The palace doors—massive structures carved from star-steel and ancient oak—blew open on their own.
Not violently.
Not with destruction.
They simply parted, as if the entire structure recognized a new authority.
Light spilled out across the grand staircase leading into the Imperial Capital.
For a moment, the city fell into absolute silence.
Thousands of citizens, soldiers, priests, merchants, and nobles—all gathered outside after feeling the quakes and hearing the palace's collapse—stared in frozen awe.
Dust drifted from the broken upper towers.
Cracked pillars leaned.
But standing at the center of the entrance…
Eris.
A boy.
Calm.
Unshaken.
And beside him floated the awakened relic—seven-colored, humming with faint cosmic light.
Behind Eris emerged the Saints, their robes torn, their armor scorched, but their expressions transformed. Their eyes carried respect—not fear, not reluctance—respect.
A whisper rippled through the crowd:
"Who is he…?"
"That boy… is he a new Saint?"
"No… no Saint radiates power like that."
"He came from the trials…"
"Was the Emperor defeated…?"
The city did not dare breathe.
A single Imperial Guard stepped forward, spear trembling in his hand.
"Halt! Identify yourself! State your rank, your affiliation, your—"
His voice died the instant the relic turned its face toward him.
Not hostile.
Not threatening.
Just… present.
The guard dropped his spear immediately.
"Forgive me… I… I didn't know…"
People across the plaza fell to their knees, not in worship—
but because their legs simply gave out.
A strange wind swept through the capital—warm, steady, carrying a resonance that soothed wounds and steadied hearts. The relic's light brushed across buildings and streets, making old carvings glow faintly as if waking from centuries of sleep.
Then came a sound.
Not from the palace.
Not from the relic.
Not from Eris.
But from somewhere far beyond the city walls.
A deep, low rumble like a distant storm.
The Saints stiffened immediately.
"That… wasn't thunder," one whispered.
The ground vibrated again.
Eris stepped forward, onto the top of the palace stairs, overlooking the entire capital. His cloak rustled in the wind, relic hovering at his shoulder like a silent sentinel.
People looked up at him, searching for answers.
He spoke softly, but the entire capital heard every syllable:
"This world is shifting."
"The first seal is broken."
A wave of fear washed across the crowd.
One of the Saints moved beside him and whispered urgently:
"Eris, the Emperor's fall will plunge the holy regions into chaos. Armies will march—rivals will rise—"
But Eris raised one hand.
The relic's seven faces flickered.
Silently, gently, every voice in the city hushed.
Even the distant rumbling paused for a breath.
Eris continued:
"A storm is coming. Not from kingdoms. Not from empires."
"From something far older."
The horizon lit up faintly—
just a flicker—
as though something massive stirred beneath the fog covering the mountains.
A child in the crowd clutched her mother.
"Is… is it a monster?"
Eris looked at the light.
"No," he replied quietly.
"It's a warning."
The relic pulsed once.
Every torch in the city flared.
The Saints stepped closer to Eris.
"What does it want us to do?" one asked.
Eris turned, eyes calm but unwavering.
"Prepare."
The wind rose sharply, scattering dust and sparks.
Far above the capital, hidden by clouds, a dark silhouette briefly moved—too big, too slow, too ancient to be natural.
The awakening had been noticed.