Sephist — Assault on the False Sanctum
The wind whispered low as dawn approached. Dark clouds churned above Asterra's eastern temple, and lightning flickered faintly in the distance. The air carried a tension—like a blade drawn but not yet swung.
Sephist walked alone. Shadows clung to the edges of his black armor, and each heavy step made the earth quiver. Now and then, lightning revealed the glint in his eyes—a fire buried deep, untamed.
He was that man. The one whose name had become legend. Sixteen years ago, he lost everything. His wife burned. His daughter vanished. And all of it under the gaze of this very church.
He now stood before its gate, wide open as if welcoming its executioner.
Inside the courtyard, guards were already assembled. Some whispered in disbelief:
– "Is that… him?"
– "What do you mean? Oh gods… Sephist? He's alive?"
– "Why would he come here? Are we supposed to fight him?!"
To Sephist, their voices were nothing. Just trembling souls draped in stolen faith. As he unsheathed his sword, vengeance and silence filled the air.
– "Step aside. Or be crushed."
A brave guard raised his sword, attempting to stand tall.
– "We protect the sanctum. In the name of the holy gods—"
– "Your gods died with my family."
With one effortless slash, Sephist's blade pierced through the guard's chest. Blood sprayed across the stones. The others flinched, already retreating.
– "We won't let you pass!"
Another rushed at him—but Sephist turned and, with a twist, snapped his neck like a dry branch.
The church bells screamed into the sky.
It was no longer a temple. It was a courtroom. And Sephist was the executioner.
From the cathedral halls emerged holy clerics, blessed knights, even sanctified mages in white robes. They lined the marble floor, chanting divine names, shields raised, forming a wall of faith.
– "You cannot pass! The sacred rites protect us!"
Sephist whispered, almost tenderly:
– "Then I'll defile everything you ever called sacred."
He lifted his sword, whispering the incantation: "Ex Umbra Sanguis." — "From shadow, blood."
The skies blackened further. Cracks tore through the marble. From the broken earth rose shadows—memories, horrors, grief made manifest.
A woman burning in a cathedral. A child screaming in silence. His past had returned to fight alongside him.
The shadow-born horrors rushed the defenders. No war cries. No mercy. Only vengeance.
From atop the temple stairs, a high priest bellowed:
– "By the gods' divine will—cleanse this monster!"
But the heavens gave no answer.
A priest's throat was torn. A mage incinerated by shadowflame. A knight crumpled with his shield still raised.
Sephist stood at the stair's summit, one hand gripping his blade skyward.
– "Your gods are gone. But I am still here. In the name of true darkness."
Lightning slammed into the steeple.
The second temple collapsed.
He stepped across the rubble, climbing onto the remains of the sacred stone. His eyes met the trembling horizon, where the moon pierced through the scattered clouds.