9 MONTHS EARLIER
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The Coalition was created five centuries ago, at the end of the Great Resonance War—after the event known as Godfall. When the gods vanished, sealing themselves away to contain the full force of magic—also known as resonance—making the sky itself cracked. Legends say they shot upward like lightning, fracturing the heavens and leaving behind a long, jagged tear in reality—a broken stripe of shimmering emptiness that spans the entire world.
In the aftermath, the world united as closely as it ever had. The Coalition formed as a peace treaty between the major powers of the earth.
The High Council acted as mediator in times of crisis. And now, a new crisis had arrived. A second Resonance War was brewing—this time not between nations, but between the world and a single man. Drakos. Leader of the Inquisitors of Godfall, a fanatical order sworn to bring the gods back.
The High Court sat within the Light Elven domain, the Sunborn Empire—the most peaceful of the races and the most attuned to resonance. Their capital was a sprawling expanse of pristine marble and jade architecture woven seamlessly into the forest around it.
Today, the High Court was in full session. All factions of the Coalition were present with their representatives.
The great dome hall was divided into sections for each group: the Human Concord, the Elven Federations, the Fae Courts, the Giantblood Clans, the Beast-kin Tribes, and the Sunborn Empire itself. Each faction's fifty council members filled their tiers, though only one representative officially spoke for each.
They were already mid-argument.
A human representative slammed his fist down. "The Valgard Dominion has already lost too many soldiers to Drakos and his cult! How do you expect us to offer more support?!"
A Beast-kin man—tall, lanky, with furred arms, tail, and ears—shouted back, "Surprised they even asked you humans, considering you lot are Resonance Null!"
The human section erupted. They couldn't use magic like the other factions, but they still had pride. An eight-foot Giantblood woman, orange-skinned with long gray hair, rose to her feet and silenced the room with her booming voice. "Enough! This is getting us nowhere. Drakos predicts our moves before we even act."
A Fae representative—a woman with blue skin, pointed ears, and long white hair—stabbed a finger toward the Light Elf councilman. "Then why haven't you sent Lykkos after him?!"
"We have," the Light Elf replied calmly. "But Drakos hides from him. He knows our hero would end him in an instant."
A Dark Elf representative, a middle-aged man with tan skin, pointed ears and white hair, let out a quiet laugh. "Typical. You Lights and your arrogance."
The shouting resumed. Insults flew. Voices clashed. Then the grand doors burst open. A young Light Elf woman hurried inside, clutching a stuffed leather bag to her chest. She was out of breath as she rushed to the center stand. The Light Elf councilman leaned forward.
"Grand Arbitrator, Lady Vorenna… you are late."
"I know, I know," she said between breaths. She wore a flowing blue dress inset with green gems, her long blond hair fell over pale skin and pointed ears. Her bright green eyes shimmered with urgency—and mischief.
"I found something."
"Found what? Lady Vorenna, elaborate. We are discussing critical matters."
"One of the builders uncovered this beneath the Monument of Goddess Lira…"
She opened the bag and pulled out a large, ancient book, its cover engraved with a carving—a sword crossed with a phoenix. Its leather was dry with age, dust flaking off in her hands.
The councilman frowned. "What am I looking at, Lady Vorenna?"
"The Deathforged Contract."
Silence struck the hall like a hammer. Then, seconds later, the entire room burst into laughter. Even the Giantblood woman smacked her table as she roared with amusement.
"You brought that here?! HAHAHA!"
Lady Vorenna raised her voice above them. "It's the only way to beat Drakos, you bumbling idiots!"
The room fell silent again.
The Light Elf councilman stared at her. "You cannot be suggesting we release criminals… to fight our battles."
She stood her ground. "Yes. I am."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber.
"Think about it," she continued. "Drakos has obtained Chronicle Resonance. He sees possibilities—futures—paths that haven't happened yet. That's why we keep losing. We keep playing his game."
A human representative scoffed. "So you want us to throw society's criminals at him?"
"No. I want us to do something unpredictable. Something he cannot foresee. Something utterly unprecedented."
She let her gaze sweep the hall.
"It could go wrong. It could backfire. It could be idiotic and fail spectacularly. And that's exactly why Drakos won't see it coming. We don't need the hero Lykkos. We need society's most vile and dangerous rejects—one from every faction."
Silence. Heavy. Considered.
Finally, the Light Elf councilman breathed out slowly. "And who, exactly, do you propose to lead such a… group?"
Vorenna hesitated only a moment. "Atlas the Unseen."
A single unified shout shook the dome.
"WHAT?!"
The Beast-kin spokesman stood up so fast his chair toppled. "That killer? The last assassin of the Order of the Fallen Eye? He's killed a thousands! He's in detainment!?"
Vorenna nodded. "Yes. He turned himself in months ago, said he was quote unquote, bored. His execution is scheduled for tomorrow. But he is essential. He's capable, lethal, and—most importantly—human. He has no resonance. Drakos cannot track a Null with Chronicle. And Atlas… he knows Drakos personally."
The hall grew still. No one liked the idea. But none could deny the logic.
"Any objections?" the councilman asked.
Only the elves—both Light and Dark—raised their hands. A rare moment of unity between the two groups. The rest looked sickened but remained silent. The Light Elf councilman pinched the bridge of his nose, defeated.
"Very well, Lady Vorenna. You have won this vote."
He stood.
"On behalf of the Coalition, we authorize the release of five criminals of your choosing—including Atlas—to hunt and kill Drakos and his forces, using the Deathforged Contract. This session is adjourned. We reconvene tomorrow."
He fixed Vorenna with a stern look. "You have until dawn to select your team."
As the court emptied, the hall filled with muttering—gossip, doubt, insults, dread. Everyone thought the idea was foolish.
Except Lady Vorenna.
She clutched the ancient contract to her chest, smiling faintly, already making her list.