Chapter 3: The City of Aeonis
The storm had passed, but Rael's chest still thundered with the echo of the Supreme God's voice. His feet touched firm earth again, though it was not the earth he had known. Before him stretched a vast plain of bronze-gold grass that shimmered like molten sunlight. Mountains crowned with flames and waterfalls of ice rose in the distance, and a colossal wall — engraved with runes older than time itself — cut across the horizon.
Above it all, suspended in the sky like a second sun, floated the great city of Aeonis. Towers carved from ivory and crystal reached for the heavens, bound together by bridges of light. Chariots drawn by winged beasts darted between them, leaving trails of fire and mist in their wake.
Rael's breath caught in his throat.
This… this isn't Earth anymore.
"Step forward," boomed a voice, low and commanding.
At the gates of the wall stood warriors clad in gleaming bronze armor. Their helms bore plumes of white fire, and their spears radiated power that made Rael's skin prickle. They weren't human — their eyes burned like twin suns, and their very presence pressed on him like a mountain.
"Another mortal," one of them muttered. "He reeks of Earth."
Rael clenched his fists. His body was still trembling from the journey, but he refused to look away. "I was sent here. The Supreme God himself—"
"Silence!" The guard's spear slammed against the ground, sending sparks across the stone. "Many claim divine favor. Few live long enough to prove it."
Before Rael could speak again, the gates rumbled open. From within emerged a figure draped in silver and azure robes, a staff of glass and water in his hand. His presence was calm, yet the air bent around him with an authority that silenced even the guards.
It was Nerion, the God of Water — the second son of the Supreme God. His eyes were deep pools of blue, and when they locked on Rael, the mortal felt as though his soul had been stripped bare.
"This one… carries the mark," Nerion murmured. He stepped closer, studying Rael with a mix of curiosity and caution. "Do you feel it, guards? The rhythm of life and death that pulses within him?"
The guards stiffened. "He is untested."
"And he will be tested," Nerion replied, his voice calm but firm. He turned to Rael. "Come, son of two worlds. Aeonis awaits you."
---
The gates opened fully, and Rael stepped into the legendary city.
Aeonis was alive with wonders. Streets paved with glowing stone stretched in intricate patterns, leading to markets where merchants sold fruits that glowed like embers and scrolls that whispered when unrolled. Celestial beings walked alongside armored angels, their wings folding neatly against their backs. Towers dedicated to the gods loomed over the skyline — each radiating the power of its patron.
Rael's gaze lingered on one colossal temple at the heart of the city. Its pillars were carved from obsidian and fire, its roof crowned with a roaring flame that never died. The Temple of the Fire God, Rael thought. Even from a distance, the heat radiated against his skin.
"Overwhelming, isn't it?" Nerion's voice was softer now, almost sympathetic. "This is the cradle of gods and mortals. The Supreme God's children rule here, and soon… you will understand why you were brought."
Rael swallowed. "Why me? I'm not like you. I'm just—"
"Just a boy?" Nerion cut him off, his lips twitching in the faintest smile. "Or just a mortal? Tell me, Rael… does a mortal survive the Supreme God's voice? Does a mortal carry power he cannot yet see?"
Rael had no answer. His hands trembled, not with fear this time, but with something else — the strange warmth that had been growing inside him since his arrival.
Before he could speak, a loud voice thundered from the temple of fire.
"Nerion!"
The ground trembled as another figure emerged. Broad-shouldered, his hair a wild blaze, and his armor glowing with molten veins of lightning — it was Aethor, the God of Fire, first son of the Supreme God. His eyes were sharp as blades, his expression carved with disdain.
"You bring this child into Aeonis?" Aethor's voice cracked like a storm. He strode forward, flames licking at his steps. "Look at him. Soft hands. Earth-blood. Weakness."
Rael bristled, but Nerion raised a hand, silencing him. "Brother, the Supreme God chose him."
"The Supreme God is not here." Aethor's eyes burned hotter as he closed the distance, standing only an arm's length from Rael. The heat rolling off him made Rael's throat dry. "If this boy is meant to walk among us, let him prove it. Let him bleed. Let him burn."
The surrounding crowd began to murmur, their voices rising like a storm tide. Angels, mortals, and celestial beings gathered, whispering about the mortal boy who dared walk in Aeonis.
Nerion's calm face tightened. "Aethor, this is not the way."
"It is the only way," Aethor snapped, his fists igniting in fire. "Let him fight. If he survives a single strike, I will acknowledge him. If not…" His gaze shifted coldly to Rael. "…then his ashes will be scattered to the winds."
The square fell silent. All eyes turned to Rael. His pulse hammered in his ears, but his legs refused to buckle. He met Aethor's fiery gaze, feeling the weight of destiny pressing down on him.
"I'll fight," Rael said, his voice low but steady.
The crowd erupted in gasps and shouts. Nerion's eyes widened, but Aethor only smiled — a cruel, fiery smile.
"Then let Aeonis bear witness," Aethor roared, raising his blazing fist high. "Let us see if this mortal is chosen… or doomed."
The flames roared higher, and the sky above Aeonis darkened with storm clouds.
And as Rael clenched his fists, that s
trange warmth inside him flared hotter than ever before…
To be continued.