The son was now left with a silent relic.
An indecipherable prophecy.
A premature responsibility.
And a gold-covered book lying beside his father, its title half-hidden.
But one phrase was clear.
CROWN VARION.
———
Continent Maayara.
In the middle of a desert. Only sand as far as eyes could see.
The sun poured its wrath, making even the creatures with the thickest exoskeleton hide deep inside the sand.
One man sat alone on a dune, legs half-buried in sand, his cloak fluttering like a flag afraid of swinging in an enemy territory.
The sun judged him too.
But it lost.
His right hand rested on the hilt of a sword that dripped in black.
The sand in the desert was in golden beige, and the sand around the man was Black.
The man glanced at his black clothes and sighed.
They were gray a few hours ago.
He shook his head and laid down on the sand.
But before he could…
SHING!
His silver ring with a blue stone, hummed.
He looked at it.
He frowned.
Then he smiled. The smile when people remember something.
"So they came back…"
He looked at the sky, his smile competing with its size.
"Just to die again."
He discarded the thought of resting and stood up.
He patted the sand off his clothes and walked forward.
He walked past the corpses he had created himself.
He saw one of the corpses' bone twitch.
He stepped on it and it crunched like wet wood.
And these corpses, they looked different.
Their limbs weren't limbs.
Their joints weren't joints.
Their bodies… weren't Human.
———
Continent Xavros.
Darkness prevailed everywhere like a colonial ruler forgot to leave.
Heinous howls rang from a cave.
Like a gruesome battle was taking place.
But for the Things inside the cave, it was no battle.
It was leisure.
They played with each other like a swarm of ants over a cube of sugar.
Too many and too violent.
Their mouths were vertical slits, teeth that could rip the very pores of any skin they bite.
And such creatures played against each other.
Their limbs moved the way limbs shouldn't.
Their skin looked like cracked obsidian with light leaking out.
They spoke by clicking their teeth like insects evolved only to hunt.
And whoever slowed down for a split second, died.
They were eaten by their own kind and such games happened all around the cave.
The next moment though, the howls stopped.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and all of them, in unison, smelled the air like a dog sensing for food.
Then they pressed what were supposed to be their ears against the ground.
And when they were sure of their findings…
"RAAAAAGGGHHH!!"
All of them screeched in the sharpest of their voices.
They cheered like madmen.
Amidst this…
STEP!
A shadow entered the cave and the screeching stopped.
Silence happened without permission.
The shadow came in full view and the mangled crown on its head spoke volumes.
All eyes fell on this crowned creature and the creature smiled.
"Prepare for the Feast."
And with that…
The screeching lit up the cave engulfed by darkness.
———
Redwood Ring City In Vaelreth.
A Beggar hunched outside a Glory Order church reached out his bowl to a worshipper.
The worshipper ignored him just like any other devotee and the beggar eyed his next patron.
He found him and outstretched his bowl but this time…
THUP!
It fell down.
Not by mistake. By surprise.
His chest thumped.
He looked down and the small scar on his chest was alive.
His pupils widened.
He looked left and right.
No one paid him attention.
He walked away from the church and as he walked, his back which was hunched for all his life…
Straightened.
—
In Glassgut Quarter slum, Maayara.
A drunkard laid in the comfort of the garbage dump with the cheapest ale Dwarkam had to offer pressed on his lips. His eyes hadn't seen the sky for years, he hadn't even opened his eyes fully for years.
No one stopped to see him. No gazes turned to watch his ruin.
He raised the bottle for another gulp when…
TUNK!
It fell down.
His hand dropped it, the intoxicated liquid mixing with the sewage water.
But instead of regretting his loss, he focused on something else.
The thumping of his chest.
He looked.
The scar was alive.
He shook his head and stood up from the dump.
He walked.
He walked forward and with each step, he reached towards the light.
And for the first time in many years…
He was under the sky with his eyes open in full glory.
—
Just like the Beggar and the Drunkard, mundane and forgettable people from all the backward areas existed in Eldros, Maayara and Vaelreth… changed.
A Brawler in a bar where the roof leaked unclenched his fist for the first time during a fight.
A Merchant dropped his beloved coins while counting.
A vendor stopped running after a thief who stole his goods.
A mechanic dropped his tools.
A carpenter stopped his axe.
A carriage driver let go of his horses.
Many such people stopped whatever they were doing.
All of their chests had thumped, none of them smiled, and yet their eyes looked awake for the first time in decades and all of their lips muttered only two words:
"It's time."
———
Back in Eldros Continent in Veyndral City.
Zane's hand finally came off from the slab and oblivious to everything, his eyes remained on the glowing sight in front of him.
[ CONFLUX SYSTEM INITIALIZING…]
[ Host Detected: Zane Atlas ]
[ Soul Resonance: ACCEPTED ]
[ Synchronization: 0.01% ]
[ Warning: Incomplete Convergence! ]
[ Warning: Do. Not. Tell. A. Single. Soul. ]
[ ??? ]
[ ??? ]
And before Zane could even read all of that, another window popped up.
[ MANDATORY QUEST GENERATED! ]
[ Permission Not Required! ]
[ QUEST ACCEPTED! ]