****

The eternal decay devoured every particle, every whisper of existence. Martheuw Cereun stood within the vast rot of the void — a realm that breathed corruption. The air moved like liquid shadow, thick with the stench of death and the slow groaning of lost souls. Beasts' carcasses drifted through the gloom, their bones dissolving into drifting ash.

"This dungeon…" Martheuw muttered, his voice echoing like a ripple through still water. "It is an eternity of decay. There is no life, no purity here. Everything is consumed — dissolved into rot, as if the universe itself has forgotten beauty."

Then, from the endless dark, a voice slithered through the silence — cold, vast, and ancient.

"Do you truly believe you can escape my spell?" it said.

The sound was like rusted metal scraping against the stars.

"You are mine, Martheuw Cereun. You belong to the decay — to the voiceless, the broken, the forsaken. Your name will fade like dust. No soul will remember you."

Martheuw lifted his head, his eyes burning like dim embers in the void.

"Even if I am forgotten," he said softly, "the light within me will not fade. I have seen the dawn once before — and even the abyss cannot erase that memory."

A cruel laugh echoed from nowhere and everywhere, rolling like thunder across the rotting expanse.

"The light within you?" the voice mocked. "Your power here will wither into nothing. This place devours stars, Martheuw — even the eternal bows to decay."

The shadows rippled as the voice grew colder, dripping with venom and mockery.

"How pitiful. The great Constellar King reduced to a caged relic. You, once the radiant heir of the stars, now rot within my spell. Draco was far more deserving of that title… or perhaps even I."

A hiss followed — bitter, almost amused.

"But I no longer care for titles or thrones. I care only to watch you suffer — to see the once-mighty drown in the silence of eternity. Here, there is no time, no redemption. Only decay."

The void pulsed faintly — a heartbeat of corruption. Martheuw felt the echoes of his own essence trembling, fading against the weight of infinite rot.

Then, after a pause, the voice whispered one last time — quiet, almost tender, and yet colder than death.

"Don't worry… soon, you will no longer be alone here."

And with that, the voice vanished — swallowed by the groaning dark. The dungeon fell silent again, except for the faint hum of decay consuming all things.

Back in the mortal world — the Summoning Field

The morning sun blazed over the training grounds, casting long shadows across the circle where glowing runes pulsed faintly beneath the soil. One by one, factions stepped forward to present their creations — shimmering spears, blazing swords, and radiant bows born of spirit and will.

Xerxez stood among the crowd, his heart pounding. The announcer's voice echoed through the field.

"Next — the Fire Faction!"

A roar of energy burst from the ground as flames danced around five trainees summoning their weapons in a brilliant display of scarlet light.

The crowd cheered.

Xerxez swallowed hard. His hands trembled. "Where have you been, Xerxez?" Evenneor's voice snapped him back to the present.

He turned, then he saw Evenneor arms were faintly twisted with emberlight, the marks of his own awakening.

"I was just… practicing for a while," Xerxez said quickly, trying to steady his breath. "Making sure my summoning doesn't fail."

"Really?" Evenneor smirked. "Then good luck. Zenny's eyes are already on the Fire Faction — don't go summoning some lame weapon."

Xerxez forced a grin, though his throat felt dry. "Trust me," he said, lifting his chin. "I won't let you down. I'll summon something rare. Just watch me on that stage."

Evenneor chuckled. "Ha! You? Remember last time? Your archer looked like a toy. Now you talk as if you could summon a legendary relic?"

Xerxez didn't answer. His gaze drifted toward the Wood Faction, where Zenny stood — calm, composed, her focus sharp as a blade. He clenched his fists and whispered under his breath, steadying his racing heart.

When his name was finally called, he stepped up onto the platform. The air thickened with murmurs and expectation.

He lifted both hands, stretching them toward the glowing circle carved into the stone floor. A faint hum rose from beneath his feet.

"Come on…" he muttered softly. "I summon you… appear."

His voice trembled. Inside, he called out again, more desperately —

Why is it taking so long? Did the talking dagger forget my request?

The silence that followed was unbearable.

The audience watched, waiting — breaths held, eyes fixed.

A few laughed quietly among themselves.

"What a loser…" one whispered.

"He probably can't summon anything."

"If he does, it'll look like that toy weapon again," another snickered.

From the side, Zenny's eyes gleamed with sharp judgment, her arms crossed.

But then — a voice rose from the water faction's crowd.

"Matheros," Xerxez realized.

"You can do it!" his friend shouted. "You're just nervous — overcome it, Xerxez! Go, go!"

Xerxez looked at him. For a heartbeat, doubt nearly crushed him — but Matheros's words sparked something within.

He closed his eyes tightly.

Talking dagger… where are you?

Mr. Martheuw… please. Help me now. Give me the weapon.

The air began to ripple — like heat waves bending light. A low vibration pulsed from Xerxez's palm, spreading outward in concentric circles. Then, with a blinding surge of silver light, a weapon emerged — massive, gleaming, and unlike anything seen before.

A cannon — crafted of pure argent steel and etched with runic veins — hovered in front of him. Its design was intricate, almost alien, its core pulsing faintly with energy.

Gasps filled the field.

"A fantastic weapon!" the announcer exclaimed, his voice trembling with awe.

"This… this cannon — I've never seen its kind before!"

He turned toward Xerxez, eyes wide.

"Now, present your weapon to us! Demonstrate how it works!"

Xerxez froze.

"W–wait, I have to use it?"

"Of course," the announcer replied. "Every summoned weapon must prove its worth."

"O–okay…" he stammered, gripping the strange weapon's handle.

Oh no… what do I do now? he thought, sweat gathering on his brow. I don't even know how this thing works.

He stared at the weapon, taking a shaky breath.

Maybe… maybe it's like a gun. I just need to pull the trigger… right?

The moment Xerxez's finger brushed the trigger, the cannon hummed — deep and resonant, like a sleeping beast stirring beneath the earth. A faint shockwave rippled outward. Dust trembled.

"Wait—!"

A voice boomed across the field.

"Enough!!"

One of the elders stood, his cane striking the platform with a thunderous clang. His eyes were wide with alarm.

"Do not use it! I know that weapon — that is no ordinary forgecraft!"

The crowd fell into uneasy silence.

The elder's voice lowered, trembling with the weight of memory.

"That weapon was from the old era… the Age of Abyss. Humanity once invented it to deliver annihilation. A single shot could shatter a field — and everything within it."

Murmurs swept through the trainees like wind through dry leaves.

The announcer hesitated, glancing between Xerxez and the elder.

"But, Elder Faidenthor… the young prince only just summoned it. Surely, it can't be that weapon. We are simply evaluating potential, not invoking legends."

"Tell me, young prince," another elder demanded, stepping forward. "Did you copy it? Or was this self-made?"

Xerxez's hands trembled as he steadied the cannon, its runes glowing faintly like molten veins.

He swallowed hard. "The one who first created this weapon… it was one of our ancestors — the engineer Willion Cavon. His energy forge produced a weapon capable of destroying abyssal beasts in one strike."

He looked down, uncertain whether to meet their eyes.

"The weapon was called the Cannon Gun… a relic of pure devastation."

Gasps rippled through the panel of elders.

One of them whispered, half in awe, half in dread,

"Willion Cavon… the true genius of the Abyssal War."

"But how," another questioned sharply, "could a young prince of Thallerion summon an exact replica? That weapon has been lost for millennia — wiped from our archives!"

"Did you study the old scripts?"

"Have you seen one before?"

"Did someone teach you the design?"

Questions flooded toward him like arrows.

"N–no…" Xerxez stammered, his voice cracking. "I… I didn't copy anything. I just— I just wished for a weapon strong enough to protect my people…"

He faltered, dizzy under the barrage of voices and eyes. His vision blurred slightly — the pressure immense.

One elder leaned back, stroking his beard with trembling fingers.

"This is… unprecedented. Even we could not summon such a relic. And yet, the boy calls it forth as if it were bound to him."

Another snorted with uneasy laughter.

"Oh, I'm too jealous," he muttered. "How can someone so young summon what entire generations could not?"

Whispers and awe began to swirl again — admiration and fear tangled together.

Finally, the announcer stepped forward, voice edged with both curiosity and caution.

"Young prince… answer us truthfully." He peered deeply into Xerxez's eyes.

"How do you know of this weapon? Who taught you its name?"

The cannon in Xerxez's hands gave a faint metallic pulse — as if breathing. Then it disappeared.

Inside his mind, a whisper coiled like smoke:

"Careful, kid… tell them nothing." the talking dagger hissed on his mind.

"Well...maybe it was just a coincidence...i didn't meant to be like what willion Cavon did."

"If that so...you can be an engineer of weapon...you are a true genius... "

****

In the Galaxy

In the far reaches of the cosmos, where galaxies turned like silent wheels of light, a war beyond mortal comprehension raged.

Genesis, the Creator of the Celestial Beings, stood amidst the void — a colossal figure of radiant energy and divine flame. Around him, entire star systems trembled under the sheer magnitude of his power.

Across from him churned a darkness that had no face, no mercy, and no end.

The Death Entity — known among the ancients as Anti-Life — writhed like a living shadow, its tendrils stretching across constellations, devouring light itself.

Their clash tore rifts through reality.

Every strike Genesis unleashed burned brighter than supernovas, yet every counter from the Death Entity swallowed that brilliance, twisting it into nothingness.

From the black storm, a thousand claws erupted — vines of pure entropy, coiling and lashing with hunger. Each blow shattered stars, turning entire worlds into drifting nebulae of ash and dust.

Genesis's voice thundered through the dying cosmos, sorrow and fury entwined:

"You came from my sacred seed — the opposite of creation, yet still my child. You were born to protect my works from the predators that roam the dark!"

His hands, made of living light, tore through the darkness, hurling suns like stones.

"But now you consume all that breathes — my worlds, my children, even the light itself!"

The Death Entity gave no answer. It pulsed — a soundless scream that rippled through galaxies.

From its core, a black radiance expanded, swallowing nearby stars like fire consuming parchment.

Genesis braced himself, his halo flaring — a divine corona of raw creation.

He lifted his hands, weaving constellations into a shield of living starlight.

"You are my judgment given form — not my end!"

But the Death Entity only grew larger, feeding upon destruction, its shape collapsing into something darker — a moving singularity.

Space itself bent inward. Time stuttered.

And across the distant galaxies, countless beings — gods, spirits, and mortals alike — felt the universe tremble as Light and Anti-Life collided once more.

Their clash was not merely battle — it was the war of existence itself.

Genesis, surrounded by dying suns and collapsing stars, stood still amidst the storm.

The brilliance of his form had dimmed, yet his resolve burned brighter than ever.

"Perhaps… I must sacrifice my body," he murmured, voice echoing through time itself.

"If I can enter the fabric of this Death Entity… if I can understand its core… then I may uncover the path to its destruction."

His gaze pierced the black abyss — the writhing mass of the Anti-Life that consumed reality like a living void.

"If I cannot return… if my light fades forever… then my appointed children — my Constellar Guardians — will rise in my stead. They will carry my will and uncover the weakness I leave behind."

"Come then. I'll feed you my light, and let eternity drown in silence."

Genesis closed his eyes, and a faint, sorrowful smile crossed his radiant face.

"So be it. Let my end be your undoing."

He spread his arms wide, surrendering himself to the cosmic maelstrom. And from the black hole, the Anti-Life's tendrils of black energy coiled around him, and dragged him inside of a black hole, but still he reached across galaxies with the last pulse of his divine essence. His mind linked to all entities in the Earth.

"Hear me, my children of light!

My time has come. But do not grieve — for even if my form is lost, my essence remains.

Strengthen humanity. Guard the mortal realm.

If I fall… the Earth will be the next to face the hunger of the Anti-Life."

The link trembled — a wave of golden energy streaking across the void, reaching every Constellar being who still drew breath.

Then, silence.

The Death Entity's abyss engulfed him completely — light devoured by endless black.

Stars dimmed. Galaxies wept.

And thus, Genesis — the Light of Creation — fell into the heart of darkness, beginning the eternal cycle of death and rebirth that would echo across all ages.

****************************************************************************************************

'Seven years. Yes, Seven years of waiting, but the elders still not decided to allow us to attack the Moonatorians, they just say:

"All of you, you are still weak, lack of spirit energy. You can't use magic weapons to fight against Moonatorian beasts. You must have at least level 5 spirit energy. But most of you, has lowest level...enough of your incessant dream about defeating them, if you only have that low level!"

Matheros was now a 22 years old, matured, yet, he level up into level 4. His sword can slit hard rock and even break a tree in just one hit.

SWOOOSH!!! CRACK!!! BOOOGHSS!!!!

"Haha, look at that!" He laughed. "Bullseye!" The trunk cut into two pieces.

"Brother, why the elders still not letting us to revolt against the Moonatorians? Look at your strength, you can even cut the tree in just one hit."

"Even my father, reprimanded me not to confront the Moonatorians...ehh. I don't understand them. Well, we can't change the order of the elders, we have to listen, for the sake of others ehh!"

'I feel like, brother Matheros has change, he is no longer, the Matheros I know, willing to do anything. My Father's people in Thallerion still suffering. And I can't accept it any longer, now that I am 19 years old. I need to do something, something that can change the fate of Thallerion.

"Brother, I have a plan. Can you help me?"

'His entertainment... his sword... and his smile... pause for awhile and stare at me.'

"What's your plan?" Matheros walked towards Xerxez location, leaning on the tree.

"I want to go back in Thallerion." His voice lace with firm tone."

'I've been training on my own, cultivating my spirit energy and I think, those are enough, to take action for the people of Thallerion. If the elders afraid of lack of spirit energy, then, I will no longer depend on that energy, if my parents' people are waiting, oppressed, and trampled down for so many years. Imagine, seven years, yet they just stare calmly. If they really have that gut to rely at spirit energy, then, why they are just standing? How long we have to wait?'

'Why don't they stop talking and take a chance to reclaim the Thallerion?'

"Are you not joking?"

Matheros voice, a deep of scrutinizing, his eyes crawling like insect, deepen the understanding of Xerxez new idea. A hint of doubt that Xerxez might be joking at him.

"No, we have to help the people in Thallerion. I, prince of Thallerion, willing to face the savagery of Moonatoria. Only if, you come with me."

"Hahahha, finally... finally, you're now awake of the truth. I really thought, you are like other people, keeping their mouth shut at the elders order. I was just acting, but deep inside, I was waiting for you."

"Huh?"

"We will not follow the footsteps of the elders. We will both make a path for the Thallerion fate, you, as a prince, and me as your loyal warrior, we will march towards Thallerion...wait, when do you plan to go back, ehh?"

"But first, we have to train each other, on our own way... without the method of the elder's training."

"Hahahha, no problem, but are you sure you are willing to revolt against the Moonatorians...you're still 19 years old ehh?"

"7 years ... I can't accept that... People in Thallerion suffered from Seven years...but no one try to reclaim our land ...they were coward!!! .. against beast, infesting our land!"

Alongside with Matheros, they trained in the secluded forest, though during his immense training he tirelessly sought answers about the mysterious dagger and the voice that echoed, after its electric pulse, Xerxez remained cloaked, in uncertainty. Yet, the young prince was resolute, he would alter Thallerion's destiny, despite the grim truth that he, too, was becoming an instrument of war—a sorrowful reality that war forever scars hearts with pain and defeat.

'As we secretly entering in the Thallerion, I found out that, day and night, the slaves toiled, their sweat mingling with blood, a grim testament to their suffering that no hand could wipe away. As they shared their feelings, I was so touched, if only, I am not a child back then, I will try my best, to reclaim them as soon as possible.'

'They shared that, the once-plentiful now gnawed on hunger, the robust withered from thirst, and those once fragrant were cloaked, in the stench of rags. Women's dignity was trampled underfoot, and the elderly were mercilessly driven to labor—how much longer could they endure, their very teeth worn to nubs?'

'I sighed, everytime I heard, their complaints, their agony, and pains. They said, they are waiting for so long, hoping one day, the Orion will come and rescue them...Hmph... why the people still insisting of Orion's comeback, and protect them? Now, look at them, I can't believe...they just let things happened, even they were battered, chained, and whipped?'

The land, chosen by Orion himself, wept crimson tears under the Bear's iron grip. Each day brought forth fresh complaints of the whip's relentless sting, like thorns endlessly pricking, delivered by the Moonatorian soldiers who, seeing the slaves writhe in agony, merely choked back, chuckles of cruel delight. Thallerion had long yearned for the dawn, yet the night persisted, cold and unyielding, like a statue bound by vines, silently watching the encroaching wilderness.

But even the longest night, yields to the stars! And bright they would shine, like a plummeting meteorite!

'I believe, when the Bear, ensconced in its cave, it slept soundly, at night, a lazy, grizzly snore echoing through the silence, this is the only opportunity, we can do to roam around in the districts.'

Under the cloak of night, the slaves of Thallerion united, galvanizing around Xerxez's audacious plan to revolt against Moonatoria. Like bolts connecting disparate points, their resolve solidified.

"I am Xerxez, son of king Cerceux and queen Xurien Wrez. I am here to ask your help, to reclaim our land, our rights, and our freedom. Enough with your incessant dream about Orion's return, he abandoned us! Our freedom, and our fate, rely on our hands."

"That's right, we need to work one another, help us to revolt against the Moonatorians!" Matheros echoed.They silently agre

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.