The priest shuddered, thinking of what he and these few men around him in the room were about to do.
"It's for our good right?!" One of the others, a rather strong warrior said.
"O-of Course!" A mage answered "How could it not be with the Phoenix going on a rampage?" They all looked to the center of the room.
In the center of the room lay a rather nice and fit man, a small bit of stubble on his face. It was unfortunate for the man that he wasn't there by choice.
The people around him, what remained of the overtly corrupt order of rebirth, were about to sacrifice him. Little reason aside from his connection with the Phoenix.
The man had learned many things in his life, many of these things revolved around birds, to such a degree that he could determine certain birds by scent if needed. For these reasons he was chosen as a flamebrand, one chosen to sustain the relationship between the phoenix and humanity.
Flamebrands were all chosen by their phoenix, at great risk. As if a flamebrand were to die by anything other than Phoenix flames the phoenix dies with them.
Thus all flamebrand lived in the temple, protected by leagues of paladins, all of whom would die before they would let him die. Normally that is.
This wasn't a normal cycle. In fact, the last several weren't 'normal'. It was like as time went on the Phoenix was slowly losing its mind.
Starting a collaboration with humanity was peaceful at first, but as the iterations occured the ugly head of human greed reared its head.
It turned out that humanity had grown entitled, and were forcing the Phoenix to be compeled through the contract. However, how could mere mortals properly hold a divine being?
The Phoenix, a being of flame, one of birth and death. One who creates. One who destroys.
The Phoenix had, over several iterations, burned the contract slowly using its own death as a catalyst to empower its strength.
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Leading into this iteration. This situation. A man held by rope on a table, a sacrifice for greater good.
The Phoenix had fully burnt the last of the contract and was now wrecking havoc upon humanity. It spared only the area near the temple. Only the believers, specifically the ones with little to no hatred.
Unfortunately for the man on this table, that meant that people who disagreed managed to attack the city, sure the Phoenix was on its way currently, but it was still too long. The people in the rooms had a collective gulp, and then one of them plunged a dagger into the mans chest, and slowly made a circle, taking out the heart.
The man, obviously, died, a hole about fist sized in his chest. Blood still flowing from the wound, coating him in blood.
A bright flash then occured. Everyone saw it even if only subconsciously. The Phoenix had died. Great news for the people opposing the Phoenix, less so for the believers of the Phoenix.
It was shortly after this that people lookes for the egg, unable to locate it. The man in the temple had simply been left behind, unburied. As were the people in the town. The gate had been broken down by a fenrir, which died to a knight of the first flame order.
As the body of the man lay there however, something occured. It was a phenomenon that hadn't ever occured in the land the Phoenix soared.
Only through an intense longing, usually hatred, could a soul refuse the mighty hand of death, yet, this happened, moreover it was in the temple of the Phoenix.
However another problem occured at the same time.
As the temple was the land of the Phoenix and was made of its power, when the Phoenix died, and the temple had power unregulated, it just continued to coagulate in the middle of the temple. Above where the man, turned undead was.
It was funny as the undead couldn't run away from this immense amount of energy formed from life itself, and was set to lay in its presence as it alsp didn't attack it, as it was unguided.
And so, for thousands of years. Thousands. The undead lay there, and under the influence of life, regained itself, and no longer remained only of towards those who had wronged him previously.
Finally after a few millennia the life attribute had condensed down into a single bit of power, and then it dropped.
The power normally reserved for the egg of the Phoenix fell and landed, in a sick twist of humor, in the hollow.spot where the undeads heart once lay. And with this act a new being was birthed, one that wasn't supposes to exist, yet it did. A new system was born, its heart laying at the altar the man was sacrificed on.
The system, by itself, then inherited the memory of the previous Phoenixes. And grew sentient. With this power it quietly absorbed some of the death energy from the undead, and with the power of the previous Phoenix woke the undead, unfortunately passing out shortly after that.