Argos shuffled back into the house, a sniffling mess. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face streaked with tears.

"Argos! Where have you been?" Amelia, his mom, rushed to him, worry etched on her face. Lucas, his dad, wasn't far behind, his brow furrowed with concern. "We told you to stay inside!"

Argos, unable to form a coherent sentence through his choked sobs, simply pointed a trembling finger at the empty doorway. "I... Irakes..."

Amelia understood what Argos was trying to say so she pulled him into a hug, tears welling in her own eyes. "Shh, it's okay, honey. We'll find him. We promise." Lucas joined the embrace, offering silent comfort.

Lucas wrapped his arms around his family, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "We'll find him, Amelia. We won't rest until we do," he promised, his voice filled with determination.

Days bled into weeks, then months. Argos and his parents searched tirelessly for Irakes, their hope withering with each passing sunset. One night, after another fruitless pursuit, Amelia collapsed on the floor, tears streaming down her face. "Where is my son?" she cried.

Lucas held her close, his own eyes brimming with unshed tears. Argos, heartbroken by his mother's despair, buried his face.

Meanwhile, in the desolate wasteland of Zagrash Xul'Kath...

Irakes stumbled through the dusty landscape, a constant sense of dread gnawing at his gut. Demons of all shapes and sizes roamed freely, their menacing forms sending shivers down his spine.

Suddenly, a colossal castle loomed before him, its dark spires reaching for the sky. A powerful aura, pulsating with raw aura, emanated from its depths. Irakes' instinct screamed at him to steer clear, but curiosity gnawed at him like a persistent itch.

He cautiously approached the castle, only to be spotted by a patrolling demon squad. With a panicked yelp, he bolted, weaving through crumbling buildings and dodging demonic claws. His flight eventually led him inside the castle.

As Irakes roamed around the castle hiding from the gaurds. He stumbled into a cavernous room, dominated by a magnificent sword resting on a pedestal. As he drew closer, the blade pulsed with an otherworldly light. Curiosity outweighing caution, he reached out a tentative hand.

Come here….Come here…. Wield me….. Pull me……. I have removed all obstacles and led you here come now….come.

Irakes are overwhelmed by the sound that manipulated his consciousness to the blade.

The moment his fingers grazed the hilt, he was flooded with the memories of the past. The ground shuddered violently, sending tremors echoing across the entire world. Six figures materialized from the swirling dust, their eyes wide with shock and… reverence?

Irakes blinked he opened his eyes slowly.

"My Lord? Said one of the figure.

Who are you guys?"

The one who spoke straightened up. "It is me, Fafnir, your humble servant. We, your generals, have awaited your return since the last great war."

“We were all in our chambers but we felt an overwhelming aura. It sensed like your power so we rushed here” replies Fafnir with a smile on his face.

A flood of memories rushed back into Irakes' mind –

Fafnir, the son of fire;

Raya, the fallen goddess of darkness;

Serapheil, the spirit of Seraphils;

Lucius, the harbinger of desolation;

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Khalifel, the dark soulreaper;

Malphas, the warlord of chaos.

"Fafnir… Raya… everyone!" Recognition dawned on Irakes' face, followed by a surge of relief. "I… I missed you guys."

Raya, a satisfied glint in her eyes, beamed. "We missed you too, my Lord."

Irakes sat up, a wry smile playing on his lips. "So, it seems the war we've been waiting for is finally upon us, huh?"

A serious expression settled on Fafnir's face. "Indeed, my Lord. However, your current vessel isn't quite combat-ready. We'll need to train you rigorously."

"Oh, absolutely," Irakes agreed.

"Let's get this training session started, shall we?" His stomach, however, seemed to have other plans. As he rose to his feet, a wave of nausea washed over him. He lurched forward, barely missing a priceless rug, and promptly emptied his stomach onto the cold stone floor.

Fafnir stared at the growing puddle with a bewildered expression. "Uh… my Lord? Is everything alright?"

Irakes wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a sheepish grin on his face. "Just… minor inconveniences. Training can definitely wait. Right now, I need a really strong mint."

Raya, ever the prankster, couldn't contain a snort. "Looks like our mighty Lord has a case of pre-battle jitters," she teased, earning a playful glare from Irakes.

Fafnir, regaining his composure, cleared his throat. "Perhaps some rest and sustenance would be wise before we begin your training, my Lord."

"Good call, Fafnir," Irakes agreed, wiping the last bit of evidence from his chin. "Though, ditch the 'my Lord' stuff. We're old comrades, remember? Just call me Irakes."

The generals exchanged glances, a hint of unease flickering across their faces. "But… but my Lord," stammered Serapheil, the spirit of Seraphils, "it is a sign of respect…"

Irakes waved a dismissive hand. "Respect is earned, not demanded by titles. Besides, in this weak human body, I feel like anything but a Lord. Call me Irakes, or just Lord Irakes if you really need the honorific or anything we are comrades old friends."

A flicker of a smile played on Malphas', the warlord of chaos. "Lord Irakes it is then."

Following a hearty meal prepared by unseen servants (courtesy of Malphas' dark magic), Irakes and his reunited team settled into a more relaxed atmosphere. The tremors that had echoed across the realms were a stark reminder of the looming war, but for now, there was a sense of camaraderie that hadn't existed in millennia.

Now in the Divine realm CELESTA LUMIERE

In a grand hall shimmering with celestial light, panic crackled in the air like overheated popcorn. Gods and goddesses, usually a picture of serenity, were buzzing with nervous energy.

At the center of the commotion stood Luna, the moon goddess, her face stormy with worry. "Did you feel that, Mythra?" she boomed, her voice echoing through the chamber. "The tremors… it can't be!"

"Calm down, Luna," soothed Mythra, the goddess of knowledge, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder. "Now's not the time for dramatics."

Luna huffed, her silver braids bristling. "Dramatics? The world is about to be plunged into eternal darkness, and you call this dramatic?"

With a sigh, Mythra raised her voice to address the gathering. "Everyone, please settle down! As you know, the prophecy has come to pass. The tremors signify the return of…" she paused for effect, "The En!"

A collective gasp rippled through the hall. Gods and goddesses exchanged fearful glances. The legend of the Fallen One, a powerful being who threatened to devour the whole world, was bedtime story fodder – or so they thought.

"But fear not!" boomed Mythra, her voice regaining its strength. "We are not alone in this fight. According to the prophecy, a savior will rise to combat this evil."

A god with a booming voice, Uemis, the god of thunder, piped up from the audience. "Well, where is this savior then? We can't exactly defeat the Fallen One with pep talks and celestial tea parties!"

"Patience, Uemis," said a serene voice. "Mythra is about to explain."

Taking a deep breath, Mythra continued. "The savior, according to the visions, is…" she glanced down at her notes, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "a young boy!"

The hall erupted in chaos. Disbelief, confusion, and a smattering of nervous laughter filled the air.

"A boy?" boomed Uemis. "Are you sure you haven't been indulging in fermented nectar again, Mythra?"

Ignoring the grumbles, Mythra smiled. "Yes, a boy. But not just any boy. He is the reincarnation of…" she paused dramatically, "Sentinel!"

Noise erupted in the hall where the divine chatted about their future. After the commotion, (Mythra) clapping her hands. I'm heading out to find him right now and prepare him for his glorious destiny… or at least teach him how to hold a sword without poking his own eye out."

With a wink, Mythra vanished in a swirl of golden light, leaving behind a bewildered hall of gods and goddesses.

Meanwhile, Argos was diligently… sharpening a sword.

Argos?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

Argos paused mid-sharpen, his eyes wide with disbelief as Mythra materialized before him.

"Who are you?" he stammered, his hand trembling around the weapon.

"I am Mythra, the goddess of knowledge," she replied calmly, her voice soft yet commanding. "And I am here to inform you that your time has come to save this world."

Argos blinked in confusion, his mind racing with a thousand questions. "Save the world?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. " What are you even talking about save the world”

Mythra smiled gently, placing a comforting hand on Argos' forehead. In an instant, the room was engulfed in a dazzling light, and Argos felt a rush of memories flood his mind.

"What was that?" he gasped, his head spinning with the sudden onslaught of information.

"These are the memories of your past lives," Mythra explained, her tone soothing yet resolute. "You were once a god, and I was your big sister."

Argos struggled to comprehend the magnitude of Mythra's words, his heart pounding in his chest. "But how can I save the world, I don’t even have mana?" he asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

Mythra's expression softened, her eyes filled with unwavering confidence. "Who says you can't?" she replied, her voice laced with determination. "You just haven't unlocked your true potential yet. Let me help you."

With a gentle touch, Mythra placed her hand on Argos' stomach, and he felt a surge of energy coursing through his veins. He doubled over in discomfort, his body wracked with spasms.

"What did you do to me?" Argos gasped, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Nothing harmful, I assure you," Mythra replied calmly, her gaze unwavering. "I simply removed the barriers that were holding you back. Now, you have the strength to face whatever challenges lie ahead."

Argos nodded slowly, his mind still reeling from the revelation. "From now on, I will train you to become the person who can save the world," Mythra declared, her voice filled with conviction. "Are you ready to begin?"

Argos took a deep breath, steeling himself for the journey ahead. "Yes," he replied, his voice steady with determination. "Let's start." And with that, Argos embarked on a path that would lead him to fulfill his destiny as the Sentinel of their world, guided by the wisdom and strength of the goddess Mythra.