[Crack!]
The sky roared with a feral growl, shaking the entire Northern Continent and the Noralf Empire within it.
The Northern Continent wasn't small enough to be stirred by a mere change of weather—this was something immense and overwhelming.
People of all races—elves, demi-humans, dwarves, and humans alike—gathered, staring at the crimson clouds above as they growled and hummed with power.
"NORALF VESPER GRIMWARD OF THE GRAND NORALF EMPIRE!" called out a fierce voice from beyond the clouds.
"A WARRIOR CHILD CARRYING THE BLOOD OF YOUR GREATEST ENEMY HAS BEEN BORN ON THE GIA!"
"BE PREPARED, FOR HE SHALL PUT AN END TO YOUR CRUELTIES—AND TO YOUR LIFE!"
"HE SHALL LEAD YOU TO DEATH, AND BRING DEATH TO YOU!"
[CRACK!]
The bloody red clouds faded quickly, and the sky returned to a clear, tranquil blue, as if nothing had ever happened.
For a few seconds, a deep silence spread across the entire Northern Continent, especially throughout the Noralf Empire.
A fragile looking young man shouted out loud, "Yaaaay," as he shot his fist up in the air.
Then, came a deafening uproar as crowds burst into unison cries of cheers, United in the hope brought by the Akashic revelation—the long-awaited prophecy of the cruel emperor's fall.
The loud cries of celebrations trespassed beyond the high marble walls of the Grand Moon Castle, a white castle so massive that it dwarfed even mountains.
Inside the castle, in a grand hall, countless nobles and rulers sat in tense silence. A dark elf, with long ears, pale skin, and jet-black hair, dressed in the finest black noble attire, stood from a throne luxurious enough to shame kings.
He strode to the center of the hall, then knelt on one knee, his right hand pressed to his chest, left resting at his back.
"O! Emperor of Emperors.
O! Our God.
Killer of the Great Demon King.
Killer of the Hero, Emperor Reginald Greenblatt.
Killer of the Hero, Emperor Alaric Greenblatt.
O! Conqueror of the Great Harnia.
O! The One Who Ended the Great Greenblatt Dynasty of the Victor.
The Only One Said to Rival the Ancient Hero Victor.
O! Great Lord Vesper.
What shall we do, now that the gods above the clouds have dared to speak against you?
What is your will, my Emperor, for these insolent people below?"
Eyes closed, the dark elf awaited a reply.
The Imperial Throne, as tall as a five-story building, shone brilliantly in the sunlight streaming through the high stained glass windows, carved from a single rare balder diamond and adorned with every known form of gold—yellow, crimson, teal, blue, pink.
A marvellous crown sat on the rectangular monument by the side of the throne, glimmering in the light, matching the throne's ornate design.
Upon that throne, sat the Ice Elf Emperor, with radiant blue skin and honey-brown eyes that glowed even in shadow.
Sunlight lit the lower half of his face, highlighting the contrast of his piercing honey-brown eyes and luminous blue skin.
His long, straight black hair framed his sharp, handsome features, and a hint of pinkishness of his lip's inner ends added to his beauty, while his muscular neck and the faint hints of facial muscles added to his handsomeness.
With a stoic expression, he rested his face against his right hand. Down his neck, he was covered in an excellent crimson red armor—which he was never seen without.
Armor had its own charm, being crafted with red gold mainly, with shapes and lining made with other golds or metals to help movement.
"Do as you please." He stood and walked to his right, to the exit in the white marble wall. As he walked, an albino vulture descended, perching gracefully on his shoulder.
Once the Emperor was gone, the dark elf opened his eyes and stared up at the now-empty throne that sat on a high marble dais, lost in thought.
After some thought, rising, he turned to the assembly with fierce determination.
Raising his right hand with icy finality he announced, "Kill all children born within the past two years—and any child born for two years hence!"
A stunned silence fell upon the grand hall, packed with nearly ten thousand nobles—kings, dukes, counts, ministers, mayors—each from different Regions and races.
Eyes shot open on the announcement, yet none dared to speak up.
Many of them had pregnant wives and young children, but none dared to speak. Cold sweat beaded on every brow.
An Ice Elf with pale blue skin, clad in golden armor, stood—unfazed, even pleased. His narrow eyes on the floor, and a smirk on his face.
"Your orders are my life, my lord," he said, smirking without even glancing at the dark elf.
"Consider it done, Lord Ilvanir Bosterwind."
"Just as I expected from the Great General Noralf Valtherion," Ilvanir replied.
Without delay, Valtherion stepped forward, bowed as Ilvanir had, then turned and strode out through massive golden-embroidered white doors.
"I hereby announce the closure of the quarterly audience with His Majesty the Emperor," Ilvanir declared, then left without another word.
Silently, the others followed, knowing that any resistance would doom not only them but their entire bloodlines.
They knew after two years new children would be born but if they made even slightest opposing gestures then their whole dynasties would meet their end soon, and everyone in their families and nations would pay for displeasing the great Empire.
...
Deep in the hidden jungles of Yggdrasils, beneath a towering Yggdrasil tree, a monkey-like man covered in golden fur, wearing saffron cloth on his lower bady, sat in meditation, humming softly.
The prophecy drew his attention, but after the prophecy was over, he gazed at the sky for a few seconds, then immediately resumed his meditation.
...
In a dark cavern, eight silhouetted figures stood in a semicircle before a colossal statue of a fierce deity.
Though they, too, heard the prophecy, they quickly resumed their mysterious rituals.
...
In a forest teeming with monsters, a beautiful woman rode a bunch of serpents.
She was dressed in emerald that matched her serpents' scales, and was crowned in gold.
Her serpents kept their backs raised, making their lady a seat to sit, hissing vigorously as they crawled through woods swiftly.
They hunted a monster down—a black giant killer rabbit, tearing it apart and devouring it greedily, snatching pieces from one another's mouth.
As they devoured the beast, the prophecy echoed through the skies.
The lady merely smiled and caressed the head of a serpents.
...
In the middle of a ghost town, stood a man with distinct attire and white skull tattoo on his face.
He smoked from his cigar with one hand while he pressing his top hat down on his head with the other, looking up in the sky as he listened to the prophecy.
His hair, braided into multiple strands, hung down to his collarbone.
Around his neck hung a metal symbol on a chain.
"It's time for another stroll," he muttered with a sinister grin.
...
High on the mout sumeru, under the shades of a huge banyan tree, sat a man who looked very young and healthy.
His golden-yellowish hair was tied up, his skin radiant, shining even in the banyan's shade.
He wore a yellow traditional men's dhoti, wrapped around his lower body.
Only half of his deep blue eyes were visible as he meditated.
He sat in a specific asana, his feet's soles facing up.
He paid no attention to the prophecy, as if he never cared.
...
Kasnir, home to mostly humans.
Usually filled with peace, it sheltered millions of humans and a few dozen thousand of other races.
But today city of peace seemed rather disturbed.
Everyone was running from something—some hid under beds and tables inside their homes.
Stone pavement on the road reflected the setting sun.
A boy, around ten, running amidst the chaos, stopped on the street, staring back at the setting sun, his eyes wide with horror.
He slowly lifted his right arm and pointed to the sky.
A few adults noticed him and turned to look back.
"They're here... They're here... The Ice Elves are here!" he cried, pointing skyward.
The western sky was filled with what seemed like a massive flock of birds, but those who lived in Kasnir knew no birds ever migrated to their city like this.
They were dragons—war dragons—many tens of thousands of Ice Elf soldiers mounted on them, armed with weapons and mana bombs.
An average dragon was a brown wyvern, about three times the size of a horse carriage, temporarily assigned to soldiers ranked below high mages, who had the luxury of owning such beasts.
Among them, an Ice Elf warrior riding a massive brown wyvern—one-third larger than an average—drew near the center of the flock.
At the very center flew a giant dull green wyvern—three times larger than a normal one, mounted by an Ice Elf in full metal armor, his skin the color of the summer sky, his eyes black as night.
"General Gerald! Good thing we got the message right after that rebellion was crushed," shouted the Ice Elf on the brown dragon.
Gerald nodded. "Yes. It saved us time. And Galvin—no unnecessary killing. I'm heading to the king's palace to collect the taxes."
"Understood, sir!" Galvin replied, drawing his sword and signaling descent. "All forces descend!"
Chaos erupted as the army descended like harbingers of death.
...
A family of four—father, mother and their two young children— ran through the narrow alleys between the houses.
Constantly checking behind them, they were out of breath.
As they took a sharp turn, the father crashed into something metallic.
After helping himself and his older child up, he looked at his wife, who stood frozen, holding their newborn baby.
When he looked in front, before them stood an Ice Elf soldier—7 feet tall—and a lower-ranked mage.
Without mercy, the soldier snatched the infant from the mother's arms and seized the older child.
"She's older than two years—please spare her!" the father begged.
"Filthy humans lie!" sneered the mage. "Watch what I do to your kids,"
The mage proceeded and brought out a big sharp sewing needle with a cord attached to it, from his robe.
The soldier snapped the girl's neck and tossed her body to the mage.
"Aghghghgh" Her parents cried.
The mage cut her body to pieces, using a sharp needle and cord to fashion a gruesome necklace, which he forced the mother to wear.
The infant soon met the same fate
They dragged the mother by her hair, out of alley, the father vomiting in horror as he followed
Most families met the same fate—hundreds of women forced to wear necklaces made from their dead children.
As other women were adorned with necklaces made from their own children's remains, the father, in despair, conjured a fireball and hurled it at the mage's face, to no effect.
"Filthy humans never learn, you son of a bitch," the mage sneered and cast a spell.
As soon as the spell was over he launched it.
The husband was frozen alive by a blast of ice magic, he was left trapped in a block of ice.
"If Lord Nezaltin didn't forbid killing tax-payers, I'd have slaughtered him," the mage spat.
Behind the fire and chaos of Kasnir, a shadowed silhouette appeared.
Watching the burning city, the skull-tattooed man from the ghost town muttered grimly:
"This is bad. I must inform the others."