The news spread like wildfire.
In every tavern, temple, and trading post across the Empire, one name burned in every whisper — Arden Northwind, Duke of the North, the man who defied Heaven.
To the people, he was a living legend — the Dragon-Slayer, the Protector of Wintercrest, the man who stood alone against an army of angels.
To the Church, he was a heretic — a blasphemer who dared to raise his blade against divine authority.
And to Heaven… he was a threat that could no longer be ignored.
Wintercrest's grand hall blazed with torchlight. Maps covered the tables, and the air was thick with tension. Generals, captains, and advisors stood in silent anticipation as Arden entered.
He wore simple black armor, polished but scarred — proof of battles that even gods couldn't erase.
Ryn, the elf warrior, was the first to speak. "Duke… the southern cities are in uproar. The Church has declared you an apostate. Every noble loyal to the Holy Empire has been ordered to denounce your name."
Selene, the cat-girl martial artist, slammed her fist on the table. "Let them bark! We've no need for their approval."
Arden's gaze shifted toward her — calm, steady, but unreadable. "Words can burn as fiercely as blades, Selene. If the people believe I stand against Heaven itself, even our allies may falter."
Celestia sat silently at the far end of the room, her silver hair dim under the firelight. Her divine aura was faint — human-like now. The battle had drained her essence, perhaps permanently.
"Heaven's voice echoes loudest through fear," she said softly. "But not every heart will listen. Some… will remember who you protected."
Arden nodded slightly. "Then we'll remind them."
He looked around the table, his voice firm.
"We march south."
The room stirred. Ryn's emerald eyes widened. "You mean to fight the Church?"
Arden's eyes gleamed. "No. I mean to free the people they've shackled in faith's name."
Far away, in the capital city of Elysium, the Grand Cathedral tolled its bells.
Thousands gathered before the marble steps, kneeling as the High Saint herself appeared — Saint Miriam of Light, clad in pure gold robes, her eyes blazing with divine fervor.
Behind her, twelve bishops held scrolls — The Edict of Purity.
"By command of the Celestial Throne," she proclaimed, her voice echoing across the plaza, "the Northern Duke is hereby stripped of all titles, lands, and divine blessings. His name shall be purged from every holy record."
The crowd murmured.
"Arden Northwind is no longer of mankind. He is an abomination — a vessel of corruption who defies Heaven's will."
At her signal, the bishops ignited the scrolls. The flames burned white — not with fire, but divine judgment.
From that moment, every priest and paladin in the Empire bore a single mission: to hunt the Heretic Duke.
That night, as snow fell quietly over Wintercrest, Arden stood in his garden — the same one he'd built beside his family's mansion years ago.
The air smelled of frost and pine. His younger sister, Lyra, approached, wrapped in a fur cloak. She looked worried, but her tone remained gentle.
"Brother… the children at the orphanage say people call you a demon now."
Arden smiled faintly. "A demon who protects them is still better than an angel who burns them."
She frowned. "But you'll still be the Duke, right?"
He knelt down, placing a hand on her head. "Titles mean nothing, Lyra. What matters is the people who stand behind you when the world turns away."
Lyra nodded, though her eyes glistened. "Then I'll stand behind you too."
Later that night, the moonlight gleamed through Arden's chamber.
A figure appeared from the shadows — cloaked in black, silent as death.
It was Raven, the assassin heroine. She knelt before him, her expression unreadable.
"Duke. Reports say the Church has deployed their Inquisitors. The Silver Cross Division is moving north — the same ones who massacred the elven city of Vyr'len."
Arden's gaze darkened. "So they've sent their dogs."
Raven smirked faintly. "Then shall I remove their fangs?"
He turned toward the window, where the aurora shimmered faintly over the northern sky. "Not yet. Let them come. Let them see the strength of mortals who bow to none."
Celestia found him there after midnight, still staring at the horizon. Her steps were soft — almost human now.
"You're drawing Heaven's wrath upon this world," she whispered.
Arden didn't look at her. "Then let Heaven fall. Maybe it's time someone taught the gods humility."
She sighed. "You speak as though you were one of them."
He turned, eyes meeting hers. "Perhaps I was once their prey. But now…" He lifted his hand, and golden Qi rippled across his palm — energy that pulsed like divine essence.
"Now I walk between Heaven and Earth."
Celestia's breath caught. "That power… it's not human."
He smiled faintly. "No. It's earned."
For a moment, silence lingered — heavy, intimate. The wind carried the faint scent of frost and steel.
Then Celestia whispered, "Arden… if Heaven sends the Second Host… even you may not stand alone."
He looked up at the stars. "Then I won't."
Below them, the Northern army trained through the night — thousands of soldiers, wolf riders, mages, and monks, their discipline unshaken.
Arden's voice was quiet, but resolute.
"This isn't just a rebellion. It's the birth of a new order — one not bound by Heaven or kings."
Celestia's eyes softened, her divine glow dimming further. "And what will you call it?"
He looked toward the north, where banners bearing a wolf sigil fluttered in the wind.
"The Northern Dominion."
The snows of the North no longer whispered peace. They whispered war.
And in the heavens above, unseen by mortals, the Second Trumpet was already being forged.