Eight days had passed since the death of Reia the Beast, and the world seemed to breathe a little easier, unaware of the shadow still watching from above.
Outside the castle, perched on the weathered stone ledge of a soaring window, the black bird watched silently, its bright red eyes reflecting the scene inside like polished rubies. The sun was warm today, Sunday, April 26th, pouring golden light across the room in long, lazy streaks. A soft breeze drifted through the open windows, carrying the sweet, heavy scent of the nearby gardens.
Inside, the Great Sages rested. Iris, Eiden, Seraphaine, Morvath, and Dravien sat around a low table, playing a card game with quiet laughter and the occasional groan of defeat echoing against the high ceilings. Vaelus and Selyndra slept on the couch beside them—Vaelus was sprawled across her lap, his head resting on her stomach, while Selyndra held him like a child, her arms wrapped around him protectively. Her breathing was slow and peaceful, her golden hair spilling over the cushions like liquid sunlight. It was a moment of rare, fragile peace.
The bird blinked once. Then, with a sharp beat of its wings, it launched itself into the sky.
As it ascended, it glanced down at the distant battlefield—the place where Reia and her daughters had met their end. The ground was still scarred, the earth torn open by the violence of the magic, and the air remained faintly stained with the metallic remnants of the clash. The bird circled once, observing every detail with cold, unnatural precision. Then, it flew on.
For days it traveled, crossing jagged mountains, ancient forests, and dead, forgotten plains. The sky gradually darkened until the sun no longer reached this region. Nor did the moon. The land here was a colorless void; the grass was dead and yellowed, crunching like brittle bones beneath the wind. At the center of this wasteland stood a massive castle of obsidian—towering, jagged, and ancient.
The bird navigated the castle's dark, cavernous halls until it reached a vast throne room. There, seated upon a throne carved from a single block of black stone, was a figure that commanded the shadows themselves. Ou'weii. The Demon King.
His skin was a shadowed gray, darker than storm clouds. He was enormous, broader than any mortal warrior could hope to be, encased in black armor etched with ancient runes that pulsed with a deep red light. His face appeared young, yet it was carved with an expression of cold, eternal calculation. His glowing red eyes flicked across the papers in his hand.
The bird landed and bowed low. "My lord."
Ou'weii didn't look up. "Go ahead."
"The Great Sages and King Tcil have killed Reia and her daughters. All of them."
Ou'weii finally lifted his gaze, the weight of his stare pressing down on the bird. "Reia was powerful. How did she allow herself to die?"
"Reia stated she had no real hate towards him," the bird said carefully. "And… this is not the same Eiden you faced three hundred years ago. His aura is larger than Civilar's. Far larger. He now possesses Creation Magic—transferred to him by Seraphel."
"I see…" Ou'weii murmured. "Seraphel's magic is potent, but he could never use its full destructive potential. He lacked the mana capacity to wield its highest spells. If he wished to evaporate an entire landmass, he could not."
The bird was interrupted by the sound of frantic running. A human woman rushed into the throne room, breathless and pale, clutching a brown letter. She bowed until her forehead nearly touched the stone. "A letter from Lord Yajin!"
Ou'weii extended a massive hand, took the letter, and dismissed her. He read aloud, his voice echoing in the chamber:
"'Lord Ou'weii, I know it is unusual for me to send you a letter. Despite your crimes deserving judgment, I will not target you now. I assume you are aware of Reia's death. I write to inform you that I will be seeking Eiden myself. Tell Civilar I do not want either of you interfering. You both may be powerful, but I hold a weapon you both fear. Watch yourselves. —Yajin, God of Judgment.'"
Ou'weii lowered the letter, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
"What weapon, my lord?" the bird asked.
"The Sword of Judgment," Ou'weii's voice dropped to a dangerous rumble. "We fear it because a single touch evaporates the soul. The wielder becomes permanently immune to all spells while the blade is in hand."
"But if that's the case," the bird paused, "how did Eiden land a hit on Yajin many years ago?"
Ou'weii's eyes narrowed. "Eiden is a master of concealing mana and deception. He knew never to approach Yajin directly. He used illusions and clones to toy with him, striking from behind. A frontal approach would have been suicide. And now… Eiden has returned, but even stronger."
The bird processed this, its feathers ruffling. "He is very smart."
"Extremely," Ou'weii said. He leaned back, his fingers tapping the armrest—a slow, deliberate sound. "Eiden has returned."
The bird gathered its courage. "Sir, I have another question. Eiden and Selyndra are elves, Morvath is a demon… but what are the others? They have lived for over a thousand years, yet no human has discovered immortality."
Ou'weii nodded. "Dravien is a magical cat. As for the rest, you're right—not a single human. Eiden found the key to immortality and created potions and spells for his Sages."
"And their races…?"
"Iris is a Crimson-Blooded—something older than a vampire. Vaelus is a Chronian; time flows differently through his body, and Eiden had to stabilize him to prevent him from fading. Seraphaine is a Luminari—a race of pure light that burns out without control. Eiden gave her that control."
The bird's feathers puffed in surprise. "So the Seven Great Sages are…"
"A collection of the rarest races in existence," Ou'weii finished, "all bound together by Eiden's immortality. He has lived for over five thousand years. A bored elf like him spends centuries mastering secrets. He is the first person in history to master more than a million spells—many obtained from the Three Gods themselves."
Ou'weii leaned forward, his voice a whisper. "Eiden is a living grimoire. He likely has a spell to turn this planet to hell."
"A million…?" The bird's voice trembled. "Then why hasn't he taken over the world already?"
"Because he doesn't care to," Ou'weii chuckled, a sound like grinding stone. "Eiden is driven by purpose, not greed. Until that purpose is threatened, he won't move."
"And if someone does threaten it?"
Ou'weii's expression darkened, the shadows swallowing the light. "Then the world will remember why kingdoms feared him and why even the Celestials refused to provoke him. The gods themselves once watched him with caution."
A cold breeze swept through the sealed room. "So… what happens now?" the bird asked.
Ou'weii looked toward the distant horizon, where faint light shimmered in the dark.
"Now?" he said quietly. "Now we wait. Eiden has awakened… and the world is already shifting."