Although the chaos did not last long, Shilania still suffered devastating destruction. The Sky-Defiant Realm—once hailed as a nation capable of flattening a continent in a single night—no longer stood in proud defiance.
Hundreds, even thousands, of locals were crammed together with outsiders trapped within the capital. The Nature Knights agreed not to declare a safe passage yet, preventing foreign civilians from returning home. As a result, the heart of governance overflowed with a sea of humanity.
Yet this turmoil stood in stark contrast to the suffocating silence within the Temple of Judgment, a shrine standing at the corner of the capital—where Rhea finally regained consciousness.
"So you're finally awake."
A firm, heavy voice greeted him. It belonged to Doyama Wintecl, the Mountain Knight—the one who had struck Rhea's back.
"Aargh… wait—where am I?"
Rhea jolted awake, realizing his upper body was bare, his hands shackled behind his back. He lay face-down, staring toward the podium of the Tribunal Council.
—TAK!
The sharp strike of a sandalwood staff echoed through the hall, opening an unprepared trial that very morning.
"Young man. Explain what you did last night," the Tribunal spoke, as knights and soldiers bowed their heads in silence.
"What I did? Wait—don't tell me you think I'm part of those sorcerers?" Rhea tried to defend himself. His eyes swept across the relief-filled chamber and caught sight of Rieglo standing beside Doyama.
"Ah! Hey, Mr. Eagle Helm! Tell those old men I wasn't with them! You were still conscious when I arrived, right? Hey?!"
—TAK!
"Rieglo. What does he mean?" the Tribunal interrupted the Red Death's shout.
Rieglo stood and stepped forward. His body was wrapped in layers of bandages. Removing his helm, he brushed aside his black hair, now glinting under sunlight slipping through the temple's ceiling.
"With permission, Council. This young man is indeed part of their group. He is the cause of last night's blood mist."
"!"
Rhea froze. Only then did he realize he was being framed completely. So this is it—he's covering up his humiliating defeat, Rhea thought bitterly.
"What nonsense!? You couldn't even fight back agai—"
—DUAKK!
Without warning—before he could finish—Rhea's face was crushed by the armored boot of the Mountain Knight.
"Who told you to speak, rat?!"
"The evidence is complete," Doyama said coldly, with thinly veiled contempt, "At the scene, there was no one else besides you and Rieglo. Frankly, I despise defending that little eagle—but facts are facts."
"Puhh!" Rhea spat blood, "Hah? No one else? Are you blind? There were clearly two sorcerers—"
He stopped. Damn it. He had slipped. When his attention wavered last night, the sorcerers' bodies must have already been retrieved by their allies. Rhea realized, bitterly, how cornered he was.
"Two? See? Even your words falter, rat!"
—TAK!
The staff struck again—this time not to open the floor, but to deliver judgment.
"No further defense. The sentence for a sorcerer: death by hanging."
—TAK!
After the trial ended, Rhea was dragged through the sea of people in Shilania's capital. Waves of mockery and hatred followed his every step. Yet to him, none of it hurt more than the blow dealt by the Mountain Knight—Doyama Wintecl.
The execution was set for three days later. For now, Rhea was taken to Ronchua Prison—an artificial island isolated from society, connected to the capital by a rickety wooden bridge nearly a kilometer long.
"Rot in there. Repent your sins—and don't forget to think of your last words," Doyama sneered.
"Huh… bastard," Rhea muttered as he was thrown into the cell. Beyond the bars, the ground descended like a dead-end stairway, surrounded by tall, slick walls. With no roof above him, Rhea could only stare at the overcast sky looming overhead.
"Climbing? Impossible. Jumping? Too high. If only I were a Scion of Nature—maybe I could fly. Tch!"
Hour after hour, Rhea punched and kicked the prison walls. He knew escape was impossible—but a plan lingered in his mind: lure a guard close, then grab the keys in a single instant when they stepped within reach.
Unfortunately, by nightfall, the guards remained indifferent. Until a shout rang out.
"SHUT UP, YOU IDIOT!"
The voice came from the neighboring cell.
"It's useless, troublemaker!"
Rhea frowned and smirked, "Huh? A long-term inmate? Hey—can you tell me this prison's weakness?"
"Weakness? You must be an outsider to Shilania. Screw off!"
Silence followed—for two full days. Rhea obsessed over his confiscated gear, paying no heed to the hanging that awaited him.
"Hey, grumpy sir," Rhea suddenly said, "You think dying by hanging hurts?"
He hadn't expected a reply.
"More humiliating than painful," came the answer.
"Agreed!" Rhea replied.
The day of execution arrived. At dusk, Rhea was escorted by Doyama's soldiers, taken from Ronchua back to the capital plaza, where countless citizens awaited.
The procession moved ahead, leaving Doyama standing still at the prison gate. Before stepping away, he spoke toward the adjacent cell, "I hope you've reflected on your actions, Sir Kael."
By the time they reached the capital, night had fallen. Streets and buildings were lit only by torches and moonlight. Rhea passed between the two colossal pyramids where Shilania's Emperor resided.
At the gallows, he saw Rieglo waiting—clad in brand-new armor. Empowered by nature, the Eagle Knight had recovered swiftly and now shone more brightly than ever.
"And here he is—the disruptor who laid Shilania to ruin days ago. Today… he meets his end!" Rieglo declared proudly, igniting thunderous cheers.
Rhea stared back with sharp eyes and a crooked smile. He wasn't afraid—not in the slightest. He had already prepared a plan to outwit the Eagle Knight.
As the executioner—Rieglo himself—looped the coarse rope around Rhea's neck…
The earth trembled.
Not an ordinary quake—but a vibration that rattled bone and marrow.
—DUUUMMM!—
The night sky seemed splashed by a colossal bucket of paint. Darkness ignited into a majestic red-gold glow, stretching from horizon to horizon, turning night into warm brilliance.
Then darkness returned.
A soothing wind swept across the land. From the heavens, pillars of pure white light—clean as diamonds—descended. Two illuminated Shilania. Three shone upon distant lands beyond.
It was the sign of nature's selection. The birth of a new era of The Five Pillars.
Long ago, The Fiend God—Ibris and his legions descended to conquer the upper world. Legends described him as a grotesque giant—an abomination beyond human comprehension. Wherever he stepped, destruction followed. Ibris was a being of the underworld: Nuraka.
For thousands of years, humanity stood on the brink of extinction—until nature granted them a blessing.
One human was chosen. Blessed with dominion over three elements: sky, earth, and sea.
At last, humanity fought back, driving Ibris and his army to the west—into The Eternal Frostland, to Emu Island.
The Nature-blessed human—The Nature's Paragon, Kanhakwa Rosso Vauhalla—sealed Ibris using his power. The void sky as the lid. The dark earth as the foundation. The ocean's current as the lock.
Thus rose the colossal arcane monument known as Fortress Nuraka.
Yet the seal was never absolute. Guided by whispers of the Primordial Essences, the Paragon foresaw that whenever the fortress cracked, nature would choose five humans to inherit his sacred duty.
The Arbiter, The Aegis, The Severer, The Pathfinder, and The Weaver — They were The Five Pillars.
Strangely, the two lights over Shilania did not descend upon the honored Nature Knights—but fell instead upon Ronchua Prison and a special detention city in the North.
Rhea stared at the twin beams, eyes wide in disbelief. Beside him stood Rieglo and Doyama—yet neither was chosen. Their expressions mirrored shock. Doyama immediately turned and rushed toward the light over Ronchua.
"Amazing, Eagle Knight," Rhea mocked, "So even Shilania's finest 'knight' isn't chosen on this sacred night? Heh!"
Rieglo responded only with a cold glare, preparing to execute Rhea. Then—
—PRAAAAANG!—
A diamond-pure beam of white light pierced down upon Rhea.
The air resonated violently, lifting his body weightlessly. His shackles burned away. The noose around his neck dissolved.
His right hand burned, "Aaaarrrgh!!"
A searing sensation spread across the back of his hand, carving a sigil—Six curved arrows, spinning like a windmill clockwise. The mark rotated violently, then froze—becoming a permanent black emblem upon Rhea's hand.
At that moment, all eyes across the world turned toward the pillar that had chosen him.
History had deviated. Nature—meant to send down only five lights—had unleashed a sixth.