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Within a grand and resplendent hall, golden radiance shimmered from towering pillars carved with intricate Celestial runes, each exuding an ethereal glow that pulsed with divine energy.
The ceiling stretched endlessly, its surface swirling with celestial constellations that shimmered like living stars, and the entire chamber seemed to breathe with life, a place not bound by mortal architecture but shaped by the very essence of divinity itself.
At the center of this magnificent hall stood a massive, circular arrangement of thrones, each sculpted from a material that resembled polished gold, yet carried an otherworldly luster that defied mere metal.
These grand seats encircled a vast table, its surface appearing like an endless mirror reflecting not just the physical forms of those seated but also the energy that emanated from their divine beings.
Seated upon these thrones were towering figures, each exuding an aura that made the air tremble with unseen force.
Their mere presence commanded reverence, their divine forms ranging from breathtakingly handsome men to goddesses of incomparable beauty.
Each radiated a sacred glow, their auras swirling in hues that symbolized their respective dominions—golden for purity, azure for wisdom, crimson for wrath, emerald for nature’s grace, and many more—merging into a tapestry of celestial might.
They were not merely large—they were monumental, with every being present at least thirty feet tall, towering like living deities above what any mortal could comprehend.
Right now, their solemn expressions, however, were a stark contrast to their splendor. Concern and tension marred their divine faces as they sat in rigid silence, their gazes locked onto the mirrored table before them.
Then, at last, the silence was broken.
"He... he completed the quest?" a voice, as ethereal as the wind through ancient forests, resonated through the chamber.
The speaker was an extraordinarily beautiful woman, standing at a breathtaking thirty-one feet in height. She was adorned in a robe woven from leaves and vines that seemed to shimmer with life, pulsating in harmony with her own energy. Her emerald eyes burned with resentment and unwillingness, and as she exhaled deeply, a ripple of divine tension spread through the room.
The moment her words fell, the silence shattered.
"Argh! I knew it!"
A thunderous growl reverberated across the chamber as a thirty-five-foot colossus slammed his massive fist against his throne, causing golden energy to crackle in the air.
His body was sculpted from pure muscle, every sinew brimming with divine might. His eyes, a swirling mix of molten gold and searing crimson, burned with barely contained fury. "How could someone with the bloodline of that damned Fallen Monarch not have overcome such a trial so easily? I told you all we should have made it even more insurmountable!"
His anger was infectious.
The chamber instantly erupted into a cacophony of divine voices, a chorus of frustration and disbelief.
The towering celestial beings, usually the epitome of composure began to seethe with barely restrained fury. It was evident that they had conspired to orchestrate the quest that Xylen had just faced—a test designed to crush him and bar him from ever entering the game again.
Had Xylen been here to witness this, he would have been utterly stunned. The revelation that beings of such unimaginable power had not only known of his mission but had actively sought to ensure his failure would have shaken him to his core.
Then, undoubtedly, anger would have surged through him and he would have demanded answers—demanded to know what crime he had committed, why these divine beings harbored such loathing for him, and why they wished to cast him from the world of Fallen Realm Online.
But he was not here.
And even if he were to learn the truth, that time had yet to come.
The divine uproar continued for what felt like an eternity until suddenly—
"Lord Vorynn."
A voice, calm and melodious, cut through the noise like moonlight piercing through storm clouds, and the instant it was heard, all voices fell silent.
The speaker was a breathtaking woman clad in a flowing white gown that shimmered like liquid moonlight.
Although she was thirty feet tall, her presence carried a delicate grace, a quiet power that commanded attention without the need for force. A half-moon tattoo glowed faintly upon her forehead, marking her as none other than—
Goddess Lunara.
Had Xylen or the other players been here, they would have been stunned to the core because they had encountered this very figure upon logging into Fallen Realm Online... the welcome guild.
Yet now, she stood at a height nearly ten times greater than when they had first met her.
It would have left Xylen reeling, demanding answers—why she had thrown him into an unknown realm. Why she had orchestrated that merciless trial. What other hidden machinations lay behind her celestial mask?
But once again, he was not here.
...
As the celestial beings turned their attention toward Lunara, her gaze was already fixed upon the elder seated at the head of the chamber.
Unlike the others, this being—Lord Vorynn—was simplicity incarnate.
He was old, his long silver hair cascading down like a river of stardust.
He bore none of the grand embellishments of the others, no resplendent armor, no dazzling aura. Yet, paradoxically, this lack of grandeur made him the most enigmatic presence in the hall.
He radiated a calm so profound that it seemed to bend time itself, his eyes carrying the weight of countless ages.
At thirty-nine feet, he was taller than all others present, yet he exuded no arrogance—only an unsettling stillness, as though he were above even the flow of fate itself.
Goddess Lunara took a steady breath before speaking again.
"Lord Vorynn," she urged, her voice tense with urgency, "Our world has already suffered more than enough at the hands of past Demons who carried the Fallen Monarch’s bloodline. We cannot risk another rising to power. I beg you—even though he has already overcome the obstacle you helped us place in his path, please aid us in banishing him for good."
A suffocating silence fell over the chamber.
Then—
"Lord Vorynn, you must act!" another voice urged desperately. "The scars from the last war against the Fallen Monarch’s bloodline are still fresh—we cannot risk another catastrophe against our world!"
"Please, Lord Vorynn!" another voice chimed in, filled with raw desperation. "Would you let the sacrifices of our fallen brothers and sisters from the past war be in vain? If this one grows stronger, our world will suffer even greater!"
"You must do more than expel him!" one of them suddenly demanded. "Destroy him! Erase his soul in this world and the one he comes from! Make certain he never returns!"
The deities, beings who should have been unshakable and supreme, continued to plead desperately, their terror evident and their expressions contorted with unspoken fear. It made one wonder what horrors the Fallen Monarch’s bloodline had inflicted on gods to make them tremble like this.
Lord Vorynn remained motionless, watching them with an expression unreadable.
He allowed their pleas to echo through the chamber, allowed their desperation to fester in the silence before finally—
A sigh.
A single sigh, heavy with an unfathomable weight.
Instantly, all voices ceased.
"You all know," he finally spoke, his voice slow, measured, resounding like the tolling of an ancient bell, "that I have already paid a great price by interfering in the life of a mere mortal."
The divine beings flinched and they opened their mouths to argue, but Lord Vorynn did not grant them the opportunity.
"If he had already stepped into divinity or posed an immediate threat against the world, it would be different. But he is a mere mortal. And even the backlash from my prior interference is enough to weaken me drastically. So, tell me—are you asking me to sacrifice mine and this world’s very existence simply to expel him?"
Silence.
The divine beings couldn’t respond, all of them appearing awkward.
Ultimately, the elderly man released another sigh.
"The most we can do now is watch," he declared. "Even I, the god of time, space, and fate, cannot predict what will unfold should you be hell-bent on acting against him—or against any other mortal."
With these final words, he raised his hand—and vanished.
No. It was not that he disappeared. It was as if he had never been there, to begin with.
The sensation was difficult to describe, but the group of deities was already accustomed to it, so they did not flinch; instead, they remained deep in thought for a long while, each recalling the destruction wrought upon them by the Fallen Monarchs of the past.
Finally...
"Perhaps," Goddess Lunara murmured, her voice uncertain, "this one may not seek destruction, as his predecessors did."
Everyone instantly glanced at her.
Some wanted to argue, but the truth was evident—Lunara was merely trying to sound optimistic. Even she didn’t believe her own words. The slight waver in her voice and the flicker of unspoken doubt in her radiant eyes made that unmistakably clear.
A tense silence settled over the hall, heavy with unspoken thoughts, until finally—
"Brother Draemier," a voice broke through the quiet.
All eyes instantly turned toward the giant being called, the god of dreams.
He was draped in a flowing robe of ever-shifting hues, its colors shifting like the ephemeral patterns of a dream. His presence carried an elusive quality as if he existed both here and elsewhere, his very form wavering between reality and illusion.
"Have you learned anything?" the speaker continued, his voice laced with urgency. "Anything about his origins and how he come to possess that cursed bloodline?"