In a separate dimension…
A man sat atop a massive basilisk—a creature of such immense proportions it towered over mountains. Each time it moved, the land groaned beneath it, the ground trembling from one horizon to the next, unable to withstand the weight of something that large crossing over it.
And yet—
For all its terrifying scale…
For all its overwhelming presence…
This colossal beast was nothing more than a tremor.
Just one among many.
One of countless forces that belonged to the man seated leisurely across its back—a man every single person on Earth would recognize, even if you dragged them up and beat them to unconsciousness ten times over.
This was Zakon Vagra.
The Titan of War.
The Zenith of Human Perfection.
The Hegemony of Conquest.
The man who had charged into a horde of Echoforms numbering in the millions—creatures only found in Orange-graded Mirrorths and above—and faced them alone.
He slaughtered them.
He tore through the entire army by himself. One man against millions—and he was the only one who walked out alive.
This was Vagra.
The First Ranked Hero.
And, arguably, most arguably, the strongest man alive.
"Hmm… another Songborn," he muttered, his lips curling slightly as if the news had only amused him and nothing more.
He stretched with a yawn, casually patting the colossal beneath him. "Come on, Drogan. A little faster. The Shattertone Horror is getting away."
His tone dipped into mild annoyance as he looked ahead at the retreating mist of darkness, the mass howling with a vile sound that fractured the space around it, cracks spreading wherever it passed.
Yet for all its terrifying presence…
It was running.
The colossal surged forward, picking up speed.
And Vagra leaned his head back and laughed, the sound rolling across the dimension like thunder.
"Hahahaha… how exciting. A new Songborn, huh? I can't wait to meet you."
His grin widened.
"I hope you won't be a disappointment… my newest sibling."
***
In the continent of North America, within the metropolitan city of Soveil, stood a massive temple.
The temple was a gigantic spire looming over the city, its surface etched with murals and symbols that shifted endlessly across its walls as if they were alive. Its architecture was so unique, so dazzling, that anyone seeing it for the first time would be left mesmerized within seconds.
The city of Soveil, while not as advanced as Arvon, came closer to it than any other city on Earth. And yet, there was something different about it.
A quiet reverence.
Something that lingered in the air in a way Arvon never had.
Around the temple, numerous Choir Knights moved with purpose, their bodies thrumming with power.
There wasn't a single person who wouldn't recognize this place.
This was the Choir of Dawn.
A temple that represented hope—something countless people had anchored their faith upon. In a world where thousands died every day to the insidious invaders that had wrecked their planet, it was only natural for humanity to search for something higher. Something to believe in.
And the Choir of Dawn, worshippers of the First Voice—the Song that had once resounded across the minds of the world before the Inversion Epoch—had become that answer for many.
Deep within the temple, in a darkened room, countless golden resonance strings glowed faintly, stretching across the space in intricate layers, weaving into a vast, interconnected web.
They rang softly.
A sound so light, so lilting, so mesmerizing that anyone who heard it might feel their soul settle… as if drifting in calm, endless waters.
A female voice echoed through the room.
"Searching…"
Behind the speaker, two wings could barely be made out in the darkness. When she shifted slightly, her feathers rustled, ringing like the chiming of bells.
"The spark… where…"
The resonance strings responded.
Their ringing grew louder.
The lullaby deepened.
"I have never seen a fate this difficult to trace."
The strings began to move faster now, shifting, tightening, the entire web brightening as more and more strands lit up, flooding the room with a growing golden radiance.
"But I will find you… Songborn."
The light intensified, turning blinding.
The ringing surged.
The strings pulsed—
Once.
Twice.
Then—
A soft giggle.
"Finally found you… Elias…"
"…Verdan."
***
A man sat atop a worn-down throne, half of his face a rotting mess. A gigantic serpent coiled around his neck, its body draped over his shoulders as it hissed softly, two red eyes glowing in the darkness of the throne room.
Two men knelt before him.
Their faces were twisted—warped by something deeper than madness. The kind of look that only came from people who had slaughtered thousands and still slept soundly after.
"I do not like this," the man on the throne said, his voice a rasp, dry and grating like sandpaper.
"Those humans… those pitiful worms have gained yet another one of those freaks that have already caused us enough trouble."
He exhaled slowly.
"It's unfair."
He sighed.
"It's annoying."
His hand moved, idly patting the serpent's head before his gaze dropped back to the two kneeling figures.
"Just like me, the other Lords have already deployed their assassins to deal with this before it becomes a problem. Take your units. Wait for the signal."
He grabbed the serpent by the neck.
It hissed violently, body tightening—but he didn't care.
With a sharp pull, he tore its head clean off.
The body slackened instantly, dissolving into drifting grey fog as the severed head slipped from his grasp.
[🎵🎵Your Tremor has been destroyed.]
The voice of the Song echoed faintly in his ears.
He ignored it.
His gaze remained fixed on the two assassins. "The moment this Silent Thread shows himself, you will kill him."
His voice dropped lower. "Even if it costs you your lives, no matter what… he must not live. For the sake of the Dissonant Hand."
"For the Dissonant Hand," the two men echoed, their voices sharp, their expressions filled with dark, unshaken fanaticism.
And while all of this unfolded—schemes moving in the open, others buried deep within the shadows—
One question lingered.
Who was this Silent Thread?
Why hadn't the Awakened revealed himself?
No one had the answer.
But whether they realized it or not…
Something was coming.
Whether it would be a calamity—
Or a blessing—
Only time would tell.