Midnight cloaked the city in silence, save for the soft clang of armor and muffled boots moving through the abandoned cathedral. Zairon led the way, his presence suffocating the air around him. Behind him followed a chosen few—Selene with her twin blades, Kairo the cold tactician, Han with his shadowed steps, and two s-rank elites from the outer provinces.
Torches flared as they stepped past rusted gates and shattered stained glass. The stench of blood and incense grew stronger with every stair spiraling downward.
"Underground again," Zairon muttered, almost amused. "Why are cultists always obsessed with being below everything?"
Selene whispered, "Maybe they're used to licking boots."
A low chuckle rippled from him, but it died quickly. The final gate loomed—etched with the same jagged spiral from the reports.
Zairon didn't wait.
He shoved the doors open.
The scene inside made even his madness pause.
A chamber of hundreds. Cultists in robes, chanting like animals in heat. A massive sigil pulsed beneath their feet, glowing with eerie crimson. At its center, a chained monster roared—some twisted fusion of a beast from Earth and something far worse from Raur.
The black-eyed priest lifted his arms. "You are too late, Sovereign of the Shattered! The eye has already—"
Zairon vanished from view.
CRACK.
The priest's skull hit the wall before he finished his sentence.
Zairon appeared behind him, eyes glowing with a bloody hue. "The Eye?" he whispered. "I am the only god here."
Then madness took form.
Blades of red energy burst from Zairon's body like tendrils, piercing cultists before they could even scream. The monster at the center lunged, chains snapping.
Selene and the others spread out, each taking a side.
"Try not to die," Zairon said calmly, and charged.
The Battle
It wasn't a fight.
It was a massacre.
Zairon moved like a storm in flesh, his madness allowing him to defy space, twist energy, and rip minds apart before bodies even dropped. The cultists tried to retreat, but the doors had sealed shut the moment he entered.
The chained monster snapped free, roaring with raw energy. Eight arms, scaled and bloody, surged at Zairon.
He let them hit him.
They did nothing.
And then, he grinned. "Not even worth my madness."
One hand rose.
The monster imploded into a fountain of gore.
Aftermath
Silence returned. The sigil had faded, the Eye's presence gone.
Zairon stood amidst the wreckage, chest heaving, blood soaking the ground.
He closed his eyes, madness flickering like a whispering storm inside him.
"They want to bring Raur here," he said softly. "They think they understand power."
His voice dropped into a whisper.
"Then I'll show them what real madness looks like."
Outside, dawn broke.
But underground, the Sovereign's madness still lingered like smoke. The cult was gone, but the warnings were clear.
This world was still his.
But shadows had begun to stir in places not even light could touch.