A thousand years ago, during The Shattering, the world was immersed in an era of unprecedented peace and prosperity.

Five Holy Empires held dominion over the four Diaspheres, their rule united under the totalitarian world religion known as the Church of the Holy System.

The Church of the Holy System had ascended to the pinnacle of power, relegating all other religions to secrecy and hiding. Heretics were relentlessly hunted down and forced into conversion. Humanity and the various races had achieved a delicate homeostasis in the year 400 N.F.

However, that all came crashing down during The Shattering, when the Blessed Rock, the highest authority in the Church of the Holy System, passed away.

It was a thousand years ago, and the events of The Shattering had become a distant memory, stripped of its weight in the present. Instead of the promised World Peace and Harmony, the Grim Millennium ensued.

In the city of Emberhold, known today as the Fiery Stronghold of Ironforge, demonic hordes suddenly descended upon the unsuspecting populace. The attack was swift and merciless, catching the inhabitants off guard.

The majority of the Celestrian Empire's army was sailing to the Demon Continent of Tartaria, leaving the continent of Jeddah defenseless. Only a handful of Holy Clergy capable of accessing the Holy System remained, desperately trying to protect the civilians.

Amidst the chaos, within the heart of Emberhold, stood a colossal structure renowned throughout the world. It served as a revered pilgrimage site for the Church of the Holy System.

As thousands of demons, hideous monsters, and nightmarish creatures unleashed havoc upon the city, countless lives were brutally extinguished.

However, one figure remained, the last defender of the Archives of Truth, the repository of humanity's collective knowledge, stories, records, and histories. This lone figure was an old Holy Archivist, whose hands trembled from years spent in the darkness of libraries, relying on dim candlelight to read.

The demons surrounded the archivist, mocking his frail form and wrinkled skin. One demon, in particular, took pleasure in belittling the archivist and shared rumors among the horde.

"This is the famous Gibbering Archivist," the demon announced with a wicked grin. "They say no one can understand him, mumbling words from a language that doesn't even exist. He's a crazy old fool who has spent his entire life locked away in the Archives, buried in books."

The archivist's weakened hands trembled, almost losing grip of the sword he held. The demons jeered at his seemingly feeble resistance, mocking his presence in this desperate situation.

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"They say they would only catch him outside when he was taking a piss in the gardens!" the demon exclaimed, eliciting laughter from its demonic brethren. "The old geezer can't even use the bathrooms inside!"

A smile appeared on the archivist's weathered face, unperturbed by the demons' mockery. "It was somewhat embarrassing," he calmly replied. "There's never enough time in the world to read all those books. So, I make the most of my time, taking a breath of fresh air and using the facilities outside. Efficiency, isn't it?"

The demons erupted in laughter, deriding the archivist's audacity and dismissing the significance of his years spent immersed in knowledge.

"You know nothing, old man! All your reading will amount to nothing! Today, you will die, and those books won't save you," one demon sneered.

The old man nodded, accepting their words. "Maybe... that's for me to decide," he responded, his voice trembling with age.

Suddenly, realization struck the demons. "Wait! All this time, you understood Siriath? How can a Marialian speak it so fluently?" one demon inquired, its voice laced with confusion.

The old Holy Archivist raised his sword, his weathered hands guiding it with purpose. As he did, a colossal rune circle manifested, encompassing the grounds of the Archives of Truth and stretching for miles.

The ancient symbols within the rune glowed with a vibrant blue light, shifting and moving in a mesmerizing display.

The demons charged forward, their malicious intent apparent, but they found themselves trapped within the confines of the rune. They struggled and howled in frustration, unable to move even an inch.

"Kill him! Kill him!" the demons shrieked, their desperation fueling their attacks as they reached out with their twisted limbs. Yet, their efforts proved futile as the Gibbering Archivist's protective energy shield repelled them.

With unwavering resolve, the old man proclaimed with a voice aged and quivering, "My first holy argument: I am Zylthar Grimshaw, Holy Archivist of Dominion, Magister of the Archives of Truth. And I invoke the Holy Rune of Divine Judgment upon the inhabitants of this sacred site."

Zylthar's eyes blazed with an otherworldly light as a radiant beacon enveloped the colossal rune. The demons within its glow faced the unyielding judgment of the light, their bodies consumed by the fires of truth.

Undeterred, Zylthar continued, his voice carrying a weight of divine authority, "My second Holy Argument: Oh Holy System, bring forth your righteous decree, By this sacred rune, let divine justice we see. Swift judgment upon the unholy, a sacred scale to balance, Imbue your divine authority, a testament to your benevolence."

The demons, trapped within the Trumpet-Tier Invocation, found themselves utterly helpless. The Holy Rune of Divine Judgment, an invocation of ultimate sacred authority, was now unleashed, manifesting the power of divine judgment upon these malevolent beings.

Zylthar Grimshaw stood as the sole wielder of this extraordinary invocation, its potency unmatched. The Beacon of Light enveloped the demon horde, reducing them to ashes and leaving not a trace of their existence.

From a distance, high above the mountain, Zylthar's children, who had managed to escape and hide from the demon horde, caught a glimpse of their aging father raising his sword within the center of the rune, valiantly protecting the Archives of Truth.

The Beacon of Light emitted three bursts of divine energy, reverberating across the colossal rune. And when they vanished simultaneously, every being caught within the Holy Rune of Divine Judgment vanished from sight.

No demon remained, ensnared within the invocation's reach, and no trace of the Gibbering Archivist or his legendary radiant sword lingered in its wake. The Archives of Truth stood untouched, its sacred knowledge preserved, thanks to the unwavering dedication and sacrifice of Zylthar Grimshaw.