Prism Calendar – 7th Cycle of the 7th Moon, Year 1350
In a dimly lit chamber, its walls lined with ancient scrolls and glowing magical inscriptions, a man cloaked in heavy, dark robes hovered above the floor. His fingers traced intricate patterns in the air, each motion sparking threads of energy. Slowly, white particles gathered around him, forming a radiant, shifting aura that pulsed with life. With a single sweeping gesture, golden light burst from his palm, shooting upward and vanishing beyond the ceiling as if piercing the very heavens.
"Not yet," he murmured, eyes half-lidded with focus as he began inscribing a complex magic circle in midair. His voice was calm but intense. "I am almost there. Mortal limitations won't stop me from reaching the divine... once I master the Twelfth Circle of Magic—"
Knock, knock.
The sharp interruption froze his hand. Turning slowly, he watched as Elder Hugen entered. Clad in antiquated robes and draped in talismans of forgotten eras, he exuded the air of someone drenched in forbidden knowledge—a Curser by both skill and reputation.
"Your Holiness," Hugen said with a bow, "congratulations on your progress. We've found the... item you've been searching for. But it appears to be a mere crystal."
"Bring it," the Cult Leader commanded, his voice cool and absolute.
From a velvet-lined box, Hugen produced a cyan crystal, shimmering faintly even in the dark. He held it out with great care. "We discovered it in Argon Cave. Local villagers say it's a relic of Argon himself."
With a flick, the crystal vanished from the elder's hand and appeared in the air before the robed man. He studied it closely, then smiled faintly. "Good."
"Your Holiness?"
The man stood fully, revealing his towering form—well over six feet tall, with flowing black hair and piercing crimson eyes. His beauty was almost divine, but cold as death.
"Burn the village. Destroy all evidence of the cave."
"Understood," Hugen nodded, unfazed.
Stepping closer, the Cult Leader continued, "Inform the believers: from this day forward, you, Elder Hugen, will oversee the cult's daily affairs. None are to disturb me while I remain within the Incanto Tower."
Hugen's expression twitched with surprise. "Your Holiness... may I ask why?"
Uzziah—the name whispered in fear across the continent—looked at him with that same chilling gaze. "I care not for mundane matters. My path lies beyond mortal concern. And besides... you desired this once, did you not?"
"I—" Hugen faltered. In truth, he had once longed for Uzziah's seat of power, but over the years, he had learned how small ambition looked beside Uzziah's overwhelming presence.
Uzziah turned his back without waiting for a response. "Go. Do not waste my time further."
As Hugen bowed and departed, Uzziah returned to his circle. The crystal now hovered before him, and with a subtle wave, its brilliant blue sheen faded to transparent, revealing a glowing insignia within.
"Northon's Rock," he whispered. "A relic crafted by the 11th Circle mage, hidden by his disciple Argon. So easily mistaken for a gem... but not by me."
This artifact, once thought a myth, could break the mortal barrier—guiding a mage beyond the 11th Circle, transforming their body into a vessel capable of channeling divine energy.
"The mage who forged it died before reaching the 12th Circle," Uzziah murmured, "a fate I will not share."
Sitting cross-legged midair, he began to channel energy. The crystal floated with him. A glow flared from the insignia, then moved from the crystal into his forehead, embedding itself. Golden veins lit his body, connecting the circle to his very soul. His form shimmered—transcendent, ethereal.
"MARVELOUS!" he cried. Energy flooded into him, filling every cell. His heart, mind, and soul formed a perfect Twelfth Circle.
Divinity.
The power to command the universe itself. To rule all of existence. He was no longer a man, but a god in the making.
And then—
"Pft—?!"
Uzziah spat blood, eyes wide in disbelief. Looking down, he saw a sharp object embedded in his chest. A blade—black, crystalline, and unmistakably foreign.
"W-what… is this?" he gasped, stumbling.
The once-transparent crystal had shifted the moment he achieved the 12th Circle—morphing into a cursed blade that now pierced his heart. His power, once rising, now drained like water from a broken vessel.
"Mortal."
A voice rang out. Uzziah turned and froze. The figure that stood before him was unlike anything he'd sensed. No mana, no life force—just... presence.
"Should I say former mortal?" the figure chuckled.
"Who... are you?" Uzziah hissed, collapsing to one knee.
The being smiled. Young, elegant, and terrifyingly calm. "I'm Ezbeck. One of the Gods. From the Sanctuary."
Ezbeck gestured toward the blade. "Once a mortal reaches the Twelfth Circle, that crystal activates. Clever little curse, isn't it? I made it myself."
"You—!"
"Oh, and it was labeled too. Cursed object. Do not touch. It was under the box, by the way." Ezbeck shrugged. "Not my fault your little servant can't read the bottom."
Uzziah: "..."
Somewhere far away, Elder Hugen sneezed in his sleep.
Ezbeck stepped closer, eyes gleaming. "I was sent to maintain balance. That crystal is forbidden—it kills even gods. And now... it's done its job."
"You snake..." Uzziah hissed, blood filling his mouth.
Ezbeck smirked. "I've been called worse. But at least I get results."
Uzziah could no longer stand. His body failed him, blood soaking through his robes as the cursed blade pulsed with sinister light. His vision blurred. The mighty Cult Leader, the man who once defied mortality itself, was dying—because he didn't check the bottom of a box.
'Elder Hugen, you useless—!'
With the last of his strength, Uzziah coughed out a single word. "You…"
Ezbeck crouched beside him, a grin playing at his lips. He leaned in, voice soft and venomous. "Ambitious fool."
Then, everything stopped.
In that final moment, Uzziah fell into a trance—a weightless, formless space between thought and nothingness.
He remembered something.
A child's voice. Soft, yet clear.
"Power is scary... but I hope you use yours to protect someone, Mister."