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The world was dyed a pale silver by the splendid moonlight that poured out from the heavens.

The sands were still, and the wind was silent.

The air seemed to be hesitant to move, making it seem as though reality was stuck in a moment for eternity.

Of course, this was not the case.

The damage to Valestorm was obvious, but not irreparable. Far from it, even.

"It would take a few weeks to fix all the damages. However, with most of the \'forced laborers \' gone, perhaps it might take even longer." A man wearing a bulky, golden armor stood in front of the damaged gate to Valestorm, calmly observing the damage.

He was one of the only individuals in the entire Valestorm that didn\'t wear a long, flowing robe or gown. On his back was a silver kite shield with a purple crystal embedded in its center.

It was covered in glyphs, and while it appeared to be a single piece of equipment, if one looked closer, they would realize it was made of four separate pieces conjoined together as one.

He also wore a red cape on his back. With every ripple in the wind, the cape was like a river of blood flowing down his back.

On his hip rested a gold-plated longsword that screamed of power and death.

Like every other Pilgrim, he wore a mask. However, his mask was completely featureless and had been crafted from a solid gold-like material.

He was a head Priest of Balangol, serving under his Champion.

The Guardian...

"This is a grevious offense, sir. One that cannot be taken lightly." A Pilgrim dressed in sand-colored garments stood beside him.

Both were masked, but it was nearly impossible to know what the Guardian truly thought of the disaster. The other Pilgrim on the other hand, had his rage spewing out of every syllable he uttered.

The Guardian seemed to fall into thought. The Pilgrim standing beside him, also titled as the Sand Swallow, continued to rage on,

"The Seer was right, Sir. That bastard, Arltzwalt, was going to try something ignorant. I do not understand why he has been kept alive for so long! We should storm their camp immediately and annihilate them all!"

The Guardian who had been silent up until now, finally spoke up,

"Over see the damages. I have a meeting to attend."

Without saying a word more, he took a step forward and disappeared from sight, leaving the Sand Swallow alone.

Many Hunters had been employed to oversee the repairs. Since they were being paid in mana shards, and the work was not nearly as dangerous as fighting Aether Creatures or Mutant Creatures, it attracted a lot of attention.

"I heard the higher ups are considering war because of this." One of the Hunters, now turned laborer whispered to his shorter companion.

The shorter laborer snickered,

"If it comes to that, then I have no issues whatsoever. Fighting Aether Beasts can get dull after a while."

The taller laborer sneered,

"You bastard. Didn\'t you say you wanted to place bricks because you were tired of always risking your life."

The shorter one snorted, "Spare me the bullshit, like you aren\'t the same."

The taller one shrugged, "At least I am not a hypocrite. Well, whatever the case might be, we will have to fight for Valestorm and the glory of Balangol. Plus, I heard those military bastards are hoarding a lot of good stuff. Who knows, maybe we might have a chance to savor some good stuff."

The shorter one\'s eyes narrowed as he leaned in and whispered,

"Y-you mean..."

"Hehehe... With the power of our god, nothing is outside reach. Money, women, power. We can have it all! The endless desert encroaches forever, after all."

A seemingly meaningless conversation, soon to be forgotten in the annals of time and the corresponding memories.

Still, it seemed to capture perfectly, the reality of what was coming.

A war...

And not just any war, but a war between humans within the same camp.

***

Stepping through the gates of the Temple, Gilead took off his mask.

Behind the golden mask was a face that seemed to have been carved from stone. Cold, merciless and uncaring.

Despite his title of \'Guardian\', there was also a darker undertone.

For what it was worth, a guardian, is also an Executioner.

Salvation for one is damnation for another...

Calmly stepping through the hallway, he paused for a moment then turned to stare at the walls.

He remained motionless for a few minutes before he turned away and walked on.

The Temple of Balangol was huge, and it contained several rooms, hidden chambers, and halls, each one with different purpose.

Even the Head Priests and the Champion had no idea what most of them were for. After all, they had no hand in the magnificent structure\'s creation.

However, they did know one thing.

At the very center of the Temple was where the alter room was located.

Besides the Head Priests and the Champion, no other person was allowed to enter.

Unlike the other parts of the Temple, which were either dark or dimly lit, the Altar room was filled with light.

It was quite spacious. The walls of the room were covered with different glyphs and runes. Mana courses through the lines and geometrical shapes, giving the room an arcane feel. At the center of the room was a large idol of Balangol.

A specter-like being wearing a faceless mask. In one hand was a scythe representing death, and in the other was a scepter, representing authority and power.

Floating just above the alter was a rather peculiar phenomenon. If Cain saw it, he would easily recognize that it was rather similar to the strange phenomenon that he had found in the belly of the {Alabaster Leviathan} that had transported him to Prometheus.

Standing around the Alter were five other individuals.

A Pilgrim dressed in all white, with a white, featureless mask on his face. He held a lantern in his hand with a deep black flame that seemed to never go out. On his back was strapped a giant hammer that seemed too big for the individual that was meant to wield it.

Wulf Strungman, the Keeper, the Head Priest of the Mana Forge.

Standing to another side was a sultry woman wearing a rather revealing robe. The robe was a shade of light blue, and it had slits opened to reveal her pearly white legs as she rested languidly on a giant, dragon-like creature coiled around her body.

The moment he stepped into the room, the draconic creature turned to stare at him, its deep reptilian eyes containing boundless bloodlust. A simple deep blue mask also covered her face, keeping her otherworldly beautiful features hidden.

Seisha, the Songstress, the Head Priest of the Summons.

Standing on the other side of the alter, was another woman. She was dressed in a simple grey robe that did nothing to hide her incredible bodily proportions. Unlike all the other Pilgrims, she wore no mask.

Instead, her eyes were bound by a black cloth. The rest of her face was visible. And whilst all her features were beautiful, there was something about her pale face that screamed an immense sense of wrongness. Her indifferent features and pale white face seemed to further heighten that eerie aura around her.

Rain Calloe, the Seer, the Head Priest of Revelations.

Standing to the other side of the altar were the last two around the alter. A man wearing a kingly robe with a crown on his head and a scepter in his hand. A silver mask covered his face, and his bearing was that of a king.

Duke Blackwater, the Lord, the Head Priest of the Sands

However, his air was completely dwarfed by the only individual seated on a seat in the altar room.

He didn\'t wear a mask or a robe.

Hanging his legs other the armrest of the chair, he stared lazily at the altar.

He had a head of black hair and even blacker eyes.

His skin was white like snow, and his brows as sharp as a sword.

He was handsome by every definition of the word. His eyes seemed to contain deep arrogance and pride as well.

It was as though there was nothing in the world that could measure up to him.

All people, all life, was comparable to grains of sand before his eyes.

The Lord, the Guardian, the Songstress, the Keeper, and the Seer; these were the titles awarded to the strongest of Balangol\'s army on Urbus.

However, there was only one who could stand above them.

The Champion of Balangol.

The only being worthy to bear Balangol\'s power.

Kaelin Blackwater, the Champion of Balangol.

"It\'s been three days since we left Arkon Star. Gilead, give me all the details." Kaelin said lazily, looking towards Gilead.

Behind the mask, Gilead sucked in a deep breath, then spoke,

"Valestorm was attacked in our absence. According to the rumors, they were mercs employed by General Arltzwalt to cause us a bit of trouble."

Kaelin sat up, a strange smile on his face. His voice was rather soft and calm. It was subtle as well, like a snake hidden in grass, ready to deliver a lethal dose of poison to an unsuspecting victim.

"Mercs? How did they get here? I doubt any of the Hunter\'s are capable of something like this."

Gilead nodded, "Yes. Apparently, they came from outside the dome."

Kaelin\'s eyes widened. He turned to stare at the Seer, Rain,

"Did you hear that? Hahaha! You heard that, didn\'t you..."

She sighed, "I did indeed. It is as you believe."

Her voice was calm as she confirmed it,

"It seems the Dragon has been to Valestorm."

There was a moment of silence before Kaelin exploded into laughter. A vicious grin appeared on his face,

"This is wonderful! To think it would come so soon. The old man be damned! Looks like we have to pay him a visit soon."