Among the chaos, a duel unfolded.

  A Royal Knight, his armor marked with the insignia of Lumara’s elite order, cshed bdes with a masked opponent. Sparks flew as steel met steel, the force of their strikes sending powerful shockwaves through the surrounding area. Then the knight’s eyes widened in shock as he recognized his opponent. "You!” he gasped, his bde faltering for just a moment.

  Beneath the mask, his opponent’s gaze was fierce and unwavering. He was one of the Knights of Pentra.Realisation dawned. His lips curled into a sneer.

  “You traitorous bastard!” he spat, his voice dripping with venom and disdain. “The Knights of Pentra, I should have known! Once sworn protectors of the faith, now nothing but cowards and heretics! "His bde came down in a brutal arc, his strikes fueled by betrayal and hatred.

  “Do you revel in this treachery? Turning your back on the goddess who blessed you? Fighting alongside filthy rebels like common scum? You are a disgrace, a stain on your own oath!”

  The masked warrior said nothing, his resolve unshaken. His silence only enraged the knight further.

  “You should have died with your honor intact, but instead, you crawl in the shadows, selling your soul to traitors and heathens. I’ll send you to the abyss where you belong!”

  Their bdes cshed again, the battle raging with renewed ferocity, one side fighting for justice, the other for a truth long buried.

  Seated in a grand chamber high above the main hall of the Grand Cathedral, the King watched the unfolding chaos with growing rage. Cd in royal regalia of crimson and gold, his fists clenched as he witnessed the disguised knights emerge, their strength shifting the tide of battle in favor of the rebels.

  From his elevated position, he could see his Royal Knights struggling, their once-absolute dominance challenged by warriors who should not have had the power to oppose them. His celebration had turned into a battlefield. His holy capital under attack.

  His anger boiled over.

  With a sharp turn of his head, he scanned the four great noble houses, their heads seated in ornate chairs beside him. Each of them represented one of the great bloodlines that had ruled alongside the royal family for generations. His piercing gaze flickered over their faces, searching for the hand behind this treachery. Then, his eyes stopped on Count von.

  The count, dressed in dark velvet robes with silver embroidery, was the very image of a composed nobleman. His expression remained calm, even as the king's gaze bore into him like a dagger.

  The tension thickened as the king finally spoke, his voice ced with fury.

  "What is this, Count Von?"

  The words hung in the air, sharp and demanding. The king’s tone made it clear he suspected betrayal.

  Count Von’s brows lifted in feigned shock, his hand rising to his chest as though wounded by the very accusation.

  "Your Majesty, surely you do not suspect me of such treason?" He shook his head, his voice filled with well-practiced sincerity. "This is madness! I am as loyal to the crown as I have always been. Why would I ever conspire against you, against our great kingdom?"

  His words were smooth and convincing, but behind his calm demeanor, his mind raced.

  "Tch… So he suspects me already? That was quicker than I anticipated. But no matter… suspicion alone is meaningless. Without proof, he cannot act."

  As the king’s furious gaze remained locked onto him, Count Von maintained his perfect mask of innocence, all the while thinking:

  "You can do nothing, Your Majesty. Not without proof.

  The Grand Cathedral of Luminaris, once a beacon of faith and sanctity, had become a warzone. The sacred halls, meant to bear witness to the coronation of Melissa, were now flooded with rebels, their weapons drawn, their battle cries rising above the panicked screams of fleeing civilians.

  The Padins of Lumara, cd in shining silver armor, stood as an impenetrable wall before the advancing rebels. Their shields interlocked, their blessed weapons gleaming with divine energy, but they did not kill.

  Bound by the doctrine of the Church, they knew that to sughter commoners in pin sight would stain their sacred image. So they fought to contain, to restrain, to block the rebels' advance, but with every moment, more and more surged forward, desperate to push through the holy defenders.

  The Royal Knights, however, had no such restraint.

  With merciless efficiency, they cut through the rebel ranks, their swords painted in crimson. Unlike the Padins, they did not hesitate. To them, the rebels were heretics, unworthy of mercy. Yet even they struggled.

  The Knights in Disguise, warriors hidden among the rebellion, intercepted the Royal Knights with unnatural strength and speed, preventing them from overwhelming the rebel forces. With every fallen knight, the battlefield tilted ever so slightly in favour of the attackers.

  Then a gap in the Padins’ defense.

  A single rebel, cloaked and bloodied, his breath ragged with exhaustion, slipped through the blockade.

  His wild eyes locked onto the priestess Melissa, who stood at the center of the ceremony, her white robes unstained, untouched by battle. The sight of her, standing in divine serenity while his comrades fell around him, filled him with fury.

  With a roar, he lunged, bde raised high.

  A single moment. A single strike. A chance to end it all.

  But he never reached her.

  SHING!

  The sound of steel slicing through flesh filled the air.

  The rebel froze; his charge halted in an instant. His weapon slipped from his fingers, cttering onto the marble floor. Blood trickled from a thin red line across his throat.

  Then his body colpsed.

  Standing over him, the bde still dripping with fresh blood, was Gan Wills.

  His usual composed demeanor was gone. His face twisted with rage, his cold, unfeeling eyes now alight with fury. He had snapped. "You dare."

  His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it reverberated with power.

  "You dare raise your bde against the priestess?"

  He turned his gaze to the advancing rebels, his burning wrath now directed at all of them.

  The air grew heavy.

  For the first time since the battle began, the rebels hesitated. There was an unspoken warning in the air, an invisible threshold that had been crossed. One more step. One more act of sacrilege and the Padins would no longer hold back.

  After each one of them, even the weakest, possessed more Aetherium than an average knight, their power far beyond what the rebels could hope to match. Had they chosen to truly fight, the battle would have ended in minutes, a complete sughter. The Moment of Realization: The Rebels' Despair

  The battlefield fell into a moment of eerie silence.

  The lifeless body of their fallen comrade y motionless at the feet of Gan , his blood staining the pristine marble floor of the Grand Cathedral. The priestess Melissa stood unharmed, untouched, her presence almost otherworldly amidst the chaos.

  The rebels, once fueled by defiance and desperation, now felt an undeniable truth sink into their bones.

  They were fucked.

  Despite their numbers, despite the sacrifices, and despite the allies in disguise among their ranks, the rebellion was not succeeding.

  The Royal Knights, though occupied, still cut through them like bdes through parchment. The Padins, even while holding back, were an unbreakable wall. The strongest warriors of the Church had not even fully joined the fight, yet the rebels were already on the verge of colpse.

  Some rebels hesitated, clutching their weapons tighter. Others took slow, unsteady steps backward, their resolve wavering. This wasn’t a battle. It was a sughter waiting to happen.

  Then came the worst realization of all.

  Even if they won this battle, even if by some miracle they reached Melissa… they would still lose.

  The Church was too powerful. The kingdom of Lumara was too vast. The Priestess herself, the one they had come to strike down, was rumored to have the highest level of Aetherium ever recorded.

  They could kill hundreds of knights. Thousands, even. And still, they would lose.

  The weight of that truth sank in. The battle, their cause—it had all been doomed from the start.

  NOTE

  The Holy Knight of Lumara (padins): The Holy Knight is a warrior of immense valor, chosen by Lumara to stand as the Goddess’s champion against the forces of darkness. Their bond with Lumara is forged through years of discipline, honor, and a deep commitment to the pursuit of justice. Unlike the Padin, who serves as a beacon of light, the Holy Knight is a protector—shielding those who cannot defend themselves and guiding the lost toward Lumara’s love.

  Upon being chosen, the Holy Knight receives the gift of Aetherium, the holy magic that flows from the celestial realm. Aetherium is the magic of purity and protection. It manifests as a radiant golden energy that can take many forms, from creating powerful shields to imbuing weapons with light-infused might. It is said that Aetherium can even heal the deepest wounds, and its presence is a beacon of hope to those who despair.

  Powers of the Holy Knight:

  Radiant Shield: The Holy Knight summons a massive, shimmering shield of Aetherium, capable of deflecting both physical and magical attacks. This shield can also expand, protecting entire groups of allies.

  Lightbde Strike: The Holy Knight channels Aetherium through their weapon, turning it into a sword of pure light. Each strike becomes a burst of radiant energy that severs darkness and brings justice to the wicked.

  Aura of Purity: The Holy Knight creates an aura that cleanses allies of poison, curses, and other afflictions. Those within the aura feel a sense of calm and strength, their spirits emboldened by Lumara’s presence.

  Judgement of the Goddess: The Holy Knight summons the full force of Aetherium to call down a divine judgement on enemies, raining down radiant meteors that burn with the power of the Goddess’s wrath. It is a punishment upon those who spread hate, violence, or corruption.

  . The Knights of PentraNobility’s Shield in the North

  The Knights of Pentra form a vast order primarily drawn from the noble houses, especially the four great noble families. Tasked with defending the northern frontiers of the kingdom, they are the shield against external threats, such as raiders, barbarians, and incursions from neighboring territories. The order is a mix of seasoned warriors and ambitious nobles seeking to earn glory.

  Responsibilities:

  Maintaining the defense of the northern regions.

  Securing trade routes and ensuring the safety of border towns.

  Serving as the kingdom’s first line of defense during invasions.

  Key Traits:

  Primarily composed of nobility, blending military prowess with political ambition.

  Their equipment, while not as refined as the Royal Knights, is still formidable.

  A strong sense of rivalry exists among them, as they compete for recognition and favor.