Astra found himself in a quiet, secluded training yard behind the inn, where few would disturb him. The air was cool, the moon beginning to rise, and the hum of distant celebrations filled the night.
He unsheathed his new longsword—a sleek, black-bladed weapon forged by the legendary Angel of Steel.
He took his stance and began practicing the Sword of Shadows. Immediately, he struggled.
The style demanded unparalleled flexibility, adaptability, and, above all, speed. It wasn't about power—it was about fluidity, deception, and overwhelming the opponent with movement. His footwork was all wrong. But he had a foundation in it.
His swings lacked finesse. His transitions were stiff. He stumbled more times than he cared to admit, and his muscles burned from the unnatural movements.
"Damn it." Astra grit his teeth, stepping back and wiping sweat from his brow. He knew he was improving—he had to be—but it felt like every step forward came with ten more things to fix. His body simply wasn't trained for this yet.
"How the hell am I supposed to get better at this quickly?"
He swung again—faster, looser, adapting on the fly. The more he moved, the more he felt himself adjusting instinctively.
His body, though untrained, was learning faster than he realized. Every failed step, every awkward cut—his muscles were absorbing them, correcting themselves little by little.
He was rapidly improving!
But he was too focused on his failures to see just how terrifyingly fast he was improving.
After his grueling training session, Astra collapsed onto his bed, flipping open his Regal Coin to the Sword of Shadows' archived teachings.
The first passage made him scowl.
"To master the shadows, one must first become the shadow."
He stared at the words, running a hand through his still-damp curls. What the hell did that even mean? Was he supposed to disappear? Move without thought? He studied the recorded movements, watching how Shadow Masters flowed like liquid, struck like phantoms, and evaded like ghosts. It wasn't about memorizing steps—it was about being the blade within the dark, unseen until the moment of impact.
"Easier said than done," he muttered, tossing the coin onto the nightstand as he stepped into the shower.
The hot water soothed his sore muscles, and he let himself relax, mind still circling the concept. To be a shadow… does that mean I need to let go? He frowned, No. Not just let go… He sighed, rubbing the tension from his neck. I need to embrace the dark completely.
Just as Astra stepped out, a soft chime echoed from his Regal Coin.
[New Message: Seraphine Dune]
Seraphin: Astra, dear, I simply can't allow you to waste away all alone, I made sure to extend the invitation of your house to include you specifically. You see. I'm hosting a minor ball this evening—nothing too formal, just a little gathering of friends, drinks, and entertainment.
Seraphine: And of course, you'll be my honored guest~
Seraphine: You look like you could use some fun....
She messaged Shadow!!! and from the looks of it they didn't sell me out. Hmm is this a trap perhaps? No I doubt it. Dune is neutral and I bear Shadows emblems they cant risk it. Wow she really is politically apt. Fine I'll go, its only a small ball, I should be fine.
Astra smirked as he tapped his reply into the Regal Coin.
Astra: I wouldn't dare miss it.
It's in a couple of Hours I should rest and get ready.
As Astra was thinking his intuition was alerted! Something had found him!
He turned instantly, almost stumbling, panic rising in his chest. As he steadied himself for a battle or great escape.
Nothing.
No figure. No sound.
Just… a speck. A tiny mote of light, floating toward him like a drifting ember. It shimmered with a soft, starlit glow, pulsing gently as if alive. Yet Astra didn't sense danger. There was something oddly friendly about it.
What the actual fuck is that? Am I going to get evaporated?
The star responded before he could act.
It recognized him.
It formed a weak, undeniable connection. Panic thundered in Astra's chest. Someone had found him. He was supposed to be protected—shielded by the divine symbol of Umbra herself! No one should have been able to locate him, and yet here it was.
Whoever they were, they'd pierced that divine veil.
He felt helpless.
Then the world shifted—violently, but without pain.
Astra didn't move, yet everything around him did. It was not his body that had traveled, but his soul. As if wrenched from the fabric of reality, he was taken elsewhere. A place beyond waking. Beyond explanation.
And there—he saw himself.
He stood within a starry town, one that bent the laws of nature. The sky shifted constantly, an ever-turning mural of constellations and divine light. The very air shimmered with magic and celestial weight.
In a town—no, a realm—that shimmered with swirling constellations, cosmic winds, and an endless sky of nebulae. It was almost as if the town was hand-painted by a god, the stars vibrant and alive above swirling in the distant sky.
A figure emerged out of thin air, cloaked in ancient shadows so deep they swallowed the light. His soul burned with the fire of stars. His eyes glowed violet, jet-black curls crowned his head, and upon it—glorious and undeniable—a faint Crown of Stars. His entire form was draped in a Cloak of Shadows, Secrets whirring around as they masked him, The shadows were unfathomable in depth and ancient in power.
This was none other than Astra.
His soul body.
Swirling stars and vast nebulae rolled above him, illuminating cobblestone streets and towering gothic buildings. It was a place of impossible beauty, suspended between dream and divinity. The sky churned like liquid starlight, colors blooming across the heavens. This was no ordinary space. He felt that this was a sacred realm. Further more, Astra felt a deep connection with this realm, as if he can almost control it.
As he turned, a second figure stepped into view. Tall. Regal. Draped in a linen robe embroidered with flecks of starlight. His violet eyes shone like distant galaxies. His violet eyes locked onto Astra's—then widened with awe.
And then, without hesitation, the man knelt.
Astra was stunned for a second. The mana around this man was subtle but unfathomable in depth.
This man was no mortal. He was rank five. A Saint!
The man's voice echoed like the tolling of a great celestial bell.
"I greet the heir of Night. Kin to the Night god."
Astra's mind raced.
Astra instantly made the connection. The Church of Night is this powerful? They found me this fast? How?
And more than that… a literal demigod is kneeling at my feet. I feel sick.
Then it clicked.
I bear the godhoods of Noctis and Umbra. To the Church, I must appear as a messiah… a prophet… a divine chosen. A herald of their potential resurgence.
"To whom do I have the honor of speaking?" Astra asked, tension in his voice.
The man remained kneeling. His tone was strong, reverent.
"Saint Satalus Starial, Archbishop of the Church of Night. May I have the honor of your name, my Prince?"
Astra's chest tightened as a chill ran through him. Archbishop. One of the highest-ranking leaders of the faith. He composed himself with effort.
"I am Astra Noctis, of House Night. Where exactly am I, Saint?"
Saint Satalus smiled softly, eyes still lowered.
"Oh yes," Satalus smiled "My Prince Astra, I humbly apologize for the sudden summoning. I dispatched emissaries through a divine relic of our Church—one capable of hiding from even the Gods. It struggled to find you. But your godhood the one inherited from The Night God… it allowed for a weak lock. Through that connection, your soul was drawn here.
He gestured to the painted sky.
"This is the Kingdom of Stars, our sacred headquarters. A sacred realm of the Night Gods shattered divine seat. We are beyond all external eyes here. No one knows this is happening. No Gods, No angels. Not even the other Saints of the church."
Astra glanced around now with a new understanding.
Tall gothic buildings littered the scenery, ancient cathedrals and Academies, Stars trapped in lamps in the empty streets and a river made out of celestial mana ran through the center of the city, curling around the largest cathedral, which he assumed to be the headquarters of the church. The stars above were strange as if painted rather than natural and they spun eerily and majestically.
Astra glanced around now with a new understanding.
Towering cathedrals with spires of black stone pierced the painted sky. Stars hovered in ornate lanterns along the streets. A river of flowing celestial mana wound through the city, glowing as it encircled the grandest cathedral of them all.
The stars above weren't natural. They spun in eerie, perfect harmony—like brushstrokes brought to life. The air itself was charged with magic, soaking into him. Replenishing. Embracing.
It really feels like the realm welcomes me, Astra thought.
Astra stood still for a moment, then composed himself further.
"I must admit, Saint Satalus… I am new to this. All of this happened just last night, and I have a plethora of questions. I'm sure you do as well."
He adjusted his voice, letting it rise with formality—half-imitating a nobleman from a popular drama series. It felt ridiculous, but also strangely fitting.
"Let us talk."
Satalus nodded solemnly. "Indeed."
With a blink, the city vanished—and Astra now stood inside a vast chamber.
Scrolls, mana stones, celestial instruments, and trinkets lined every shelf. A globe of constellations rotated slowly above. The ceiling mirrored the heavens. And in one corner stood a staff that exuded raw divinity.
Astra felt a holy presence one akin to Odin himself. It was a staff that stood upright in a weird extravagant metal of sorts, Matte black wood curled up into a spiral, encasing a shifting star at its tip. The metal shimmered with an unplaceable hue, as if from another world. Astra knew this was a divine artifact of extreme power!
Its presence was undeniable.
A divine artifact.
Satalus, noticing his gaze, smiled faintly.
"That is the Staff of the Stars. One of the Six Holy Artifacts the Church preserves."
Astra's Crown of Stars pulsed in response—and the staff dimmed. Obedient. Bowed.
A link formed.
Understanding poured into Astra's mind unbidden.
The Crown gives me sovereignty over all things star-magic related. That includes the staff and..gods this sacred realm!
The Staff… it empowers the user temporarily. Amplifies their magic. Makes them a pseudo-Star Mage Angel. But only for a short while. There are limits and Set backs, for example if one were to use this too long, they may be lost in the cosmos forever. Or attract some hidden cosmic horror. Gods...How terrifying.
He muttered, voice barely audible.
"It's extremely powerful" he muttered as he felt a faint understanding of its power and the Crowns.
Satalus beamed. "It reacted to the Crown. Your godhood, however faint, dominates it. As it dominates this realm, you really are our prince"
With a graceful motion, Satalus waved his hand. The cluttered desk was cleared instantly, and two tall chairs—each shaped like radiant stars—manifested.
He motioned respectfully for Astra to sit.
Astra complied nervously, seating himself. Satalus followed, his posture reverent yet poised.
Silence hung in the air. Neither spoke.
Astra coughed awkwardly and gestured.
"Let's begin. You ask first."
The Saint nodded seriously.
"My Prince… what exactly happened?"
Astra sighed inwardly.
Straight to the point, I see.
He began to speak, recounting the events as best he could naturally he carefully omitted the pieces that didn't fit a Prince or a chosen heir. The hunger. The thievery. The nights without shelter.
He shaped the tale as they wanted it to be.
Not a vagabond's tale, but a prophecy unfolding.
....
"After that I sought out Asylum for House Shadow and they granted me it on the surface anyways I have yet to meet up with them. I do not fully know why Shadow would choose to bear a such a burden but I have some guesses Astra explained trying to sound more smart and mature. "I also met a princess of Dune who seemed privy to secrets as she harbors a few herself. She invited me to a small gathering"
Satalus listened intently, nodding once, eyes unreadable.
"It is clearly a ploy," he said at last, tone heavy. "A remnant from ancient times. House Night's contingencies must have begun their awakening. For you to bear the legacy of both Shadow and Night? That is unheard of. No one in living memory has inherited both mana types—to such a degree."
The Archbishop leaned forward, his voice lowering.
"And for you to 'stumble' upon the Angel of Craftsmanship High Duke Odinson Steel, who—by divine irony—is in contract with Her Holiness Queen Layla? No. Too coincidental. This reeks of influence. Threads older than this era are moving."
He exhaled slowly, violet eyes shimmering faintly beneath heavy lids.
"Shadow must house you. Perhaps even forge deeper ties with the Church of Night. Annexation, unification, something. If not by divine will—then by political necessity."
Astra nodded, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Indeed. The Angel of Craftsmanship seemed certain that Shadow would accept the political dangers I bring. Maybe… something is brewing between Dusk, Dawn, and Shadow. A triad shifting beneath the surface."
"Perhaps," Satalus said softly. "Shadow plays the longest game of all."
He glanced out the false window, where stars twisted slowly like oil over canvas.
"I must confess something, my Prince." His tone hardened. "We—the Church—cannot house you. We are strong, yes. We could withstand attacks from a few great houses. But not indefinitely. In the end, we would fall."
A silence fell between them. The Saint looked ashamed, not of weakness, but of reality.
"The only reason we are not already wiped from existence is because a few of us can ascend—temporarily—to the Angelic Level. That alone makes any assault on us costly, slow, and uncertain. But you…" He looked Astra dead in the eyes.
"You make the cost worth it."
Astra understood. He was not a student of politics, but he had watched people. And people, like cities, cracked under pressure or hunger. Everyone had a threshold.
"Only a Great House," Satalus said finally, "Can stop another Great House."
The Archbishop straightened his spine, something old and noble in his posture.
"Seek them out. They are allies of the Church. You even share a divine bloodline. They will not dare treat you poorly—not unless they wish to invite the wrath of the Night itself. They will likely train you. Test you. Screen your loyalties. It will be dangerous and treacherous… but it will also be your path."
He folded his hands together, gaze darkening.
"The Angels of Shadow have been quiet lately. Too quiet. Even for them. They are schemers—more than any other lineage. If you are to survive this, follow their schemes to their source. I shall aid you if needed."
Astra inclined his head, eyes narrowing just slightly.
"I must bother you, Saint. It seems I am quite alone in navigating such… endeavors. I plan on using the church and need support from them, I take it you will enjoy such a roll. I by right am the leader of the Church, yet I am not so stupid and naive to claim such a position, not now, not yet. But as it stands I need you more than ever. I plan on using the Church to barter with Shadow. "
The words were humble. Perhaps even naïve to the ear. But inside, Astra sharpened.
I won't trust him either. No matter how kind he appears. Everyone has a price. Even saints.
Satalus nodded, "As expected, No worries my Prince, The Archbishops were all notified as soon as we detected the godhoods movements and are ready to accept you, however I do not know whom are to be trusted completely. I must advise you however to not fall under Shadows banners or some members of the church will defect. I can tell however you are not that kind of person after all you do claim His lineage" he smiled.
Astra laughed, "I will never submit to enslavement. Be it political or out of desperation. I would rather die. Perhaps that is why I am Crowned with Stars. As to Shadows case, the most I will promise them is assistance of the Church in times of need, I do have a theory however. It seems war is brewing which can explain their motive to house me, and if that were to happen they would no doubt use me to take over the Church. However that will not happen. I refuse." Astra spoke words that he knew this Saint had been praying to hear. Playing on his emotions a bit knowing he's still too green to even begin attempting manipulation on a Demi god.
He smiled as he spoke "As you wish my prince, I too have had similar theories but I do not truly know. However the Church would like to maintain its independence from Shadow, you have our support."
"I swear this Upon the God of Night and Mana itself."
[Contract set] Accept?
[Caliph of the Church of Night] — pending.
Astra exhaled through his nose, tired and strained from even imagining the weight of such contracts. His fingers twitched against his knee, betraying the stress beneath his controlled posture. Still pending. But it might as well be signed already. The church grows desperate—I can hear it in the saint's tone.
"Very well," he said, nodding once, voice smooth but edged with exhaustion. "Of course, I won't dare claim real power yet over the church just yet."
Saint Satalus inclined his head with the patience of one who measured centuries, his golden eyes unreadable. "Naturally. You are only an heir. But your influence will rise."
Something in Astra clicked. A thread of intuition, sharp as a blade, wove itself through him. His breath caught. Like remembering something that was on the tip of tour tongue, Knowledge flooded his mind. "Wait… this sacred realm—it's responding to me. Granting me a measure of control. Small, so minute it could be overlooked—but real. Real authority. Real bearing.
The realization filled him like fire in dry timber. Suddenly his plans changed drastically, He had planned on slowly gaining little influence with the church as he attempts to bribe some into higher positions using his status, he was the rightful heir and that was a law set in mana, contracts even demigods had to follow lest face immense backlash, but realistically who will listen to a mere mortal, worst yet a kid. They would outmaneuver him and sorts due to his lack of real power. But this...This changes a lot!
A slow smile cut across Astra's face. His heart pounded, arrogance swelling like a tide. And then he laughed—low at first, then fuller, until it echoed unnaturally in the realm.
"Oh, but I do claim real power, Saint."
Satalus froze. His expression betrayed nothing, but his thoughts roared in panic. What madness is this? A rank one… a vagabond, nothing more! To claim power before me—a demi-god? Is he a fool? A lunatic? For the first time in centuries, Satalus felt the cold bite of doubt—his hopes for a reborn Church, a restored Kingdom, faltering before this boy's impossible arrogance.
Then Astra lifted his hand.
The Kingdom of Stars trembled.
The painted sky above rippled, and from its depths a river of miniature stars descended like molten fire. They whirled around him in a radiant stream, light so fierce it banished shadow. Astra knew—instinctively, undeniably—that these were real stars, fragments of the divine tapestry itself. Yet in this realm, they bent to his will.
The crown upon his brow ignited. Its glow pressed outward, suffocating, regal, divine.
Satalus staggered. His eyes widened, his composure shattered. The weight he felt was unmistakable. Divinity.
The stars circled Astra like worshippers around a throne. The crown drank their light, and in that brilliance Astra's gaze turned distant, unfocused. In truth Astra just did whatever he could to move the realm.
Destiny, he realized in the haze. The stars are conduits of fate. I can peer into destiny and some minute parts of fate?
Scenes flickered across his vision—flashes of futures, scattered whispers of what might be. He followed the strongest one, the question buried deepest in his heart: Can the Church be trusted?
The answer came—not as words, but as a pressure. Yes. But only if he wielded overwhelming force. Only if he pressed his will upon them until they bent.
The vision bled away. The crown's brilliance faded. The river of stars dissipated, dissolving back into the still, painted sky of the sacred realm.
Astra staggered, dizzy from the weight of what he'd just touched. He had divined without intention, by pure accident—yet it had worked. His mana was also drained and he felt the realms mana reserves drain a bit. "How intriguing " Astra thought.
Across from him, Saint Satalus looked stricken. His mind reeled. Impossible. He just witnessed a rank one mobilize a sacred realm. Not only that—he divined the future. And worse— His throat went dry. He now holds control of the Kingdom of Stars itself.
The thought alone was heresy against the order of the world.
Astra dragged a hand down his face, grounding himself. His heart thundered. He was no longer simply an heir in the Saint's eyes. No—he had become an asset.
Saint Satalus bent the knee, head lowered in submission. His voice trembled with sincerity. "Forgive me, my prince. It seems we have grown too arrogant."
Astra waved him off with a lazy smile, masking the storm within with practiced nonchalance. "Oh, I know. But do make sure the other Saints hear of what transpired."
"As you command," Satalus whispered, obedient now where before he had been calculating.
"Good." Astra leaned back, feigning ease, though his pulse still raced. He gestured lightly, almost playfully. "And do forgive the… experimentation."
Satalus inclined his head, silent, waiting.
"Now," Astra said, his smile sharpening, "Go on with your questions."
Satalus tilted his head, clearly sensing the tension. But he said nothing. Instead, his voice dropped into a darker tone.
"My prince what godhood did you obtain?"
Astra met his gaze, his voice even, steady.
"The Crown of Stars… and the Cloak of Secrecy."
He waited—curious what truth might be drawn from the Saint's reaction.
Satalus eyes widened.
He had dreamt of this day for years.
The day the Church would rise again. And here it was—finally, undeniably—unfolding before him. The boy in front of him wasn't just any stray heir. No, he bore the direct bloodline of the main family. And more than that, he carried the right for two godhoods and preliminary control over a Sacred realm.
The Archbishop had felt the shift in the realms even before Astra stepped through the threshold. As a wielder of gravity and space, his senses extended far beyond the mundane; he could read subtle warps in the world like a scholar read texts. His attunement to the cosmos, enhanced by a personal relic woven with star mana, made him unusually sensitive to divine movement.
Yet nothing had prepared him for this. An artifact of the Goddess of Shadow herself—here, now—responding to a boy who was barely Rank One.
Incredible. Angels, in all their glory, would kill for a second godhood. Most spent decades searching for even one. And here stood a mortal, barely blooded, holding two.
As expected of the Last Heir… Satalus thought, a rare swell of awe blooming in his chest.
He praised inwardly
This wasn't coincidence. This was a divine scheme, and it was moving before his very eyes.
"My prince," Satalus said softly, "We are at your service. I am the current acting leader of the Church—as one of the senior Archbishops. The Pontiff seat has remained empty for many years, but… if needed, I will take up the mantle."
He lowered his head slightly, voice tinged with honest shame.
"I had planned on keeping this conversation remains between us. I regret to admit, I do not trust all my fellow Archbishops. Not anymore. However after this? They will follow my will and the will of the House of Night, they are obliged to obey. Especially now that the Kingdom of Stars has crowned a Castellan"
It seems the church's internal affairs are more precarious than thought. Interesting, just how zealous are these high ranking members? is it even real zeal? Could it simply be false faith thats driven by selfish desires fooling the masses? The gods are dead after all what divine retribution might there be? It's not like one of the newer churches of the Seraphs. Gods Im still too new to the workings of the upper echelons of society Astra sighed inwardly
Astra gave a slow nod. "That's to be expected," he said, almost casually. "Tell me… what exactly are godhoods?"