The Primordial's Blessing (Part 2)
The Otchali family was less than three hundred years old since its founding, and less than a hundred since Dombele Otchali arrived in the Intermediate Zone.
Thanks to his terrifying talent — the Dark Body, Class SS — Dombele managed to stand out among his peers, build a name in the Divine Domain, and earn absolute respect in the Intermediate Zone. Moreover, he became the leader of the Knights of Darkness, a level 5 guild with more than fifty thousand elites.
When Nzinga was born, a celestial phenomenon occurred: the sky, within a radius of hundreds of kilometers, went completely dark, plunging everything into deep shadow, as if a domain itself had manifested.
Such a revelation at birth, combined with Dombele's power and prestige, ensured that Nzinga grew up inside a protective shell, a kind of bubble that isolated her from the real world. This protection stained her perception of reality and shaped a unique perspective on life.
For her, there were almost no consequences — everything seemed justified.
Everything changed when, at the age of five, Nzinga awakened her talent — long before the others of her generation. And it was no ordinary talent: it was the Dark Domain, Class SSS.
This early awakening and terrifying power further increased Dombele Otchali's prestige. From that moment on, rumors spread that Nzinga could become the next Monarch of History.
That expectation fueled even greater growth for the Knights of Darkness, which reached its current number: fifty thousand elites.
It may seem small in the midst of a zone inhabited by trillions of beings, but in the Knights of Darkness guild only individuals with Class B talent or higher are accepted. Gathering so many talented people in one guild is equivalent, in practice, to wielding the strength of a common organization with more than half a million members.
When the first ceremony ended, the elder who had presided withdrew as well.
Billions of eyes turned to the arena. Some watched from home through their screens, eagerly awaiting this moment; others had the fortune of witnessing it in person, feeling the heavy atmosphere in their very skin.
Then, a middle-aged black man, with an imposing appearance, a well-kept white beard, and firm steps, emerged. His mere presence made the crowd hold its breath.
Soon, everyone was awestruck as they recognized who he was.
He was Nduma Ngola, of the Ngola family, belonging to the race of the Sacred Palancas.
The Sacred Palancas are a clan specialized in spiritual power. They are said to be one of the few races with whom the Primordial still communicates, even after withdrawing from His creation since the First Great Holy War.
Masters in the manipulation of auras, they carry singular prestige. Legends affirm that of the seven Monarchs of History, at least three had a Spiritual Palanca presiding over their ceremonies.
In more than ten ceremonies, the Primordial's Blessing had manifested under their supervision.
This made the race of Spiritual Palancas one of the most respected in the entire Divine Domain, raising them to a level of unmatched prestige.
The Angola family had an ancestor on the 11th level.
They were spread throughout all neutral zones.
When he stepped onto the stage, he looked at the crowd, fervent with his arrival. Raising his hand, silence instantly fell over the arena. Then, he began a speech:
"**O ancestral spirits, dwelling between shadow and light, receive today our voices, our offerings, and our reverence.
Since the dawn of the Tower, when the Primordial withdrew from creation, we, His children, have walked the path He left behind — the path of trial, of blood, and of ascension.
Today, before the Coliseum of the Ten Saints, billions of eyes bear witness. Young ones, warriors, dreamers: each step you take brings you closer to your destiny. Each breath ties you to the thread of eternity.
May the Primordial gaze upon us, as He once gazed upon our ancestors. May His blessing manifest, whether in silence or in thunder.
To the Otchali family, who today offer their daughter Nzinga, I remind you: the weight of the gift is as great as the brilliance of hope. Let your darkness not be a prison, but wings that lead you beyond the heavens.
And to all gathered here, remember: the ceremony is not merely a rite of passage. It is a pact. A pact with the past, with the present, and with the future. Those who cross this fire never return the same.
May the Coliseum be witness. May the ancestors be guardians. And may the Primordial, if He so wills, make this the day when a new legend is born.**"