The silence of the plain had changed.It was no longer empty. It was listening.
As if the earth itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the unseen would become inevitable.
At the center of the newly claimed camp, Kael knelt.He traced a slow circle in the dust, then, with one finger, drew impossible glyphs.
No human mage could have read them—they weren't written in ink, but in pure intent.Runes of non-existence. Of negation.
Lyssara watched, seated a few steps away.— You told me you'd build an empire. And you're starting… with a drawing?
Kael didn't answer.He plunged his hand into the earth.And the world trembled.
A black wave rippled out from the circle, consuming the ground in a steady pulse—like an inverted heartbeat.
Pillars of shadow slowly rose from the soil, black, cracked, engraved with unstable symbols.The wind picked up.
The brigands had backed away, terrified.
But Kael remained still.He whispered a phrase in a language no living being knew.And the circle locked into place.
— What is this? Lyssara whispered.— The Anchor Seal.
— For what?He stood. His gaze burned with new light.— To create a zone where the laws of the world are suspended. A stable island in chaos. A core.
My empire begins here. Not with walls… but with will.
The ground split slightly, revealing ancient foundations buried for centuries.
Kael extended his hand. The surrounding mana trembled, drawn into the seal.— You're feeding it with your mana?— No. With the Void. It doesn't need to be sustained. It contradicts. It exists outside the cycle.
Night fell.
The sky turned crimson.
And a black symbol appeared above the seal—Invisible to ordinary eyes, but seen by those who knew how to look.A warning to the gods.A promise to the damned.
But this wave—this fracture in natural law—did not go unnoticed.
Interlude: The White Inquisitor
Far, far away, in the Tower of the Divine Lineage, a mirror cracked.And a man opened his eyes.
His name was Malric of Andoras, Grand Inquisitor of the Clear Flames.
He served the High Deities of the Solaar Pantheon—keeper of the Dogma, executioner of heresies.He watched the ripples spreading across the mirror's surface, then whispered:
— A Void Anchor. On the dead lands…
He closed his eyes, then called out:— Prepare the Expiation. I'm heading to the plains.
Back at the Camp
Kael sat in the center of the seal.
A strange sensation washed over him.He was no longer within the world.He was at its edge.
His perception expanded.The space around the seal had become malleable.
The laws of mana, fire, wind, gravity… floated. Hesitating.He could bend everything here.
Lyssara joined him, hesitant.— What do you plan to do now that you have your base?
He turned to her.— Draw them in. Test them. Provoke them.
She frowned.— You want them to come.
— Exactly.
— You're insane, she whispered. If they send an archmage… or a lesser god…
Kael smiled.
— Then I'll learn how to destroy them.