In the heart of the Ramsis Empire, atop the floating citadel of Aurum, the golden castle gleamed like a second sun. Its spires pierced the heavens, wrapped in radiant banners woven with gold-thread runes.
The halls within were silent but alive. Every wall carved with chronicles of conquest, and every corridor scented faintly of incense and ancient divinity.
At the center of it all, behind the colossal diamond doors of the Imperial Sanctum, Emperor Moses Tur lay upon a massive bed of white silk and celestial crystal. His body was still but his presence filled the room like thunder.
The air itself bowed around him. The Emperor was not dead. He was in slumber, locked in the eternal duel between mortals and the divine chaos.
His long white hair shimmered faintly under the soft aureate light of the Sanctum's lanterns. He wore his ceremonial priest robes, pure white with golden embroidery spiraling down to his ankles.
A small cross hung over his chest, glinting gently against his motionless breath. His hands were joined as if in eternal prayer. A calm mask of serenity veiling the chaos waging inside his mind.
Around him, the imperial family gathered.
At the Emperor's right stood Empress Safa Tur, draped in a silver gown adorned with pearls. Her dark amber eyes were weary and sleepless. Her lips pressed together in a prayer she had repeated for days. Her hands trembled faintly as she clutched a rosary, whispering softly under her breath.
"His pulse is steady," said one of the court healers. "His spirit…. it's warring across a thousand realms."
Safa's gaze didn't leave her husband. "He's been fighting for forty-nine days." she murmured. "Forty-nine days.… in the slumber of madness."
To her left stood Reya Tur, the elder daughter. Poised and intelligent. Her golden eyes sharp like twin blades. Her long, wavy blonde hair was tied neatly behind her back. Despite her beauty, there was a quiet storm within her. She had inherited her father's presence, his indomitable gaze and his pride.
"Mother," Reya said, voice calm but taut, "if Father truly defeats them all…. if he conquers the Madness, he'll ascend beyond mortality itself?"
Safa's expression was torn between hope and dread. "Uptie 5…." she whispered. "I don't know much about it. Most people thought it to be just a legend. Your father was a believer of it."
The title alone made the air quiver. To become "Artorias" — the peak of existence. No mortal had reached that point since the 4th Holy War of Earth and Heaven.
Near the foot of the Emperor's bed stood Fayn Tur, the younger son. Unlike his sister, Fayn was restless, youthful yet haunted. His blue eyes darted constantly, unable to bear the stillness of the room. His brown hair was messy, his uniform slightly undone. He clenched his fists, pacing.
"How long do we keep praying?" he snapped. "He has been gone. Fighting, for months inside his own mind! What if he doesn't come back?"
"Fayn!" Reya's tone was sharp, imperial. "Mind your words."
The young man looked away, biting his lip. "You're talking about 'if he conquers madness,' but what if the madness conquers him? What if the man who wakes up…. isn't Father anymore?"
Silence fell over the room. Even the guards by the gilded door looked uneasy.
Empress Safa exhaled shakily, her voice came soft carrying an edge of command. "Enough, both of you. He's not gone. He's merely…. walking through the bridge. What can we do is just to wait until he finishes crossing it."
At that, the High Scribe approached. A frail old man with ink-stained robes, carrying a thick tome wrapped in golden silk. He bowed deeply before the Empress and the heirs. "Your Grace, Your Highnesses, this is what His Majesty left behind before the slumber."
He unwrapped the silk. It was a scripture titled,
" The Script of Tabbur. "
The book's cover was bound in sacred leather, etched with radiant symbols older than the empire itself. When opened, it emitted a dazzling light. The pages were written in languages that shimmered and shifted, half unreadable to the mortal eye.
Reya stepped closer. "The Script of Tabbur…. the record of ancient events."
The Scribe nodded. "Indeed. But more than that. His Majesty deciphered the invocation within the Call of the Ancient Seraphims."
Fayn frowned. "Seraphims? You mean those mythical beings from before the Second Cycle?"
"They're not myths, young lord." the Scribe said, his voice trembling. "They are witnesses — the first creations, the keepers of cosmic law. And the Emperor's writings suggest.… they still exist if not physically, spiritually."
Reya's eyes widened. "So Father's last act before slumber was…."
"To warn us something?" Safa whispered, realization dawning like sunrise.
The Scribe bowed again. "If His Majesty awakens. If he returns from confronting countless Overseers. He may bring the Seraphims back into our world alive."
Everyone fell silent. The golden light of the Sanctum flickered.
Fayn stared at his father's motionless form. "If he wakes up.…" he said softly, "….he won't just be Emperor. He'll be something more."
Reya closed her eyes, whispering, "Then may the divinity guide him home."
The Emperor's hand twitched faintly. Just once and every candle in the golden castle flickered.
....
The streets of Nayga was quiet. A warm amber glow rolled across the cobblestone as lanterns hummed softly in rhythm with the breeze.
Tom or rather, Albert Newton, walked alone beneath the light. His trench coat trailed faintly behind him, brushing the puddles from last night's drizzle.
He wasn't heading anywhere specific. The air smelled of cinnamon from the nearby bakeries and oil from airships drifting above the skyline. His focus wasn't on the world. His mind drifted elsewhere within the glowing interface that only he could see.
With a soft exhale, he muttered,
"Open store."
The space before his eyes shimmered faintly. A holographic display flickered to life.
[ System Online ]
[ Welcome back, Albert Newton. Accessing System Store.... ]
Tom scanned the list lazily, sliding his finger through the air. "You really love the dramatic openings, huh?"
[ Acknowledged. Presentation protocol enhances user engagement. ]
He smirked faintly. "That's one way to say you like hearing yourself talk."
[ Humor detected. Logging tone as 'sarcasm' for behavioral calibration. ]
"Don't you dare."
He swiped through the tabs again. There it was. The thing he was finding in blue in the catalogue,
[ Sellable Lore: Carna Forest, Ocean that bestowed light ]
It was worth a fair amount. He hesitated only briefly before saying, "Sell it."
[ Confirm transaction: Carna Forest ]
[ Profit: 12,000 coins. ]
[ Processing.... Done. ]
The glowing circle spun and then the store shifted, revealing new equipment unlocked by the sale.
[ New items available for purchase. ]
Two weapon slots appeared before him elegant and dangerous.
The first one was a curved katana with a dark steel sheen. The blade hummed quietly like a restrained whisper. Its name gleamed beneath,
[ Kuga – The Curse Measurer ]
Tom touched the display lightly. "Cuts through curses and concealments?"
[ Affirmative. Kuga cleaves through invincible or sealed auras, hexes and dimensional binds. Precision-grade. No energy drain. Its power depends on your rank ]
He grinned faintly. "Finally, something with style."
Beside it, another item shimmered. A sleek, obsidian-black plasma rifle, compact but radiating lethal energy. The inscription beneath pulsed,
[ Pallbearer – The Soul's Toll ]
[ Weapon classified: Anti-life kinetic plasma armament ]
[ Function: Decreases target life force on impact ]
[ Secondary effect: Localized detonation and life-steal within a 10km radius. ]
Tom blinked. "That's.… overkill, I guess."
[ Efficiency optimized for survival. Overkill is a subjective term. ]
He sighed. "You really sound like someone who had never had to reload."
[ Statement invalid. System does not require reloading. ]
A quiet chuckle escaped him as he confirmed both items.
[ Transaction complete. ]
[ Inventory updated. Kuga and Pallbearer added. ]
[ Coins spent: 10,000 ]
[ Balance : 9,000 Coins ]
The interface faded, leaving Tom standing again beneath the dim streetlights, his reflection rippling faintly in a puddle.
He could feel both weapons within his inventory whispering their presences. The katana's shift felt sharp and disciplined; the rifle was cold and hungry for its first boom.
"Curses and life " he murmured. "Both things I keep cutting through."
The wind shifted. Somewhere distant, thunder rumbled faintly behind the horizon.
[ Reminder: Every weapon bears a soul. Choose which you awaken. ]
Tom looked up, eyes narrowing toward the clouds. "Yeah." he said quietly, slipping his hands into his coat pockets.
"I already did."