Author: R.Zetra


Envor - an individual's vitality levels in correspondence with one's power

Malitan - the Empire's term for a city


Malitan: Khaerina



One way or another he was sure that it is going to work. He ran from the throne room, headed towards the Sanctuary of the Wise Overseer. Echoing through the citadel walls are battle cries and sword clangs from the Assassin and Adept Faction who are training in the courtyard grounds. Tyrox smirked, pleased with his governance. A lot has changed during his rule. It will only be a matter of time until the entire Concord will be within his grasp.

The clanking of his metal boots is the only one audible throughout the obsidian hallways. Reminiscing the past, he was the least regarded in the Dezoksis family. Everyone looked down on him and told him countless times that we would never inherit the throne. Even from the person he looked upon and expected to support him, his father never believed in his potential. He remembered the exact words his father told him: No one will ever acknowledge despite being a Dezoksis. Those words struck deep into his heart and planted a seed of hatred. This was his driving force to become who his family thought he cannot be.

Tyrox chuckled, “Now look where I am now? Still alive.”

Tyrox arrived in front of the High Acolyte’s door, where two guards from the Acolyte Faction stood. He approached the door but was stopped. The guards then crossed their spears which blocked the door. The Emperor was surprised and did not like this gesture. He took two steps back and crossed his arms.

“Let me in. I have business with the Overseer,” he said, firmly.

“We have no direct orders from the Overseer to let you in,” one of the guards calmly replies.

Tyrox sighs and shakes his head, “I will only say this once. Let me in,” he says, glaring at the guards.

The guards looked at each other, skeptical to let the Emperor in. They sighed, somehow conversing telepathically. It took them a while to think about the situation. One of them then shrugged and stepped aside.

“You have my thanks,” Tyrox calmly said, while bowing his head. He then went inside the Sanctuary.

The giant doors closed behind him. On the far end of the room is a throne on a floating platform. On the throne sits a man wearing a long, black, hooded robe kneeling on the platform and leaning on the throne seat. The Sanctuary is a large and spacious room with a solid floating pavement towards the throne, and underneath is a chasm that leads to Blimork’s core.

Tyrox slows down and then kneels on one knee before the floating platform. “Overseer.” He says in a reverent tone.

The hooded figure looked up from the seat and slowly stood. “Emperor.” He replied.

Tyrox continued kneeling, his breath shallow. The presence of the Overseer will be suffocating when you are not worthy to be around him. The Maxrod family has been known to exist before the rise of civilization. They were one of the four families who were directly blessed by the Phoenix with unspeakable power. Some say that they can warp through space and time; some can manifest the strength of the Phoenix, and some can see bits and pieces of the future. The Overseer manifested the latter, but there is more to his potential than what has been blessed to his bloodline.

“Rise, my loyal subject,“ The Overseer commanded.

Tyrox slowly rose and stood upright with his hands behind his back. He huffed, releasing some of the tension. One thing that many should learn is that when speaking with the Overseer, one must observe patience and respect.

The Overseer slowly raised his hands. The area around his hands began to warp and a small translucent purple orb began to form above him. The orb began to distort reality around it making a slight humming sound. Lines of purple slowly started traveling from the orb towards the Overseer’s hands, coursing throughout his body. Tyrox heard a slight sharp inhale from the Overseer as this continued followed by a relieved sigh. Reality slowly recovered from this exhibition of power. The Overseer lowered his hood, revealing his slick black hair. He turned around to face the Emperor. His sharp, hazelnut eyes looked at him and it felt like they were piercing through his soul. He is a man of about five feet and seven inches. His appearance will make you think he is immortal as his skin looks pale but also looks young. He sat on his throne.

“Now. Report,” The Overseer said calmly.

“Oh, Wise Overseer. I-“ Tyrox was cut as the Overseer quickly raised his hand.

“Please. Call me Ion. Ion Maxrod. Cut the honorifics. You’re the Emperor. I’m your friend.” Ion remarked.

The tension decreased. Someone as reverent as the Overseer calls the Emperor his friend and has allowed him to address his first name. Tyrox gulped down then breathed in some air. He pressed a button on his gauntlet. A small compartment opened revealing a small circular chip. Tyrox retrieved the chip, tapped on it twice, then placed it on his right palm. The chip sparked and glowed a reddish aura as it slowly hovered above Tyrox’s palm.

“This is what we have collected so far,” Tyrox said as the chip displayed a hologram of various numbers, graphs, maps, and individual profiles.

Ion puts his leg over the other and leans on his throne’s armrest. He studies all of the information thoroughly. It takes a while for him to process everything. His eyes suddenly narrowed. He sat upright, interlaced his fingers, and exhaled.

“Commendable effort.” Ion remarked.

Tyrox bowed. “Thank you, Ion. We-“

“But those won’t suffice,” Ion shook his head.

Tyrox’s eyes widened. Months of research and reconnaissance have been made, only to come back as insufficient. He has spent countless nights mapping out the entire layout of the planets’ cities, resources, defense, history, government, and military capacity. How much does Ion require?

“With all due respect, Wise Overseer, but I have covered everything that we need to know about our neighbors,” Tyrox retorted.

Ion raised an eyebrow and looked Tyrox straight in the eye. Tyrox swallowed back his irritation and took a quick breath.

“Emperor. Do you still loathe your father?” Ion asked.

Tyrox was taken aback. He was frozen in place as he looked at the Overseer. Why would Ion bring up such a sensitive topic? He out of all people know the Emperor’s history with his father and only a few remember how the end played out. That day was coined the Cataclysmic Overrun. The Exiles refer to it as The Scarlet Terror.  Many significant individuals played a role in that historical event and Tyrox was one of them. Although, a lot of the Empire’s historians applied numerous embellishments to cover up the truth as to what happened during that event. Only those who survived and were spared by Tyrox know what took place.

Tyrox clenched his fists. “Why are you bringing him up out of nowhere?” he growled.

Ion shook his head and then started walking toward me. “Your mind is clouded by anger. Your heart is blinded by vengeance.”

Ion stops beside Tyrox as he finishes his sentence. Silence fills the room and tension builds up between them. Unsure of what to do, the emperor just stands there and doesn’t bother taking a glance at Ion.

“Let it go,” Ion said. “Don’t let the disappointment of your father towards you hinder you from using the potential that you have.”

Tyrox relaxed a bit. “What do you mean?”

Ion glanced at Tyrox, turned around, and walked back to his throne. “Hadron was a great emperor. He was one of the reasons why the Empire is feared by many. His values were unquestionable. His rule was almost as perfect as what you’d expect from the Pure-Blood faction, especially from the prestigious Dezoksis family. All eyes were on him. Yet towards the end of his rule, his judgment became clouded and his grip on the Empire loosened. I’m sure you remember everything after that, don’t you?”

Hearing those were enough to make Tyrox shudder with hatred and fear. He was right. His father was considered the best emperor in the history of the Empire. Flawless governance and strict enforcement of the laws he created. It pressures Tyrox to live up to the Dezoksis name, adding the fact that he wasn’t the one being envisioned to take over the throne.

“What I’m trying to say, Dark Emperor, is that you are not your father,” Ion said then turned around to face Tyrox.

Tyrox clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, “I know that! You don’t have to tell me.”

Ion lifted a finger, pointed at the ceiling, and a faint red glowing orb appeared at his fingertip. “Don’t let the expectations of your father be the reason for your ineptitude.  I know you fear what your father has to say if he were still alive,” Ion said as he made the glowing orb slowly revolve around his finger. “Instead, see the limitation of fear be the driving force on why you have to do better than your father.”

Silence filled the room but tension between them lessened. Tyrox inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled the air as if releasing all the pent-up feelings he had inside him. All his life he was trying to become worthy of being called a Dezoksis. Being the black sheep of the family scarred him and created an atmosphere of hate and fear around him – especially towards his father.

“Thank you for that reminder,” Tyrox muttered.

Ion smirked. “Now, let’s discuss plans,” he said as he sat down on the throne.

Tyrox nodded and flicked some holograms until a blue planet comes into the scene. “Between Pyreon and Nitronia, Nitronia proves to be the ‘easier target. As we dug deep and observed them for quite a while now, what’s challenging for their government is that there are rebels. These rebels are once part of cities but have decided live in independence, apart from the rule of their Supreme Frost.”

Ion raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with our plan?” he asked.

Tyrox smiled. “We put our focus here,” he points at a certain individual presented in the hologram.

“Hmm? What about him?” Ion crossed his arms.

“With our months of surveillance, our researchers have observed that he grows weaker with each passing day.  He might not show it physically, but Ximis would agree with me. He saw his levels of Envor,” Tyrox explained.

Ion leaned forward and looked at the individual shown in the hologram. His eyebrows creased as he studied him for a short while.

Ion chuckled. “I don’t think he won’t be of trouble at all, but I want you to do me one thing.”

Tyrox looked at Ion quizzically. “What do you have in mind, Overseer?”

Ion stood from the throne and looked at the ceiling of the Sanctuary. He raised his hand as if he was reaching for something in the air. He inhaled deeply as his eyes widened.

“I want you to bring him to me,” Ion said. “Alive!” he boomed.

Ion grinned. “You are free to do whatever as long as you meet my objective for you.”

Tyrox smiled at the thought. “I never fail, Wise Overseer,” he boasted.

Tyrox bowed then turned around to exit the Sanctuary. With renewed confidence, he is determined to initiate his one ultimate goal in mind: Concord Colonization.

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