(Arc 1: The Heaven's Cry)
— The Descent of Judgment
---
The sky was wrong.
To mortal eyes, it shimmered like dawn breaking — but to those who could sense divinity, it was the opposite.
The heavens were bleeding.
Golden clouds, once radiant with divine harmony, turned crimson as cracks spread through them like veins of molten glass. Each fracture bled light and sound — the hymns of angels unraveling into screams.
And then the descent began.
---
From the highest layer of the Celestial Realm, the Middle Court moved.
They were seven — neither the weakest nor the mightiest, but those chosen to enforce divine law upon all realms.
Each bore the mark of Judgment: a circle of light branded into their right eyes, allowing them to see through souls and unmake what defied order.
Their leader, God Vehris of the Seventh Spear, looked down upon the mortal realm with a gaze colder than any flame.
> "The decree is clear," he said. "Erase the anomaly before it learns its name."
One by one, they stepped into the fracture between realms.
The mortal sky tore open.
---
In the ruined valley below, Vaen stood on a plateau overlooking the world that had forgotten its gods.
The wind had grown still, the air heavy with anticipation — as though reality itself awaited permission to breathe.
He turned his gaze upward.
He did not flinch.
He did not move.
Above him, seven pillars of light fell through the heavens, colliding with the earth in thunderous waves.
Mountains folded like paper. Forests disintegrated. The ocean in the far horizon rose into the clouds.
When the light faded, seven figures stood before him — their feet hovering above the shattered ground, their presence bending the air around them.
God Vehris spoke first.
> "Mortal child of the forbidden storm," he declared, voice echoing across time, "you are charged with existence unpermitted. Surrender your soul, and your death shall be merciful."
Vaen tilted his head slightly.
His expression was unreadable — the calm of someone who saw nothing worth fearing.
> "Mercy," he repeated softly. "That's what you offer the things you don't understand."
The gods tensed.
Something in his tone — not anger, not defiance, but pity — made the divine tremble.
Vehris raised his spear, its tip radiating light sharp enough to cut through souls.
> "You speak with arrogance beyond your birthright."
Vaen's eyes lifted.
For a moment, the world seemed to slow.
And then, it listened to him.
The clouds froze mid-drift.
The dust hung motionless in the air.
Even the echo of Vehris's heartbeat fell silent.
> "Do you know," Vaen said quietly, "why the storm screamed when I was born?"
No answer came.
His gaze deepened — not glowing, not changing, just focusing.
And suddenly, the spear in Vehris's hand cracked.
One fracture.
Then two.
Then a thousand.
The weapon forged by divine flame disintegrated into dust before the god could even react.
The others drew their blades, forming seals in the air — runes of annihilation, the kind that erased even memories of existence.
They unleashed their judgment as one.
A storm of divine energy swallowed the valley — enough to erase entire civilizations.
Light consumed everything.
When it faded, the gods stood panting, wings trembling from the strain.
But the boy was still there.
Unburned. Unmoving.
His hair lifted faintly in the breeze, and his voice came like a whisper beneath the crackle of dying thunder.
> "You make too much noise."
And the light that should have blinded gods dimmed.
The seven fell silent as the sky darkened again. Their divine forms flickered — not from injury, but from the unbearable realization that something in this world did not obey their laws.
Vaen stepped forward once.
The ground beneath him folded like silk, reshaping to avoid touching him.
> "You call yourselves gods," he said, tone flat, "yet you look at me with fear."
Vehris's voice shook for the first time.
> "What… are you?"
Vaen's gaze met his.
No emotion.
No answer.
Just silence.
Then, from the edge of hearing — a faint hiss.
Not of wind.
Not of flame.
But something ancient moving within him.
A voice whispered from inside his soul:
> "They remember me…"
And for the first time, Vaen blinked.
His calm cracked — not in fear, but in recollection.
A fragment of memory — a serpent of shadow, coiled around a blade of light — flashed before his mind.
Vehris stepped back, feeling the world shift beneath reality itself.
> "Seal him!"
But it was too late.
The air between them shattered like glass.
A ripple of silence spread outward, erasing sound and light alike.
When it passed, three gods were gone — erased so cleanly that even their thrones in heaven turned to ash.
The survivors fell to their knees, trembling.
Vaen looked down at his own hand, calm returning.
The strange black aura that had appeared around his fingers faded into mist.
> "So that's what they feared," he murmured.
Then he turned and began walking away, as if nothing had happened.
Above, the heavens roared in panic.
The First Voice rose from his throne, shouting,
> "He has awakened the Dream!"
But down below, the boy didn't even look back.
> "Let them come," Vaen whispered. "I'm done hiding."
The storm began again.
And this time, the heavens cried not from rage —
but from realization.
---