The Prophet: Hermes (Custodian of the Avatar Kalpa).
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.