Damien entered the meeting room where every god affiliated with the Eternal Hearth awaited. The table was full...Loki, Hestia, Freya, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Takemikazuchi, Miach, Demeter, and now Kali, who had earned her place among them. Her grin was wide as she settled into her seat, her eyes never leaving Damien.
He sat down at the head of the table, his presence commanding immediate silence.
"This recent war," he began, his voice steady and calm, "we have lost many good people. But we have managed to repel the enemies. Which means we no longer have to worry about the outside. Our focus will be a hundred percent on the enemy ahead of us—the dungeon. And conquering it."
Loki leaned forward, her fingers tapping against the table. "That comes after rebuilding the city. Do not forget, we have lost countless resources. We should focus on first acquiring funds." She turned to Fels, who sat at the far end of the table, his dark robes concealing his features. "You. When is the Guild giving us our earned money? Have you forgotten? Damien and Ais killed the One-Eyed Black Dragon....the most powerful and only undefeated Great Quest. Well, it fell. It has been a week. We need the funds to help the city."
Fels shifted in his seat, his voice calm but apologetic. "I am sorry to disappoint you all. But our treasury is also low now. Due to the war and recent events, adventurers are not moving into the dungeon, so the money has not been coming in. We too have spent it all... on the city rebuilding."
Loki scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "What?!"
Hestia's face fell. Freya's expression remained unreadable, but her golden eyes flickered with concern. The other gods exchanged uneasy glances.
Damien raised a hand, silencing the murmurs.
"Do not worry about the funds," he said. "I will get them for us."
Loki turned to him, her brow furrowed. "How? Even if you go into the dungeon now, it will be days before we can farm and sell magic stones."
Damien stood, pushing his chair back. "Oh, I am not getting them from the dungeon."
He walked toward the window, his steps measured and deliberate. The gods watched him, confusion and curiosity flickering across their faces.
"Where are you going, then?" Loki asked.
Damien turned to face them, a cold smile playing on his lips. His shadows coiled around him, rising like living things. They spread across his back, forming wings of pure darkness.
"Where else?" He looked at them, his eyes gleaming with purpose. "Did you forget? Three Kingdoms attacked us. Altena. Rukia. The Empire. Their soldiers ran away—but that does not spare them from punishment."
He stepped onto the windowsill, the wind catching his hair.
"I am going to raid each kingdom. And I am going to make them cough up their gold."
Before anyone could respond, he leaped.
His shadow wings caught the air, and he shot into the sky, disappearing into the clouds.
The gods stared after him, stunned.
Loki opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. "Alone?" She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Well... actually... yeah. He can totally do it alone."
Her lips curved into a grin.
"But..." She paused, then laughed. "No. No buts. It is time the world knows that Orario is not to be messed with....Even if it's that cunning bastard"
...
Altena. The Kingdom of Magic.
The kingdom operates on a complete magic supremacism. There is a strong elitism among mages and wizards, and the citizens boldly proclaim that "magic is everything." The country despises any of their own without aptitude for magic, even if they belong to a prestigious lineage.
It is filled with elves...those that didn't belong to either the white elves, the dark elves, or the high elves...ones that fled to the outer world. But the kingdom wasn't exactly a heaven. One of the biggest reasons was Orario. They despised Orario and the city's natural attraction of greater mages, specifically ones like Riveria and Lefiya.
But what approaches them is a massive darkness...one none predicted. After failing the war against Orario, a war they didn't want to join, they awaited daily for an emissary from Orario, or something. But nothing came. They had hoped that Orario was simply too busy to care about them. But today, they knew it wasn't the case.
It was a normal morning, just like any other day. However, something was off today.
Rayla of the Land, the leader of the Seven and Leader of the Kingdom....which had no King...led the council of the seven, high lords of magic who acted as the pillars of the city. She didn't understand why, but she knew her feelings were not from nothing. She was the greatest earth mage in the world, a dwarf who had established herself as leader of the Seven, something no other dwarf had ever achieved. So she knew that if the land was afraid, a great calamity approached.
And she was right.
That bright morning was darkened when a pair of massive dark wings emerged atop the city, then crashed into the Great Castle.
She instantly rushed there. And she saw it....a being of no equal. Completely dark. Eyes purple. Armor made of shadows that twirled and twisted. His eyes aimed at the throne where she should have been.
"Where is the King of Altena?" he spoke.
She was afraid to answer. Worried. After all, what she was looking at, as a Level Six mage, was not something that could be defeated.
The other members of the Seven were here too. All quiet. None of them dared to speak. So she did.
"It is... I... Rayla of the Land. May I know who you are?"
Before she could even utter another word, his hands were around her neck, choking her. He threw her onto the throne. She couldn't even muster up magic as he spoke: "You are the King?"
"Altena doesn't have a King..." she struggled to speak. So he released her. "We have a council of the Seven. I'm the leader of the council," she replied.
"I see..." He then moved back, the shadow coiling around him dissipated, revealing his face....quite handsome. It shocked Rayla and the others. Seconds ago, they saw a demon. Now, they looked at a very handsome man.
"I am Damien Ardent. Leader of the Hearth Alliance and Representative of Orario. I'm here to ask a few questions... and also, war reparations. You all didn't think you could try to invade Orario without consequences, did you?"
Rayla swallowed her saliva then nodded. She knew who Damien was. The Level Ten. The God of Orario. And the warrior who had slain the One-Eyed Black Dragon. She had to nod.
"No... I knew this would come. I apologize. We... we didn't want the war. But there are seven of us. If the majority votes, I cannot do nothing about it. So please... leave our citizens alone. We'll pay the war reparations," she replied.
"Good. Then get on with it," said Damien.
"Uhm... how much?" she asked.
He grinned. "I want half."
She questioned, "Half?"
"Half of all what you have in your treasury. Now."
One of the Seven, who had been quiet, a woman, shouted, "WHAT! NO! WE CAN'T ACCEPT THAT!"
"Danna, silence!" shouted Rayla.
"No! I will not be quiet! We can't let this outsider come here and extort us! We are the Seven! No matter how strong he is! Together! We can...."
Danna the Frozen. Considered herself the greatest ice mage in the world. A Level Six. A high elf. She had faith that she could win any fight....or at least survive it.
So why was her head rolling on the ground? Why did she die?
"DONNA?!" shouted Rayla.
Damien grabbed her throat. "I don't remember asking. You attacked us. Playing the victim now means I can go around and kill anyone who stands in my way. And take it all. Feel grateful that I asked for half."
"Enough! Stop this!" shouted another voice. It belonged to an old man.
Damien turned. "What? Another one of you wants to die?" He then locked eyes with the old man and spoke. "Ah... a god, are you? And a great one at that."
The old man stepped forward...eye patch, mostly bald with gray hairs. Very skinny and short.
"I am the All Father... Odin."
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