Amidst the piercing coldness, a towering pillar of stone stood in the center of the snow-covered landscape. It radiated a brilliant light that guided lost souls on their path. Strange ruins surrounded the pillar, exuding an ancient past. From a distance, the ruins appeared to be projections or holograms of memories, shifting and changing form.

Roads could be seen, with people of the past roaming around, going about their daily lives. Houses stood nearby, with soldiers patrolling the area. The sounds of different activities filled the air, with bards singing in front of a fountain, children playing, and people buying goods from stalls or enjoying the music.

In the shadows, a figure dressed in dark robes stood at a distance, silently watching the silhouette of the past moving before him. Despite the blurring images, the man maintained his stature, blending in the shadows watching like a ghost haunting his past.

The figure eyes shone eerily amidst the falling snowflakes, flickering from time to time, glistening with menace and enigma

The figure reached out for his robes and grabbed the book from its pocket. Taking a look at it, the man thought for a while and placed his hands on it, reminiscing it as if it was trying to recall something he had almost forgotten long ago.

He then took a glance through the sky and intensely stared at it as if it was looking through time and space. As he flips the pages of the book and murmured some strange words from his mouth.

‘Thu'umii los nahlot!’ (The silent voice will wreath beneath the shore of void)

Strange symbols suddenly emerged from the book, as it appeared and floated in the middle of his eyes as it saw the strange symbols starting to merge itself and slowly transforming into runes that look like characters.

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Confused, the figure looked at his own right hand, a glowing orb could be seen floating above from its palm, giving a sense of pressure just by looking at it. But when the energy was to about emerge into characters, an impact of godly presence suddenly came out existence, instantly absorbing the runes circulating around the book.

The runes suddenly lost its luster and dissipated, the figure then slowly opened his eyes as scenes of images ran through his thoughts, with knowledge continuously brimmed into his consciousness assimilating its contents, until an ancient language belonging to the gods took form.

[You have acquired the [Celestial] Language of the servant of the deities]

Excited, as if the figure had been waiting for this moment for a long time, he reached behind him and grasped the dagger lodged in his spine. The weapon looked like a tongue, its guard resembling a crescent moon with pointed tips. The hilt was exquisitely carved from dragon scales with the head of the dragon protruding outward.

The figure exerted his strength to pull out the dagger from his back. The figure found out that the dagger was still resisting its strength despite regaining part of its energy earlier from the shout. Determined, the figure shouted a maddening cry that resonated through the sky, bringing a pressure that shattered the ground and created a fissure around him.

‘Aar ag al alok!’ he shouted, reading the syllables from the book while holding it. The figure laughed maniacally, yelling at the last moment bathed with tinge of vengeance, as blood and tears flowed from his eyes.

“You took everything from me, now it's time for me to take it back,” said the figure as it laughed, as the dagger excruciatingly tore its mind into pieces like it was pulling its soul out from its body.

But even so, the figure insisted without any shred of hesitation, as if it already made up his mind to take out the dagger from his body no matter the cost.

Everything seemed to stop in that moment, time moving slowly as the trickle of blood could be heard for a moment of a second.

But as the dagger was about to be pulled out, the stone pillar suddenly shivered, and the sky darkened and the land trembled with fear for what was to come.

And with that, the figure opened his eyes and spoke, "Betrayal."