Entities, like the enigmatic Corvus, bear their own true nas, though mankind, in its limited wisdom, has co to know them simply as "Entities"—the Raven Entity, Corvus, chief among them.
Ancient whispers tell of how the Raven Entity was forged from the countless generations of the departed, each soul ascending to beco a raven. Thus, the very essence of living ravens coalesces into the Corvus Entity, forming a colossal shadow of a bird when their numbers unite.
Yet, in an age long past, as Corvus, the Raven Entity, reached its zenith, it was assailed by the mighty Thunderbird of Elanthro. It plumted to the sacred grounds of Ossibuz, its blood and flesh consud by the ravens dwelling there. The elders of Ossibuz recount how a dark lineage then spread, piercing the very heart of every raven. It was then that Sapar's grandfather, a sorcerer of unparalleled might, capable of communing with the minds of beasts—even ravens—arrived. Under his sagacious leadership, the Ossibians forged a civilization. With the ravens as their eyes, their awareness perated the land, as if they saw every hidden corner of the world. Still, these ethereal avians rarely grace the frigid lands with their presence.
Though they stand apart from other nations, a persistent marvel grips the hearts of n: how do the Ossibians remain ever vigilant of foreign affairs? Even the whispered plots of invasion from distant lands fail to escape the ravens' keen gaze.
"Matar," the voice of the Corvus Entity resonated within Matar's very thoughts. Matar was awake, yet a cosmic dialogue unfolded in his mind. "The hour draws nigh when we, the entities, shall break free. On that day, my voice shall no longer reach you only in thought. I seek your aid for the Chosen of Triangulum."
"The Triangulum Entity?" Matar questioned, his mind racing. "What manner of Entity is this?" He settled deeper, yearning for clarity from Corvus.
"You shall know in the fullness of ti, but for now, wait for the child to be marked by Triangulum… The radiant surge that erupted in Cypriox will be soon the conduit for the resurrection of a mighty entity to co," Corvus unveiled.
"When exactly the ti for that event??" Matar's gaze drifted to the window, where ravens soared on the winds. His lips were still, but his spirit spoke.
"That question holds no sway now. Your task is to command the ravens to keep a vigilant watch over the lands of Cypriox, to monitor the movents of the kings who hunt the father of a chosen child, of Triangulum. " Corvus commanded.
"Who's that man?"
"What grand sche do you weave, that you seek to shed your spiritual forms?" Matar pressed. "Are you not content that we wield your power?"
"Hmm, your perception errs. Our true design is to reshape the very destiny of this world," Corvus countered, its tone hinting at depths yet untold to Matar.
"Destiny?" Matar breathed, a sudden weight settling upon him.
"The Orion Entity harbors malevolent intent; it craves the destruction of the human world. Thus, it scorned aid to the Thallerions, for its desire to shatter this realm predates even that conflict," Corvus declared with grim resolve. "It let humanity languish in tornt and suffering."
"So that is it, then! Small wonder the Thallerion nation was brought low by that Orion!" A triumphant grin spread across Matar's face. "No longer do I ponder why Moonatoria triumphed over the Thallerions."
***
Following this profound exchange, Matar dispatched a missive to the King of Thallerion. With the first blush of dawn the very next morning, the King of Thallerion stood at the border of Ossibuz, a formidable presence, demanding an audience with Matar. He was flanked by his ard legions. Yet, Sapar and his forces were already there, a shield against Xerxez at the threshold.
"What brings the King of Thallerion to our sacred lands? Disturbing the peace of the Ossibians at the break of day?!" Sapar thundered in greeting. "Ha-ha, did the cold graves of your farrs in Wendlock not grant you rest?"
"Aged Sapar, I know your hand was in that, for such was the testimony of the woman who witnessed you," Xerxez retorted, his brow furrowed, his jaw locked tight at the sight of Sapar.
"Accuse not! Perhaps you should sever the tongue of that 'witness' you speak of. A most deceitful fabrication, ha-ha!!!" He exhaled a plu of smoke into Xerxez's face, forcing a cough from the king.
"Where is Matar?" Xerxez demanded.
"You lack the grace of address, it seems. Perhaps 'Your Majesty, Matar,' would be more fitting," Fhajo interjected.
"I am here, King Thallerion." Matar arrived, a swirling retinue of ravens above him. "You co early, it seems, for such a fervent welco?" He was attended by his own warriors, among them his steadfast right hand, Lanero, and Matar's loyal guard, Gallexe. Leading Matar's formidable soldiers was none other than Adamoth, known far and wide as "the Decapitator," wielding a great axe with two monstrous blades.
Xerxez surveyed Matar's approaching line, their faces hardened, bearing no firearms, only shields and swords. They grinned with mocking disdain. "You are without heart, to drag even children into this." Xerxez saw Sapar rely pout.
"None of this tragedy would have unfolded had you not claid lives," Fhajo retorted, his jaw set in defiance.
"I slew but one, for his attempt upon our king!" Phalleon interjected, but the ravens cried out—a raven's immutable custom: once marked, never forgotten. Even generations hence, at the sight of Phalleon's face or the sound of his voice, they would hound him. A raven abruptly struck Phalleon's head.
"Ha-ha, it is good that you confessed." Sapar grinned. Even had Phalleon not admitted to shooting an Ossibian, Sapar knew the truth, whispered by the ravens.
"Mark my words, Xerxez, Wendlock shall be ours," King Matar declared, stepping closer to Xerxez.
"If you employ ravens as spies, then why not let this discord be settled by the clash of war? Surely you perceive our desires between our nations." A chilling smile stretched across Matar's face, like a raven poised for the perfect strike.
"If your design is to wage war upon us this very Sunday… I shall not consent," Matar's quiet, calculated response resonated in the air. The eyes of the Ossibuz soldiers widened, for they were prid for the glorious war they yearned for. Whispers rippled through their ranks.
"Then when do you desire it?" Xerxez pressed, eting Matar's gaze with defiant courage.
"Six months hence," Matar stated with a simple finality, his master plans already woven. Xerxez pondered this date, for it was the very day his son, Pyramus, was to be presented.
"Why prolong this heated conflict?" Xerxez urged, his mind still grappling with the possible outcos. Soldiers on both sides nodded, eager for the fray.
"If you refuse—then so be it. But I shall not engage you now. We are, in truth, already victorious, for we have laid Wendlock to ruin."
"Hold, Matar, what is this—look upon your soldiers' faces, like hungry children robbed of their al, will you not let them taste sweat?" Sapar frowned, but Matar remained silent.
"I shall await your answer in the days to co," Matar stated concisely, then added, "After all, you are still deep in mourning for the Queen of Thallerion." He then turned his back on the King of Thallerion and summoned his dispirited soldiers, for the war was not to be this day.
On that very evening, when the clock struck midnight, a strange pull seized him. He was drawn once more into the dagger's void—not in body, but in spirit. His form remained asleep in the mortal realm, yet his consciousness now drifted through the silent expanse of the blade's inner world.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Martheuw Cereun said, his voice heavy with sorrow. The walls around them flickered faintly, their light dimming as though the void itself grieved.
The young prince's joy—once bright and warm—had faded into a solemn calm. He stood alone now, shoulders trembling, but his hands were firm—his fists clenched with quiet resolve.
"No," he said at last, voice steady. "Enough with sorrowful words. They gave their lives to kindle a new hope for every child of Thallerion. They faced Moonatoria—a beast none could ever defeat—and still they stood their ground."
Martheuw inclined his head. "You are brave. Your grandfather was right—perhaps the bravest boy in all of Thallerion."
His gaze deepened, studying the boy as though peering beyond flesh and bone.
"I see now... you are not of pure Orion blood. There is another starline within you—Cephues. I can help you awaken it. But first, you must train... ntally."
The boy frowned. "ntally?"
Martheuw nodded slowly. "Yes. For those who bear the Cephues bloodline, the mind is both their forge and their doom. Should they suffer deeply—should despair consu them—they may walk one of two paths: to rise as heroes... or to fall as destroyers."
The boy's eyes widened. "Wait... if I suffer too much, I'll turn into so... mad creature? No—I don't want that!"
A faint echo of sorrow crossed the spirit's face. "Perhaps not. But know this—those who gain imnse power must hold an unshakable will. One blink of hatred, one whisper of vengeance... and humanity itself could vanish. That is why, long ago, the Cephues lineage was hunted. Entire generations were slain. Even Infants were not spared."
" Then, why Herzthroven bloodline still exist if my ancestors were hunted down back then?"
"There are so many bloodlines extinct. But, survival is a common goal of everyone, power ability help them survive, but those who were weaker will be forgotten until it extinct. So do you think Herzthroven bloodline is weak?"
" Huh? Well... I don't know...the current generation it seed were normal people like the other bloodlines too."
" You're only lack of training. But once you forge yourself into sothing you could imagine...then, better future may awaits you there."
" Goodbye."
****
He woke up simultaneously to the rang of bell. Who
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