Chapter 1: Premonition, Prologue, and the Slow Beginning of Holy Conquests.
Arc I: Guardia and the New Cult.
A Premonition of 10 years in the future:
Fire and smoke engulfed the air. The black flames roared, casting monstrous shadows over the battlefield. The air was thick with the scent of burning ash and something darker—something ancient. The dark god Moloch towered over Hermes, his ram-like head twisting into a sneer of contempt. His eight massive arms flexed, fingers curling into claws that could tear through stone like parchment. "You mortals never learn," Moloch growled, his voice a guttural echo of the abyss. "You fight, you struggle, you resist... but in the end, you all break." Hermes didn't flinch. The white-haired elf stood firm, blue eyes reflecting the unholy fire around them. She tightened her grip on her weapon—a slender silver blade that shimmered with divine energy. Hermes replied: "This conquest has only gone on for 10 years now, the Unseen has told me these Prophetic Conquests will not end for another 190 years, your defeat is only the beginning. Providence will have the last laugh." And then she repeated: "Every knee will bow," she repeated, her voice calm but unyielding. And then they clashed.
Moloch struck first. One of his eight arms lashed out, his clawed hand moving faster than a shadow at dusk. Hermes ducked, barely evading as the strike shattered the
marble ground behind her. Without missing a beat, she twisted, bringing her blade up in a sharp arc. The silver steel met dark flesh, carving a deep gash across Moloch's side. Black ichor spilled, sizzling as it touched the flames. The dark god roared, enraged. Four more arms struck out at once. Hermes blurred, sidestepping one, leaping over another, her blade dancing through the air like a streak of lightning. Sparks flew as steel met claw, the force of the impacts sending shockwaves across the battlefield. "You think speed will save you?" Moloch taunted. Another set of arms reached forward, aiming to crush her in an iron grip. Hermes twisted her body mid-air, barely slipping between his grasp, landing lightly on her feet. She spun, slashing at his leg. The dark god stumbled, his massive form shaking the ground beneath them.
With a snarl, Moloch gathered dark energy in his hands. Shadows swirled, forming a jagged spear of pure void. He hurled it at Hermes. She raised her blade, the divine light of her weapon colliding with the darkness, shattering it into shards of fading night.
The fight raged on—blades and claws, light and shadow, speed and overwhelming power. Moloch was a beast of chaos, unrelenting, each of his arms a weapon, each of his attacks capable of ending lesser warriors in an instant. But Hermes was not lesser. She was precise, untouchable, striking only when necessary, dodging only when vital. Then, in a blur of silver and fire, she saw her opening. Moloch overextended—a single misstep in his arrogance. Hermes dashed forward, her blade glowing like a star. She drove it deep into his chest, piercing through dark flesh, cutting through the corruption that fueled him. The dark god howled, his voice shaking the very fabric of the world. "Impossible!" he
bellowed. Hermes twisted the blade deeper, locking eyes with the monster. "Every knee will bow," she whispered once more. Light exploded from the wound. Moloch's body convulsed, his limbs spasming as divine energy surged through him like wildfire. His form cracked, splitting apart like shattered glass. And then, with one final scream, the dark god Moloch was no more. The flames around them dimmed, the battlefield now eerily silent. Hermes pulled her blade free, exhaling softly as she stood over the fading remnants of a god who refused to kneel. The conquests we're far from over however, like she said this battle was only the beginning of this brave new world.
10 years prior and 5 years following Daniel [the Gate Keeper's] death:
In the Spirit Realm, two figures faced each other in battle. It was a friendly bout only training. In the distance the three-eye god Erlang Shen and Bodhisattva Guanyin looked on. One of the figures floating in the air above the cool sirene cliffs was a muscular 5'9 demon, human in appearance, with pointy ears, four large fangs, bright green eyes, spiky white hair, and wearing black armor, this was the esteemed member of the demon clan and reformed being, Talus. The one facing him was the esteemed Great Sage Equaling Heaven, Victorious Fighting Buddha and esteemed Handsome Monkey King with the beak of a thunder-god, Sun Wukong. Sun Wukong said: "Old Monkey is quite confused. Are you sure? After you complete this training bout with me you want to return to the living world and help this "Prophet" Hermes (the elf girl)." Talus nodded.
Sun Wukong exhaled: "Very well, let's battle!" Sun Wukong began to twirl his staff and in an instant the two leaped into battle.
Another account of what happened goes as follows: The Spirit Realm shimmered, a dreamlike expanse where the sky was painted in endless hues of blue and violet, where the cool mist rolled over cliffs of jade and marble. In the distance, the all-seeing Erlang Shen stood with his divine spear in hand, his third eye glowing faintly as he observed. Beside him, the serene and compassionate Bodhisattva Guanyin watched in quiet contemplation. Above the cliffs, two warriors hovered in midair—one a reformed demon, the other the legendary Monkey King. Talus, the muscular demon, cracked his neck, his black armor glinting under the spirit realm's celestial glow. His green eyes burned with determination. Across from him, Sun Wukong twirled his golden staff, Ruyi Jingu Bang, with one hand, his mischievous smirk never fading. "Old Monkey is quite confused," Wukong mused, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and curiosity. "Are you sure? After this bout, you intend to return to the living world and help this 'Prophet' Hermes?" Talus nodded once, firm and resolute. Wukong sighed, shaking his head. "Very well," he said, twirling his staff faster, a blur of gold. "Let's battle!" In an instant, the two warriors leaped into combat. Wukong struck first. He lunged, extending his staff with a thought—once, twice, a hundred times its normal length in the blink of an eye. Talus barely had time to react. He twisted, dodging left, his demon reflexes allowing him to weave through the storm of strikes. The air cracked with the force of each blow, the cliffs below trembling beneath the sheer pressure. Talus countered, his fists burning with raw
demonic energy. He shot forward, faster than a lightning strike, slamming a fist toward Wukong's chest. The Monkey King vanished, leaving behind only a golden afterimage.
"Too slow!" Wukong laughed from above. Talus spun just in time to block a crushing overhead strike. The impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, parting the clouds in the sky. The demon gritted his teeth as Wukong's power pressed down on him, but he pushed back, unleashing a burst of energy that sent the Monkey King flipping backward. Before Wukong could recover, Talus moved. He struck forward with a rapid barrage—fists, elbows, kicks, each blow like a cannon shot. Wukong grinned, deflecting each strike with ease, his body moving as if caught in an endless dance. Then, with a sudden flick of his wrist, he caught Talus's arm mid-strike. "Gotcha!" With a twist, Wukong hurled Talus into the cliffs below. The demon crashed with an explosion of dust and stone, but he was far from finished. Emerging from the rubble, Talus' eyes blazed. He roared, his demonic power surging, the ground beneath him cracking. Then, in a blink, he was in the air again, right in front of Wukong. The Monkey King's eyes widened, barely tilting his head as Talus' fist grazed his cheek. "Not bad," Wukong admitted, rubbing his chin. Talus didn't answer. Instead, he held out his hands, summoning two jagged blades of condensed energy. With newfound speed, he slashed, each stroke carving the air itself. Wukong flipped, ducked, dodged, and weaved, laughing all the while.
Then, just as Talus prepared for a final strike, Wukong vanished again. And before Talus could react—BANG! A crushing blow struck the back of his head. Talus spiraled
downward, crashing into the ground once more. The force of the impact split the cliffs, sending debris flying in all directions. Floating above, Wukong rested his staff against his shoulder, smirking. "Not bad, not bad," he mused. "But you're still not quite there." From the rubble, Talus emerged again, panting, a smirk of his own forming. "You talk too much." Wukong burst into laughter. "And you've got a fight in you! I like that!" He landed lightly on the ground, extending a hand. "Alright, enough fun for now." Talus hesitated, then clasped Wukong's hand, rising to his feet. Erlang Shen, still observing, gave a small nod of approval. Guanyin smiled gently. Sun Wukong stretched, rolling his shoulders. "You'll do just fine, kid. If you can keep up with me even a little, then maybe—just maybe—you've got a shot in that world down there." Talus exhaled, his determination unwavering. He had trained with one of the greatest warriors he had known, a true legend. And now, his path was clear. Sun Wukong leaped on his cloud. Talus did not need a cloud; he would simply follow him through flight. A portal was created, and they both traveled through it through the air. Erlang and Guanyin simply smirked: all good things must come to an end.
Back on Planet Helios: At a local Buddhist temple, Narcis Martreya was teaching in a Sangha while many Mahayana and Theravada Buddhist monks listened intently to him. One of them asked: "O Maitreya, this young Prophet. You said you would not serve her, you would simply meditate and teach in this temple for centuries. But O' master if her and her new religion succeeds and establishes peace in this world will you leave us?" Narcis who was a light-elf and the long-awaited Martreya Buddha sighed: "Yes, the
Buddha himself said when I returned I would leave as soon as this world attained peace. All I can hope for is Hermes will succeed and light will prevail in this world." The monks were humbled by his words and after Narcis had said this, the Martreya continued with his Sanga.
Meanwhile, back at Xelios University, Hermes was in one of her classes, a history class to be precise, covering the history of the galaxy. She had already gone on several minor campaigns against the heretics, hypocrites, apostates, pagans, atheists and disbelievers, but at the same time she was required to attend university. The halls of Xelios University stretched high, adorned with holographic projections of ancient civilizations, forgotten empires, and celestial conquests. The professor, a towering reptilian scholar with glimmering gold scales, gestured towards a star map depicting the great Galactic Wars. "…And it was during the Era of Fractured Faith that the old gods of many worlds fell, their temples burned, their scriptures lost. New doctrines rose, some claiming absolute truth, others seeking nothingness. But amidst this chaos, prophecy often emerges. Tell me, class—" the professor's slit pupils narrowed. "—what is the most influential prophecy of our time?" Several students murmured among themselves, but all eyes inevitably turned toward one figure. Hermes. The white-haired elf girl sat at the center of the hall, her piercing blue eyes scanning the professor before she calmly answered, "The Prophecy of the Last Dawn." The professor nodded. "Indeed. Foretold by the sages of old, this prophecy speaks of a final great reckoning between light and darkness. And it would seem—" his gaze lingered on Hermes, a knowing glint in his eye,
"—that some believe it has begun." Hermes said nothing. She had read the texts. She had seen the omens. And more than that, she had waged war in the name of this prophecy. The professor continued. "But history does not favor prophecy alone. Many have claimed divinity, only to perish in obscurity. Many have led crusades, only to be consumed by their own hubris. The question, then, is this—" He leaned forward. "Will this Prophet truly bring salvation? Or will she be another name lost to history?"
Hermes' fingers twitched slightly against the table. She could feel the weight of a hundred eyes on her. Her past victories had spread whispers through the university halls, but so had her controversial mission. Her crusade was far from universally accepted. Still, she did not falter. "History is not written by those who doubt," she replied evenly. "It is written by those who act." The class fell into silence. The professor smiled faintly. "Spoken like a true revolutionary." The lesson continued, but Hermes' mind drifted. There was no time for philosophy—soon, another campaign awaited. The heretics and unbelievers still stood defiant. And until the Last Dawn, there would be no rest. After class Hermes and her good friend Mira along with her husband Alan (who were both elves like her) were walking outside of the University building with her into the garden until they noticed a hulking black figure waiting for them. He was no less than 7 feet tall, with dark-grey armor that covered his entire body and non-existent face, his red eyes shown between the slit in his helmet, two metal horns that were part of the armor protruded from his helmet and his long black cape whistling in the breeze, this was an old friend, the wizard Ungar. All three of them cried out in joy: "UNGAR!" Ungar greeted
them, "Hello everyone, we're expecting two more guests, well really one, one's just saying hello." Hermes was confused: "Who?" As the words were uttered two figures appeared one was a monkey on a cloud the other was the Demon Talus flying beside him. Sun Wukong and Talus both landed beside Ungar across from Hermes, Alan and Mira. Hermes was delighted: "Sun Wukong, Uncle Talus, how have you been." Sun Wukong smirked: "Old monkey has been fine, I was just about to be leaving." Hermes was perplexed: "So soon?" Sun Wukong gave out his trade-mark high-pitched laugh: "Of course, I'm returning to the Spirit Realm, if you were to see me again, it wouldn't be for another 200 years. I was just seeing an old friend off, you see." Wukong leaned over before leaving, "200 years from now, when this is over, if you want to return to the Mountain of Flower and Fruit, I will be happy to continue your training." Talus bowed: "Thank you, I will train with you again." Sun Wukong ascended on his cloud: "With that then farewell, Old Monkey has places to be. Goodbye friends." Sun Wukong ascended his cloud and flew through the air until he entered a portal that took him to the Spirit Realm and his mountain home. He was gone and instead two figures Ungar and Talus remained.
Hermes watched as the swirling portal closed behind Sun Wukong, leaving nothing but a faint shimmer in the air. The Monkey King had come and gone like a passing storm, his energy still lingering in the space where he once stood. She sighed, then turned her attention back to the two figures who remained—Ungar, the enigmatic wizard, and Talus, a reformed demon warrior. Mira was the first to break the silence, a
bright smile on her face. "Uncle Talus, it's been so long! How was training with Sun Wukong?" Talus smirked, crossing his arms. "Grueling. That monkey is relentless. But I am stronger now because of it." His green eyes flickered as he turned to Hermes. "And I hear you've been busy as well, Prophet." Hermes nodded. "There's still so much to do. The heretics and the faithless are unyielding, and all they do is spread corruption in the land, and even now, some within the empire question our mission." She clenched her fists. "But I will not stop. Not until the Last Dawn is upon us." Talus observed her carefully before speaking. "That conviction will serve you well, but don't let it blind you. Not every battle is won with force alone." Ungar, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was deep, metallic, and slightly distorted through his helmet. "Your enemies grow stronger. And I don't just mean those who openly oppose you." His red eyes glowed faintly as he continued, "There are whispers of treachery within the empire. Some who claim to be loyal may soon turn against you." Alan frowned. "Who are these traitors?" Ungar shook his head. "I cannot say for certain. Not yet. But I sense a storm coming, one that could shake the very foundation of your cause. Besides, Hermes receives favors from the Imperial Qatari government." Hermes narrowed her eyes. "Then we must be prepared. If enemies lurk in the shadows, we will drag them into the light."
Talus smirked. "That's the spirit." Mira, however, looked concerned. "But war isn't just about fighting, Hermes. You've already gained many allies, but we must be careful not to lose them. If the empire fractures from within, our enemies won't have to lift a finger—we'll destroy ourselves." Hermes exhaled, considering her friend's words.
"Then we must strengthen our ranks and ensure our allies remain steadfast. Talus, Ungar—will you stand with me?" Talus grinned, placing a hand on his hip. "I trained for this moment, didn't I? You have my blade." Ungar nodded. "And my magic. I will fight by your side, Prophet." Hermes allowed herself a small smile. "Then we have no time to waste. A new campaign begins soon, and I will need all of you by my side." The group stood together, the cool evening wind rustling their cloaks. The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear—Hermes was not alone. And with her allies gathered, the battle for the Last Dawn would begin, but for now it was time to relax. Hermes smiled: "For now let's catch up, let's go to Alan's house he's acquired an estate just a few blocks from here. They all agreed and headed off to Alan's estate.
The Hidden Threat:
Far away, in the depths of a shadowed citadel, figures gathered in secrecy. Their robes bore the insignia of the empire, but their voices whispered of rebellion. A cloaked figure stepped forward, their face obscured by darkness. "The Prophet grows stronger. She gathers warriors, gods, and demons alike. If we do not act soon, her vision will become reality." Another figure spoke, their tone dripping with malice. "Then we must strike before she gains full power. Let the fools believe they are winning—by the time they realize the truth, it will be too late." The first figure nodded. "Then it is decided. The time for patience is over. The time for betrayal… begins now." A candle flickered, then extinguished, plunging the room into total darkness. But unluckily for the Prophet these were not the only threats. In the Qatari government corrupt governors and others were
scheming to have her destroyed as she threatened their power. They were involved in the arms and gun trade, sex trafficking, slavery and many other unspeakable crimes.
But for now Hermes, Alan, Mira, Ungar, and Talus, had just reached Alan's estate. It was a large estate with beautiful architecture and a sublime garden. As they walked closer to the door they smelt the sweetness of the blooming flowers, fresh in the springtime. In the front of the estate was a statue of Daniel the Light Elf (And Second to Last Gate Keeper), who sacrificed his life to save the world. As they were about to enter Zaiyal, Qayyim, Aquarius, and J opened the door and greeted them. Qayyim was the first to greet Hermes, as she opened the door this time with her hair tailed in a ponytail, she had adopted this look over the last year. Qayyim said: "How's it going girl, are you doing okay?" Qayyim for her part hugged Hermes who was no less than 26 years her junior, she was like a maternal figure to Hermes. Hermes smiled warmly as she returned Qayyim's hug. "I'm doing okay," she replied, though the weariness in her voice was hard to miss. "It's been a long journey." Qayyim pulled back slightly, studying Hermes' face with concern. "I can tell," she said. "Come inside, all of you. You must be exhausted." As the group stepped into the grand entryway, they were met with the comforting scent of burning incense and freshly brewed tea. The estate's interior was just as impressive as the outside—tall archways, intricate tapestries, and a grand chandelier that cast a warm glow over the polished marble floors. The place felt alive, not just from the grandeur, but from the presence of the people within it.
J, dressed in a dark green tunic, gave a small nod to the newcomers. Her eyes lingered on Mira for a moment before he turned toward the others. "It's good to see you all," he said. "Especially under better circumstances." Ungar, always the cautious one, grunted as he set his heavy pack down near the doorway. "Better circumstances are debatable," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting trouble to follow them inside. Aquarius, standing beside J with arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "Still as paranoid as ever, I see," she teased before looking at Alan. "So, what's the plan? I assume you didn't bring everyone here just for tea and pleasantries." Nova walked through the doorway, "Hello everyone, I'm sure you all know why you're here, and I'm sure you all know, Hermes, better to everyone that she has University tomorrow, but we must plan for the campaign a few days from now against the heretical ogres." They (meaning the ogres) were an ancient and contemptible race, well-known for their deviant idol-worship and their proficiency in the dark arts. But before Nova began to speak about the issue, he insisted: "First things first, let's catch up with one another, it's been quite some time since we all got together." Everyone followed Narcis' advice and began to catch up with one another. Nova used the opportunity to talk about himself talking about his work in AI, and his last scholastic work: "A defense of Atheism: And a Refutation of Neoplatonic Christianity and the Mutakallimun or "People of Kalam" (in Sunni Islam): and the Power of the Word." Nova joked: "You know Hermes, I'm working on another defense of Atheism and a criticism of your new religion: "Critique of the Prophet Hermes: And Defense of Dilacetal Discourse and Atheism." Hermes grimaces, "you better be careful otherwise you might end up on the other end of my sword." Everyone laughed,
the atmosphere in the room was jolly. Mira leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms behind her head. "Alright, but seriously, Nova—do you ever write about anything that doesn't involve tearing down religion?"
Nova smirked. "Of course. I recently wrote a critique of economic determinism. But no one seems to care about that as much." Alan chuckled. "Probably because you don't threaten to get stabbed over economic determinism." Hermes rolled her eyes. "Give it time. If you talk about money long enough, someone will want to stab you." Aquarius raised her cup of tea. "That's the spirit. Cheers to controversial scholarship and narrowly avoiding assassination." Everyone laughed, clinking their drinks together in an exaggerated toast. J, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward. "Okay, but let's address the real issue—Hermes, how are you balancing leading a revolution and still showing up for university classes? Because I can barely keep up with my research papers, and I'm not fighting heretical ogres on the side." Hermes groaned. "Don't remind me. I have an exam on metaphysical ethics in two days. The professor doesn't care that I'm trying to prevent the world from collapsing." Ungar shook his head. "If they did, academia would fall apart." Qayyim laughed. "Oh please, Ungar. You never went to school, you've spent your entire life as a wizard'—a.k.a. drinking at the tavern." Ungar shrugged. "I stand by my choices." Mira smirked. "Anyway, who decided it was a good idea to have a campaign right before Hermes' exam?" Nova grinned. "Not my fault the ogres don't respect academic schedules." "Typical," Hermes muttered. "No respect for higher education." Aquarius tapped the table. "Alright, enough messing around. What do
we actually know about Gormath and his forces? Are we walking into a bloodbath, or do we have the advantage?" Alan sighed. "We'll get to that soon enough. But first, finish your tea. No one strategizes well on an empty stomach."
Later that night, they went over their battle plan. Little was known of the battle plan but the next day. Aquarius, Qayyim and Zaiyal had an appointment with King Al-Jihad in the Floating Palace of the Sky over Helios, as they flew through the air. Qayyim asked Zaiyal: "This makes me uncomfortable, what could the king honestly want to talk to us about?" Zaiyal scoffed: "I'm not feeling great about it either honestly, and why us, it just seems strange?" Aquarius for her part was unsettled by their responses: "Has the king seemed untrustworthy, Unlike you too I've never met the king myself." Zaiyal grunted: "I honestly don't know, but… I feel like whatever we're about too here, is dubious in nature, especially if their Holy Prophet is not allowed to hear about it."
In the distance there was a great palace, and the three warriors soon descended to the ground before the imperial citadel. the Floating Palace of the Sky came into view—a magnificent structure of gold and sapphire, suspended in the heavens by ancient magic. It shimmered against the rising sun, a beacon of power and authority. But despite its beauty, an uneasy silence filled the cabin. Qayyim folded her arms, staring out at the palace with narrowed eyes. "You know, I really don't like secret meetings in places that defy gravity. It just feels… ominous." Zaiyal smirked. "What, afraid the king is going to throw us off if we say something he doesn't like?" Qayyim shot him a look. "If he tries, he'll be joining us on the way down." Aquarius sighed, adjusting the bracer on her wrist. "We're
overthinking this. Maybe he just wants assurances that Hermes isn't about to burn his kingdom to the ground." Zaiyal snorted. "If that were true, he'd be speaking to Hermes directly, not pulling us aside like we're some backdoor diplomats."
Qayyim tapped her fingers on the armrest, deep in thought. "That's what bothers me. If he trusted us—or at least trusted Hermes—why all the secrecy?" A brief silence fell over them. The hum of the airship's engines filled the space, a rhythmic reminder that they were hurtling toward something they weren't sure they could trust. Finally, Aquarius exhaled and ran a hand through her hair. "Alright, well, whatever happens, let's just stay sharp. We listen, we nod, and we don't agree to anything without knowing exactly what we're walking into." Qayyim smirked. "Sounds like you've done this before."
Aquarius shrugged. "Let's just say I've had my fair share of 'friendly' political conversations that weren't so friendly." Zaiyal leaned back and grinned. "That's what I like about you, Aquarius. You always expect the worst." "That way, I'm never disappointed," she said, deadpan. The airship finally docked at the palace's floating platform, its grand doors opening before them. As they stepped out onto the marble floor, a group of royal guards awaited them, clad in polished silver armor. At the center stood an attendant dressed in the royal colors of deep blue and gold. "The king is expecting you," he said, his voice formal, his face unreadable. Qayyim exchanged a glance with Zaiyal and Aquarius before nodding. "Then let's not keep him waiting." With that, they followed the attendant into the gleaming halls of the Floating Palace, stepping into whatever intrigue awaited them beyond the gilded doors.