The afternoon light reflected through tall glass windows, casting long, pale streaks across the polished floor. The rays reached the black leather sofa where Eiden sat, the material absorbing the warmth without a shine. He rested in silence, a thick grimoire open in his hands, its pages glowing faintly as his grey eyes scanned each line with calm precision.
Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. The castle seemed to hold its breath around him.
Then—a soft click.
A servant dressed in the black‑and‑white uniform of Zanders Kingdom stepped inside. She stopped exactly six feet away. "King Zanders would like to see you in the throne room," she said, her voice steady and respectful. She bowed her head, then turned and left, her footsteps fading down the hall.
Eiden closed the grimoire with a quiet thump. With a flick of his fingers, the book lifted, drifting across the room before sliding perfectly into its place on the shelf. He rose, picked up his sheathed blade, and walked out.
He entered the throne room to find Zanders seated, flanked by guards.
"Eiden," Zanders began, his voice echoing. "Word of your return has spread across the world. Quickly." He lifted a hand, and a servant placed a black envelope with a white wax seal into his palm. "Yesterday was Thursday—my day to receive all reports. Among them was a letter from Morvath, The Umbramage. He instructed me to give you this."
Zanders stepped down, stopping a few meters away. "This letter has a spell on it. If anyone other than you opens it, it will explode with enough force to annihilate this entire kingdom."
Eiden took the letter, examining the seal. "Understood. Thank you."
He turned to leave, but stopped. A figure leaned casually against the door frame.
"Hello, Eiden." The man wore blue‑and‑gold robes, a blue grimoire strapped to his waist. He approached with a cocky smirk. "I am Dyuke Caustra, Leader of the Council of Mages. I would like to speak with you—and the other three Sages waiting down the hall. Follow me."
They moved through the long corridor to a massive meeting room. Iris sat at the table, sipping tea. Selyndra sat atop the table itself, her long blonde hair spilling over the surface as she looked over her shoulder with soft, golden eyes. Vaelus stood by the fireplace, flashing a sharp-toothed grin.
"Please," Dyuke said, taking his seat. "I ask that you all sit and listen."
A heavy, suffocating silence stretched across the room.
"Just eight days ago," Dyuke finally spoke, "a traveler discovered the battlefield where you three fought. The remains of Solmara and Kharos were retrieved, and word was sent to every kingdom. Messengers are shouting it in every village: 'Two Celestials dead! Eiden, The First Divinity, alive!'"
Dyuke leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Now that the world knows you're alive, things are going to get bad."
Eiden exhaled a slow, heavy sigh. "I made many enemies," he said quietly. "About thirty‑two years ago, I had five enemies who were true threats. I planned to kill them in this order: Uzak'me, the God of Dominion—handled. Reia, The Beast. Yajin, The God of Judgment. Ou'weii, The Demon King. And lastly…"
The air seemed to stop moving.
"Civilar. The Titan."
The name hit the room like a physical force. Vaelus's grin vanished, replaced by a look of genuine shock.
A Titan—the deadliest creature in existence. A being whose strength dwarfed dragons and gods alike. Civilar, the Titan who wielded two cursed swords on a chain and had driven twenty‑three races to extinction. A creature who had lived for half a million years and had never lost a fight.
"What an idiot," Selyndra said, rolling her eyes. "Of all beings, you managed to make an enemy of him? Why? Do you enjoy this?"
"Well, obviously—" Vaelus started.
"Shut it." Selyndra snapped her fingers, a golden circle glowing at her fingertip. She turned back to Eiden, her gaze sharp. "You could've told us before you wandered off to kill Uzak'me. If you had crossed one of the other four, you would've died before you could even think of using Myr'thal'uun."
Iris paused mid‑sip. "Myr— wha?"
"A spell used to reincarnate," Selyndra explained flatly.
Eiden nodded slowly. "Yes. But I never told anyone I used it. How did you know?"
Selyndra side‑eyed him. "I was with Fennaro. We sensed your signature and found your body. It was empty—no soul, no trace. We brought you back to the Redcrest village, then went to the Whitecrest village to find your mother. She looked at us like we were fools. She told us: 'Myr'thal'uun. It's concerning you couldn't figure that out instantly.'"
Selyndra flicked her hair back. "So we waited. Fennaro sent me a letter two days ago saying 'He lives.' That's why I wasn't shocked to see you."
Vaelus squinted at her. "I still don't understand how your hair, eyes, and skin changed."
"A transformation spell I used when I was seventeen," Selyndra replied. "I changed my appearance to be feared rather than admired. But eight years ago, I dispelled it. I realized I looked even more beautiful than before, so I decided to act like a little goddess instead."
She hopped off the table and walked to the window, letting the breeze hit her face. Eiden processed this quietly.
"Eiden?" Dyuke motioned toward the letter.
"Right." Eiden set the black envelope on the table.
Vaelus, impatient as ever, reached across the table. "I wanna read it."
"NO!" Dyuke shouted, bolting upright as a blue aura surged into his palm. Iris and Selyndra both flared with magic, ready to strike.
"Step away," Dyuke commanded. "Morvath put a spell on that letter. If anyone but Eiden opens it, we all die."
Vaelus backed away, muttering. Eiden sharpened a blade of energy at his fingertip and sliced the wax seal. He pulled the letter free, and the room fell into a deep silence as he read.
Vaelus tapped his foot. "Well? You gonna say what it says or what?!"
Selyndra shot him a glare that silenced him instantly. They waited. Finally, Eiden spoke.