As the victorious war cries gradually faded, reality began to settle over the battlefield.
The war was over.
The conflict that had defined an entire generation had finally reached its conclusion. And now came the difficult part.
The living had to bury the dead.
Across Solfea, soldiers laid down their weapons and picked up shovels. Funeral pyres burned day and night as countless fallen warriors were given their final rites.
Priests recited prayers. Families searched desperately for familiar faces among the survivors. Some found them.
Many did not.
Victory had e at a terrible price.
The scars of the war would remain long after the blood had been washed from the earth.
With the destruction of the Demon Empire, there was no longer any reason for the armies of the Hyades Republic to remain in Solfea. Whether it would continue to be called the Hyades Republic was another matter entirely.
After all, the goddess whose name the nation bore had fallen. Not only that, she betrayed humanity and chose to destroy them rather than save them.
In the days to e, it wouldn’t be surprising if the Hyades Republic now went by a different name.
Standing before the temporary military encampment, Alrock Solaris watched as the soldiers of the Republic prepared to depart. Wagons were loaded. Supply lines were organised. Veterans gathered their belongings.
They were finally going home.
Alrock stepped forward and extended his hand.
"Gerrick."
The old lord’s voice carried genuine warmth.
"How can the Solaris House ever repay you?"
Before him stood Grand Marshal Gerrick, mander of the Hyades Army and one of the greatest contributors to humanity’s victory. The two men had fought side by side through the war, never once doubting the other.
Now they stood together one last time before parting ways.
Gerrick simply laughed and shook his head.
"There’s nothing to repay." His gaze drifted toward the distant horizon. "If the Solaris House had fallen, the Republic would’ve been next."
He wasn’t being humble. He was stating a fact. For centuries, the Solaris House had stood as humanity’s greatest shield. The first line of defence against every catastrophe.
Had Solfea fallen, the rest of the world would not have survived for long.
"Although..." A mischievous grin spread across Gerrick’s weathered face. "If you’re looking for ways to thank me, putting in a good word with the new gods wouldn’t hurt."
Alrock burst into laughter. The request sounded like a joke. Yet both men knew there was truth behind it.
The world had changed.
Everyone who witnessed Amon overthrow Hyades. Everyone who saw Heaven open. Everyone who watched Leon erase Abyssion and Kieran with a single act of divine judgment.
They all understood one undeniable reality.
There were new Gods now.
And unlike the distant deities of ancient legends, these gods walked among them.
The hierarchy of the world had shifted overnight. Kings were no longer at the summit. Neither were saints. Nor emperors. The gods now stand at the pinnacle of existence.
Humanity would need time to learn how to live beneath their gaze.
Fortunately, the three thrones were occupied by individuals they trusted.
Not tyrants. Not conquerors. But heroes.
Though the mon people had yet to realise just how fortunate they truly were.
"Don’t worry so much, Amon and Leon aren’t the type to make life difficult for anyone." Alrock folded his arms. "If anything, they’ll probably help rebuild the Republic."
Gerrick’s eyes brightened.
"Haha! That’s exactly what I’m hoping for."
The two veterans shared a hearty laugh. For the first time in many years, the future seemed bright. Not perfect. Not easy. But bright.
The burden they had carried for so long was finally gone.
"Then I’ll eagerly await Amon’s summons."
Gerrick waved his arm and smiled.
"Just don’t die before then, old man."
"Oh?" Alrock raised an eyebrow. "With Heaven and Earth being one, who’s to say I won’t outlive you?"
Gerrick froze. Then he burst into laughter.
The road to immortality had reopened. What had once been impossible was now merely difficult. Figures such as the Sword Saint were practically guaranteed to transcend mortality. Even someone like Alrock had a chance, provided he was given enough time and resources.
The thought of immortality had transformed from fantasy into possibility.
"Heh." Gerrick shook his head. "Let’s hope you’re right."
The two men clasped forearms one final time.
No grand ceremony. No dramatic farewell. Just the simple respect shared between warriors who had survived the end of the world together.
Soon afterwards, Gerrick mounted his horse and gave the order. The columns began moving. Thousands of soldiers marched toward the horizon.
Toward home. Toward families they hadn’t seen in years. Toward a future they had nearly died fighting for.
Alrock remained where he stood, watching until the last banner disappeared from view.
Only then did he release a long breath.
The Hyades Army was going home.
The Solaris House was beginning its reconstruction. The world itself was slowly healing. For the first time in decades, peace seemed possible.
But while nations focused on rebuilding... One particular member of Eldorin found herself facing a very different challenge.
Eris Umbrelune knelt before the mass grave.
Thousands rested beneath the freshly turned earth.
Knights. Mages. Soldiers... Heroes.
Countless names that would be remembered for generations. And countless more that would not. The evening wind swept across the burial grounds, rustling Eris’s lavender-white hair as she silently stared at the endless rows of graves.
To everyone else, this place was quiet.
To Eris, it was anything but.
Her grey eyes trembled. Because she could hear them. The dead. Their voices echoed endlessly within her mind.
Fear. Regret. Sorrow. Confusion.
The battlefield had ended, but their suffering had not. Some cried for their families. Some cried for their lovers. Others simply cried because they did not understand why they had died. The voices blended together into a sea of grief. A chorus of mourning that only she could hear.
As a necromancer, Eris had spent her entire life muning with the dead.
Yet she had never viewed them as tools.
Never as servants. Never as resources to be exploited.
To her, the dead were people.
Lost souls seeking fort. And whenever she could, she offered it.
A kind word.
A final farewell.
A moment of peace before they departed.
Usually, that was enough.
Usually, she could bear their pain.
But not this time.
There were too many. Too many regrets. Too many unfinished stories. Too many voices begging for help. The weight of their grief crashed down upon her. And for the first time in years, Eris felt powerless.
Slowly, tears slid down her cheeks.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just silent tears falling onto the soil beneath her knees.
The cries of the dead continued... and she had no answer for them.
"Are you alright?"
A calm voice interrupted the silence.
Eris turned to see Manon standing behind her. The legendary Sky Spear. The final relic of the ancient dynasty once ruled by the Clay Emperor. The old warrior approached slowly before stopping beside her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Eris lowered her head.
"No." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I’m not."
She looked toward the graves.
"The souls..." Her hands tightened. "They won’t stop crying."
Manon followed her gaze. Though he couldn’t see the spirits themselves, he could feel the chill lingering in the air. The remnants of countless lives that had ended too soon.
"I see." His expression softened. "They’re seeking salvation."
Eris nodded.
"They died protecting their homes." Her voice trembled. "They died protecting the people they loved."
"They died for something noble."
"Did they?"
Eris suddenly looked up. Her eyes were red. Filled with frustration. Filled with helplessness.
"If that’s true..."
She gestured toward the sea of graves.
"Then who protects them?"
Manon fell silent. The question lingered between them.
Who protected the dead? Who forted those who had already sacrificed everything? Who guided the souls left behind?
Eris had spent years trying. But there were limits to what she could do.
The dead remained restless. And perhaps they had every right to be. They never wanted to die. Yet death had claimed them all the same.
There was no Heaven waiting for them. No paradise. No promised salvation.
Only the slow dissolution of the soul back into the cycle of the world.
A fate many accepted.
But many feared.
"All they want..." Eris stared at the graves. "...is somewhere to return to."
The wind grew stronger.
"A place where they can rest."
"A place where they don’t have to be afraid anymore."
Manon listened quietly. Then he asked a simple question.
"Why don’t you give it to them?"
Eris blinked.
"What?" She let out a bitter laugh. "Manon, I’m a necromancer."
"I speak with the dead. I guide them when I can, but if I stop them from passing on..."
Her gaze darkened.
"Wouldn’t I just be prolonging their suffering?"
The old warrior smiled. A patient smile. One born from centuries of experience.
"When I guarded the souls of my people..." His eyes drifted toward the horizon. "I believed the same thing."
For countless ages, Manon had watched over the spirits of his fallen dynasty. He had seen every form of grief imaginable. Every regret. Every sorrow. Every attachment.
"The dead aren’t always ready to leave."
Eris listened.
"They worry about their families."
"They mourn the futures they lost."
"They regret promises they never fulfilled."
"They cling to duties left unfinished."
His voice grew quiet.
"Death doesn’t erase those feelings."
Eris slowly nodded. She understood that better than anyone.
"But after enough time..." Manon smiled. "They accepted it."
Her eyes widened.
"I gave them somewhere to grieve. Somewhere to remember. Somewhere to e to terms with what happened."
His gaze softened.
"And eventually... They found peace."
The cries around Eris seemed quieter. Not because the souls had stopped. But because she was finally listening to them differently.
"What are you trying to say?"
Manon sat beside her. For a moment, they simply stared at the sea of graves together. Then he answered.
"I’m saying... You can bee that place."
Eris froze.
"What?"
"You already carry their burdens. You already mourn for them. You already dedicate your life to helping them." His smile widened. "Do you really think that’s something everyone would do?"
Eris lowered her gaze. A faint blush touched her cheeks. She wanted to deny it. Yet she couldn’t.
How many nights had she spent forting spirits? How many souls had she guided into peace? How many tears had she shed for strangers?
Far more than she could count.
"In this new age..."
Manon looked toward the heavens. The heavens had finally reopened. The heavens are now ruled by gods.
"Divinity is no longer beyond reach."
The wind carried his words across the graveyard.
"If you ascend... You could create a place for them."
Eris looked up.
"A place?"
"A sanctuary. A realm between life and eternity."
His voice grew gentler.
"A place where lost souls can mourn. A place where they can heal. A place where they can learn to accept death at their own pace."
Eris’s eyes widened. The idea sounded impossible. And yet... Beautiful.
"Like a purgatory?"
Manon chuckled.
"Yes, exactly like a purgatory."
For the first time since arriving at the graveyard, Eris smiled. A small smile. A hopeful one. Manon rose to his feet and extended a hand toward her.
The setting sun illuminated the sea of graves behind them.
Thousands of souls. Thousands of stories. Thousands are waiting for someone to guide them. And as Eris looked upon them, she finally understood.
Death was not merely an ending.
Sometimes... It needed a guardian.
Manon’s smile became radiant.
"And when that day es, Eris..." His voice carried a certainty that sent chills through her soul. "You won’t merely be a necromancer."
"You will bee the keeper of every soul that has nowhere left to go... The shepherd of the dead... The Lord of the Departed."
"I see... yes, that sounds nice."
And thus, a seed was planted in Eris that day.
A seed that would eventually sprout into a divinity the world sorely needs.
A divine governing souls.
The God... of Death.
Reviews
All reviews (0)