The grand hall of the Hearth Manor was alive with light and sound.
Tens of tables stretched across the marble floor, each one laden with food and drink—roasted meats, fresh fruits, loaves of bread still steaming from the oven, casks of wine and ale that never seemed to empty. Music drifted through the air, a lively melody played by bards who had been hired for the evening. Dancers moved between the tables, their colorful silks swirling as they twirled and spun.
But beneath the celebration, there was tension. Everyone present knew something was coming. They just did not know what.
The Six Generals sat together at a table near the front. Alcy, her massive sword propped against her chair, laughed at something Finn had said while Igris sat in silence, his crimson eyes scanning the room. Ais sat with her golden eyes fixed on Damien, her expression calm but curious. Ottar loomed beside her, a mountain of muscle and quiet strength. Vritra sat apart, her ancient eyes watching everything with the patience of a creature that had seen empires rise and fall.
The ministers were scattered across the hall. Loki drank deeply from a goblet, her sharp eyes never leaving Damien. Freya sat with her Familia, her golden beauty drawing every gaze in the room. Hephaestus spoke quietly with Demeter about something that made the harvest goddess laugh. Aphrodite, dressed in a gown that left little to the imagination, flirted shamelessly with a blushing Miach. Takemikazuchi and Ouranos sat together, the ancient god's presence a quiet weight in the room.
And at the largest table, the one raised on a dais above all others, Damien sat in his throne-like chair.
Beside him were his closest....Hestia, beaming with pride; Loki, her smirk already in place; Ais, her hand resting on his arm; Tiona and Tione, barely able to contain their excitement; and others from his inner circle.
Damien rose from his seat.
The hall fell silent.
"My people," he began, his voice carrying across the room without effort. "My friends. My lovers."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the gathered faces.
"There are plenty of you today. Each of you can look left and right and see an ally of mine—one you are to protect, and one who will protect you."
He smiled.
"This powerful bond... I call the Familia of Damien. The Familia of the Shadow Monarch. It has no crest. I do not instill or gift any of you Falna, nor do I have anything to offer that a god's blessing could not provide." His voice softened. "It is a Familia formed out of friendship and love. Out of respect and admiration."
He raised his goblet slightly.
"I appreciate that. I appreciate and thank all of you for the years you have stood by me... and the years you plan to stand by me in."
He set the goblet down.
"I have gathered you here because I wanted you to know... that you have picked the right choice. And that we will win. We will save the people. Save Orario. Save Heaven. Destroy the foul gods. Destroy the Lord of Light and destroy the dungeon. Defeat Antares and achieve peace."
He paused.
"These are strong goals. But I do not fear them. Because I have you. I know we can achieve each one."
The room remained silent, hanging on his every word.
"Recently, news has circulated that the gods have recovered their power. Rumors and whispers of Zeus, Hera, Odin, Poseidon, and plenty of other gods have recovered their strength, and that they are creating armies ready to challenge Orario and take us down."
He let the words settle.
"And... to be frank... it is true. They have been doing exactly that. And they are coming for us. An army of gods, none the less."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"So what is on your mind now?"
He stepped out from behind the table, walking to the edge of the dais.
"Why has he called a banquet for celebration? What is there to celebrate?"
He smiled—a sharp, confident curve of his lips.
"Well... to be honest... we are here to celebrate their downfall before they arrive."
The murmurs stopped. Silence reigned.
"I invited you here to let you all know that I will win this war. We will kill all of them. We will destroy all the gods that have shamed Heaven—all the gods that seek to rule and control others. All the gods that killed their own mother and caused all the problems we suffer."
He raised his goblet high.
"That... is what we are celebrating!"
His voice rose, filling the hall with its intensity.
"So join me! Be confident and proud to have me by your side! Because I am the only king who celebrates his victory before the war starts! Feel it! Enjoy it! And speak about it!"
He looked at them all—every face, every soul, every beating heart.
"Orario... will destroy the gods! The Shadow Monarch... shall bring them... DIVINE JUSTICE!"
The hall erupted.
Glasses rose in unison, voices joining together in a roar of approval. The music swelled, the dancers resumed, and the celebration truly began. Wine flowed, laughter echoed, and for a night, the coming war was forgotten.
Damien watched them all from his seat, smiling.
Deep down, he vowed to protect and save each and every single one of them.
The Pride within him burned bright. And what could be more prideful than a man celebrating his own victory before the war had even started?
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