The first resonant toll of the midnight bell reverberated through the apex tower's obsidian walls, echoing like a heartbeat within its structure."Eliminate the Spymaster," Marius Vex ordered, his voice calm and unwavering as he executed a precise slash with his golden broadsword. "Bring me the phantom's head in chains. Solis insists the ledger be settled tonight."The twelve elite paladins moved in perfect harmony, their heavy greatswords leaving their sheaths simultaneously. The runes on their golden breastplates shone with an intense white light, casting long shadows across the polished gallery floor. They advanced like an impenetrable wall, aiming to corner their target against the bronze doors and crush them.Lyra Moonwhisper crouched defensively, her breath forming a sharp cloud of vapor as she raised her twin volcanic iron daggers. The emerald frost in the dark steel hissed against the holy energy radiating from the advancing paladins. Though fear gripped her, the ice within he

As the first light of day crept over the horizon, the Grand Council Chamber of the Holy Palace lay under an uneasy stillness. Outside, rain lashed against the golden spires of Solis, transforming the stained-glass windows into smeared visions of color. The chill was unexpected for late summer, leaving frost on stone ledges and a thin sheet of ice over the statues in the palace courtyard. Something had shifted, and even the empire sensed it.Inside, fear gripped the room.Captain Marius Vex stood at the center, his golden cloak now a tattered remnant of his frantic flight from the Crimson Citadel. His pale face and controlled breathing couldn’t mask the fear in his eyes.For the first time, Marius Vex appeared afraid."Marcus was executed right in front of me," he said, his voice echoing. "The midnight plan failed. When the bell tolled, the ledger claimed him. His body turned to ash, and his essence was drawn into Exodus's blade."General Viktor Stormborn sat quietly on a raised platfo

Colonel Darius Ironheart stormed across the frozen armory floor like a living juggernaut. Three hundred pounds of specialized silver-alloy armor encased his massive frame, while the rocket cores built into his weapon, the World-Breaker, erupted with bursts of orange fire. Each blast sent a tremor through the ground beneath him.Exodus Thorne stood waiting.The moment Darius came within striking distance, Exodus vanished.Using the speed he had stolen from Kael Darkwater, he slipped past the hammer's path and reappeared at Darius's blind spot. He didn't draw his sword. Instead, he extended his left hand, black mist curling violently around his fingers.His objective was simple.Get through the armor.Drain Darius's life force directly.It had worked against Lyra's guards.Darius, however, had prepared for him.The instant Exodus's fingers touched the silver breastplate, the armor reacted.A brilliant flash of white light exploded between them.Exodus recoiled with a sharp gasp.Sanctif

The air didn't just chill; it decayed. Beneath them, a sound rumbled—not a roar, nor thunder, but something deeper, as if the earth itself was howling in agony. Pressure slammed into Exodus's chest, threatening to splinter his ribs. Sheets of iron tore from the walls, the floor groaned open, and a mist seeped through, carrying the scent of dust, ancient bones, and a hunger that had waited for centuries.Exodus braced himself, his iron boots grinding into the icy stone. Before him, Darius was no longer the man he once knew. Black veins snaked across his skin, seeming to pulse with life. Smoke hissed where his blood met the ice, and jagged bone jutted grotesquely from his arms.This wasn't magic; it was something far older, something that remembered a world before graves, before gods, before humanity itself."You wore that uniform for ten years, Darius," Exodus said, his voice steady by force of will. "Pretending to be like us."Darius laughed, a sound that wasn’t his own. "We're all ju

The scratching ceased abruptly.For a moment, everyone in the devastated armory stood still.Exodus found himself amidst the chaos, his gaze fixed on the charred mark on his palm. It resembled a miniature grave—a small rectangle with a crooked headstone and beneath it, six faint lines, each representing an empty space.He clenched his hand, and a searing pain raced up his arm. Exodus remained unfazed, though his mind's Graveyard quivered.A whisper echoed in his thoughts: "Six remain." Then silence.Exodus lifted his head, noticing General Viktor's intense stare—not directed at his sword or face, but at his hand."The mark," Viktor stated.Exodus narrowed his eyes. "What mark?"Viktor didn't answer him directly. Instead, he addressed the paladins. "Lower your weapons."They hesitated. "General—""Lower them!" Viktor's command reverberated through the armory, and reluctantly, the paladins complied.Lyra approached Exodus, curiosity etched on her face. "What is that thing on your hand?"