A bright shining light stood near the dim altar. With what little radiance it had, it illuminated the crest of a skull engulfed in its own wing made with a grimy stone material.

The man could not believe his eyes, his generation, out of all other legendary figures in his society, he would be the one to summon a Fallen?

He crept up a stack of books meticulously stacked with each foreboding literary.

Using his finger, stroking his finger by the spine of each book placed.

All had dark tones in each their title in each respected ancient languages.

Picking up the one he wished for, a book that had no design whatsoever, a design that would not alarm the kingdoms of their premise. This was their holy book, their bible that they adhere to follow.

Flipping each individual page in a quick manner, licking his finger as if it was dire.

He pulled up the page that he remembered in a perfect symphony.

"Act 1, Once the succeedings have been done to summon a Fallen, he will use the society as his loyal subjects to create his kingdom. Oh, for so long have I wished to meet our king, to think I have done it!"

Similar to all his other ones, this one had a much lighter aura, years of work placed into this one event.

"To think one of our ceremonies finally managed to succeed."

He wished he could cry right now, but his old age was never able to muster up the energy to do so. What came out was just a dry heave of sorts and trembling.

As the light died down, the figure of a dormant flame descended from the sky, a bright light undermined the vessel fit for his reign.

As if synced, the light dare say tried to break the light, not adhering to the realm's law.

It continued to break the efforts of the realm trying to secure their boundaries between the others. Each forming a magic seal before breaking.

But just had it been done, the soul began meshing with the newly found vessel, connecting itself to is brain and heart, seeping to every pore of the body.

This was not the last of the fire, but a reckoning to all. The magic seal that hid them from the world had shattered due to its ferocity.

The light continued to radiate to the night sky, bringing the once tranquil nature into a ceasefire.

-_-_-_-

Somewhere in the distance, lied a huge city much huger than Orithyne.

With walls of light and numerous chapels, no wonder it was called the Sanctuary to all believers.

Its true name was given by the first Pontiff who dare formed her great hall sat.

Paratheos.

With well-maintained roads and the defense of many walls, many call this the Bulwark of the Gods.

Each wall had different concentration of buildings and a great increase in mass, from small huts to cathedrals that house the officials of the church. Each with its towering spires that watch over the city with eyes, blasting all darkness away in the city. Its polished marble walls gave a strong purity that the church tried to embody into their architect during the time. Many have said new synthetic material could provide an even stronger sheen, but as a populace, materials created in the hands of humans are covered in sin.

A banner of fourteen crests and a scale-shaped cross with curved arms.

The banner of the Order of Patas. A so-called perfect alliance of fourteen kingdoms under the banner of the church.

A grand building that scaled even the grand cathedral was the Hall of Light, the building that supposedly the Pontiff ascended into the high realm.

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With towering peaks and domes where the aspiring preachers en masse. Pillars that support the sky from falling on its own weight.

Statues of saints with feathered wings provided the sense of abstinence to repent against the heavenly lord.

Sat in the middle was a floating fountain. Floating pedestals allow the water to flow with serene motions as if there were no disturbance.

Upon the large fountain and placed right in the dead center was a foundation of translucent material.

A flow of mana kept it steady, letting the mass hover.

A throne of white crystal smoothed and polished with an unmeasurable feat.

Sat on it was a man standing ever so still. His white beard spoke pearls of wisdom through the ages and experience. His eyes remained almost pale in color, through the fading of time.

The fountain was situated in a room with large doors.

The door opened with the sound of clicks and chimes, resonating and bouncing off the walls of the great room.

A hurried servant dressed in a white clergy robe, a scale woven in a manner of expertise resonated with air causing massive waves in the area.

Unlike the scale that showed the perfect balance of two lights, the man was in no shape or fashion the same order.

He was messily dressed and his blonde hair was messy, a sense of urgency in his eyes.

Rushed with each footstep echoing in the room of the white hall, passed through multiple columns and even more statues of saints and other beings who were renown to the church. Not paying homage to heroes of the past, he ran to the edge of the fountain without stopping.

Strange enough, his necklace of the curved cross shook, small pedestals of the floating platform began pulling to each of his steps, with erratic movement. One would be afraid that they would fall if they stopped moving for one second.

before reaching the top of the stairwell, he arrived at the very top with the sprint he had to due to reach where he stood.

The man on the throne awaited for the priest to kneel down before he proceeded with his asking, patience emanated from his body as a virtue.

The priest calmed his breath as best he could before reaching the steps of the throne.

With each step he rose, a bow was made and a verse of the first commandment was spoken.

The first step.

"Where they stood kept us in the light."

The second.

"To I that renew in strength and wisdom. Praise the everlasting God and his children."

The third.

"Be we wary, might we fright."

The fourth.

"For his kingdom has no end."

The fifth step led the priest to rest his feet against the fourth and kneel, with his head lowered.

Through the verse, he spoke with all his energy not to mess up with the entwined letters.

Ending with one of the most used words of blessing of the Divine. Both spoke at the same time.

""Aldas Vediqiri"" (Al-dehs Ved-i-keer-ee)

Though unknown of its origin, the word brought serenity and flow as the floating fountain could be seen.

The man on the throne broke the silence with his voice of eternal power.

"Speak."

The priest awoke with his eyes showing great fear.

"S-Sir."

Practically frozen in fear, he was stuck in place, his mentality had been through the most enduring times.

"Take your time, Seeker Curios."

The words of the man were supposed to let him be less anxious about what to give to him, but it had done the exact opposite.

'To think that His Holiness would remember the lowly me!'

After a brief episode of rattling his bones, the urgency and the dire foreboding situation occurred to him.

"His Holiness, The prophet of had brought a chilling message to our ears that must be brought to your ears personally."

The man took out a white polished stone and laid it to the floor.

With his hand resting on the stone, his hand emerged out a white aura of light, supposedly holy mana surging the stone.

As the influx of white energy enveloped the stone, a mysterious text of runic language began moving up and about from the rock that had been written. Each letter began levitating before being let down once more.

Once it had finished, the words began appearing one by one.

With each word the Pontiff viewed, his eyes darkened.

"Gather the council."

"Right away His Holiness, but what would I tell them the reason for the meeting?"

"Tell them...A purge will be commenced. A hunt of all cult members will soon follow."

"Right away sir."

The man rushed out at the same pace, with each dying breath of his sprint.

The Pontiff looked at the floating message that came from the rock.

Each word brought a chilling numb coldness down his spine.

The King has been reborn, and the prophet is dead.

He sighed.

'An unstoppable force is coming, and we are insufficient in stopping it.."

He looked at the sky, a pure blue sky.

-

The Seeker rose the spirals of stairs. His journey through several checkpoints and marathon running was insurmountable.

Just as he reached his last checkpoint of Paladins, he arrived at the ladder to his destination.

Up the ladder revealed a large bell.

The bell was not all that specially designed, rust had been forming and did not look as pure as the rest of the city. But instead of purity, it spoke with experience and wisdom of the coming of rust.

Besides from the bell, a large rope was near.

Though the unimaginably small rope was even smaller than the bell itself, it proved viable.

With a steady hand, he rung the bell.

With the enchantments placed on the rope dating back to the construction of the hall, it provided much ease for the Seeker.

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

As each ring brought a deafening roar to the area, smaller rings soon formed from the cathedrals, then to the chapels, to the churches, and even the holy houses chimed in.

As it reached the outskirt of the city, large constructs of towers soon rung, reaching to further regions as times goes on.

The message was heard and conveyed, all that came left was to wait.

The smell of danger and the anxiousness of the bell that was never rung soon became the hot topic of the public.

What is happening to them at this very moment?