The Formation of the First Team – Gathering the Masters;
BOOM!
A pulse of divine energy tore through the Ethereal Hall, shaking its towering pillars of radiant crystal. Light fractured into a thousand golden shards, swirling in the air before reforming into an intricate celestial diagram, a map of Samsara, pulsing with divine brilliance.
At the heart of this sacred gathering, where the highest of celestial beings convened, stood Archangel Raziel. His midnight-blue hair shimmered beneath the celestial glow, while his luminous silver eyes, inscribed with shifting arcane runes, swept across the divine map before him. The air around him was alive, vibrating with the whispers of ancient knowledge, as if the universe itself held its breath, awaiting his command.
"The knowledge of creation must not be lost."
Raziel's deep voice resonated through the hall, carrying the weight of eternity. His six wings unfurled, each feather inscribed with divine scripture, radiating a presence that commanded reverence.
"Without wisdom, even the strongest warriors are but blind beasts wielding swords. Without craft, even the grandest empires will crumble into dust."
His words echoed like thunder, sending a ripple of power through the assembled angels.
From the celestial projection, dozens of golden lights flickered across Samsara each marking the location of a legendary blacksmith, alchemist, enchanter, architect, or scholar. These were the Masters of Production, individuals who had refined their crafts over centuries, some hidden away in solitude, others leading vast guilds of influence. They were the pillars of creation, the ones who had forged the tools, weapons, and knowledge that shaped civilizations.
Raziel's eyes narrowed, his voice a decree of unshakable will.
"Their knowledge shall not fade into obscurity."
The air crackled with divine authority as he raised his hand. "No longer will war alone dictate the fate of this world. The Otherworlders must learn not only how to wield power but how to forge it."
At his command, Seraphiel stepped forward, his golden eyes gleaming with celestial wisdom. With a single motion, he raised his hand, and a contract of divine law materialized a golden parchment, its text inscribed with unbreakable celestial runes. The decree would bind these Masters to their sacred duty, ensuring that their wisdom would be passed to the chosen.
Seraphiel's voice rang like a divine bell.
"The First Division shall embark at once."
A moment of silence.
Then
FWOOOSH!
A dozen High-Rank Angels knelt in perfect unison before rising into the skies, their wings unfurling in a burst of celestial radiance. These were beings of unparalleled mastery and divine might chosen to seek out the Masters, to convince them, to bind them by divine oath if necessary.
Seraphiel's final decree echoed like fate itself:
"Find those worthy. Gather them. The Otherworlders must be trained in the ways of craftsmanship lest they remain dependent on what they cannot create."
With a final, thunderous beat of their wings, the angels vanished a dozen radiant figures becoming streaks of divine light as they descended upon Samsara.
And so, the first phase of the divine plan had begun.
-----
The Second Team – Guiding the Otherworlders;
As the echoes of departing angels faded into the boundless void, a second group stepped forward celestial beings younger than their predecessors, yet brimming with purpose that burned like the first flame of creation.
Unlike the first team, whose mission was to seek out the masters of craft, these angels were tasked with something far more intimate: to descend among the Otherworlders, to walk beside them, to shape their fates.
They were not merely instructors. They were mentors. Guides. Harbingers of Ascension.
At the vanguard of this divine company stood Lady Angel Lysara, bathed in ethereal radiance.
Her silvery-white hair, kissed by the endless glow of the divine realm, cascaded down her back in flowing strands, their edges gleaming like the first light of dawn upon an untouched world. Her piercing golden eyes, streaked with violet flames, burned with unyielding resolve, a gaze that saw beyond mere potential one that measured destinies yet to unfold.
Behind her, four resplendent wings unfurled, each pair radiating a sacred hue:
–Gold for judgment, the balance that upholds order.
–White for purity, the light that banishes corruption.
–Crimson for war, the fire that tempers strength.
Draped in a silver-white battle robe, embroidered with golden filigree, Lysara carried herself with the grace of a seraph and the discipline of a warrior. Upon her brow rested a golden diadem, shaped like celestial wings, a symbol of divine authority, one granted only to those entrusted with the will of the heavens.
She stepped forward.
With unwavering conviction, Lysara knelt before Seraphiel, her wings folding elegantly behind her.
"By divine decree, we shall become their mentors, their guides," she vowed, her voice carrying a sacred resonance that echoed through the chamber like a celestial hymn. "We shall teach them the ways of combat and magic, ensuring they walk the path of true Ascendants."
A murmur of celestial approval rippled through the air, a hushed reverence that reverberated through the pillars of the Ethereal Hall.
Each Otherworlder was different.
Some would rise as warriors, tempered by the edge of their blades.
Others would ascend as mages, weaving the very fabric of reality.
Some would forge their path through unyielding will, while others would temper their souls through wisdom and patience.
It was the duty of the angels to understand them to nurture their strengths, to ensure none strayed into the abyss of failure.
Then, Seraphiel raised his hand.
A brilliant cascade of divine light descended, coalescing into a massive tome a sacred artifact of unfathomable knowledge.
The Celestial Codex.
Its pages shifted endlessly, inscribed with ever-changing divine script an infinite compendium of Magic, Combat Techniques, and the Arts of Ascension. Within it lay the very foundation of the Otherworlders' training, a gift of wisdom bestowed upon mortals to forge their own destiny.
Seraphiel's voice carried the weight of eternity itself:
"The Second Division shall distribute this knowledge."
A pulse of divine law surged through the hall.
"Seek out the Otherworlders. Observe them. Guide them. Assign them spells and skills befitting their potential."
The air trembled. Reality itself shifted as his decree etched itself into the very fabric of Samsara.
Then, as if sealing the first step of their journey, Seraphiel spoke once more:
"And to sustain them in their first steps… distribute one hundred gold coins to each Otherworlder."
BOOM!
A cosmic tremor rumbled through the ethereal palace. Divine inscriptions flashed across the celestial dome, as the decree wove itself into the sacred laws of the world.
And thus, the path of the Otherworlders had been set.
-----
The Angels Descent – A Divine Mandate
As the assembly concluded, the Heavenly Palace fell into a profound silence.
For a fleeting moment, the angels stood motionless, their radiant forms bathed in the glow of eternity. They embraced the weight of their mission, the divine mandate that would reshape the fate of mortals.
Then
WHOOSH!
A symphony of wings unfurled in unison, their celestial radiance igniting the heavens.
A surge of divine light erupted as they ascended through the gates of eternity, then plummeted downward like a meteor shower of sacred brilliance, their luminous trails piercing the veil between realms.
The First Division, the High-Rank Angels, bearers of wisdom and craftsmanship vanished into the vast lands of Samsara, their mission clear: to gather the greatest artisans and guild masters who would forge the tools of a new age.
The Second Division youthful yet unwavering, brimming with celestial resolve descended upon the Otherworlders' Continent, their hearts ablaze with purpose.
With them, they carried knowledge, power, and the decree of the gods themselves.
-----
The Arrival!
Across the continent, Otherworlders felt an inexplicable shudder in the air, a tremor that echoed through their very souls.
Then, the sky split apart.
A rift of golden radiance carved through the firmament, its brilliance too divine to behold. From its depths, figures of unearthly majesty emerged, their wings shimmering like woven starlight, their presence both overwhelming and serene.
For a moment, time itself seemed to halt.
Some Otherworlders fell to their knees, overcome with reverence, their very beings trembling beneath the weight of divine power.
Others stood in silent awe, their minds racing, their souls whispering that this was the dawn of something far greater than themselves.
Yet, among them, a few stood wary.
Those with sharp instincts, warriors, mages, and rulers felt it.
An invisible force pressing against them.
A weight of divine judgment.
The arrival of the angels was not merely an act of guidance.
It was a reckoning.
Then
Like celestial beacons piercing the darkness, the angels descended, their wings spreading hope, revelation… and destiny itself.
And thus
The Grand Preparation had begun.
The Angels had arrived.
----
To Be Continued…!