When the signal orb was activated, a beam of cerulean light shot into the sky, followed by a thunderous boom akin to the sound of a cannon.
The sound instantly attracted every single person in the capital city, and their heads snapped skyward at the burst of light. It resembled a firework, only it was much more powerful—despite it being dayti, it shone vividly in the bright blue sky.
"What the heck is that? Fireworks?"
"Who would shoot fireworks at this ti of day?"
Naturally, the normal folks were perplexed and clueless. They could only look skyward with dumb expressions on their faces, trying to figure out why this was happening. And as usual, wild speculations spread among them.
However, they weren't the target audience.
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In every nook and cranny of the capital city, suspicious figures began moving. So were walking, a few jogging, and others outright running, shoving those in front of them. Despite their differences thod of movent one thing was common among them—the passionate gleam in their eyes.
Every step they took had a slight hop, and an excited, almost psychopathic grin split across their faces. It seed... as if they had been waiting for this signal all their lives.
In front of Jarvis' shop, at that precise mont, Nathan stepped out with a small vial in his hands. But he didn't have ti to admire the vial, as his attention was imdiately drawn to the sky.
Nathan's eyes glead with suspicion. He could tell sothing was wrong, though he couldn't quite wrap his head around it. However, his instincts—honed through countless battles—scread at him that sothing terrible was about to happen.
Instinctively, his hand shot forward, grabbing Serana. The archer averted her gaze from the sky, looking at Nathan, wincing slightly at his overprotective grip. She was about to say sothing, but at that mont, she caught sight of her grandfather, staring around suspiciously.
Nathan's eyes glead as he saw countless figures dashing past the normal civilians.
"I knew sothing was wrong," he muttered to himself in a low, barely audible voice.
The figures moved at incredible speed. To mundane people, it was nothing more than a slight gust of wind brushing past them. Awakend like Serana could see them, but to soone like Nathan, it was too obvious.
These people weren't just running. They had a destination, a purpose.
At that mont, Nathan noticed he was still holding Serana's arm tightly. He didn't even know when he had grabbed it—it had been pure instinct.
"Is sothing wrong?" Serana asked. Clearly, she had noticed sothing was off as well.
"Yes," Nathan nodded. "But I'm not sure. Let's return to the academy first."
"Okay."
With one final glance, Nathan left the scene.
The normal citizens, still debating the aning of the sky's explosion, remained blissfully unaware of the growing storm.
But in the hidden alleys, in the backrooms of shady establishnts, in underground hideouts and secret chambers—the signal had been received.
Inside a dimly lit tavern, a group of rough-looking n sat silently, their eyes locked on the ceiling as if listening for sothing.
Then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, they all rose at once.
Drinks were left half-finished. Coins were abandoned on tables. Chairs scraped against the wooden floor.
Without a word, they stepped onto the streets, blending into the shifting tide of figures heading toward the lighthouse.
In a dimly lit alley, a woman in dark robes leaned against the wall, her lips curling into a knowing smile. Her sharp, calculating eyes watched the city below, observing the figures rushing toward their destination.
"So, they've finally decided to make their move," she whispered, amusent lacing her tone. She adjusted the hood of her cloak, concealing most of her face. Then, with one last glance at the sky, she turned and left.
"The Lich Court has to prepare as well."
Her words lingered in the air before she disappeared into thin air in a burst of smoke.
At the lighthouse, a cloaked figure with a large "two" on his cloak stood with his back to the gathered figures. His presence alone was enough to silence them.
The air was thick with tension. The gathered figures stood in silence, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods. The only light ca from the glowing cerulean orb hovering above them, its pulsating radiance casting long shadows on the stone walls.
The leader did not speak imdiately, letting the silence press down on his followers.
Then, in a deep, commanding voice, he finally spoke.
"For too long, the Awakened have ruled unchecked."
His words carried effortlessly through the chamber. The assembled figures stiffened, their breaths held in anticipation.
"They call themselves gifted. Blessed. Chosen by gods." His voice twisted with disdain. "But we know the truth. They are parasites. Mutations that should have never existed."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, their emotions simring beneath the surface—anger, hatred, conviction.
"The Flaming Order was not created to sit in the shadows while these monsters flourished. No. We were born to cleanse this world. To strip away the corruption. And this is what we've been doing all this while. But tonight, we take it a step further."
He turned then, his piercing gaze sweeping over the gathered figures. Though his face remained obscured by his hood, the sheer weight of his presence made every single one of them feel as though he was looking directly at them.
"The Vermilion Kingdom will be the first."
A sharp intake of breath passed through the crowd. They had been anticipating this day for a long ti, but now that it was here, their blood bubbled with excitent.
"They call this place a beacon of power, a sanctuary for the strong." Number Two continued. "Let's see how they fare when that power is torn from their hands."
The murmurs grew louder, filled with anticipation and bloodlust.
"But that is not our only goal." He raised a hand, and the cerulean orb pulsed brighter, illuminating the carved symbols on the stone walls—ancient runes, forming a pattern lost to ti.
"The World-Ender Fragnts… scattered, forgotten, yet still holding the power to reshape existence itself."
The figures straightened, listening even more intently now.
"We need them. Every last piece. And where better to start than a kingdom swollen with arrogance and undeserved strength?"
"And the Awakened? We—"
"Kill them all."
The room fell into silence.
The words hung in the air—absolute, unwavering. There was no hesitation, no room for misinterpretation.
"The streets will run red. The world will rember who truly holds power. And when the dust settles, the Flaming Order will not just be feared."
He stepped forward, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried like a scream.
"We will be the ones who decide who lives and who dies."
No cheers followed his speech.
Just silent agreent.
And then, without another word, the figures began to move.
In the Vermilion Royal Academy, Glens, the full-bodied figure, began to retrieve her sword.
"It started earlier than expected," she whispered, standing up. She turned to the student closest to her. "Let's have it anyway, then!"
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