Above the altar, three vortexes of light formed, each very different from the other.
The first was a writhing mass of shadow, black tendrils curling like smoke, edged with a faint crimson glow.
The second was a void of deep purple, flecked with stars, its edges crackling with unstable energy.
The third was a radiant orb of gold and white, pulsing with warmth, its light so pure it seemed to burn away the shadows. The vortexes spun faster, their energies clashing, sending shockwaves through the hall that rattled the chandeliers and cracked a mosaic tile beneath Arkanos's boots.
Suddenly, the vortexes collapsed inward, each converging on the altar with a final, blinding flash. The light vanished, leaving a heavy silence, the air crackling with residual energy. Three figures stood where the vortexes had been, their presence filling the hall with an almost tangible weight.
The first was a woman cloaked in a sleek, blood-red mantle that clung to her lithe frame, its edges frayed as if dipped in gore. Her long black hair fell like a curtain of shadow, framing a pale face with crimson eyes that burned with intensity, glowing like fresh-spilled blood.
Twin daggers hung at her hips, their blades curved and serrated, etched with red runes that pulsed with a sickly red light, as if fed by the lives they'd taken.
The air around her carried a faint, coppery tang, and her presence seemed to draw the warmth from the room.
〘 ⋄ System Notification: You have summoned Nyxara, the Crimson Reaper, SSS Rank Blood Assassin. ⋄ 〙
The second was a boy, cute and youthful, no older in appearance than fourteen, his frame delicate beneath robes of deep purple embroidered with constellations that shimmered faintly.
His short, jet-black hair was streaked with violet, framing a pale face with calm, ageless eyes that glowed softly with star-flecked light.
Despite his boyish form, his demeanor was serene, almost unnervingly composed, as if he carried centuries within him.
At his hip, in a black leather case, was a grimoire embedded with a black orb that pulsed with void energy, distorting the air around it.
His presence was vast, cold, like standing at the edge of an endless abyss.
〘 ⋄ System Notification: You have summoned Theron, The Eternal. Dark Series, SSS Rank Voidcaster Mage. ⋄ 〙
'Another dark series? Hopefully he won't be problematic,' Arkanos thought.
The third was a figure of radiant beauty, a man with golden hair that shimmered like sunlight, his white robes flowing as if caught in an unseen breeze. His eyes were a soft, glowing amber, filled with warmth, and a faint halo of light hovered above his head.
He wore white and golden robes, with a golden necklace around his neck bearing a judgment scale, a pair of glasses, and earrings.
His hands were gloved, and his very presence soothed the chaos in the air, calming the tension in the room.
〘 ⋄ System Notification: You have summoned Aelion, the Herald of Dawn, SSS Rank Lightweaver Support. ⋄ 〙
The priests and priestesses fell silent, some bowing, others trembling, as the three heroes turned their gazes to Arkanos.
Nyxara stepped forward, her crimson eyes sparkling with glee, her voice sweet and bubbling with excitement. "Oh, my lord! You called me! Who do you want me to kill? I'll carve them up really good, I promise—nice and messy, just for you!" She clapped her hands, her daggers clinking softly, her smile wide and eager.
Aelion raised a hand, his voice calm, regal. "Calm yourself, Nyxara. Restrain your fervor. You stand in the presence of His Radiance—you'd better behave yourself."
He stepped forward, then gracefully dropped to one knee before Arkanos, his right hand above his chest, his golden hair catching the candlelight, his amber eyes steady and reverent.
"Your Radiance, you have called me forth. What is it you wish of me? Speak, and I shall serve without reservation, for I exist to fulfill your will."
His tone was warm but formal, his posture a perfect blend of devotion and dignity.
Theron, the boyish mage, sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes with a small, pale hand, his voice dripping with annoyance. "Ugh, really? Dragged me out of the void for what? What's the point, huh? Another war, another mess…" He leaned on his staff that materialized in his grasp, his star-flecked eyes half-lidded, his tone tired.
Arkanos's smirk vanished, his eyes narrowing as he fixed Theron with a piercing stare. "Mind your tone, boy," he said, his voice low, edged with steel that made the air in the hall feel heavier.
"You stand before the Emperor of Bloodbane. Show respect, or I'll teach it to you."
Theron rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated huff. "Yeah, sure, because what are you gonna—" His words cut off abruptly, his body freezing as his star-flecked eyes widened, locking onto Arkanos.
Something shifted in the air—an immense, suffocating darkness radiated from the emperor that only he… one who was accustomed to the abyss… could see. A void so vast and cold it seemed to swallow the light from the candles.
Theron's staff trembled in his hand, his knees buckling as he dropped to the floor, his voice a shaky whisper.
"My… Sovereign? Is that you? You vanished eons ago… Were you reborn as a human? Are you plotting against the gods?" His boyish face was pale, his calm demeanor shattered; instead, he was now in awe and fear.
Aelion's amber eyes flicked to Theron, his tone sharp with disapproval. "What are you prattling about, mage? Your words border on disrespect to His Radiance. Mind your choice of words, lest you tarnish the sanctity of this moment."
He rose to his feet, his gaze stern as he looked down at Theron's kneeling form.
Nyxara giggled, twirling a dagger in her hand, her crimson eyes darting between Theron and Arkanos. "Ooh, someone's in trou~ble! Don't worry, my lord, if he's naughty, I can carve him up too! Just say the word!"
Before Arkanos could speak again, the system interface flared to life in his vision, its shimmering green panel expanding to display three detailed windows.