The throne room of Valoria's capital was silent, save for the faint hum of Aether lingering in the air, a remnant of the sealed Void rift. Moonlight streamed through shattered stained-glass windows, casting fractured colors across the marble floor where Elian Valorian stood, his Aetherforged Blade still drawn. The crowned specter loomed before him, a shadowy figure cloaked in tattered robes, its crown of jagged obsidian glinting with an unnatural sheen. Its eyes, twin voids of darkness, bore into Elian, radiating a power that chilled the air. Valoria's soldiers, Fey mages, and orc berserkers stood frozen, their weapons lowered, as if the specter's presence sapped their will. Liora, her emerald cloak singed from the rift ritual, clutched the Mythic Aetherial Core, its glow dimming in the specter's shadow.
"Who are you?" Elian demanded, his voice steady despite the weight pressing on his chest. His Expert Realm senses screamed danger, but he held his ground, the prophecy of unifier or destroyer echoing in his mind.
The specter's voice was a low rasp, like wind through ancient ruins. "I am Valorius, first king of Valoria, bound to the Void by betrayal. You wield the Faith System, boy, but it will not save you."
Elian's blood ran cold. Valorius, the legendary founder, twisted by the Void? He summoned the Faith System, its interface shimmering invisibly. [Current Belief Points (BP): 0]
The city's survival had sparked fervent faith. [BP increased to 3,500 due to rising morale.]
"Show me options for 3,500 BP," he thought.
[Gold: 350,000 gold coins] [Aether Crystals: 350 crystals] [Epic Aetherial Blade: 3,000 BP]
"Convert 3,000 BP to Epic Aetherial Blade," Elian decided. A radiant sword materialized in his free hand, its blade pulsing with golden light, far stronger than his current weapon. Lady Seraphine, standing nearby, gasped, her healing aura faltering. "Another relic, sire? How?" she whispered, her voice trembling with awe and suspicion.
"Valoria's ancient armory," Elian deflected, swapping his blade for the new one. Its weight felt like destiny in his grip. He faced Valorius. "If you're Valoria's founder, why threaten it?"
Valorius laughed, a hollow sound. "The Void offers power you cannot fathom. Join me, or fall." He raised a hand, and shadows surged, forming spectral warriors that lunged at Elian's forces.
Elian swung the Epic Aetherial Blade, its Aetherial Crescent slicing through the specters with bursts of golden light. Veyra's daggers danced, cutting through shadows, while Sylvara's Fey mages wove barriers of silver light. Krag's orcs roared, their axes cleaving, and Gromm's dwarves fired Aether-charged cannons, their booms echoing through the hall.
Liora shouted, "The Core can banish him, but we need a relic anchor!" Elian nodded, directing Seraphine to bolster the wounded. But General Korran, his scarred face grim, grabbed Elian's arm. "Sire, these relics—you summon them like magic. What are you hiding?" His voice was low, but the accusation stung.
"Trust me, Korran," Elian said, pulling free. The specter's shadows pressed harder, and Valorius advanced, his crown flaring. A scout burst in, breathless. "Sire, Ironhold's legions are marching—three days away!"
Elian's heart sank. Valorius, Ironhold, and a fracturing alliance—the capital faced a storm, and the specter's power was only growing.