O GOLDEN BROTHER, O SILVER SISTER
BRINGERS OF LIGHT AND DARK,
CREATURES OF SUN, MOON AND STARS.
LET YOUR CONFLICT NEVER CEASE,
FOR YOU GREW WEARY OF THE NOTHINGNESS.
RAISE BE TO THE GAME,
FOR WITHOUT IT, WE ARE NOT.
The story of the Monolith took place in the northern region of the continent, within the kingdom of the Uttara Empire. Now, let us divert our attention toward the empire in the west—the most powerful empire on the continent—which now faces a major crisis: the Therus Empire.
In the heart of a flower-filled meadow nestled within a dense, green tropical forest, a small boy lay quietly asleep on a bed made from soft, fragrant blossoms that cradled his delicate frame. He appeared to be five or six years old, dressed in a pristine white silk robe that shimmered faintly beneath the sunlight filtering through the canopy above.
His peaceful slumber was interrupted by a soft, melodious humming voice that felt like birdsong at dawn. The voice echoed throughout the meadow, as though it had always been a part of nature, harmonizing perfectly with the wind, flowers, and trees.
With a subtle rise in the humming song, the boy slowly opened his eyes. He blinked against the light, struggling to comprehend the strange yet beautiful surroundings. A sense of confusion was clearly visible on his young face. Everything felt too unreal—too quiet, too perfect.
His senses sharpened as his attention shifted toward the source of the humming.
As he followed the sound with his ears, his vision settled upon a woman a short distance away. She was kneeling in a flower garden, plucking the most beautiful and perfect-looking blossoms and placing them into a jute-woven basket. She appeared to be in her early thirties; her hair was reddish in color and softly curled, her eyes vivid blue like gemstones. She wore a flowing violet garment that shimmered like morning dew.
Her humming continued—gentle and soothing—as though she were not merely singing, but weaving the melody into the fabric of the world itself.
It felt natural.
The boy was uncertain of where he was or who she might be. He tried to call out to her.
No sound came out.
His throat moved, but no sound followed. Terror struck him in an instant. Panic surged through his chest as he scrambled to his feet, stumbling slightly before breaking into a run toward the woman.
Who is she?
Where am I?
Who… am I?
The questions thundered inside his mind.
Sensing his approach, the woman stopped humming. She rose slowly, leaving her basket behind, and turned to face him. Her expression was calm, almost devoid of emotion, as her eyes settled on the boy.
Then, without warning, her gaze drifted past him.
Upward.
The boy grew confused and curious at the same time. He stopped and turned to follow her line of sight.
His breath caught.
Behind him stood a mountain—no, something far greater than any mountain he had ever seen or imagined. It was so vast that its peak pierced the clouds, vanishing beyond sight. It stood like an entire range compressed into a single colossal form.
And it was crumbling.
Massive boulders fell from the mountain; at that height, they resembled meteors plummeting downward. This was followed by a tremendous avalanche of snow and debris cascading from its sides. The sound produced by this catastrophe was a roar that promised annihilation wherever it struck.
The boy stood frozen, eyes wide with awe and terror.
Beside him, the woman remained unmoved.
Her lips curved into a faint, unreadable smile.
Finally, she spoke—her voice serene and haunting.
"Do you believe?"
The boy turned his gaze toward her and blinked in confusion.
Believe…? Believe what?
Before he could form an answer, he was caught by the falling avalanche. Darkness crept into his vision, swallowing the edges of the world. The meadow dissolved into shadow.
Then—
A voice cut through the void. Sharp. Mechanical.
"The target's approaching."
"Seven hundred meters."
"Six forty."
"Five eighty."
"Sir?"
"Sir?"
"VESPER!!"
With a sharp gasp, the boy—no, the man—snapped back to reality.
Vesper Vance, twenty-five years old, elite mercenary and designated Cleaner for the Therus Empire, was crouched in a sniper's nest atop a high-rise. His fingers rested against the polished steel of a Cleaner Mark II rifle, his eye locked onto the scope.
Seconds ago, he had been lost in a dream.
Now, he was watching a kill zone.
Shaking off the lingering haze, he pressed a finger to his communicator.
"Yeah… copy that, Reva," he muttered, his voice rough.
Reva's reply crackled through the channel.
"With all due respect, sir, don't go dreaming in the middle of a job, idiot."
A pause.
"Fool," she muttered—clearly not meant for him.
Vesper scoffed lightly.
"I wasn't dreaming. Just… focused."
"Focused?" Reva snorted.
"Yeah—focused on hallucinating. You've got twenty seconds before the target hits the sniping zone. Stay sharp."
Vesper adjusted his scope, exhaling slowly.
"Give me the latest readout."
"Target approaching fast. Armored convoy. Fifteen clicks per hour. One high-priority mark inside. No aerial escorts. Extraction teams standing by. You're up, Vance."
"Understood. I've got eyes."
As he lined up the shot, the woman's question echoed once more in his mind.
Do you believe?
Then—
The building shook violently.
To Vesper's surprise, the rear wall exploded inward, concrete and steel erupting into a storm of debris. Vesper spun just in time to see the cause.
"Zogus," he whispered.
Then, louder—
"A fucking Zogus?!"
A Zogus was a massive, lizard-like creature, standing nearly twenty meters tall and weighing over fifteen tons. Largely blind in daylight, it was infamous for erratic flight patterns and volatile temperaments. Native to the Rose Hills region, Zogus caused devastation when they lost their sense of direction.
The beast roared, its cry rattling the skyline. Its tail lashed out, obliterating the rooftop beneath Vesper.
He was thrown from the rooftop, plunging downward into a cloud of dust and debris produced by the Zogus.
Then, with a swift motion, he fired a grappling hook from his belt into the sky. The cable latched onto the Zogus's leg, yanking Vesper upward. He slammed onto its armored back, barely maintaining balance as it bucked violently. A second grapple shot into a dorsal fin, anchoring him in place.
The wind screamed.
Vesper steadied his rifle.
He fired.
The bullet tore through the fin. The Zogus shrieked, spiraling wildly. Vesper surged forward along its ridged spine, raising his rifle for a finishing shot—
Crash.
The beast collided with a skyscraper. The impact launched Vesper free, sending him spinning through the air. His cable snapped loose.
Pain screamed through his body. His communication device showed no activity, likely due to the rapid change in position.
Still, mid-fall, he braced the rifle, adjusted for wind, and fired at full charge.
The bullet glowed.
It struck between the Zogus's eyes.
The beast went still.
With a final roar, it plummeted into the Decon Store sector, detonating against the ground in fire and smoke.
Silence followed.
Then, from the wreckage, a figure rose.
Vesper.
His body was ruined—an arm shattered, skull fractured, blood pouring freely.
Then, impossibly—his wounds healed.
Bone reknit. Muscle reformed. Skin sealed itself whole.
Within seconds, he stood fully restored.
A crowd gathered around the destroyed store and scattered debris. Usually, saving a city from a wild beast would earn a heroic cheer.
But they did not cheer.
They stared.
With disgust.
"Disgustingly flighty…"
"Cleaners never care where they crash."
"I heard he's an Eldritch."
"They say his blood obeys him."
Vesper heard every word.
He always did.
He walked forward, face unreadable, shoulders squared.
He had heard this since childhood.
And the worst part?
He couldn't deny it.
In fact, biologically, he was an Eldritch.