Chapter 93: Chapter 93: The Astral Gate
Chapter 93: The Astral Gate
The heavy tension in the ruined street refused to dissipate.
Aegon Logcheville had lowered his spear, and the remaining holdouts had agreed to hear Draven out.
But loyalty was not bought with a single threat. It had to be earned with answers.
Bram Stonehelm unbuckled his massive tower shield, letting it hit the muddy concrete with a heavy THUD.
He crossed his thick arms, his brow deeply furrowed.
"You say you want us to join the Embracing Hands," Bram rumbled, his voice low and suspicious.
"The Vanguard paints your organization as a rogue element. They say you operate in the dark. Before I pledge my shield to anyone, I need to know what you do in the dark. Do we have to murder innocents? Do you sacrifice people like the Cult to gain this ’power’ you promised?"
Draven looked at the giant boy. He didn’t take offense. It was a valid question for a Vanguard cadet.
"We are not the Cult of the Eternal Eclipse, Bram," Draven answered flatly, his pitch-black eyes entirely serious.
"We do not worship the Miasma. We do not sacrifice the innocent. If anything, we are the blade in the dark that cuts the Cult’s throat while the Vanguard is busy writing reports."
Reina Frost stepped forward, her grip tightening on the leather-wrapped haft of her ice axe.
"Then what is the purpose of the Embracing Hands? Why exist outside the law? Why not just work with Lord Commander Goldmane if your goal is to fight the Cult?"
"Because the Vanguard is a cage," Draven stated, his voice ringing with absolute conviction.
"The Lord Commander is strong, but he is shackled by noble politics, resource hoarding, and defensive protocols. The Vanguard is built to survive. The Embracing Hands is built to conquer. Our Lord, the one who founded this syndicate, has only one absolute directive: The total reclamation of humanity’s lands, and the absolute eradication of the monsters that stole them."
Aegon narrowed his golden eyes. He looked at Draven, analyzing his posture and his tone.
"You keep saying ’Our Lord,’" Aegon noted sharply.
"You are ’Zero.’ You vaporized a Titan. Yet, you speak as if you take orders from someone else. Who is running this organization, Draven? And why did they choose us? Why recruit first-year students when you clearly have the power to recruit veteran Knights?"
"Veterans are set in their ways. They are loyal to their noble houses. They cannot be molded," Draven explained smoothly, pacing slowly in front of the group.
"Our Lord chose you because you are blank slates with S-Rank potential. You are the seeds of the next era."
Draven turned to look at the disgraced noble leaning against the rusted bank wall.
"And as for who is running the organization," Draven said, his voice dropping an octave.
"He is an existence that predates the Vanguard. An entity that operates beyond the physical plane."
Lucien Vaelmont’s silver eyes widened slightly. He pushed himself off the wall, the aristocratic sneer entirely gone from his face.
"You promised me power," Lucien demanded quietly, his voice tight with desperate ambition.
"You promised me a way to wash the disgrace from my family’s name. If this ’Lord’ of yours is truly a being capable of giving me the strength to carve my legacy into the Vanguard... prove it. Let us meet him."
Nyx nodded silently from the shadows, twirling a dagger between her fingers. Even Natalie Tokks, still trembling slightly from Draven’s earlier aura, looked up with wide, curious eyes.
They wanted proof.
Draven smiled. It was a cold, perfectly calculated expression. He had guided them exactly where he wanted them.
"As you wish," Draven said softly.
He raised his right hand.
"Our Lord has been waiting to meet you."
SNAP.
Draven snapped his fingers.
The physical world vanished.
There was no magical light, no feeling of wind, no warning whatsoever. One second, the squad was standing in the toxic, freezing mud of Sector 44-J.
The next second, their physical bodies slumped against the concrete, and their consciousness was violently violently yanked out of reality. Draven had already scanned the area for the Monsters so they were not in any danger.
FWOOSH.
Aegon gasped, his eyes flying open.
He wasn’t in the Wildlands anymore. The red fog was entirely gone.
He was standing on a floor of flawless, polished black marble. Above him was an endless, terrifying expanse of deep space.
Millions of galaxies slowly spiraled in the void overhead, casting an ethereal, shifting starlight across the room.
"What... what is this?" Reina breathed, looking at her hands. Her ice axe was gone. She felt impossibly light, yet the pressure in the room was crushing.
"Spatial displacement?" Lucien muttered, spinning around in a panic.
"No... this isn’t physical. My mana core isn’t responding. Where are we?!"
"Welcome," Draven’s voice echoed across the marble floor.
The squad whipped around. Draven was standing a few feet away from them, looking exactly as he did in the physical world. He was standing with them, on their level.
But Draven wasn’t looking at them. He was looking forward, his head bowed in a gesture of profound, fanatical reverence.
In the center of the vast, starlit room sat a massive table carved entirely from a single block of dark obsidian.
And at the head of the table sat a throne.
The squad slowly raised their eyes. When they saw what was sitting on the throne, every single one of them, even Aegon, instinctively dropped to their knees.
It was a god.
There was no other word for it. The entity sitting on the throne was gargantuan, shifting between the form of a man and a swirling vortex of deep, cosmic nebula.
Eyes like dying stars blinked within its formless body.
It radiated an aura of ancient, primordial power that made the Lord Commander’s Level 200 pressure feel like a gentle breeze.
"Arise, seeds of the new era," the Void God spoke.
Its voice did not come from the throne. It echoed directly inside their skulls, vibrating with the harmonic frequency of the cosmos.
Draven kept his head bowed, flawlessly playing his role as the loyal servant.
Internally, his S-Rank [System] was working in overdrive, perfectly separating his consciousness to control both his physical avatar on the floor and the terrifying illusion on the throne simultaneously.
"Zero has spoken highly of your potential," the cosmic entity continued, its shifting starry eyes looking down at the kneeling squad.
"You stand within my Sanctuary. Here, time holds no sway. Here, the Vanguard’s petty laws mean nothing. I am the architect of the Embracing Hands. I offer you the strength to conquer your world. I offer you the path to the Seed of Valor."
Aegon forced himself to look up. His hands were trembling, not from fear, but from sheer, overwhelming awe.
Draven hadn’t lied. They weren’t joining a criminal syndicate. They were enlisting in a holy war backed by a literal deity.
"What... what do you require of us, Lord?" Aegon asked, his voice shaking.
"Loyalty," the Void God commanded, the cosmic nebula flaring brilliantly.
"Obedience. And the absolute commitment to eradicate the Cult of the Eternal Eclipse. In return, the shadow of my hand shall cover you, and my servant Zero shall guide your blades."
The massive entity leaned forward. The sheer gravity of the room doubled.
"Do you accept my embrace?"
Aegon looked back at Draven, who simply nodded once. Aegon turned back to the throne and pressed his forehead against the black marble floor.
"I accept," Aegon swore.
"I accept," Lucien whispered fiercely, his eyes burning with fanatic ambition.
One by one, Reina, Bram, Nyx, and Natalie pledged their loyalty to the cosmic illusion. Lyra, Cole, Estella, and Neville also simply bowed respectfully.
Draven permitted himself a small, invisible smile.
The absolute loyalty of the Special Class was secured. They revered him as the chosen Herald of a God.
"Then return to your waking world," the Void God declared.
"Grow your strength in the cage of the Vanguard. Wait for Zero’s command."
The cosmic entity raised a massive hand.
VWOOM.
The starlight vanished.
Aegon gasped violently, his eyes snapping open. He was back in the cold, toxic mud of Sector 44-J.
The heavy rain was falling against his tactical gear. His lungs burned as he sucked in the damp air.
He looked around frantically. Lucien was on his knees, panting heavily. Reina was gripping her chest. They were all back in their physical bodies.
Draven stood by the broken vault door, perfectly calm. He looked at the squad.
"We will return to Bastion Seven," Draven ordered quietly, assuming full command.
"We will hand them the maps. We will play as the students and grow our strength strong enough to kill a KING."
Aegon gripped his spear. He stood up, the doubt completely erased from his golden eyes.
"Lead the way, Zero," Aegon said.
