The carriage carrying Alfred moved slowly through the fog-drenched path. He was awake, though the dizziness still clouded his mind. A heavy darkness surrounded him, no lanterns, no stars, only the echoing cries of crows circling above. Their wings blackened what little light offered.
'If I can break the chain, I can escape.'
He pulled his arms in opposite directions, the metal biting into his wrists, but the chains held firm. He clenched his jaw and tried to summon his power. Nothing. Not even a flicker.
'Why isn't my power working?'
Then his voice, low and determined, whispered into the void:
"Activate the Eyes of the Monarch."
Still, silence. No surge of light, no power. Only the sound of the carriage wheels grinding to a halt.
The door creaked open. Cold air rushed in. Alfred blinked as faint torchlight revealed rows of armored knights, the Knights of the Templer's Kingdom.
Their armor was unlike any he had seen, pure white, marked with crimson crosses. Each man stood tall, disciplined, and unflinching, their eyes sharp beneath their helms.
Alfred rose and stepped out, the chains clinking softly.
"You are summoned to the Council of Heroes," one knight announced. "I will escort you. Please follow me."
Alfred said nothing, only nodded.
As they walked, the vastness of the Templer's Kingdom unfolded around him, towering stone spires, ancient walls veiled in shadow. Despite its size, the streets were nearly empty. Even under daylight, the kingdom was cloaked in gloom; sunlight here seemed afraid to enter.
Children peeked from behind doors, watching the chained man pass. Their eyes were wide with curiosity, and fear.
One knight waved his hand sharply, and the children scattered in silence.
Alfred glanced around. 'So this is the Templer's Kingdom, a land ruled not by hope... but by fear.'
The chains clinked faintly as Alfred walked through the long, cold corridor. The air was heavy, not with scent, but with presence. Every stone he passed seemed to hum with restrained divinity, ancient and suffocating. Faint runes glowed along the walls, shifting like eyes that followed his every step.
The knight who led him said nothing. Only the sound of boots on the black marble echoed through the gloom.
The deeper Alfred went, the darker it became, until even the torches began to dim, their light flickering blue instead of gold. The corridor stretched endlessly, bending slightly downward, like a descent into the depths of something sacred… or damned.
Then came the carvings.
Figures of angels and demons entwined in eternal war were etched across the walls, their faces eroded but still screaming in silence. Chains, not real, but formed from the stone itself, bound the demon figures, their wrists reaching outward as if pleading for release.
'This place… it reeks of holy magic,' Alfred thought, his eyes scanning the shifting light. 'But it doesn't feel pure. It feels hungry.'
At one point, he passed a window, though it didn't show the outside. It revealed a massive, swirling vortex of light and shadow, stretching endlessly upward. He could feel the pressure radiating from it, something that reminded him too much of himself.
The knight finally stopped before a pair of grand doors, silver and white, each marked with the crest of seven kingdoms intertwined, the Seal of the Seven Heroes.
"Enter," said the knight. "The council awaits."
The door opened with a slow, resonant groan.
Inside, the Council Chamber glowed with ethereal light that seemed to come from nowhere. A round table made of crystal and steel dominated the center of the room, surrounded by seven high-backed chairs.
In those seats sat the strongest beings this world had ever known, the Heroes.
At the far end, Hero Benjamin of Artwine, the sword saint of holy wind, rested his blade against his chair. His white cloak fluttered even in still air, his expression sharp and unreadable.
To his left was Hero Michael of Septon, red hair blazing faintly like a torch. The heat around him rippled subtly, his crimson armor gleaming.
Next sat Hero Marcus Varellion of Ace Wall, his presence as still and cold as the glaciers of his homeland. Frost lingered in his breath as his piercing blue eyes studied Alfred.
Hero Rowan of Ironridge leaned forward, his armor blackened by battle, his scarred hands folded. He had the calm patience of a soldier who'd seen too much war.
Then there was Hero Zander of the Temple's Kingdom, wrapped in flowing white robes etched with divine symbols. His very posture carried authority, as if the temple itself spoke through him.
Beside him, Hero Griffen of Zephyria, the scholar-warrior, adjusted his glasses with precision. His gaze was analytical, dissecting Alfred as if he were an artifact under study.
Finally, Hero Jayden of Emberlyn, youngest among them, fiery eyes burning with conviction and youth, yet shadowed with doubt.
As Alfred stepped forward, the light in the chamber dimmed slightly, not because of magic, but because every gaze locked onto him, wary and unwelcoming.
Jayden was the first to speak. His voice cut through the silence.
"So… you're the man they call the fallen light. The one who burned demons and humans alike."
Alfred said nothing. His golden eyes met Benjamin's with quiet defiance.
Michael crossed his arms. "You're calm for someone who was dragged here in chains. Either you're foolish… or you know something we don't."
Marcus's voice was low and cold. "Why don't we start with your name?"
"Alfred," he said. He didn't want to tell, but the place and the pressure made him answer.
"Alfred what?" Griffen pressed, eyes narrowing.
"Just Alfred."
Rowan rested his arms on the table, his sharp eyes fixed on Alfred.
"So, if I'm not mistaken," he began, "you single-handedly defended the Artwine Kingdom from the demon attack. And there was talk of an Apostle appearing… one that came on a dragon. Is that true?"
Alfred's gaze lowered for a moment. The memories replayed, the burning skies, the beast's yellow eyes glowing like twin suns, the smell of death.
"It's true," he said quietly. "But it didn't attack me. The Apostle… left after seeing me."
Griffen frowned. "You expect us to believe that?"
"I'm not lying," Alfred replied.
Michael leaned forward. "An Apostle doesn't just walk away. Even the strongest among us couldn't make it retreat. Something happened that you're not telling us."
The atmosphere in the chamber tightened, the air heavy with suspicion.
Benjamin broke the silence. "Then answer this, why did you try to kill King Voldin Bravero Malvin?"
Alfred's eyes flashed with anger. "Because he tortured me," he said, voice rough. "He had me chained in a room, drained my blood and my power until I nearly died. He knew who I was, one of the heroes, and still he did it. I won't forgive him."
Michael's tone hardened. "Watch your words. Speaking like that could get you executed."
Benjamin exhaled slowly. "King Voldin wouldn't hesitate to see that happen."
Alfred slammed his chained hands on the table, fury rising in his chest.
"Executed? For what?!" he shouted. "The king's the one who did all the dirty work, and I'm the one you want to punish? You want to kill me for his crimes?"
A cold, commanding voice cut through the noise.
"Enough."
The single word froze him in place. It came from Zander.
A heavy pressure filled the chamber, his power spreading like an invisible storm.
"Who gave you permission to speak like that?" Zander said, his eyes narrowed, tone low and dangerous.
The tension spiked. Every hero could feel the weight of Zander's presence pressing down on the room.
Then Jayden broke in, his tone light but firm. "Hey, calm down, Zander. He's not our enemy. Don't turn this into something it's not."
Jayden turned his gaze toward Alfred. "You came from Earth, didn't you?"
Alfred nodded. "Yes."
Jayden smiled faintly. "See? He's one of us. Instead of fighting each other, we should focus on how to deal with the demon army."
Rowan's voice came again, calm but cold. "Before that, we need to be sure where he stands. Will he set aside his grudge against King Voldin and join us, or des he intend to oppose us?"
Alfred met his eyes without flinching. His answer came steady and clear.
"No," he said.
Every hero went silent.
"I won't."
The chamber fell still. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed.