The Imperial Capital The Reception Hall
"Open the warp gates."
Eighteen year old Zion's voice dropped to something entirely inhuman. The chaotic, terrifying Three Aditya mana radiating from his body cracked the marble floorboards beneath his boots.
"We're going South."
"I'm coming too!" eight-year-old Prince Elian yelled, his golden eyes glowing fiercely as he summoned a fireball into his tiny hands.
"No, Elian," Zion commanded without looking back. "The Imperial Warp Gates exert a crushing spatial pressure of ten thousand pounds per square inch to cross the continent instantly. Your mana core is strong, but your eight-year-old bones will instantly shatter under that pressure. You stay here and guard the Capital. That is an order."
Elian gritted his teeth, the fireball fading. He knew his brother was right. "Kill them, Zion. Kill them all."
Zion and twenty year old Crown Princess Seraphina sprinted toward the deepest chambers of the palace, tearing through the glowing blue portal of the Imperial Warp Gate.
The Southern Territory The Ancestral Crypts
Hundreds of miles away, the dark carriage carrying seventeen-year-old Lyra finally ground to a halt.
The carriage doors opened. Lyra stepped out into the freezing Southern wind. Standing before her were the colossal, foreboding stone doors of the Valerius Ancestral Crypts.
But she wasn't alone. Standing off to the side, wearing pristine white robes, were several high-ranking members of the Holy Church.
Lyra's breath hitched. Why is the Church here for a private family burial?
The reason was entirely sinister. Marchioness Cassandra Thorne had secretly summoned the priests. The ancient Valerius Crypt was filled with thousands of years of dark, rotting ancestral miasma. Cassandra knew that the moment Lyra stepped inside, the oppressive dark energy would violently agitate her unborn baby's Triple-Attribute mana, causing a chaotic, dark explosion. The Church had brought a "Truth Stone" to witness this reaction, fully prepared to declare the unborn Kaelen heir a cursed demon spawn right then and there.
Duke Alistair stepped forward from the shadows, wiping fake tears from his eyes. He wrapped his heavy arms around Lyra in a sickeningly false hug.
"Lyra, my dear," the Duke wept artificially. "I am so sorry I couldn't protect your poor mother. Come. Let us take her inside to rest."
Lyra felt sick to her stomach, but she nodded. She turned and placed her foot across the stone threshold of the Crypt.
The very second her foot touched the inside, the world violently spun out of control.
A horrific wave of dizziness slammed into Lyra's brain. It wasn't grief this time—it was pure, raw spatial displacement. The threshold of the Crypt was a highly illegal, complex blood-ward trap layered with teleportation magic. Passing through it forcefully ripped her spatial coordinates across the territory. The sudden shift in gravity caused the heavy mana in her womb to churn violently.
Lyra collapsed to her knees, gasping for air, her vision swimming in black spots.
But with the absolute, iron mindset of a mother, she bit her lip, forcing her mana core to stabilize to protect her child. She slowly opened her eyes, expecting to see the dark, stone walls of the crypt.
Instead, she was kneeling on a luxurious red carpet. The walls were lined with expensive Southern paintings and golden chandeliers.
Lyra's eyes widened in sheer horror. This wasn't the Ancestral Crypt. She had been teleported directly into the underground fortified basement of the Duke's Mansion.
"Did you really think we wouldn't anticipate the little Jeal Princess sending a message?" Duke Alistair's voice echoed behind her. The fake tears were completely gone, replaced by a cruel, mocking sneer.
Hidden Southern Mages lowered their glowing staffs, having successfully cast the illusion and spatial magic. The priests of the Church stood in the corner, holding their Truth Stone, watching the scene unfold with cold, judging eyes.
"What is happening?" Lyra whispered, her voice trembling as she looked up. "Where is my mother's body?!"
Duke Alistair burst into a massive, booming laugh.
"Your mother? Body?" The Duke sneered, looking down at the seventeen year old girl. "I'm sorry, Lyra. But your mother died sixteen years ago."
Lyra's heart completely stopped. "What...?"
"Did you really think that broken, sickly maid in the dungeons was your real mother?" Alistair mocked her, relishing the psychological torture. "Your real mother died in the War of Thorns sixteen years ago. She threw herself in front of a blade to save Emperor Aldric's life! I just placed a traumatized servant in your cell to act as your 'mother' so you would stay docile and easily controlled!"
The revelation struck Lyra like a physical hammer. Her entire life the tears, the sacrifices, the love she felt for the woman in the dark cell was a manufactured, cruel lie designed to chain her to the South.
"You monsters," Lyra whispered, tears of pure betrayal streaming down her face.
"We are not the monsters here," a cold, venomous voice echoed.
Marchioness Cassandra Thorne stepped forward. Beside her stood her eighteen-year-old daughter, Vlav Thorne. Vlav held a heavy, thick leather whip infused with paralyzing lightning magic.
"How could a filthy, uneducated half breed steal the Imperial Crown and take the place of my beautiful niece, Elena?" Cassandra spat, her eyes burning with hatred. She snatched the whip from her daughter's hands. "You think because you are pregnant with the Prince's child, you are untouchable? I am going to teach you your place."
Cassandra raised the whip high into the air.
CRACK!
The leather struck Lyra's back with agonizing, bone-rattling force. The paralyzing lightning magic instantly scorched her skin, burning right through her dress.
It was a lethal blow for a woman three months pregnant.
But Lyra did not scream. She did not fall backward.
Instead, she slammed her hands onto the floor, curling her entire body forward into a perfect, protective ball over her stomach. She took the absolute, full force of the strike on her back, completely shielding her unborn child.
"Cry, you pathetic wretch!" Cassandra shrieked, raising the whip again.
CRACK! CRACK!
Two more brutal strikes landed on Lyra's shoulders and spine. Blood soaked through the white fabric. The pain was blinding, white-hot agony. But Lyra bit completely through her bottom lip, swallowing her screams. I will not cry, she thought fiercely, her blue eyes blazing in the dark. I will take every hit. I will protect my baby!
Suddenly, as the fourth whip came down, a miracle occurred.
The unborn baby's overwhelmingly powerful Triple Attribute core sensed the extreme physical threat to its mother. Combined with the microscopic fragment of the Original God left in Lyra's womb weeks ago, the child's survival instinct violently activated.
A blinding, pure, magnificent golden-white light erupted directly from Lyra's womb.
The light was so intense it shattered the lightning magic on the whip, throwing Cassandra violently backward across the room. The golden aura wrapped around Lyra like a warm, impenetrable shield, completely healing her bleeding back in seconds.
The Summer Palace The Divine Whisper
BOOM!
The spatial coordinates in the courtyard of the Summer Palace violently shattered. Eighteen year old Zion and twenty year old Seraphina stepped out of the warp portal, the air freezing around them from the sheer magical pressure.
Twenty one year old Seris sprinted down the stairs to meet them.
"Zion! Seraphina!" Seris gasped, gripping her sword. "We don't have time! The Duke took her to the Ancestral Crypts! We have to ride there as fast as possible!"
Zion summoned his Kaelen Imperial Sword, his eyes glowing with apocalyptic rage. "Let's go."
"Do not go to the Crypts."
A massive, echoing voice suddenly reverberated directly inside Zion's mind. It was a voice of absolute, terrifying cosmic authority. It was the Original God.
But Zion did not know the Creator. He assumed it was the voice of a hidden Kaelen ancestral spirit, or one of Arthur's elite spy mages feeding him telepathic intel.
"The Crypt was a spatial mirror trap," the voice echoed. "She is inside the Duke's Mansion. Go there."
on stopped dead in his tracks. He looked toward the horizon, his red mana locking onto the massive estate in the distance.
"Change of plans," Zion commanded, his voice cold enough to freeze the sun. "She isn't at the Crypts. We are marching directly on the Duke's Mansion."
The Duke's Mansion The Holy Shield
Back in the underground hall, the blinding golden light radiating from Lyra completely illuminated the dark room.
The priests of the Holy Church, who had been brought there to witness a demonic curse, dropped their Truth Stone. It didn't turn black. It was glowing with a brilliant, blinding white radiance.
"Impossible," the High Priest gasped, his eyes wide with absolute, religious awe. "That is not demonic miasma... That is the Light of the Holy Child! It is the divine symbol of hope!"
Duchess Beatrice Valerius panicked. The plan was completely falling apart. "Don't listen to it!" Beatrice screamed at the priests. "She is using a stolen holy artifact! It is a trick! Arrest her!"
But the High Priest did not listen. He stepped directly into the center of the room, placing his body between the bleeding Lyra and the Duke's family.
The High Priest dropped to both knees, bowing his head in profound, utter reverence before the seventeen year old pregnant Princess.
"Forgive our rudeness, Your Highness," the High Priest declared, his voice echoing with the absolute authority of the Church. He raised his hands, summoning a massive holy barrier around Lyra. "From this exact moment, you and your holy child are under the absolute, undeniable protection of the Church. We will guard you until your husband reaches here."
"Treason!" Duke Alistair roared, drawing his heavy broadsword. "Knights! Capture every single priest in this room and kill the girl!"
The heavily armored Southern Knights drew their weapons, charging forward to slaughter the priests.
CRACK.
The temperature in the underground hall instantly, violently plummeted to Absolute Zero.
A terrifying, razor sharp wave of pure Ice magic blasted through the room. The massive iron doors of the basement were completely obliterated, shattering into a million frozen pieces. The Southern Knights were instantly frozen solid, trapped inside blocks of unyielding ice.
Crown Princess Seraphina walked through the shattered doorway, her blue eyes glowing with the terrifying power of the Budla Aditya.
Then, the shadows in the room completely inverted.
Eighteen year old Zion stepped into the hall. His crimson eyes swept over the room, landing on the bloody whip in Cassandra's hand, and then on Lyra, who was crying tears of relief behind the holy barrier.
Zion didn't scream. He didn't yell. The chaotic red mana around him condensed into a blade of pure, absolute death. Dozens of Imperial Knights swarmed into the room behind him, sealing all the exits.
Zion raised his sword, looking directly into the terrified eyes of Duke Alistair.
"Make sure no one leaves alive."