Kaelith's Scene:
The bar erupts with laughter as Kaelith slams her hand on the table, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
"The dragon ran away!" she declares, her cyan eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. Her armor—a fusion of traditional craftsmanship and demonic artistry—catches the dim light, its intricate details hinting at a history of battles fought and won.
A horned demonic looking mask rests atop her flowing blonde hair. Her armored fingertips grip a cup of ale tightly, as if daring anyone to challenge her.
The bartender, wiping a glass, eyes her warily. "You're in a store right next to the castle. Are you sure you should be talking like this here?"
Kaelith glances around. Every patron, from hardened mercenaries to wide-eyed children, stares at her with a mix of anger and disgust. She snorts dismissively. "What are they going to do? Throw me out?"
"What's your plan after this?" the bartender presses, his voice low and cautious.
Kaelith takes a long swig of ale, her gaze distant for a moment, as if recalling something far away. "The Free-Dominion is nearly finished, but they still paid me. And my king asked for my help."
"For what?" the bartender asks, his tone edged with unease.
The room falls silent, the air thick with tension.
Kaelith's smile is sharp enough to cut glass. "To kill your God."
Chaos erupts as the patrons charge her. Screams fill the bar as her aura flares.
Moments later, she steps out of the bar, her armor spattered with blood and adorned with fragments of her attackers. A pool of blood spills down the stairs as she casually wipes her feet.
"What a terrible sight," she mutters, looking up to see over 300 flying guards surrounding her, their weapons raised. She pulls down her mask.
"Isn't he quick?" she says with a frown, touching her chest. A weapon begins to emerge, as if pulling free from a liquid surface—her bow, glowing faintly with an otherworldly light.
"All hail Zephyros!" one of the guards shouts. His armor is bulkier and a deeper shade of black than the others, similar to Dirge's, though that man seemed to outrank him.
"Warrior from Nexus, you are under—" the lead guard begins, but his head is instantly severed, floating in the air. The remaining guards unleash a barrage of condensed energy.
Kaelith smirks. "We of Nexus call everyone to battle, so come!" she shouts, drawing her bow. The space around her lights up in a circular pattern, and hundreds of her visages appear—299 in total, matching the number of guards.
"Let me show you real combat," she says, vanishing. A hundred of her copies aim their bows, another hundred fly around disorienting the guards, and the final 99 begin chanting.
The guards scatter, trying to evade the relentless attacks. The chanting grows louder, and a massive flash of light engulfs the battlefield.
"The Lady of Impossible Odds, Navigator of Multitudes, Commander of None, Savior of a Single Soul, The Bow that Shattered the Realm, the swirling void eye—Kaelith Nyora," the last remaining guard stammers, his voice trembling.
Kaelith smirks. "You should've added more flair to it. But as my name suggests, I am the savior of a single soul. You may live. Tell your God-King, or whatever he calls himself… I start for money, but I end because I relish their screams."
Zephyros and Oculus:
Zephyros gently lowers Hypatia to the ground, his voice a low murmur.
"It was never about duty," he says, raising his hand. The Son of Amoz rushes toward him, desperation in his eyes.
"I will save this realm—it's everything I have," he declares, his voice cracking under the weight of his resolve. As he speaks, a tube materializes.
Two towering figures emerge from the tube, their bodies encased in heavily armored black suits, faces obscured by steel masks, each bearing a Shield and Spear insignia. The air grows heavy, charged with unspoken tension.
"The woman—" one of the guards begins, but Zephyros cuts him off with a wave of his hand.
"What happened?" Zephyros asks, walking toward them. He taps both guards' shoulders. One of the men instantly drops to his knees, as if the weight of the world has crushed him. The guard gasps, breath ragged, before collapsing entirely.
"She had a form of attachment skill. We don't know if it was that or a title, but she outnumbered and killed everyone but one," the guard mutters.
"So when you learned of this, what did you do?" Zephyros asks, pulling the man back up.
"I—I fled," the guard admits, but continues, "A-And I recognize my mistake, so I—"
Zephyros places a hand by the man's headgear, muttering.
"You are mortal. Mortal fear. So, for a way to let you wrench free from that fear and become more like me..." Zephyros begins. "You're moved to Sacred Light. You can ask Dirge how to lead battalions. And this time, I trust you'll lead your men without running from battle?"
"Yes, sir!" the guard says, standing upright.
"She's walking to her death," Zephyros says, his voice cold and detached.
"Gather all Vestigium Fidei. A Resplendent is at my gates," Zephyros commands.
"What?"
"You don't speak Luminari? Is this a flaw to be exploited in the future? Hmm. I meant Footprint of Faith."
The two guards rise, retreat into the tube, and vanish as quickly as they appeared, leaving behind a faint hum that lingers in the air.
"Lord, what's happening?" the Son of Amoz asks, his voice trembling. Zephyros waves his hand dismissively.
"She is going to burn," he says, then pauses, his gaze narrowing. "Son of Amoz… that's quite a mouthful, don't you think?"
"I… suppose so," the man stammers, his throat dry.
"I'll call you… Oculus," Zephyros decides, his tone slow and deliberate as he surveys the scene. He turns to the children nearby. "Go home. Stay there," he orders, his voice carrying an edge of finality.
The children scatter, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Zephyros walks back to Oculus, who struggles to process his new name.
"Welcome, Oculus, to the rings. Your first task is—" Zephyros begins, but Oculus interrupts.
"Why me? I'm just a measly seer. I'm not worthy of this," Oculus protests, his voice tinged with fear and confusion.
Zephyros's expression hardens. "Everyone has a place in this world. You don't forge your own path—God gives it to you. And this," he says, placing a hand on Oculus's face, "is yours."
Oculus's face begins to glow, and visions flood his mind. He sees the lineage of Amoz, a royal bloodline born of Rigor's three sons. One of them, a brown-haired man, married an unknown woman. Through generations of royal alliances and sacrifices, the line of Amoz thrived. But now, that line is fading.
Oculus is no longer the Son of Amoz—he is Oculus, a name given by Zephyros.
"Oculus Amoz," he thinks to himself. Valen, king of the Below Sky, a great illuminated one, is dead and gone. Will my name vanish too? Will I be remembered as a madman? But God has changed my name… it must mean something.
"A name is one's birthright," Amoz's voice echoes in his mind. "To break it is to erase the person. By name, I mean your lineage. Some are more special than others. What we need is to rise above—or to conquer those who stand in our way."
"Don't you understand, Yeshayahu?" Amoz's voice continues.
"Yes," Yeshayahu replies. "God will understand if I don't accept this name fully. If I lie."
"The boy who will change his name when he dies… I pray you meet him. My time is ending. His lineage changes, and so does he. If you find him, tell him of our legacy."
"Who is he?" Yeshayahu asks.
"A boy who is unremarkable in every way," Amoz says, his voice fading into silence.
Oculus's eyes gleam with realization. "Oh, that boy…" he whispers, remembering.
Confrontation:
"One shouldn't wander too far," Zephyros says, appearing suddenly. Kaelith freezes, shocked. She hadn't sensed him at all. The area around them empties as Zephyros steps forward, his all-white robes flowing with an ethereal elegance.
"So, tell me, God, why did you appear so early?" Kaelith asks, sitting on the dirt. Her fingertip glowed faintly cyan as she traced symbols into the dirt—light swallowed instantly by the shadows at her feet.
"My daughter. Open your veins for me and Die for me," Zephyros replied, voice devoid of warmth. "Now."
"Do you fight?" Kaelith asks, ignoring his request.
"I detest fighting. I loathe it," Zephyros says, unmoving.
"Who's the man behind you?" Kaelith asks, her gaze shifting to Oculus, who shivers under her scrutiny.
"I can tell you've killed," Oculus mutters, his eyes turning blue.
"Why stay with a child like him?" Kaelith asks, her tone mocking.
"We are of the same species, though you are less blooded. Another thousand years of life might—" Kaelith begins, but Zephyros interrupts, raising his hand.
"I wouldn't want you to die," Zephyros mutters, his voice low and tinged with unease.
Kaelith laughs, her tone dry and venomous. "What makes you think that, Zeph?" she retorts, her many visages turning to fix him with a piercing gaze.
[Flashback]
"You want me to fight the Madman of the Central District?" Kaelith's laughter echoes, sharp and mocking. "What for?" she continues, her voice dripping with skepticism.
"Everything," comes the reply, a voice muffled by the thick rock wall separating them. "Do not underestimate him."
Kaelith rolls her eyes. "That's what you've said about every revolution rising for the last four thousand years. It gets to a point. Anytime a man or woman rises—like El Barach of Cloudspine—and she died off just as quickly. Gods emerge every day. Why should I care about him?"
The voice behind the wall grows firmer, though a faint cough betrays its weariness. "The current Sage is different. Fierce. War is his element, and he wields it like no other. If this conflict continues, it won't be a skirmish—it'll be a lion fighting another lion with a huge tick on its neck draining every ounce of blood. The fallout will be catastrophic."
Kaelith smirks. "And you want me to join this war?"
"Yes," the voice replies, strained but resolute.
Without another word, Kaelith turns and vanishes, leaving only the echo of her laughter behind.
[Present]
Kaelith raises her hand. Zephyros instinctively steps back, his eyes narrowing with caution.
"Why are you running?" she asks, her voice calm but laced with menace as her aura intensifies, swirling around her like a storm.
"Look up," Zephyros mutters, his voice barely audible as he retreats further.
Kaelith's gaze shifts upward. There, standing above her but inverted, is another figure—head tilted, eyes locked onto hers with an eerie stillness. They hold a clasped hands insignia.
"He—" Zephyros begins, but before he can finish, Kaelith acts. Without hesitation, she reaches up, grabs the figure by the neck, and slams it down with brutal force. The impact reverberates through the ground, accompanied by a sickening crack. The figure lies motionless, lifeless.
Zephyros stares, his eyes wide, his breath caught in his throat.
"Let me tell you something, boy," Kaelith says, her voice cold and commanding as she raises her hands once more. "You, and five generations before you, haven't fought—let alone seen—a demon. I suppose that's the root of your egotistical tendencies. Humans always think they know more than they do."
Zephyros watches her, his expression a mix of fear and fascination. He seems captivated, as if seeing her for the first time.
"I couldn't count on my hands the number of people like you who have existed," Kaelith continues, her tone dripping with disdain. "I—"
But before she can finish, Zephyros steps forward, closing the distance between them. He reaches out, his hand trembling as he cups her face. "False prophets, nonetheless," he whispers, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Oculus steps forward, inserting himself between them. His presence is firm, but Kaelith's gaze doesn't waver.
"A snort-nosed brat," she mutters, her eyes shifting to Oculus. "You haven't seen much, have you? How long were you down there in that blasted wonder?"
Oculus staggers under the weight of her words. Kaelith doesn't wait for a response. She turns off her visages, her many forms collapsing into one as she raises her hands to the sky.
"I should destroy all of this," she says, her voice low and resolute. She summons her bow, its ethereal glow illuminating the devastation around her. "I'm sorry for your death," she adds, her tone almost mocking. "Though people like you always have a counterplan, don't you? Go on, then. Escape this."
With a single motion, she releases an arrow. A blinding flash of light erupts, engulfing the space and everything beyond. When the light fades, the landscape is unrecognizable. The organic skyscrapers—once towering like curved trees—are reduced to ash. The ground is scorched black, the air thick with the acrid smell of destruction. Yet the castle remains.
Kaelith stands amidst the ruins, her bow still glowing faintly, her expression unreadable. The world around her is silent, save for the faint crackle of dying embers.
Zephyros and Oculus return, their outfits burned and their expressions grim.
"You survived how?" Kaelith's eyes widen in surprise as she watches them. An arrow that had been launched into the air turns into multiple arrows, raining down with immense force.
"I don't know...," Oculus replies, watching the nearby environment. "What just happened?" he mutters to himself.
Kaelith looks at him. "You should ask yourself a question, even before entering down there. Who or what were you?" she says, tapping her feet on the black scorched land.
"One who finds his path shouldn't be held back by lineage. Everyone moves forward—the beggar, the homeless, everyone," Zephyros says toward Oculus, his voice flat. He lowers his hand. "Burn."
Kaelith's eyes widen as she looks down at her feet, now engulfed in golden chains. She stares forward, and sees multiple figures. "How many skilled Rasvian users does one man have?" she screams internally, trying to summon her aura to break free.
"A lot," Zephyros replies, laughing at his own joke. "Nexus sent a Rank 4 first. I wonder who they'll send next."
A red dragon appears in the sky, its massive form casting a shadow over everything. With a deafening roar, it unleashes a torrent of fire, engulfing Kaelith in the inferno. Her screams echo as Zephyros and Oculus walk back to the castle.
Zephyros bites his finger and tosses a drop of blood onto the inferno of screams. "Tell someone to target her brain—just in case. Multiple times," he orders as guards escort them away.
As flames devoured her, the scorched earth where she'd written pulsed once—a dying star's heartbeat.
Oculus shivers, overwhelmed by the events of the day. "Is it even a day?" he wonders, glancing at the still-blue sky. In a single day, he has witnessed the many faces of Zephyros. "What is his name?" he whispers to himself.