The knock came without sound.
Eryndor felt it before he heard it—space itself shifting, a subtle pull that only someone who had crossed into divinity could sense.
Come to my office, Seraphina's voice echoed calmly in his mind.
Eryndor rose from his seat, storm energy fading beneath his skin, and stepped into the hall. One stride became ten. Ten became distance erased. The world folded politely around him.
When he arrived, Seraphina Caldris stood by the tall window of her office, hands clasped behind her back, crimson hair glowing faintly like embers beneath glass. The academy spread beneath them, rebuilt, alive, ignorant of how close it had come to erasure days ago.
She didn't turn immediately.
"You've crossed the threshold," she said. "Low Deity. Black Sun."
Eryndor leaned casually against the wall. "Sounds heavier every time you say it."
She smiled faintly and finally faced him. "Power always sounds heavier when it starts carrying responsibility."
Her expression sharpened.
"I have a mission for you."
Eryndor straightened—not rigid, but attentive. "I figured this talk wasn't about congratulations."
Seraphina waved her hand, sealing the room. Space thickened. Sound died.
"This mission is dangerous," she continued. "It involves the organization Asmodeus belongs to."
Eryndor's eyes darkened slightly. "The Atlas."
"Yes." Her gaze hardened. "Asmodeus is only a fragment of them. A light user, high-level arcane master. Dangerous—but manageable for you. Your storm energy bypasses regeneration and divine protection. You are… uniquely qualified."
Eryndor smiled faintly. "Glad my existence annoys the right people."
She went on. "You may take a team. Five total. You will lead the operation."
Eryndor didn't hesitate. "Kaelus. Darius. Stellar. Rein Clark."
Seraphina's smile widened—sharp, approving. "A perfect team."
She lifted a hand, and the room shifted again.
Minutes later, all five stood within Seraphina's office.
Kaelus leaned against a bookshelf, sword resting on his shoulder, wind rolling lazily around him. Darius stood half in shadow, eyes unreadable. Stellar sat calmly, legs crossed, fingers tracing frost patterns on the arm of her chair. Rein cracked his neck once, then his knuckles, already grinning like he'd been waiting for this.
Seraphina stood at the head of the room.
"The target location," she said, projecting a three-dimensional map into the air, "is a continent known as The Lands of the Dead."
The projection darkened—black soil, broken skies, oceans that didn't reflect light.
"It is saturated with monsters. World-level entities. Some older than recorded history."
Kaelus whistled. "Sounds cozy."
"The continent," Seraphina continued, ignoring him, "is fully controlled by the organization known as The Atlas."
Rein's smile faded slightly. "They're bold enough to claim a whole continent?"
"They earned it," she replied flatly.
Her eyes dimmed, memory surfacing.
"When I was a god candidate," Seraphina said, "they invaded this academy."
The air grew heavier.
"They ambushed the principal at the time—Sir Arthur Dragonsphere."
Kaelus stiffened. "The time magic guy?"
"Yes," Seraphina said. "A master of time. He could stop time across an entire continent."
Silence.
"They jumped him," she said. "And they killed him."
Even Darius's shadows stilled.
Rein frowned. "So they'll gang up on anyone stronger than them?"
Seraphina nodded once. "Yes. That is how The Atlas operates. Numbers. Preparation. Brutality."
She gestured again, the projection shifting—figures, symbols, sigils.
"Only low deities are accepted into their ranks. Their leader is a mid-rank god."
Kaelus blinked. "In Nohr?"
"He is suppressed by Nohr's laws," Seraphina replied. "And still… he is fifty times stronger than a normal low deity."
The room absorbed that number.
Fifty.
Then—
Eryndor laughed.
Not loud. Not manic.
Just… amused.
He stepped forward, stormlight flickering faintly in his eyes. "Sounds like my type of work."
Darius's lips curled into a grin, shadows rising behind him like a crown. "Aiite," he said smoothly. "Let's shine these fools."
Rein rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck one last time. "It's finally time to get active."
Stellar stood, frost spiraling delicately around her boots. She smiled.
Not warmly.
Mischievously.
Seraphina watched them—five forces converging—and for the first time in a long while, she felt something close to certainty.
Somewhere far away, in a land where the dead did not rest—
The Atlas would soon learn what it meant to provoke the storm.