The Sanctum of Solis, a marvel of architecture and sacred history, stood at the heart of Solus, the bastion city of House Apollo, the largest city in the region of Eternal Dawn. Its grand hall served a dual purpose: it was both a strategic command center for the house's military and a sacred space for the most significant rites dedicated to Gaea. The sanctum's towering green columns gleamed in the light streaming through its high-vaulted tinted windows, creating a serene yet imposing atmosphere. A massive chandelier of sunstone and crystal hung in the center, casting refracted rays across the intricate mosaics on the marble floor—depictions of Gaea nurturing the world in her eternal embrace.

At the sanctum's heart, the Core of Atlas pulsated steadily with an otherworldly light. It was a relic of immense power, bearing the essence of the fallen primordial Atlas. For three centuries, the core had undergone purification, a grueling and methodical process led by House Apollo's clerics and scientists. Now, with its purification nearing completion, the air in the sanctum buzzed with anticipation.

Around the core, a circle of clerics chanted their purifying prayer, their voices resonating in harmony.

"Oh Gaea, Mother of All Creation, From whom life springs eternal and pure, Cleanse this relic of its darkened heart, Let its light shine anew in thy name. With roots of earth, with rivers' flow, With winds that breathe, and flames that glow, Restore thy balance, thy sacred grace, And banish the shadows from this place.”

As they chanted, luminous threads of energy wove through the air, creating a glowing web that encased the core, its once-corrupted surface now flickering with a faint golden hue. The prayers carried a power beyond words, blending with the rhythmic hum of the core to fill the hall with an almost tangible aura of sanctity.

Beyond the clerics, a team of scientists worked diligently, their instruments capturing every fluctuation of the core’s energy. Some muttered theories about the final stages of purification, while others marveled at the miraculous resilience of the ancient artifact. Even after centuries, the core’s significance as both a source of power and a reminder of Atlas’s legacy had not waned.

On the second-floor inner balcony of the Sanctum of Solis, Marge Verdant stood with her communicator in hand, her dark cloak—emblazoned with the crest of House Verdant—stirring gently in the sanctum’s sacred air. As the captain of the Phantom Shadows, she exuded a commanding presence born of resilience and purpose.

Speaking in low, deliberate tones to her vice-captain Nova over the communicator, Marge maintained an air of focused determination. Both women were bound by a shared oath to bring down Mnemona, the mind-controlling Titan who had once held them captive in Aetheris.

“The Titan hasn’t been sighted yet,” Nova clarified through the communicator, her tone steady but underpinned with urgency. “But there’s been a report from locals in the grassy plains of Kazhamara. People are acting strangely—they’re all showing the same symptom: glowing yellow eyes. It definitely was her.”

Marge’s grip on the railing tightened as her sharp gaze shifted to the horizon. “That does sound like her handiwork,” she said thoughtfully. “Nova, keep digging. Stay cautious, and don’t engage unless absolutely necessary. I’ll wrap up things here in Solis and join you as soon as I can.”

There was a brief pause before Nova replied, her voice brimming with determination. “Understood. I’ll keep tracking her trail. We’re close this time, Captain. I can feel it.”

Nova's decision to pursue vengeance against Mnemona had reshaped her entire path. A brilliant mind and a passionate researcher, she had once dreamed of rising through the ranks of the Oracles Innovators, the prestigious science division of Equilibrium, where her innovations could have cemented her legacy as one of the greatest scholars of her time. However, the events in Aetheris had changed her. Controlled and manipulated by Mnemona's insidious power, Nova had endured a nightmare she could never forget. When the opportunity arose to join the Phantom Shadows, Equilibrium's elite intelligence unit, Nova made the ultimate sacrifice: she abandoned her dream of becoming a top researcher, knowing that in this role, she would have a greater chance to track down Mnemona and end the Titan’s reign of terror. Though she had traded her lab coat, her analytical mind remained her greatest weapon in their tireless hunt.

On the ground floor of the sanctum, the chants of the clerics grew louder, their crescendo accompanied by a burst of radiant light that momentarily illuminated the entire sanctum. The sight drew Marge’s attention back to the core, a faint smirk touching her lips as she observed the culmination of centuries of effort.

Footsteps approached from behind her, soft but deliberate. Marge didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Martin Apollo, with his glittering golden hair that caught the light of the core, stepped up beside her. He flashed a familiar smile, one that hadn’t changed since their days as comrades in the academy.

“Still keeping an eye on things from up here, Captain?” Martin teased lightly, his voice carrying that familiar blend of charm and wit.

Marge glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, smirking. “Someone has to make sure you don’t get distracted, Apollo.”

Martin chuckled, leaning casually on the railing beside her. For a moment, they watched the activity below in silence—the flickering lights of the purification rite casting long shadows across the sanctum. But the quiet didn’t last long.

“So,” Martin began, his tone shifting to something more serious, “what do you think about it? Two Emperor Rings awakening in such a short span. Feels like the world’s tilting on its axis.”

Marge’s expression hardened slightly, her gaze still on the glowing core below. “It’s unsettling, to say the least,” she admitted. Her thoughts lingered on Hans Nimbersonn, their former comrade. She shook her head slightly, her lips curling into a faint, nostalgic smile. “That guy never fails to surprise me. From the clumsy boy I once knew to the leader of the Aegis Enforcers. And now his ring… Who would’ve thought it was secretly one of the legendary 13?”

Martin nodded. “Hans has always had a knack for rising to the occasion. But then there’s the other one—the girl from House Ignis.”

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Marge’s smirk faded at the mention. “No one knows much about her. House Ignis has always worked in isolation, even when they’re supposedly part of the Four Great Noble Houses. They don’t attend the academy, don’t fight in the wars. I can’t even remember the last time I saw a member of House Ignis.”

“They’re unpredictable,” Martin agreed, his voice laced with caution. “She’s a wild card. Conjuring mechanical golems is no small feat, especially when it’s tied to an Emperor Ring. Her abilities could shift the balance of power entirely.”

Marge leaned slightly on the railing, her sharp eyes darkening. “Hans has pledge his loyalty to the Order of Equilibrium. But her? No one knows what she’ll do. That makes her dangerous.”

Martin’s brow furrowed, his gaze distant. “The awakening of an Emperor Ring always heralds a new era. Something is definitely coming.”

“That’s why we can’t afford to be caught off guard,” Marge said firmly. Her mind was already racing with plans and contingencies. “We’ve come too far to lose ground now.”

Martin nodded, his gaze following hers down to the pulsing core of Atlas. "The Titans are relentless," he said, the casual tone gone from his voice now. “two decades of non-stop attacks. But there’s still no sign of Rem or the Primordial Coeus. It’s like they’re waiting for something.”

Marge’s eyes narrowed, her mind racing. The Titans had been attacking without pause, always testing the boundaries of their defenses, but the real threat—the one they feared most—remained hidden. Coeus, the Primordial Titan of Cosmos, had not made an appearance, but they knew it was only a matter of time before they strike again.

Martin offered a faint smile. “At least we’ve the order to rely on,” he said, glancing down at the pulsing core of Atlas. “And soon, we’ll have this too. Once it’s purified, it’ll be a weapon strong enough to stand against them.”

Marge’s jaw tightened. “Then we need to make sure nothing—and no one—interrupts this process.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Marge turned slightly, her hand instinctively brushing against her side, where her weapon rested. Two figures stepped into the chamber, their expressions as tense as the atmosphere itself.

Harry, the vice-captain of Oracle Innovators, moved with a strange elegance. His skeletal frame seemed almost frail at first glance, but Marge knew better. The pallor of his skin and the slight brittleness to his movements belied the deadly precision of his abilities. His ring, Mortis Aegis, was as ominous as its name suggested, granting him control over his own bones. With it, Harry could extend, reshape, and weaponize his skeletal structure, turning even his ribs into jagged spears that could slice through metal with ease. His cold, calculating eyes flickered with a quiet intensity, revealing a mind as sharp as the edges he created.

Beside him walked Kurt Young, a man whose demeanor couldn’t have been more different. His sandy brown hair fell messily across his forehead, and his easy, casual stance seemed at odds with the immense power he carried. Kurt’s Graviton Forge, a ring that gave him mastery over mass manipulation, was a weapon of terrifying versatility. Marge had seen him increase the weight of a single blade to crush an iron door and reduce boulders to dust by lightening their mass until they scattered like ash in the wind. Despite his unassuming appearance, Kurt was a walking force of destruction, his strength as much a test of his strategic mind as it was raw power.

“Captain,” Harry called out, his voice sharp and direct. “We’re nearing the final stage of the ritual.”

Kurt, hands casually tucked into his pockets, added, “The core’s purification is almost complete. We need you with the team.”

Martin’s demeanor shifted immediately, his expression hardening as the weight of responsibility settled over him. “Duty calls,” he said with a faint smirk, though his eyes betrayed a gravity that hadn’t been there moments before.

Marge gave him a nod, her voice steady as she called after them, “Make sure the core is purified.”

“Don't worry, house of Apollo always delivers.” Martin replied over his shoulder, throwing her a quick smile before he turned and joined Harry and Kurt. The trio moved quickly, their pace picking up as they made their way toward the lower sanctum, where the glowing core of Atlas awaited its final purification.

Marge stood in place for a moment, her gaze lingering on their retreating figures. Her thoughts turned to Martin. With his family’s legacy of strategic brilliance and a military background steeped in tradition, he would have made an excellent captain for the defense or vanguard units—positions that demanded both tactical acumen and decisive action. Yet, here he was, leading the science division, a role far removed from the battlefield. Perhaps that was exactly why he excelled; his innovative approach and calm under pressure made him indispensable in unraveling the mysteries of the core.

——

From her vantage point on the second floor, she could see the purification ritual unfolding in the sanctum below. The glowing core pulsed with a radiant energy, its light reflecting off the assembled clerics who stood in hushed reverence. Now, Martin and his two companions had joined the fray, their presence lending an air of urgency to the proceedings. The final stage of purification was delicate, requiring both precision and vigilance. Even from this distance, she could see the strain etched into Martin's features as he issued quiet instructions to his team.

Her comms crackled to life once again, breaking her focus. The voice on the other end belonged to Anggie, one of the most esteemed members of the Phantom Shadows, her tone sharp with urgency. “Captain, Titans are detected in the left and right wings of the city. Multiple signatures.”

As the report came in, Marge felt it too—a sudden, unmistakable surge of monstrous energy. Her moth familiars, dispersed throughout the city since her arrival, began relaying a jarring, chaotic pattern of movements. It wasn’t just one or two Titans; it was a coordinated incursion. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

“Time for the hunt to begin,” she murmured, bolting toward the nearest exit.

Her voice was steady but commanding as she sent a message to the remaining Phantom Shadows. “Titans in the city. Left and right wings. Mobilize and engage. Do not let them near the sanctum.”

She emerged into the open air, the city sprawled out before her in a tapestry of torchlight and shadow. From her elevated position, she could see the first signs of chaos—a merchant’s cart overturned, figures darting through the streets, and distant plumes of smoke rising against the darkened sky. The moths she had released surged back toward her, their collective wings beating like a whisper of warning. Their message was clear: the Titans had appeared, spreading across multiple locations.

Marge’s mind raced as she assessed the situation. The sanctum was the priority. If the Titans disrupted the purification ritual or claimed the core, the consequences would be catastrophic. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

She sprinted toward the heart of the city, her cloak trailing like a shadow behind her. Her moths spread out in every direction, tiny scouts feeding her information in a steady stream of vibrations and faint images. Every pulse of energy they carried told her of the danger: Titans advancing from the eastern gate, another near the marketplace, and more approaching the southern wall. They were converging, and fast.

With a quick motion, she activated her comms again. “Phantom Shadows, split into squads. Prioritize the Titans closest to civilian areas. I’m heading to the southern wall. Report back once the first wave is neutralized.”

Her heartbeat quickened as she approached the city streets, weaving through the narrow alleys with practiced ease. The shadows deepened around her, responding to the power of her ring. Each step brought her closer to the fray, her resolve hardening with every passing moment. The hunt was on, and Marge would ensure it ended in their victory.

As she ran, a fleeting thought crossed her mind: the purification ritual had to succeed. No matter the cost.