Twilight settled over the forest like a blanket of ash. The wind was soft and still.
King Alexander of Meriot led a royal procession through the dense woods, his white stallion picking its way between twisted roots and fallen leaves. His face, lined with age and wisdom, bore the weariness of decades on the throne. Behind him, soldiers marched in formation—alert, yet relaxed. In the carriage behind them, Queen Yulene peeked through velvet curtains as the forest drifted by.
Suddenly, she screamed.
"Darling! Stop the carriage! Look—over there, something's moving!"
Alexander raised a hand. The caravan halted instantly. Guards spread out, scanning the area. One approached the spot where the Queen had pointed—a pile of flesh beneath a tree, half-covered in leaves and dirt.
He knelt down, then froze.
"It's… a baby."
The others gathered around in disbelief. The child was barely alive—his skin a sickly brown, almost decaying in places. He looked more like a corpse than a newborn. Yet somehow, his chest still rose and fell. His fingers twitched. His eyes, dull but open, stared at the sky with eerie intensity.
"…He's breathing," the soldier whispered. "Barely."
Alexander dismounted, stepping forward with a grave expression. He stared down at the fragile infant and clenched his jaw.
"Who would abandon a child like this?" he muttered. "Left here to die… Unforgivable."
Yulene stepped out of the carriage, trembling. She reached her husband's side, and upon seeing the baby, gasped. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"We've prayed for years, and never had a child of our own… And now this? This is a miracle." She grasped Alexander's arm. "Let's take him. Let's raise him as our son."
"…Yes," the king said, nodding solemnly. "A gift from the heavens."
They rode straight to the Temple of Lucas, the human-born god revered across the land. Inside, the air was thick with incense and candlelight. A towering bronze statue of Lucas—youthful, long-haired, and serene—stood at the center of the sanctuary.
The Queen gently placed the baby at the statue's feet, and she and the King knelt in prayer.
"Oh Divine One," they whispered together, "please bless this child. Watch over him."
A sudden breeze stirred the flames. To them, it was a sign.
They returned to Meriot, a kingdom of peace and prosperity. The castle stood tall, carved into the side of a great hill, its tallest spire often piercing the morning clouds. They called it the Spear of Dawn. Below, the city bloomed—red-roofed houses, cobbled streets, green meadows rolling into the horizon.
And at the heart of it all lived the prince who was once abandoned. On a golden morning, the King stepped onto the palace balcony, the child wrapped in silks in his arms.
"Citizens of Meriot!" he declared. "With the blessing of Lord Lucas and our ancestors, I name this child—Judas!"
The crowd erupted in cheers. Trumpets blared. Meriot had a prince.
"Five Years Later"
Prince Judas had grown into a bright and gifted child. His skin had returned to a healthy hue, and his body and mind developed quickly. He excelled in both swordplay and scholarship, absorbing knowledge like a sponge.
One quiet evening, he lay curled in his mother's lap in the palace library.
"Mother," he asked, "who is Lord Lucas? Why does everyone call him a god? Isn't he human like us?"
Yulene froze.
She glanced around, then whispered, "Judas… never question Lord Lucas's divinity. He is everywhere. He hears everything. His power is… beyond mortal understanding."
"But—"
"Shh." She stroked his hair. "It's late. Time to sleep, my little prince."
She kissed his forehead. But Judas's mind remained restless.
The next day, he trained with his swordmaster, Wing—a grizzled veteran with a bald head and long mustache. Later, he studied politics and history with Mona, a sharp-tongued old woman with round glasses.
"Lord Lucas saved our world," she told him. "Over 300 years ago, he defeated the cruel gods and freed humanity. That war was called the Great Asgardian War. Since then, peace has reigned."
Judas listened carefully, but the questions in his heart only grew louder.
"Teacher Mona," he asked slowly, "if Lucas is perfect… why do slavery and hunger still exist?"
Mona stiffened.
"Class is over, Judas," she said coldly. "And remember this: the world is as it should be. Those who suffer… are paying for sins from past lives."
She left without another word, leaving Judas alone in silence.
That night, Judas climbed a hill that overlooked the kingdom. The moon hung heavy above the mountains. Stars shimmered like whispers in the sky. He sat beneath an ancient tree, gazing upward.
"If Lucas is truly a perfect god… why does everyone fear him?"
But his thoughts were interrupted.
"Prince Judas!" a guard called, rushing up the hill. "The king requests your presence in court. It's urgent."
Judas stood. A strange weight settled in his chest as he followed.
Inside the royal courtroom, the air was tense. The King and Queen sat upright, ministers flanking them. The moment Judas entered, Alexander gestured.
"Begin the report."
A minister stepped forward and bowed. "Your Majesties… we bring grave news. The kingdom of Ausweritch… has been destroyed."
Stunned silence.
"What?" Judas gasped. "Destroyed? By whom?"
"…By Lord Lucas himself," the minister said gravely.
The Queen shot to her feet. "Ausweritch was our ally! We've traded with them for years! Why would he do this? What if we're next?!"
"Please, Your Majesty," the minister said, raising a hand. "Our sources say the people of Ausweritch began to rebel. They called Lucas a false god. They rioted."
Alexander narrowed his eyes. "What caused such rebellion? What made them defy him?"
"They believed… he was just a man. A self-proclaimed god hiding behind divine power."
Yulene's voice trembled. "If questioning his superiority means death....then who among us is safe?"
The minister hesitated, "We have no reason to believe Meriot is in immediate danger. However, we must remain vigilant and prepared for any eventuality", then he turned to the King. "Your Majesty, if you grant me permission, I can use my ability to glimpse what occurred in Ausweritch five days ago."
Alexander nodded, sweat beading on his brow.
The room dimmed as the minister activated his magic and began to recount the vision.
Five Nights Ago…
The kingdom of Ausweritch—land of wizards—glowed with torchlight. In the throne room, King Joseph stood tall atop his dais. His white beard swayed, and his conical hat—a symbol of magical supremacy—gleamed in the firelight.
"People of Ausweritch!" he cried. "Tonight, we defy the false god Lucas! We will not bow!"
The crowd roared in support.
Then, a soldier burst in—bloodied, barely alive. He crawled forward.
"M-my king… they attacked… from the border…"
He collapsed.
Joseph rushed to him, knelt, and checked his breath. Nothing. The king turned to the crowd, fear in his voice.
"Prepare for—"
A sweet scent filled the room. One by one, the crowd dropped their weapons, dazed.
And then… the voice came.
"Joseph…"
Smooth. Calm. Unnaturally beautiful.
The king turned slowly.
A young man stood in the center of the room. Long black hair. Pale skin. A dark kimono draped loosely over his shoulders, exposing his chest. His eyes glowed faintly.
"Who are you?" Joseph asked, backing away.
The man chuckled, resting his head lazily on his palm as he sat on the throne like it was his own.
"Fool. You rebel against me without even knowing my name?" His smile widened. "I am Lucas."
Joseph's face contorted with horror. "Y-you're…"
Lucas raised a hand.
In a heartbeat, Joseph's soul was torn from his body. His corpse dropped—blackened, hollow, and rotting, it fell on the floor like a dry piece of flesh.
That night, Ausweritch burned, and as Lucas watched from the flames....the kingdom of Ausweritch vanished from the map.
---{End of Chapter 1}