The afternoon light reflected through the tall glass windows, casting long, pale streaks across the polished floor. The rays reached all the way to the black sofa where Eiden sat, the leather absorbing the warmth without a shine. He rested there in silence, a thick grimoire open in his hands, its pages glowing faintly as his grey eyes scanned each line with calm precision.
Nothing moved.
Nothing breathed.
The entire castle seemed to hold its breath around him.
Then—
A soft click.
The door to his right opened.
A female servant stepped inside, dressed in the black‑and‑white uniform of Zanders Kingdom. She stopped exactly six feet away, posture straight, hands folded neatly.
"King Zanders would like to see you in the throne room," she said, voice steady and respectful. She bowed her head slightly, then turned and left, her footsteps echoing down the hall until they faded.
Eiden closed the grimoire with a quiet thump. With a flick of his fingers, the book lifted from his hand, drifting across the room before sliding perfectly into its place on the shelf. He rose from the couch, picked up his sheathed blade leaning beside him, and held it by the case as he walked out the door.
His footsteps echoed through the long hallway. He turned a corner, and ahead of him stood the two massive doors of the throne room—already open.
He entered.
Zanders sat on his throne, two guards stationed at his sides. Eiden walked forward until he stood in the center of the room.
"Eiden," Zanders began, his voice carrying across the chamber. "I called you here because after you arrived nine days ago, word of your return spread across the world. Quickly. Within the first two days, in fact."
He lifted his hand, and a male servant stepped forward, placing a black envelope with a white wax seal into the king's palm.
"Yesterday was Thursday—my day to receive all letters and reports at once. Among them was a letter from Morvath, The Umbramage. He instructed me to give you this."
Zanders stepped down from the throne and approached, stopping a few meters away.
"The first letter explained that, the second—this one—has a spell on it. If anyone other than you opened it, the letter would explode. Not a small blast. One powerful enough to annihilate me and my entire kingdom in a blink."
Eiden took the letter, examining the seal.
"Understood. Thank you."
He turned to leave—
But stopped.
A figure leaned casually against the door frame.
"Hello, Eiden."
The man wore a blue‑and‑gold robe, a blue‑covered grimoire strapped to his waist. He approached with a confident stride, stopping a few feet in front of Eiden. A smirk tugged at his lips—cocky, deliberate.
"I am Dyuke, the Supreme Leader of the Council of Mages."
Eiden's eyes narrowed.
"Nice to meet you, Dyuke. Is there a reason you're here?"
Zanders watched silently from behind, listening.
"Yes," Dyuke replied. "I would like to speak with you—and the other three Sages waiting down the hall. Please, follow me."
He turned and walked out. Eiden followed.
They moved through the long corridor until they reached a large meeting room. A massive table dominated the center, built to seat thirty rulers for negotiations.
Iris sat at her place, sipping hot tea.
Beside her, Selyndra sat atop the table itself, legs crossed, arms behind her as she leaned back. Her long blond hair spilled down so far it brushed the surface. She faced the window, back turned—until she slowly looked over her shoulder, golden eyes soft and calm.
"Oh, he's finally here."
Vaelus stood by the unlit fireplace, head tilted up at a painting of Zanders. He turned, sharp teeth flashing in a grin.
"Well, took ya long enough."
He walked to one of the windows and leaned against it.
Dyuke passed Eiden and took the single chair at the end of the table.
"Please," he said, "I ask that you all sit and listen."
"I'm fine where I am," Vaelus snickered.
"Same here," Selyndra added.
Eiden pulled out a chair, set his sheathed blade on the table, and sat.
"Very well," Dyuke said, folding his hands.
"Let's begin."
A silence stretched across the room — long, heavy, suffocating.
Dyuke let it linger before he finally spoke.
"Firstly… I'd like to say this."
His voice cut through the stillness like a blade.
"Just eight days ago, a traveler discovered the battlefield you three fought in."
He gestured toward Eiden, Vaelus, and Iris.
"They buried the bodies and returned to their kingdom — a poor kingdom, but one that takes care of its people. The traveler urged his king to read the report immediately."
Dyuke leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing.
"The king sent scouts to retrieve the bodies. When they returned with the remains of Solmara and Kharos, he sent letters to every kingdom in the nation. All were received and read the same day."
He paused.
"The day after, tellers ran into every village, every city, every kingdom… shouting two things over and over."
His voice deepened, echoing the cries of the messengers:
'Two Celestials dead!
Kharos, the Celestial of War — Solmara, the Celestial of Stars — dead!
Eiden, The First Divinity, alive! Suspected to be responsible!'
The words hung in the air like a storm cloud.
"This," Dyuke continued, "caught the attention of many. Not the deaths of the Celestials… but the return of you, Eiden. And now that the entire world knows you're alive, things are going to get bad."
The room fell still again.
Eiden exhaled — a slow, heavy sigh that carried centuries of weight.
"I made many… many enemies," he said quietly. "I've killed countless, but spared many more. I saw potential in them. I wanted them stronger for our next fight."
His eyes darkened.
"About thirty‑two years ago, I had five enemies who were true threats to me, and I planned to kill them in this order..."
The room leaned in.
"Uzak'me, the Celestial — the God of Dominion.
Handled."
A pulse of tension rippled through the air.
"Reia, The Beast.
Yajin, The God of Judgment.
Ou'weii, The Demon King."
He paused.
"And lastly…"
Even the air seemed to stop moving.
"Civilar. The Titan."
The name hit the room like a physical force.
Vaelus' grin vanished.
His eyes widened, voice dropping to a whisper.
"…Woah."
This was an individual he himself wouldn't even think of fighting.
A Titan.
Not just any Titan.
Civilar.
The name alone carried the weight of extinction.
A Titan — the number one deadliest creature out of all living beings in existence.
A grey-skinned being born with the ability to choose its power while still in the womb.
A creature whose strength dwarfed dragons, demons, and gods alike.
But Civilar…
The Titan who wields two massive, thick‑bladed cursed swords connected by a chain.
The Titan who wears nothing but black pants and a torn red cape, because armor was pointless on him.
The Titan who has two sharp fangs hanging from his lips.
The Titan whose body was covered in scars —
a deep one slashing across his eyelid,
another massive one stretching from the lower right of his waist all the way across his chest to his heart,
and countless smaller cuts across his hands.
The Titan who has blank black eyes with bright blue glowing pupils.
The Titan who wields dark magic so intense it makes the Demon King's magic look pathetic.
The Titan who had never lost a fight.
The Titan who drove twenty‑three races to extinction.
The Titan who slaughtered billions.
The Titan whose physical abilities surpassed every living creature —
whose endurance was unmatched,
whose senses were sharper than a cat's,
whose speed was beyond comparison.
The Titan who had lived for more than 500,000 years.
The Titan who should not have been challenged by anyone.
And yet Eiden had…
What in the hell was he doing back then?
That thought echoed silently in every mind in the room.
No one spoke.
The only sound was the faint murmur of life outside the kingdom — distant chatter, footsteps, the hum of a world unaware of the storm gathering inside this room.
Inside, however, the air was thick.
Heavy.
Almost trembling.
The weight of Eiden's past — and the shadow of what was coming — pressed down on all of them.
Selyndra rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible.
"What an idiot. Of all people, of all beings to exist, you managed to make an enemy of him?"
She sighed, long and annoyed. "Why? Do you enjoy fighting powerful enemies or something?"
"Well, obviously—" Vaelus started.
"Shut it."
Selyndra snapped her fingers toward him, a small golden circle glowing at her fingertip.
Vaelus flinched. Iris blinked. Eiden didn't move.
"Could we not with the violence?" Iris muttered. "We're in a castle. The castle of one of the Five Powerful Kings."
Selyndra lowered her hand, then laughed lightly.
"Oh my, what am I doing?"
She ran a hand through her hair, flicking the long golden strands back behind her shoulders.
Then she turned her gaze on Eiden — sharp, golden, irritated.
"You, Eiden, could've told us about this before you decided to wander off alone to kill Uzak'me. Because if you had crossed one of the other four, you would've died before you could even think of using Myr'thal'uun."
Iris paused mid‑sip.
"Myr— wha… wha?"
Selyndra turned her head toward her, expression flat.
"Myr'thal'uun. A spell you cast on yourself to reincarnate. Only very few people who exist know of it, but almost every powerful elf that lies on this earth knows of it."
Eiden nodded slowly.
"Yes, that's correct. But I never told you — or anyone — that I used Myr'thal'uun. So how did you know?"
Selyndra side‑eyed him.
A silence stretched.
"I was with Fennaro," she finally said. "We were catching up, talking about what we'd done over the centuries. Then we sensed your magical signature nearby. We rushed to the source and found you muttering to yourself… then going silent."
Her voice softened, but only slightly.
"The battlefield was full of deep holes, blood, cracked mana, and two dead bodies. Usually, part of the soul lingers for a day after death — in case of resurrection. But you… we touched your body and felt nothing. No soul. No trace."
She crossed her arms.
"We brought your body back to the Redcrest village. Set you on a table. Put your items on stands. Fennaro forged glass to cover everything — your body, your weapons, and hung your clothes on the wall. After that, we talked for hours about what could've happened."
"We then decided to go to the Whitecrest Clan's village to find your mother for possible answers."
Eiden's brows furrowed.
"Then—"
"Wait. You went to my mother?" Eiden cut her off with a concerned question.
Selyndra nodded.
"Yes. We went to the Whitecrest village. We asked how she was, if she thought of you… the usual. But when we asked where your soul could've gone, she looked at us like we were idiots."
Selyndra mimicked the tone perfectly:
'It's simple. You two are members of powerful elven clans and yet you can't figure it out? A spell you both know?'
Selyndra sighed.
"She told us:
'Myr'thal'uun. That's what he used. And it's concerning how you two couldn't figure that out instantly.'
She was… very disappointed."
She flicked her hair again.
"So, me and Fennaro agreed not to say a word. We waited. And waited. Then, on the second day you stayed at Fennaro's village, I received a letter from him while I was here."
She lifted Iris's tea and drank it in one go.
"Hey—!" Iris yelped.
Selyndra ignored her.
"The letter said: 'He lives.'
I knew exactly who 'he' meant. So I stayed here and waited for you. That's why I wasn't shocked or crying or speechless when I first saw you."
Vaelus squinted at her.
"I still don't understand how your hair, eyes, and skin changed."
Selyndra set the cup down and looked at him.
"I have a transformation spell that changes my appearance. I used it when I was seventeen. If you weren't aware… Eiden and I have been friends since we were six. So he recognized me instantly when you three entered this kingdom."
Vaelus frowned.
"So why change back now?"
Selyndra smirked.
"Everyone has preferences. And when I joined your group — with my history of killing — I figured I'd be feared more than admired. So eight years ago, when this kingdom first rose, I asked Zanders to let me stay. Back then it was just me and him, before the knights arrived."
She brushed her hair back again, nails gliding through the golden strands.
"I forgot what my natural features looked like. So I dispelled the spell. I stood in the bathroom, staring at myself… and I looked even more beautiful than before. So I thought, why not switch up my personality? Act like a little goddess."
She chuckled behind her hand.
"But we're off topic. Anyways, that's how I knew you used Myr'thal'uun."
She hopped off the table, landing softly on her white boots, then walked to the window. She opened it, leaned out slightly, letting the breeze hit her face.
Eiden processed everything quietly.
"…I see."
The silence went on for a while, thick and unmoving, before Dyuke finally spoke.
"Eiden?"
He motioned toward the letter still in Eiden's hand.
"Oh. Right."
Eiden set the black letter on the table.
Selyndra turned her back to the room, leaning her elbows on the window sill, golden hair spilling forward.
Vaelus, who had been staring blankly into space, snapped his attention to the letter the moment it touched the table.
Iris tilted her head.
"What's that?"
Vaelus didn't wait for an answer.
He stepped forward, reaching across the table.
"I wanna read it."
His hand hovered inches from the envelope.
Eiden's eyes widened.
"NO!"
Dyuke's shout cracked through the room like lightning.
He shot to his feet, chair screeching violently across the floor as blue aura surged into his palm.
Iris's calm expression hardened instantly.
Is he going to attack Vaelus? she thought, blood magic stirring in her veins.
Selyndra reacted the same—
A soft golden aura bloomed in her left hand, her eyes half‑lit with a dangerous, predatory glow.
"Do not move an inch forward," Dyuke commanded, voice sharp enough to cut stone.
"Step away from the letter. Now."
Vaelus scoffed, withdrawing his hand and backing away slowly.
Dyuke lowered his palm and sank back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Sorry. It's just… Morvath put a spell on that letter. If anyone other than Eiden opened it, we'd all die."
Selyndra flicked her wrist, dispelling her aura.
Iris did the same, tension draining from her shoulders.
"Could've said something sooner," Vaelus muttered, crossing his arms.
Eiden lifted his hand, channeling aura to his fingertip.
It sharpened into a thin blade of energy, and he sliced cleanly through the wax seal.
He pulled the letter free and tossed the black sleeve aside.
Silence fell again as he read.
Vaelus tapped his foot impatiently.
"Well? You gonna say what the hell it says or what?!"
Selyndra shot him a glare so sharp it could've cut steel.
Vaelus immediately shut his mouth and looked away.
They waited.
Finally, Eiden spoke.