...
Duskfall.
The gazes of ancient and forgotten powers receded like a retreating tide, and Odin's overwhelming aura finally withdrew. The forge quieted. Yet Astra trembled on the very edge of collapse, his body wracked by violent shudders.
He was only Rank One—nothing but dust before the storm—yet he had stood within the presence of a Rank Six Angel who had revealed only the faintest sliver of his true power. The fact that Astra still breathed was a miracle. In truth, if not for the divine current awakened within him, he would have long since fallen unconscious.
Still, he rose. Somehow. His knees quaked as though the ground itself might split beneath him, but he forced his body upright.
What he had seen would never leave him.
"Ho…" Odin's voice rumbled, the faintest chuckle rolling from his chest as the oppressive heat of the Great Forge dimmed back to its usual, steady glow. The brilliance that had once threatened to consume everything retreated to embers.
"You truly are interesting, boy." Odin's eyes narrowed, surprise gleaming in their glacial depths. Even he, the Grandmaster of Steel, had not foreseen every turn.
Astra's thoughts spun like a whirlwind, but all of them collided into one undeniable truth—The stars rejoiced above him.The shadows whispered his name.Threads of destiny wove themselves around his soul, while unfathomable gazes from beyond reality pressed down upon him.
Terror gnawed at him. His every instinct screamed to run, to hide, to vanish. Yet somehow—through will alone—he remained standing, clinging to what little control he could muster.
Odin, his presence now veiled, studied him. Those piercing blue eyes—cold, unyielding, ancient—held something more than judgment. Expectation.
"Wh…what was that?" Astra stammered, voice trembling.
"The space between the divine realms. The edge of reality," Odin answered as though speaking of common stone.
The weight in the room lessened, though Astra's chest still heaved as if he had run a thousand miles. His legs wobbled beneath him, yet he forced himself upright, unwilling to collapse in front of Odin.
"What… what was that?" he stammered, voice cracked.
"The space between all the divine realms," Odin said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His tone was calm, but his eyes glinted with ancient memory. "The edge of reality itself."
Astra's throat went dry. "Those gazes… what I saw. The current Gods? the Seraphs and Sins?"
"Yes and no." Odin's head tilted slightly, his expression hard. "What you witnessed were only vestiges—echoes of their holy presence. If you had truly laid eyes upon a Seraph, or a Sin, or even one fragment of their essence…" His gaze sharpened, and the temperature in the forge dropped to ice. "…you would already be dead. Man cannot gaze upon god and live."
The words hollowed Astra out. His mind reeled—he had glimpsed divinity, even if only shadows of it. He, a mortal.
Odin's lips curled into a sharp, arrogant smile. "They tried to pry into you, of course. They felt the stir in fate, the shift in threads. But fear not, young heir—I blocked most of them. Perhaps three, maybe five beings in all the realms, managed to truly witness what transpired, but those few have no reason to move against you. Some may even lend their hands to see you rise."
Astra swallowed hard, his heartbeat slowing, though his body still trembled. "…So what did happen?"
At that, Odin's face grew grave. He exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing as though weighing how much Astra could handle.
"There are six great mortal realms," Odin began, his voice low but resonant. "Snaer, Wai, Apu, Sahara, Alfhiem, and Dunya. These are the worlds you know—lands where mortals live and die, guarded by Seraphs, bounded by seals of long-fallen gods."
He leaned forward, his shadow spilling across Astra like a mantle. "But beyond them are the three divine realms. The Spirit Realm, where all life is bound—where death, holiness, corruption, every tether of existence takes form. The Astral Realm, where time and space unravel, where chaos and order themselves breathe. And last, the Mana Realm, the bridge between the two—where fate, destiny, and purpose are written, and Mana itself is born."
Each word pressed into Astra like molten iron. He had heard whispers in the churches—parables from the priests of Knowledge, claiming their goddess's kingdom lay in Spirit and Astral both, promising her faithful a place there after death. But this was no sermon. This was truth spoken by one who had stood at the edge of it all.
Odin's voice settled into something calm, deliberate, like a teacher recounting history."As to what happened… I am, in essence, filling you in on the secrets and plots of deities. As for why?" His lips twitched into a smirk. "Figure that out yourself. In the war for the sky, you know how the Eternal Keeper joined in—how she even supported the fall of your house. Yet not all beings chose her side. House Night had contingencies for such calamity. Most great houses do. And so, as Night fell, certain beings shielded what remained—hiding survivors, cloaking the divine authority itself, in hopes that one day a worthy heir might rise to claim it and rule over the night once more."
Astra's heart clenched. The Keeper of Knowledge… the goddess he had admired all his life, the one he thought had stood for wisdom and guidance—she had aided in the slaughter of his bloodline. His chest felt hollow, yet heavy all at once. He wanted to rage, but grief smothered it.
"That Crown," Odin went on, "is the symbol of that divine authority. A Godhood Artifact, passed down to you. As for the Cloak…" He paused, his eyes narrowing, as though even he were unsettled. "…even I did not foresee its appearance. I know not how many artifacts your House claimed, or where they all rest—but two of them chose you."
Astra's voice cracked. "Godhood artifacts?"
Odin's chuckle rolled through the forge like distant thunder. "Don't worry, boy—you're not going to wake up dead or corrupted tomorrow."
Astra blinked, his face paling. "Wait—I can die? I can get corrupted?!"
Odin threw his head back and laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. "In a sense. The Crown of Stars—one of the Seven Symbols of Night's Authority—deemed you fit to bear it. That alone is a boon of unimaginable power. Some angels wield the symbols of other gods, some even forge their own. For you, it means the Crown has tied itself to your soul. At Rank One it is weak, yes—but as you grow, its strength will mirror yours. Your star-magic will deepen, and with each rank, the Crown will grant you further gifts."
His tone grew heavier, colder. "But the Cloak—that is something else entirely. The Cloak of Secrecy, the most coveted of Night's symbols. It has eluded even the strongest houses—Shadow among them—for centuries. And yet, it has bound itself to you. Two Godhood Artifacts, falling into the lap of a Rank One mortal. Coincidence?" He shook his head. "No. Providence."
Astra's thoughts spiraled, his chest tightening with disbelief. The Crown of Stars? The Cloak of Secrecy? Two of the Seven Symbols of Night—mine? Me, a Rank One?! Isn't this too much?! Too convenient?
He could feel the Cloak even now, its whispering veil draped around him, shielding him from prophecy, divination, the eyes of gods who might pry. Yet beyond its concealment, it offered nothing—no strength, no weapon. Not yet. And the Crown… he needed to test it, to truly know what it could do.
Odin, watching Astra's panic with amusement, smiled knowingly. "It is not abnormal for mortals to be chosen. Most prodigies bear artifacts as they ascend. Divine beings cannot intervene directly—for an artifact to be truly claimed, it must be inherited in full. Killing the chosen only delays its emergence, and the backlash of such an act… ha." His smile sharpened, cruel. "Even angels have died to that wrath. Whole hosts have burned for daring to cut short a symbol's destiny."
Astra swallowed hard. So even the gods hesitate…
"In this political climate," Odin finished, "no one dares risk such a blunder again. And besides—" His eyes locked onto Astra, cold and unyielding. "You cannot fully inherit either artifact until you grow stronger. Until then, you are… safe enough. By the time their true weight falls upon you, you will have the power to defend yourself."
The Angel shook his head slowly.
"No. I said any divine being—or one who exceeds your power by an impossible margin. Only then would the Symbols have the right to mobilize their powers and unleash backlash. If you were to die to a rank three, two, or even a one, nothing would happen. Even if you make it to rank three and then fall to a rank four—still nothing. You are very much still in danger."
Odin chuckled.
Astra paled. He thought it was bad enough having a wanted bounty poster for fifty gold standards. Now he had gods after him. Gods… I feel sick, he thought, stomach churning at the revelation.
Odin's grin widened as he watched Astra's distress. "Zehaha… I would even wager some beings may decide to support and nurture your rise, if only to create problems for rival factions who seek those Symbols. Your allies and enemies are now clear and cut. Anyone who needs to claim your godhoods will seek to subjugate you, nurture you, and then dispose of you. Perhaps, if you prove useful, they might even keep you."
He paused, then smiled darkly.
"As to who might need your godhoods? Obviously, any who wield concepts related to Stars, Night, and even Shadows—perhaps even the Sky itself. Right now, Dawn and Dusk primarily, , Shadow shouldn't even be able to detect the Cloak of Secrecy and even then they cannot steal it. As to the others? Some secret organizations perhaps though I wouldn't be surprised if unknown factions also take interest. And knowing them? You will die on the spot, for they may already have scions with claims upon those same godhoods. That makes you a direct competitor."
Astra exhaled shakily.
Okay. So I won't die by some mysterious divine being who's randomly seeking artifacts. No… I'll die after they nurture me, only to slaughter me like a fattened pig. Or worse, be assassinated because I've grown too large, eating from the other fat pigs' trough. Got it.
He lampooned the thought to steady his mind, though the humor was thin and fragile. Still… it's true. I wonder what he truly means. Damn, this is too much.
Struggling for breath, Astra managed to ask through the haze of his thoughts, "So… I'm a prince? One wanted dead by two royal families… and even gods?"
His voice cracked as he let out a bitter laugh, sinking into a chair as though the weight of it all had crushed him. "What has this wretched world come to?"
Odin's eyes glinted with ancient amusement, his words rolling forth heavy as stone.
"Astra, as the Heir of Night and the bearer of two godhood artifacts, you now have duties. Obligations not only to yourself, but to every ancestor who ever walked before you. To the dead gods themselves. You now lay claim to the Authorities of Divine beings."
Astra felt a slow, burning frustration claw at him, each word Odin spoke coiling tighter around his chest like chains of fate. He despised the very idea—that his life was no longer his own. Gratitude had no place here. Nothing in this world came freely. Two artifacts falling into his hands? No. That was no coincidence. That was a ploy. Some unfathomable will had moved the pieces, and for it to have slipped beneath even the gazes of deities… the being behind it was beyond imagining.
Royal obligations, divine burdens—each felt like another shackle. And yet, beneath the resentment that churned hot in his gut, something else stirred. A hunger. A yearning he hated to admit. Something more than filth-ridden streets and coin scraped together for bread. Something… greater.
"But what if I don't want this?" His voice cracked with anger and disbelief, his hands gripping the chair until the wood groaned. "Is this not a scheme? We both know nothing comes without cost! Am I truly meant to believe such a burden exists for my sake?"
Odin did not answer. He only regarded Astra with a silence heavy as the ages, eyes glowing with a cold, blue light that seemed to see through skin and bone. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of centuries.
"Perhaps. But tell me, Astra… have you never felt it? That gnawing emptiness? That you were out of place? That you longed for more than the life of a rat scrambling in the gutter?"
His tone softened, but the words struck sharper than any blade.
"Do not lie to me. Do not lie to yourself. I can see it in your eyes—the same emptiness that hangs over Duskfall's sky at twilight. Loneliness. Solitude. It clings to you."
Astra's face contorted with defiance, but the denial caught in his throat. A hollowness pressed into his chest, robbing him of breath. Odin was right. He hated the streets. He hated the filth, the constant struggle, the degrading acts he had been forced to endure just to see another dawn. He despised the silence of his existence, the isolation that wrapped around him like a second skin.
He hated how weak he was.
He hated that, in the end, he was nothing more than a rat.
And yet… the stars had chosen him. The shadows whispered his name. His path stretched before him, terrible and undeniable.
"I can feel it too," Odin said, voice curling through the air like smoke. "The fire in you. That restless ache for more. You cannot bury it. You cannot lie to your body, nor to your heart."
His eyes gleamed with something close to obsession. "You are marked, child. A spark burns at the core of your soul. It will consume you. It is your obligation to burn by it, to let it remake you in its flames—even if it leaves nothing but ash."
The words wound around Astra like chains, binding tighter with every syllable. His thoughts reeled, half-choked with fear, half-drenched in something darker—temptation.
"Realize your path. Realize your destiny. Realize your future."
The silence that followed was vast, broken only by the faint whisper of wind threading through the underground vault. Astra lifted his gaze, searching upward, past the stone, past the weight of earth, toward the faint stars piercing through the night. Distant, fragile lights in an ocean of void.
Odin's voice lingered in his ears, echoing with a finality that felt carved into fate itself.
"Don't forget Astra. Stars shine brightest when they are alone.
Odin was right. Of course he was. Astra had no choice now—and perhaps he never needed one.
Had he not spent nights staring into the void of Duskfall's skies, whispering prayers to gods long dead? Had he not begged for a chance—any chance—to rise above the gutter, to seize a life that meant more than survival? He yearned for freedom, yes, but also for power. For authority. He wanted to right old wrongs, to punish, to uplift, to take what was denied him—and perhaps to commit sins and walk away untouched, simply because he could.
And now the chance lay before him. To rise. To ascend. To inherit the Night itself.
Who was he to keep lying to himself? To rot in the filth, to die as a nameless rat in the alleys of Duskfall, when the stars and shadows called his name?
Astra closed his eyes, steadying his breath. For a long moment the silence pressed around him, heavy as stone. When he opened them again, his violet irises gleamed with a light that hadn't been there before. They were no longer hollow—they were sharp, alive, burning with something that had always waited beneath the surface.
"If my path leads me to the Stars and the Shadows," he said, voice steady, smirk curling on his lips, "and if I am to wield their power… who am I to say no? I will survive. I will endure. I will persevere—just as I always have."
A slow smile broke across Odin's face, sharp and knowing. His blue eyes glinted with an ancient approval.
"Then Astra Noctis," Odin intoned, his voice a resonance that seemed to hum in the marrow of the earth, "realize your potential. Grow. Rise. Become an angel. Reach the pinnacle."
He paused, and the shadow of something heavier passed across his expression.
"This concludes the favor I owed your ancestor."
His gaze lifted, as if to some unseen tribunal. For the briefest instant, something vast and unfathomable flickered behind his eyes.
"The Law of Exchange has been fulfilled."
The air rippled and a change happened, Normally Astra would not even be able to feel such a change, yet with whatever just happened to him, he felt extremely sensitive to the world right now, the two symbols were taking root deep inside his very being. It was ethereal.
Odin sighed as he leaned forward, His voice dropping into a deep warning growl.
"You must remember this, Astra, there are still allies of the Night. Seek House Shadow. They rule the eastern side of the realm the region of Penumbra, They are the overlords of the Shadowkeep in the Umbral Plains. They will aid you unless you prove you're self unworthy. The Church of Night will come for you in time—but not now. If you are seen with them too soon, they will be culled to the last. Still, some remain loyal to you."
"House Shadow?, The most powerful great house, one that rivals the royal houses will aid me? But I have a godhood of their goddess! isn't that marching to my death?" Astra thought inwardly.
Odin's smile returned, thinner, sharper.
"Do not fear the Angels of Shadow uncovering your godhood. The Goddesses symbol is hidden from them. Even if they could see it, they could never claim it."
Astra did not fully understand but he nodded, the weight of every word settling into him like iron. Thoughts tumbled—hope, fear, ambition, dread—but for once they did not pull him apart. He was still trembling.
The chamber fell into silence once more, so deep it felt as though the very world was holding its breath.