Dawnlight poured softly through the high-arched windows of the Cathedral’s prayer room, casting fractured beams of color across the stone floor. Dust danced in the air, caught in gold and violet rays. The space was still empty save for Leona, kneeling at the foot of the modest altar.

  Her hands were folded tightly in her lap, white knuckles betraying a calm she didn’t feel. Her staff rested beside her, but she hadn’t touched it since entering.

  “Luminis,” she whispered, the word barely audible. It should’ve come easily. It always had before.

  She tried again, stronger this time. “Thank you. For hearing me. For answering me… if that was you.”

  The silence that followed was crushing. Not peaceful. Not reverent. Just empty.

  Her eyes drifted closed. She tried to recall that moment in the glade. The image of Grant’s blood on her hands, the desperation choking her, the rising certainty that her magic wasn’t enough.

  And then, it had answered.

  Not a flare of power from within. Not a deep, ritualistic chant. No drawn circle or holy invocation. Just a presence. Something timeless, vast, and unmistakably aware.

  It hadn’t felt like Luminis. Or maybe it had… just more. Too much.

  “Was that… really you?” she asked aloud, staring at the altar’s flickering votive flame. “Or have I opened a door I wasn’t meant to find?”

  Her fingers trembled. “The Church teaches that our power is channeled. That it flows from faith, from purity, from devotion. But what I felt…” She shook her head. “It was none of those things. It was like being seen. All of me. And it didn’t turn away.”

  A lump formed in her throat. Her voice cracked. “It gave me strength. Not because I was faithful. But because I begged.”

  She turned her palm over, staring at the faint afterglow beneath her skin. It was the same light that had enveloped Grant. It had lingered, refusing to leave even after her healing was done.

  “If that power isn’t Luminis,” she whispered, “then what is it?”

  The flame on the altar flickered slightly, as if stirred by an unseen breath. Her eyes widened. But there was no wind.

  She bowed her head low, her voice hollow now. “Please… if it was you, tell me how to serve you. And if it wasn’t... tell me what I’ve let in.”

  The silence returned, but it was different now. Heavy. Charged. As if something was listening, but not ready to speak.

  She stayed like that until the light from the stained-glass window shifted to the far wall. Her knees ached. Her lips moved in silent prayer, but her heart remained uncertain.

  And in the quiet, doubt settled beside her like a shadow… and stayed.

  The dim light of the Adventurer’s Guild Association’s strategy room cast long shadows across the map-laden table. The scent of old parchment and ink lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of burning candle wax as flickering flames cast wavering shadows across the walls, adding an eerie depth to the already tense atmosphere.

  Marsh leaned over it, his grizzled features etched with concentration. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the wooden surface, the only sound besides the occasional crackle of the candles.

  The steady thump-thump of his fingers against the table mirrored his thoughts, measured and methodical. Opposite him sat a young man cloaked in black, his piercing eyes scanning the map with unsettling precision.

  The candlelight reflected off his gloved hands as he traced invisible paths over the paper, his movements slow and deliberate, as if calculating something far beyond what was immediately visible. Despite his youthful appearance, there was an aura about him that spoke of deep knowledge and authority.

  “So, it’s confirmed?” Marsh asked, his voice low and serious.

  The young man nodded. “Yes. After years of speculation and failed leads, we’ve pinpointed its location. The Night Warden… it’s in the Abyssal Chasm.”

  He placed a gloved hand on the map, tapping a darkened region near the northern mountains.

  “The miasma has concentrated here. All scouting parties report the same: it’s stronger than anything we’ve encountered before.”

  Marsh’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Three years. And now we have it. But this isn’t something we can rush. A nationwide Guild Hunt will require coordination, resources, and… sacrifice.”

  The young man’s gaze didn’t waver. “It will come in time. But for now, focus on uniting the Guilds. With the War of Imperium approaching, they’ll all be gathered. Use it to solidify alliances. The Night Warden must fall, but not without preparation.”

  Marsh exhaled, standing upright. “You’re right, Erent Lovelace. One step at a time. But don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten what this thing did to Brighthollow. When the time comes, I’ll ensure it doesn’t leave that chasm alive.”

  The next day, Valmaris buzzed with anticipation as the annual War of Imperium began. The city square was alive with energy, a vibrant spectacle of sound, scent, and motion. Colorful banners of competing guilds fluttered in the breeze, their emblems proudly displayed. The aroma of sizzling meats and freshly baked bread from food stalls mixed with the scent of burning torches lining the roads. The air carried the hum of excited conversations, bursts of laughter, and the occasional clash of practice weapons as warriors teemed with excitement waiting for the tournament to start.

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  Adventurers from across the nation gathered in the city square, exchanging bold boasts and competitive taunts. Spectators lined the pathways, merchants peddled trinkets and commemorative gear, while aspiring young warriors gazed at the legendary guilds with wide-eyed admiration. The rhythmic pounding of drums signaled the impending start of the matches, and a great cheer erupted as the first guilds stepped onto the field. Merchants peddled commemorative banners and trinkets, while Guild Members exchanged strategies and friendly taunts.

  The War of Imperium was more than a spectacle; it was the ultimate test of strategy, strength, and unity. This year, ten elite Guilds invited from around the world would compete for supremacy in a grand tournament, their rankings determined by the outcomes of the matches.

  The higher they ranked, the more prestige they would earn. Only one Guild could claim the coveted number one spot and all the glory that would come with it.

  The rules of the event were simple yet demanding:

  Participants: Each Guild selected 20 of its best members to represent them in the battlefield.

  Battlefield: A sprawling, artificially constructed field featuring two castles, one for each side. The terrain varied, including forests, open plains, rivers, and cliffside paths.

  Victory Conditions: Eliminate all 20 members of the opposing Guild, or capture the enemy’s flag located in the heart of their castle.

  Randomized Matchups: Guilds were paired randomly in each round, ensuring unpredictability and fairness.

  No Outside Assistance: Once the match began, no reinforcements or external aid were allowed.

  The battlefield for the War of Imperium was an engineering marvel, meticulously constructed each year to challenge and surprise participants.

  Towering walls marked the boundaries of the castles, with sprawling terrain between them. Rivers bisected the field, and thick forests provided cover for ambushes. Elevated cliffs and narrow paths promised high-stakes confrontations.

  To ensure every role was covered, Scarlet Enclave divided its forces into four parties, each led by a proven leader:

  Ren Kaidan, the revered Sword Master, was tasked with leading the defense of Scarlet Enclave’s castle. Before the match, he stood beside Zane Valiant, the two seasoned warriors surveying the battlefield from the observation platform.

  Zane Valiant, The Guild Master, leaned on the railing, a smirk playing on his lips. "Think Shadow Spire will give us a challenge this year?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

  Kaidan exhaled, turning to Zane, he added, "You always charge ahead, but remember, brute force alone doesn’t win wars. If we lose control of our defenses, your strike team won’t have a castle to return to."

  Zane chuckled, shaking his head. "Always the cautious one, Kaidan. That’s why you hold the walls, and I break them." His confidence wasn’t arrogance. It was sheer belief in his ability to lead. "We hit them first, and we don’t give them time to regroup. If you hold the castle, I’ll bring the enemy to their knees."

  He stood before his warriors, his golden-red cloak fluttering in the wind, his gaze burning with unshakable resolve. Their objective was simple: storm the enemy castle and secure the flag. Zane’s fiery charisma and combat prowess inspired those under his command, and his team of five included two powerful melee fighters, a pyromancer, and a marksman.

  Lysandra Keswick, a cunning rogue known for her tactical mind, led the reconnaissance team. Her group of five consisted of scouts and trackers, their goal to gather intel on the enemy’s movements and disrupt their plans if possible. Otherwise, they would stay within the castle walls as much as possible to help Kaidan’s team guard the Flag. Stealth was their greatest weapon.

  “We’re ghosts,” Lysandra said, her voice barely above a whisper. “They won’t see us until it’s too late. Find their weak points, relay the information, and sabotage where we can. Stay in the shadows, and stay alive.”

  The burly dwarf Tharn Ironbrow led the team responsible for holding the critical choke points on the battlefield. With his impenetrable shield wall and a squad of disciplined fighters, Tharn’s role was to control key areas and prevent enemy advances.

  “The rivers and cliffs are ours,” Tharn growled, gesturing to a map of the battlefield. “They’ll try to push through these points, but they’ll find nothing but steel and stone waiting for them. Hold your ground, no matter what.”

  On the other side of the battlefield, Shadowspire, Scarlet Enclave’s first opponent, made their own preparations. Known for their cunning and reliance on stealth, their strategies were as unpredictable as they were effective.

  Elyas Ravenheart, Shadowspire’s master tactician, leaned over the strategy table, his keen eyes flickering with amusement as he studied the battlefield layout. His fingers traced invisible paths along the map, mapping out potential ambush points. "Break their formations, and sow chaos wherever we can.

  If we do this right, they’ll be scrambling before the fight even begins." His team of five specialized in sabotage and traps, their goal to outwit and disorient Scarlet Enclave’s forces before the main engagement. “We strike where they least expect,” Elyas instructed, his voice low but firm.

  Nyssa Thornveil, standing opposite him, scoffed as she adjusted the bracers on her forearm. "Sowing chaos only works if they don’t adapt," she continued. "I’ll focus on making sure our walls don’t crumble the second they come knocking."

  Shadowspire’s castle defense was headed by Nyssa Thornveil, a battle hardened mage with a knack for area control. Her team consisted of elementalists and shield-bearers who excelled at fortifying positions and countering sieges.

  “They’ll come at us hard,” Nyssa said, studying the map. “But this castle is our domain. We turn every inch of it into a battlefield, and we bleed them dry before they get close.”

  Oran Blackclaw, a towering warrior clad in obsidian armor, cracked his knuckles, his heavy gauntlets making a dull thud against the table. "Enough talk of defense. The best way to keep our castle standing is to crush them before they get close."

  "We hit them with everything we’ve got," Oran growled, his voice like grinding stone. "No holding back. If we take their castle before they even know what hit them, this match is ours." His approach was brute force paired with precision, focusing on overwhelming the enemy’s defenses through sheer power.

  Sylva Duskwind, a lithe and agile ranger, sat on the edge of the table, her bow resting across her lap. Unlike Tharn’s defensive strategy, Sylva’s group focused on ambushes and rapid strikes, aiming to disrupt and dismantle the enemy’s defenses at key choke points.

  She watched the others with a knowing smirk before finally speaking. "We don’t hold the line," she said, her tone light but confident. "We break theirs. Hit fast, hit hard, and vanish before they can counter."

  As both teams were fully intent on winning, and meticulously prepared for the round to start. Overhead, an announcement echoed through to each team.

  “Scarlet Enclave vs Shadowspire, let the match begin!”