Storm clouds gathered over the mountains south of Ei'en, casting dark shadows across the Kuro eastern mountain range. Known to some as the "Forest of Green Stone," the mountains were veiled in dense forests and sprawling vines, giving them an otherworldly look as though ancient guardians rose from the earth. Towering peaks stood like monoliths with vast woodlands filling the valleys and gorges between them. At the base of one such mountain, a roaring waterfall cascaded into a lake, its sound echoing across the rocky landscape for miles. Behind the waterfall lay the entrance to a sprawling cavern system, hidden by the forceful curtain of water.
Two cloaked figures approached, their black hoods concealing their faces as they slipped through the entrance and into the caverns beyond. The damp air clung to their cloaks, and the distant rumble of the waterfall reverberated through the stone walls.
“That girl is going to be something extraordinary!” said the shorter, childlike woman with boundless energy. Her voice was tinged with a sense of giddy excitement, and her quick footsteps echoed off the cavern walls. “It’s been ages since the Empire let a deity like hers slip under their radar!”
The large man behind her followed, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the waterfall as he passed. His heavy footsteps were measured, each one deliberate, but he spoke in a quiet, pointed tone that suggested he chose his words with great care. “Stay calm, Motome,” he replied, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “We don’t even know which deity’s essence resides within her yet. We must remain cautious.”
Motome glanced back at him, her eyes bright with defiance even behind her mask. She laughed and swung a gloved hand carelessly through the air. “Oh, come on, Dukuro. You worry too much! Besides, it’s been forever since I’ve had something exciting to chase! Don’t you feel it too? The pull of power?” She spun around, hands behind her head, her steps light and carefree as they ventured deeper into the caverns.
Dukuro sighed, his heavy footsteps causing the air to feel heavier with each step. “Instincts are not always enough,” he said tersely, his tone unyielding.
As they approached a massive wooden door—clearly made for someone of Dukuro’s size—Motome spun on her heel and launched a swift kick at the door, sending it flying open effortlessly. She strode in, announcing herself with a mischievous grin. “We’re back!”
Inside, ten other masked figures awaited them, their dark cloaks blending into the shadows of the chamber. The room was vast, the stone walls adorned with strange, ancient symbols, faintly glowing with an ethereal light. Each of the figures radiated an aura of strength and mystery, their presence commanding attention. Their silence was a careful warning of the power they wielded.
“So, you’ve returned!” said a man with messy hair poking out from under his mask. His voice held a note of curiosity, but there was an underlying edge of authority. “How are the new disciples this year?”
Motome’s devilish grin widened. “We found one…” Her words hung in the air, a spark of tension rippling through the room. The other figures leaned forward, their interest piqued.
“Are you certain?” asked a calm, handsome male voice from across the room. The speaker’s mask was decorated with intricate patterns, a symbol of both elegance and danger.
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“Absolutely!” Motome said, slamming her hands on the table. “If it wasn’t for that meddlesome woman, Umi Nagisa, we’d have already made our move. But we thought it best to consult the rest of you first.”
A mature, mocking female voice chimed in from the side. “So, in other words, Dukuro saved you from doing something reckless—again.” The speaker, Nara, chuckled softly, clearly entertained by the dynamic. “Honestly, Motome, self-control has never been your strong suit.” Her eyes twinkled from beneath her mask. “Poor Dukuro, having to babysit you.”
Motome’s face flushed beneath her mask. “You want to fight, Nara?!” Her fists clenched, and her posture tensed, her temper flaring.
Dukuro placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, silently urging her to calm down. He leaned down to her ear, whispering something that only she could hear. The rage in her eyes didn’t fade, but she reluctantly crossed her arms and slouched, though the fire inside her remained.
“You’re such a child, Motome,” taunted another voice—this time a woman named Shiro, her tone light but dripping with condescension. “It’s amazing Dukuro puts up with you.”
“What. Did. You. Just. Say?” Motome's voice was dangerously low, a growl threatening to escape.
“Oh, such explosive anger!” Shiro chuckled, her laughter echoing off the stone walls. “Just like a toddler who didn’t get enough milk.” Her mocking tone only made Motome seethe further.
“Shiro, you whore, I’ll kill you!” Motome snarled, her fists trembling with barely contained rage. The tension in the room was palpable, but before it could escalate, the messy-haired man at the head of the table spoke up, his voice slicing through the noise like a blade.
“That’s enough bickering,” he said sharply, his gaze darkened with authority. “Motome and Shiro, you’ll go into the city tomorrow. Disguise yourselves and keep an ear to the ground. Look for potential recruits. The people who will support our cause. And keep your eyes open for any other opportunities. Information is power, after all.” He turned to address the others seated around him. “The rest of you, except Dukuro, will assume your positions within the city and act as if nothing unusual has occurred. We cannot risk this girl falling into the enemy’s hands. Finding one with strength not yet claimed by the Imperial Pantheon is crucial.”
The group nodded in silent agreement, each of them fully aware of the importance of this mission. Slowly, they stood, filing out of the chamber with an air of purpose. Only Nara and the messy-haired man remained, standing over a detailed map of Ei'en spread across the table.
Nara's eyes scanned the map, but her attention was drawn to the man standing beside her. “Do you really think we’re close to success? Kuro’s power is vast, and even after years of conflict with Kalimdah, they’ve shown no signs of weakening. If anything, they seem stronger than ever.”
He removed his mask, revealing a face marked with deep scars, lines carved into his skin like a latticework. His expression was intense, the weight of his past reflected in every crease. “We’re closer than you think, Nara,” he said, his voice low but firm. “We’ve bided our time, waited for the right moment. The gods may be strong, but they’ve grown complacent. They are no longer the forces they once were. The winds of change are blowing, and they do not see it coming.”
Nara studied his scarred face, her gaze unwavering. “And what happens after we succeed?” she asked quietly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
He met her gaze steadily, his lips curling into a faint, enigmatic smile. “Once we succeed… we’ll shape a new order. A pantheon of our own making. A place where power no longer rests in the hands of those who think they control fate.”
Motome, standing quietly at the back, couldn’t help but feel a flicker of doubt. A new pantheon? A new order? But who would stand at its head? And what kind of world would be built when the gods they overthrew were replaced by… what exactly? She couldn’t quite place the uneasy feeling growing in her chest, but the questions gnawed at her. What exactly will replace the pantheon? She glanced at Dukuro, who stood silently as always. She couldn’t even ask him. He was too quiet, too methodical in his answers.