image [https://i.imgur.com/eY2gF5l.png]

In the heart of the thriving nation of Octavia, a bastion of prosperity, lies its illustrious capital - a paragon of refinement unmatched by any other. This nation stands as a beacon of freedom and opportunity, a sanctuary of knowledge and hope. It can be likened to a heavenly abode on Earth, where its bustling streets pulse with vibrant life and positive energy. In this vibrant atmosphere, people engage in their daily pursuits, trading, conversing, and laughing, unburdened by the cares of the world.

Within the heart of the Capital, a spectacle of unparalleled elegance arose towering all others. The Grand Palace of Octavia, a masterpiece, adorned with opulent gold and exquisite luxuries, each artistic element a testament to supreme craftsmanship. Majestic statues of the monarch stand tall and proud before the palace gates, flanked by knights clad in glistening armor of purest white.

The ruler of Octavia, King Julius, was a young leader who ascended to the throne following his father's passing. Despite his royal title, his authority is often overshadowed by the council's influence. While his political power is limited, he possesses significant might in terms of military prowess and personal strength.

Entering the throne room, strides Grismala, the Witch Queen of the Elves, her presence announced with fervor. She proceeds with graceful steps across a blue carpet that stretches before her, symbolizing the serene nature of her approach.

"Lady Grismala, Witch Queen of the Elves, graces this chamber!" the announcer proclaims with resounding voice.

Julius, seated regally upon his golden throne, straightens as he hears the announcement, his gaze fixating on the elf traversing his halls. His eyes widen, captivated by her presence.

With a dignified bow, Grismala pays homage to Julius, her bearing exuding an air of grace and authority. Her voice resonates in the hall as she begins to speak.

"King Julius, great ruler of Octavia! I have come with a purpose - to secure the release of Miss Mila Ashenhaul from your prisons."

Julius's demeanor shifts, skepticism tinging his expression. "Mila Ashenhaul stands accused of conspiring with the Demon God. Do you challenge this assertion?"

Grismala's response is swift and impassioned. "There exists no tangible proof of these grave allegations."

"Do you impugn my word, then?" Julius counters, his tone laced with authority.

It was Julius who rescued Mila from the abyss, a feat well-known to all. His victory over the demon Ifrit established him as a formidable warrior, rivaling even the Arch Angels. His power elevated him to the echelons of the divine, recently achieving godlike potential.

"With all due respect, Your Grace," Grismala retorts, "we remain in the shadows regarding the truth. The capture of Mila Ashenhaul, the daughter of Michael, could potentially aid the forces of darkness. I beseech you to consider our options."

"Utilize her? Absurd! I shall not be swayed by personal sentiment. My judgment is not guided by emotions."

Annoyance flickers across Grismala's features, concealing her exasperation. Julius, a king renowned for might but criticized for incompetence, appears wise on the surface but a fool beneath.

In a moment of insight, Grismala recalls Julius's pride, a quality that sparks an idea.

"I stand before you as the emissary of Lady Gray. My interests are secondary. It is she who demands the release of Mila Ashenhaul."

"What role does Lady Gray have to play in this?" Julius's inquiry resonated through the chamber.

"While we hold in high regard your efforts in rescuing Mila Ashenhaul, Lady Gray envisions a different fate for her—a destiny that extends beyond these confining walls. Surely you out of all people understand the weight of her demands?"

After a contemplative pause, Julius's response resonated, fraught with an air of arrogance.

"I shall entertain the notion of releasing Mila Ashenhaul, as per Lady Gray's request. However, in exchange for my compliance, I seek recompense."

"What do you perceive as your rightful reward, Your Grace?"

"I insist upon Mila Ashenhaul's induction into our imperial knighthood," he proclaimed.

His words rippled through the assembled crowd, sparking a chorus of disbelief and indignation.

"Such audacity!"

"Unbelievable! A blatant disregard!"

These murmurs were but a fraction of the dissenting voices that arose.

A venerable figure clad in white robes stepped forth from the assembly, bowing humbly before the king. "My lord, the inclusion of an elf among the imperial knights could precipitate unrest among the people. It would undermine the sacred principles that the Holy Empire and our nation have upheld. It threatens not only the unity of our land but the very essence of the holy order itself. The holy knights, a bastion of human service to the divine, cannot accept this."

"Do you speak for the knights or for yourself?" The king's question was pointed, his gaze narrowing as he confronted the man head-on.

Amidst a hushed silence, Grismala and the others watched, the king's attention squarely fixed on the individual before him.

"You appear to forget your place. As the leader of the Imperial Knights, I, Julius of Octavia, hold the ultimate authority in determining who merits entry into our esteemed order. Your outburst leads me to believe that you prioritize your own prejudice against elves above our collective effort to vanquish our foes."

"I concur," Grismala spoke, her words laced with the cunning that defined her character. "Your recent outburst, however, has cast an unnecessary shadow upon your allegiance."

The assembled crowd stirred, exchanging murmurs and wary glances.

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"No... something feels amiss here... Who are you, mysterious figure clad in white? I do not recall anyone of your stature in my service." Julius's voice carried an undertone of suspicion, his gaze now focused intently on the enigmatic stranger before him, his true identity still shrouded in obscurity.

In an instant, the hoods of countless figures in white robes were thrown back, revealing their identities.

"Who...? Who am I you ask...? I... I... I am... Yosef Pendrogo! Cardinal of the cult of Arbious! Brace yourself, self-proclaimed usurper king for your time has come to an end!!" Yosef's voice boomed with an air of menace and authority.

With swift precision, the robed figures drew their daggers, launching a ferocious assault on the unsuspecting crowd. Guards lunged forward in response, but the onslaught was brutal, leaving numerous casualties in its wake.

Julius's response was immediate; he rose from his throne, his sword drawn in one seamless motion. Simultaneously, Grismala distanced herself from the chaos, invoking flight magic that propelled her upward, removing her from immediate danger.

"IN THE MIGHTY NAME OF LORD ARBIOUS! YOUR LIVES END HERE AND NOW!" Yosef's command echoed through the chamber, his followers fueled by fanatical fervor.

"I've had enough of your words!" Julius's voice cut through the chaos, his determination evident. His blade gleamed as it sliced through the air, conjuring a dazzling arc of light that swept through the room, obliterating all assailants save for a lone cultist who managed to narrowly evade the devastating attack.

This was Julius's pride—a spell of his own creation: Holy Slash. A seventh-tier skill that dispensed righteous retribution to the forces of darkness.

"Hands of the abyss PROTECT ME!"

From beneath, a manifestation of darkness surged forth, resembling sinister hands with elongated, shadowy fingers. These obsidian appendages emerged with an almost sentient urgency, interposing themselves between Yosef and the onslaught of holy magic aimed squarely at him. The hands extended and entwined, weaving an intricate web of defense that enveloped his body in its entirety, akin to an impenetrable fortress of shadows.

Yet, the force behind Julius's Holy Slash was unrelenting. The divine energy surged forth, colliding with the shadowy barrier in a spectacular clash of opposing forces. The air itself seemed to tremble as the holy light struggled against the encroaching darkness. For a moment, it appeared as though the hands might hold, as tendrils of smoky obscurity wavered in their resolve.

Then, with a resounding rupture, the barrier gave way. The sheer intensity of the Holy Slash was too great to be contained. The shadows fragmented and dissipated like shattering glass, unable to withstand the righteous fury that Julius channeled through his blade. The assault tore through the darkness, striking Yosef with a glancing blow that sent him reeling.

However, despite the impact, Yosef's indomitable will persevered. The wound was grievous, but it was not the end. As the echoes of the holy magic subsided, Yosef's body convulsed with pain. In a display of swift agility, he propelled himself away from the throne, distancing himself from the range of Julius's immediate retaliation.

"Deliver this message to your master! If he seeks my demise, he shall need more than this motley crew!" Julius's voice dripped with mockery, his confidence unwavering even in the face of danger.

"You misunderstand... Ha...haha...hahahahaha! He... HE REMAINS IGNORANT OF OUR ACTIONS! WE ACT OF OUR OWN VOLITION!" Yosef's laughter bordered on madness, his eyes ablaze with an unsettling fire. There was madness ignited within Yosef's eyes, his magical power surging uncontrollably. "I WILL END YOU! YOU WILL PERISH! FOR MY MASTER! DIE DIE DIE!"

With relentless fury, a maniacal energy, Yosef charged forward, dagger poised for a deadly strike. His movements were swift, his intent clear - to strike down Julius and claim victory.

Yet from the skies above, a flurry of ice shards rained down, forcing Yosef to halt abruptly. The shards glistened with a deadly beauty as they shimmered in the air.

His gaze shifted upward, fixing on Grismala, suspended in the air. Her power radiated like an ethereal storm, and her eyes blazed with a cold intensity that matched the ice she commanded.

"WITCH... WITCH WITCH WITCH!" Yosef's voice cracked with rage and frustration, his anger directed towards the woman who had disrupted his assault.

"Silence, puppet of corruption. You amount to nothing more than a marionette..." Grismala's retort rang out, her voice unwavering amidst the chaos. Her words were a cold indictment, a reminder of the control that Yosef's master held over him.

"Nothing more??? NOTHING MORE?! I'LL HAVE YOU REGRET THOSE WORDS.... YES... BUT NOT HERE... NOT NOW... THERE ARE TOO MANY!!! AHHH, MY MIND IS DESCENDING INTO MADNESS! YOU ARE ALL FOOLS!!! I'LL SHOW YOU! I'LL MAKE MY MASTER PROUD!"

Yosef's voice cracked like a whip, his desperation and fury intertwining into a chaotic symphony. His eyes blazed with a mix of defiance and madness, his very being a tempest of conflicting emotions.

Seeing he was outnumbered, he didn't hesitate; he surged back towards the exit, his steps fueled by a surge of frenetic energy. The guards who stood before him met swift ends, their defenses no match for his desperation-fueled savagery.

Grismala and Julius, unyielding in their pursuit, trailed closely behind him. However, Yosef's resolve seemed to morph into something darker and more potent. With a sinister expulsion of dark magic, he unleashed a torrent of malevolent energy that tore through the air. The very fabric of reality seemed to shudder as he unleashed this force, his actions beyond the comprehension of ordinary mortals.

In an explosive burst, the entirety of the wall and gate that once stood before him was obliterated. Stones and debris were hurled in all directions, creating a chaotic storm of destruction. The blast was so powerful that it seemed as though the very elements themselves had bent to Yosef's will.

Yet he wasn't done. Yosef's voice rose to a crescendo, a chilling incantation escaping his lips as he cast flight magic upon himself. A voice echoed through the chamber. "In the name of Lord Arbious, I shall bring despair to this nation! This is my DECLARATION!!! AHAHAGAGHAHA!"

With his ultimatum set in motion, Yosef grins maniacally as dark tendrils of magic encircled him, propelling him upwards and away from the scene of the battle. His departure was marked by a trail of darkness that seemed to swallow the light around it.

Grismala and Julius stood side by side, their gazes locked onto the retreating figure of Yosef. The aftermath of the battle was etched in the shattered remnants of the wall, a testament to the ferocity of the conflict that had unfolded.

A sense of anger gripped Julius, a raw frustration that manifested in the swift, almost effortless sweep of his blade. The sword sliced through the remaining debris of the wall, the blade's edge gleaming in the fading light. "Damn it! How did we allow the demon cultists to infiltrate our ranks?!"

Grismala's eyes remained fixed on Yosef's vanishing form, her demeanor composed despite the chaos that had transpired. Her voice dripped with a calculating venom as she replied, "Yosef's next move would undoubtedly be to target the outlying towns and villages of Octavia. He's cunning enough not to strike at the capital once more."

"I'm well aware of that!" Julius's response was sharp, his frustration palpable.

"Then use the holy knights at your disposal to eliminate him," Grismala suggested with a tone of practicality.

"I wish it were that simple," Julius sighed heavily. "Did you not see his power? He's no ordinary cultist; he's a member of higher standing, perhaps even one of their leaders."

"One of their leaders?" Grismala's voice held a tinge of disbelief, her eyes widening as she absorbed the implications.

"Yes," Julius confirmed, his expression grim. "I've crossed blades with these vile beings in the past, but Yosef... he's proven to be the most formidable of them all. The magic he wields, it's as if he's gained the favor of Arbious himself. He poses a threat unlike any we've faced before. My men alone cannot overcome him."

Grismala's gaze remained steady, her mind working quickly to find a solution. "There are many variables to consider, but time is not on our side. I propose that we utilize Mila Ashenhaul for this purpose. She withstood Arbious's power and her abilities are exceptional."

"Very well," Julius nodded, his frustration slowly giving way to a resigned acceptance. "Release Mila Ashenhaul from her confinement. I'll allocate a portion of my own men to serve under her command. Promote her to the rank of lieutenant, granting her the authority to assign and deploy our forces as needed. She'll be responsible for safeguarding the outlying towns and villages. And if the situation demands, witch," he turned his gaze to Grismala, "lend her your aid."