Chapter 275: The Hand of Darkness I

    The skies trembled.

    Achilles stood tall, his form bathed in the rising dawn, his arm gently around Rose’s waist as the mile-long landmass beneath them shimmered with blooming forests and rivers of golden light.

    Vines wove across rich, fertile soil, sprouting luminous flora as glimmering mist wreathed the surface. It floated higher-slowly, surely-until it defied gravity itself.

    The Vessel of Adrastia had been born!

    Currently, only he and Rose were on it as the others would soon follow after their empowerment was finished.

    As such a thing happened...

    His purple-gold gaze swept the horizon sharply.

    He sensed something.

    His eyes locked onto the far distance.

    Towards the continent of twilight flame.

    Towards Everburn Aerie!

    —

    The Throne of Ashen Echoes towered like an eternal monument carved from scorched obsidian and fossilized phoenix bone. Pillars of viridian and violet fire danced around it, weaving terrifying storms of heat and time. Atop this throne, between two rivers of green and golden flame, sat two figures older than many.

    Solmyron, the Golden Pyre.

    A titan of solar fire and fury. His colossal form burned with roiling gold aether, his wings stretching wider than valleys, his beak formed from crystallized sunflames. Even at rest, solar flares danced off his feathers like living blades. Around his talons and chest, thick Aeonic Chains shimmered faintly- still partially sealed, still dampening his rise, but failing to dim the terrifying pressure he exuded. One breath from him could set seas alight. One word could collapse cities!

    Near him...

    Azuryan, the Verdant Flame.

    Smaller in stature but no less powerful, the second Sovereign was an elegant storm of rebirth. Her flames were laced with green, her feathers pearlescent jade, and her presence a paradox of tranquil warmth and vicious life.

    Where Solmyron burned the world down, Azuryan made it burn beautifully.

    Both beings, even shackled by remnants of the Long Slumber, radiated strength that dared to exceed the Celestbone Stage Astral Core Ascension realm.

    And yet, they waited in silence.

    Between them, a circular space remained untouched, green and golden fires spiraling inward around it like a sacred hearth awaiting a celestial guest.

    And then...

    It opened.

    A gate of pure white bloomed midair, reality parting without a sound.

    From the center of that luminance, a woman stepped forth.

    Tall. Regal. Deathly calm.

    She wore a white robe without trim or ornament. Her feet were bare. A single golden horn curved from her forehead, as if forged from celestial decree rather than bone. Her skin was fair and unblemished, unmarred by war or time, and her eyes...

    Her eyes saw everything.

    The moment her feet touched the seared stone, power lanced through the chamber. The air thickened.

    Even Solmyron shifted his wings.

    Azuryan lowered her gaze in recognition.

    The chains rattled.

    “You’re early...” Solmyron muttered, not in anger, but caution.

    She gave them a single nod, her voice colder than any flame.

    “The Primordial Light of Darkness has just lost one of his pieces,” she said, each word deliberate. “High Zenithar Malgorith is dead. I was sent to ensure more pieces do not suddenly drop off the board. And to also tell you two to go to the meeting between humans and Ancients, this so called Triarcan Keep.”

    ...!

    She stepped forward, eyes scanning the dual Sovereigns like a strategist assessing tools.

    “But.. is there something wrong with the target we’ve been tasked with?”

    The words lingered like knives.

    Azuryan exchanged a glance with Solmyron. It was the Golden Pyre who answered.

    “They are... unpredictable. One of our Luminblood Scouts, Libya, sent word.”

    He looked to the flames, hesitant.

    “The enemy has found a treasure. One that may threaten even the Thalassphere Arx, and—”

    The woman raised her hand, halting his words.

    Her lips curled.

    And then she wrinkled her nose.

    “Hold on...can you smell that?”

    ...!

    Solmyron paused. Azuryan stiffened.

    Neither of them responded.

    She closed her eyes.

    And in the next breath, starlight erupted from her frame. The green and gold flames danced wildly, caught in a rising current as her horn shimmered with gorgeous brilliance.

    The three figures vanished right after in the light of teleportation!

    They reappeared above the green-flaming plains of one of Everburn Aerie’s central regions.

    Below them, a sight to rival the birth of suns.

    Hundreds of Ancient Millenium Acheron Phoenixes soared through the morning sky, some in full avian form, their burning wings stretching endlessly, others in regal humanoid forms standing atop flaming mountains, their voices rising in conversations that bent the winds.

    And above them all...

    Three figures now hovered.

    Solmyron the Golden Pyre.

    Azuryan the Verdant Flame.

    And beside them...

    The woman in white, her golden horn glinting against the flames.

    The skies above the green-flaming plains of Everburn Aerie trembled beneath their arrival.

    Hundreds of Ancient Millenium Acheron Phoenixes flitted across the sprawling airspace. Some soared on emerald and violet wings, leaving streaks of heat and light across the horizon. Others walked the regal ridges of flaming obsidian mountains, speaking in low, melodic tones that made the air shimmer.

    Then..

    They noticed them.

    Three figures floating above all.

    The Phoenixes bowed in reverence at once, recognizing Solmyron the Golden Pyre and Azuryan the Verdant Flame.

    But the third...

    The third was unfamiliar to most, and yet terrifyingly undeniable in presence.

    Her name?

    Selamira!

    But to the Sovereigns of Everburn Aerie, she was known by a title whispered only when the Aeonic Chains rattled in their sleep.

    The Hand of Darkness.

    She hovered effortlessly in the air, her white robes untouched by the swirling heat. The golden horn upon her head glowed faintly, reflecting the unnatural firelight around them. Her eyes, clear, cold, cutting- drifted over the phoenixes below.

    And then, her expression shifted.

    A deep frown curved her lips downward, her elegant features tightening into a grimace of disgust.

    “You all actually could not sense anything about this?”

    Her voice, though calm, cracked like a blade.

    Solmyron’s wings rustled. Azuryan narrowed her eyes.

    Selamira’s nostrils flared as if the very air around them repulsed her.

    “The stench of purity that does not belong to this land,” she continued, each word pronounced like a sentence of judgment. “It has already taken root, flown directly into the bodies of many of your phoenixes.”

    ...!

    Shock rippled through the air like thunder.

    Solmyron’s golden flames hissed. Azuryan turned sharply, her pupils dilating.

    Selamira raised her hand.

    And her eyes...

    Those glorious, star-forged eyes...

    Flashed with sunwhite brilliance.

    Twin beams of light erupted from her pupils, cascading downward like pillars of a wrathful dawn.

    They swept across the sky, the mountains, and the flaming ridges below- illuminating every figure, every winged form, every flicker of phoenix fire.

    And in that moment.

    The veil shattered.

    Golden fog rose.

    Billowing. Blooming.

    A field of glowing spores- millions of them- became visible, suspended like pollen in sacred air. They clung to the feathers, nestled into the glowing chests of the unsuspecting phoenixes, nestled deep within their bodies.

    They had already taken root.

    And the Sovereigns hadn’t seen it.

    Not until now!