The Persian Pantheon, the Sacred Pool.
Mist drifted through the air as prismatic light refracted across the gently rippling, milky-white water. Beneath the surface and along the pool's edges, fire agate, sapphire, amethyst, moonstone, and other rare minerals were set in place, creating a scene of lavish brilliance.
Splash…
A moment later, the clear sound of water rang out as the tall, powerfully built, flawless King of Persia stepped out of the pool and ascended the steps.
A breeze brushed past him. The lingering chill and dampness on his skin made Cyrus frown slightly. He circulated his divine power, warmth radiating from within and evaporating the moisture from his body.
In an instant, his perfect physique was completely dry. The precision of that control left Cyrus quietly satisfied.
Hiss!
But the moment he took another step, a harsh, grating tremor rose from below. Cyrus instinctively looked down and saw twisted, fungus-like red and black divine patterns flickering across his body.
Crack!
Like ice splitting under crushing weight, fractures spread across his chest in an instant. A searing pain that gnawed at bone and heart surged through him like a tidal wave.
Thud…
Cyrus's body gave way, and he dropped heavily to his knees, hands braced against the ground. Veins bulged across his forehead, blood vessels crawled over the whites of his eyes, and large beads of cold sweat poured down his face, neck, and back.
Even the slightest movement sent every muscle trembling, every bone crying out, every drop of blood boiling…
The red-black patterns spreading outward from within writhed beneath his skin like snakes, insects, and worms, burrowing and devouring, eroding flesh and gnawing at his body. The agony was unbearable, turning his once flawless form into something like fragile porcelain, ready to shatter at any moment.
Pfft!
Chaotic Ether surged like a cataclysm within him, colliding violently. Cyrus's face shifted between pale and ashen as he coughed up a mouthful of dark, corrupted blood, his strength draining away.
Where the blood mist splattered onto the marble floor, the solid stone instantly melted and fractured.
Overwhelmed by the pain, Cyrus the Great abandoned all pride and composure. Staggering, he turned and hurled himself back into the sacred pool.
Sizzle…
A harsh, grating sound filled the air, like flesh thrown onto a searing iron plate, as the sacred pool began to boil violently.
The milky-white liquid that came into contact with the red-black markings on his body instantly vaporized into mist. In the blink of an eye, a full third of the pool's water was gone.
Even so, the cooling and restorative properties of the liquid began to mend the cracks in Cyrus's body.
After a long while, the figure submerged in the pool finally rose from the mist-laden water, leaning weakly against the stone wall, utterly exhausted.
Damn it…
After going to such lengths, even the purest place couldn't eliminate this Curse.
Cyrus's expression shifted darkly. He raised a hand to his chest and shoulder, where a dull pain lingered. Beneath his skin, the red-black markings coiled like snakes, clinging stubbornly, still faintly visible.
Just who was that foreign god?
Not only was his strength absurd, but the authority he wielded was terrifying. Even Angra Mainyu, one of the twin pillars of Persia, had…
As his thoughts drifted back to his two clashes with that man, unease rose in his chest, his eyes filled with wary apprehension.
After resting for a full three hours, Cyrus felt his condition stabilize and his strength largely return. After a brief pause, he rose slowly from the pool, stepped onto the stairs, and left the mist-shrouded area.
Entering the rear hall, Cyrus spread his arms, allowing the attendants who approached him to dry his body and dress him in fresh garments.
From repeated attempts, he had learned that as long as he refrained from using his divine power recklessly, the curse on his body could be suppressed for the time being.
But maintaining that state required him to spend long hours soaking in the pool every day, treating himself like a fragile crystal doll, cautious in every movement.
For a god who stood above all others, a ruler with grand ambitions, this was no different from crippling himself. The frustration was suffocating.
Perhaps, with enough time and careful experimentation, he could eventually find a way to neutralize the Curse.
But now, with the Huns withdrawing and Egypt turning against him, the tides had shifted. The situation was growing increasingly unfavorable for Persia.
His ambitions could not afford to wait that long.
Feeling restless, Cyrus waved off the nearby attendants and paced alone in the shadows of the corridor for a long time.
At last, as the sun set and the moon rose, and the night deepened, the Great King of Persia suddenly lifted his head. A resolute glint flashed in his eyes. He turned and walked through the central hall that enshrined the six pillar deities, Khsathra Vairya, Spenta Armaiti, Haurvatat, Ameretat, Vohu Manah, and Asa Vahista, before entering the Ahura Sanctuary sealed behind heavy doors.
Within the vast, ethereal hall, the statue of the God of Light loomed from above, gazing down upon all below, making those who knelt feel insignificant and small.
Under the shifting interplay of light and shadow, Cyrus suppressed the unease in his heart. His lips moved as he confessed all he had done and witnessed, then he spoke with sincere devotion.
"…Ahura, Lord of Light, King of Wisdom, our true god, forgive my sins, heal me, grant me guidance, and help me defeat my enemies!"
Creak…
A violent gust swept through the hall, the doors and windows rattling heavily. The sacred flames burning on either side flickered wildly, their color shifting from orange to a blazing white. The kneeling figure below seemed even more insignificant, like a worm clinging to the ground.
"You failed?"
"…Yes."
A voice, indistinct in origin and fading into nothingness, echoed faintly in Cyrus's ears. He clenched his teeth and lowered his head in response.
Under that piercing scrutiny, every second stretched unbearably long. His muscles trembled without him realizing it, and cold sweat soaked his back.
"…Very well. To have come this far is no small feat. Release your body and mind, and accept the purification."
After a long silence, the calm and authoritative voice softened slightly. The blazing white light gradually lost its harsh glare. The tension in Cyrus's body finally eased. He exhaled, relaxed, and closed his eyes.
"O king upon the earth, I shall cleanse your sins. I shall grant you the wisdom to glimpse revelation. I shall bestow upon you the name of victory in all battles."
Like a hymn, like a proclamation, the resonant voice echoed through the void.
Threads of milky-white light burst forth from the stone beneath Cyrus, spreading a gentle warmth. Pure and sacred radiance seeped into his body in fine strands.
The red-black serpentine marks, stirred by divine power, gradually melted away. A sense of lightness washed over him, as though all burdens had been lifted. His consciousness sank into warmth, drifting into a peaceful, contented sleep.
Until…
It vanished entirely.
Buzz!
In an instant, as the final strand of blazing white light sank in, every flame in the hall was extinguished at once. A solemn, sacred resonance vibrated in unison with the pulsing runes.
In the darkness, the King of Persia slowly rose, his gaze cold and unsettling.
He moved his limbs, at first slightly stiff, then gradually smooth and natural.
Then he raised his right arm, spreading his fingers. The brilliant white Magecraft array on the ground activated at once.
Moments later, an ornate golden chalice rose slowly from the earth's veins, lifting into the air before settling into his hand.
Standing in the hall, the figure tipped the cup, pouring out a thick, dark purple substance. It flowed into the engraved grooves of the Magecraft array on the floor.
At the same time, his lips moved, a solemn and distant chant echoing throughout the temple.
"Fill.
Fill.
Fill.
Fill.
Fill.
Repeat.
Let it be five.
Yet when it is filled, that is the moment of abandonment.
I declare:
Your body shall heed my command.
My will shall reside within your blade.
Answer the call of the Holy Grail.
Submit to this will, this principle, and respond!
Here I swear:
I shall accomplish all the good in this world.
I shall eradicate all the evil in this world.
I am the one who binds them in chains.
You are the one bound by the seven days of the Three Great Words.
From the crown you shall be summoned. By my sacred blood, the world shall be reborn and bathed in this!
Descend, and fulfill my great work, my ideal. Spirits who serve the Light!"
At once, a violent gale roared through the hall. Ether surged wildly, gathering in a frenzy. Seven pillars of light rose one after another, revolving in succession.
As the brilliance faded, figures that had been kneeling slowly stood up.
"Ha… hahahaha!"
The man threw his head back and laughed in satisfaction, draining the last of the liquid from the chalice. Turning, he gazed toward the night sky, where the stars seemed to twist and shift.
It was time to remake this world.