The Holy City Aurelia had not slept.
It bled.
Smoke rose from shattered plazas, cracked cathedral steps still stained with the blood of a fallen Saint. Priests screamed prayers until their throats tore. Holy knights moved in disarray, no longer marching with divine certainty but with fear in their eyes.
At the highest chamber of the Grand Cathedral, beneath a ceiling painted with false heavens, the High Synod convened in emergency session.
Seven thrones.
Seven figures cloaked in white and gold.
And at the center—
The Voice of the Emperor, delivered through a radiant crystal infused with imperial will.
Cardinal Erasmus Valewyn knelt, his hands trembling.
"A Saint has fallen," he said hoarsely. "Not slain—but broken. Her blessings were torn away."
Murmurs spread like poison.
"That is impossible."
"No mortal can strip divinity."
"This is heresy!"
The crystal pulsed.
The Emperor's voice echoed—calm, cold, absolute.
"Name him."
Erasmus swallowed.
"…Demian Valen."
Silence.
"The son of the retired commander?" one Synod Lord scoffed. "A boy?"
Erasmus raised his head, eyes bloodshot.
"A boy who walked through holy wards," he said.
"A boy who shattered a Saint with his bare hands."
"A boy who carries an authority that rejects the gods."
The crystal flared brighter.
"Then he is no longer a boy," the Emperor said.
"He is a threat."
---
The Birth of a Name
Deep beneath the cathedral, Saint Elowen lay bound in chains of consecrated silver.
Her once-radiant hair was dull, her eyes hollow.
Interrogators stood around her.
"What did you see?" demanded a High Inquisitor.
Elowen laughed weakly.
"I saw the end of your lies."
The Inquisitor struck her.
She spat blood—and smiled.
"He didn't call himself a savior," she whispered.
"He didn't claim justice."
"He only said one thing."
The chamber leaned closer.
"This is for Rosenvale."
The Inquisitor's face twisted in rage.
"He butchered knights," another priest snarled. "Erased souls."
Elowen closed her eyes.
"Yes," she said.
"And he will do it again."
---
The Crimson Edict
The Emperor rose from his throne thousands of miles away, in the Imperial Capital Solareth.
He looked out over his empire—cities, dukedoms, churches, armies.
And spoke a single command.
"Prepare the Edict."
Across the continent, bells rang.
Not the gentle bells of prayer—
But iron bells of war.
In every cathedral, every ducal hall, every knight order headquarters, scrolls ignited with golden fire.
Words burned themselves into parchment and stone alike.
---
IMPERIAL-CHURCH JOINT DECREE
TARGET:
Demian Valen
ALIAS:
🩸 The Blood Butcher 🩸
CRIMES:
– Desecration of Holy Ground
– Assault upon a Saint
– Mass Execution of Holy Knights
– Possession of Forbidden Authority
– High Heresy Against the Gods
STATUS:
⚠️ ABSOLUTE EXTERMINATION ⚠️
ORDER:
All Imperial forces, Dukes, Marquisates, Holy Orders, Adventurer Guilds, and Independent Powers are commanded to hunt, capture, or kill the target on sight.
REWARD:
– Noble Title (Duke-tier or higher)
– Three Divine Relics
– Church Absolution for All Past Sins
– Direct Imperial Favor
FAILURE TO COMPLY = TREASON
---
The edict spread like wildfire.
Taverns went silent.
Mercenary guilds erupted in chaos.
Dukes clenched their fists—some in fear, some in excitement.
A name echoed across the empire for the first time.
The Blood Butcher.
---
Reactions of the World
In the Duke of Ironvale's fortress, a scarred man laughed loudly.
"A nineteen-year-old heretic against the Church?"
He slammed his fist on the table.
"I like him already."
In the Academy of Saints, instructors froze mid-lecture.
"A student just asked," one whispered, pale,
"if it's true the Butcher broke a Saint without hellfire."
In the Underground Black Markets, prices soared.
Maps of Demian's last known movements sold for fortunes.
In the Shadow Guilds, a single order was passed quietly:
> Do not engage unless prepared to die.
---
Demian Learns the Truth
Night.
Ruins beyond Aurelia.
Demian stood atop a broken watchtower, cloak fluttering.
Lucifer's laughter echoed inside him.
"Blood Butcher," the Hell Emperor mused.
"They are very good at naming their monsters."
Demian read the burning edict scroll in his hand.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"They finally stopped pretending."
"This order will bring thousands after you," Lucifer said.
"Knights. Saints. Dukes. Perhaps even gods' avatars."
Demian crushed the scroll.
Fire consumed it.
"Good," he replied calmly.
"I was getting tired of searching."
He looked toward the horizon—toward the empire that wanted his head.
"Let them hunt," he said.
"Every hunter becomes proof."
Lucifer's voice deepened, pleased.
"Then I shall prepare the legions within you."
Demian turned, stepping into the shadows.
"The Blood Butcher walks," he whispered.
"And this time—
the world will remember."
---
End of Chapter 5
---