First Light of a New Age

Chapter 130: Cults & Insurgency

Second Civilization Zone, Dominion of Sylva'Anor, Verdant Aether Palace.

1st Year of God, Monday, 4th Week, Month of David

In a random kingdom of the Second Civilization Zone, nestled within obsidian cliffs and waterfalls cascading from floating crystal isles, stood the Verdant Aether Palace, seat of power for the Dominion of Sylva'Anor. The palace was a marvel of bio-magic architecture with living vines and ancient wood shaped into graceful towers, bound by mana silk and enchanted roots.

Beneath a vaulted ceiling embroidered with magical constellations, in a chamber lit by floating fireflies of light, the Elven King Velantheris Syldorein IV sat at his desk.

Velantheris brushed a quill of a feather over parchment lined with contracts. Though centuries old, he bore the face of an untouched youth, eyes like polished emeralds and hair flowing like moonlit silk. He wore a robe of woven starlight, signifying his place not just as king, but as one of the High Arcanates of the Second Civilization Zone, a mage-warrior who had slain monsters and outwitted many Transcendents of ages past.

And yet, today, he did some paperwork.

That is until the scratch of his quill paused, because something shifted as a ripple in the air and a slight breeze that should not exist in a sealed chamber.

Velantheris didn't look up and said. "You're late."

From the shadows beside the balcony's silken drapes, a figure materialized out of thin air, who appeared to be a tall lean being garbed in a cloak of void-thread.

No footsteps, no heartbeat, and no scent. And yet, a dense, sharp, and predatory power emanated from him, enough to cause even Level 10 warriors to flee.

A 1st-Tier Transcendent, draped in killing instinct.

He knelt on one knee and bowed his head. "Forgive me, my King. The world has grown stranger since your last vision."

Velantheris set down his quill. "Report, Veraskh."

The assassin, known only as Veraskh, commander of the Silent Fangs, lifted his head which showed his eyes like twin wounds leaking void.

"Something has occurred in the Third Civilization Zone. A disturbance beyond precedent."

The Elven King raised a brow. "Speak clearly."

Veraskh's voice was still, but edged like a dagger against the ribs. "Entire kingdoms... dozens of them... have fallen."

"Let me guess, is it the Dragons in the First Civilization Zone?" Velantheris sighed. "Those lizards always like to play around with lesser civilizations like it was their playground."

Veraskh shook his head. "It's not the dragons, but to a single unknown faction."

Velantheris leaned back slowly in his chair. "That is not possible. Most of the countries don't have the capabilities, not even the two superpowers of that Civilization Zone like High Tarxa and the Iron Kingdom could manage more than five unless that faction is from a higher civilization zone."

"I thought the same," Veraskh replied. "So did my contacts in the Council of Grey. Yet one by one, the kingdoms disappeared. Fortress cities turned into silent ruins, mage academies erased, trade routes cut off, and their diviners see only silence."

The Elven King narrowed his eyes. "That zone was a cesspool of warring tribes and outdated monarchies. Who would bother conquering it?"

Veraskh paused. "The attackers... are mostly humans."

The room grew cold.

Velantheris's expression darkened. "Impossible. They are manaless filth, farmers, vagrants, and beggars, little better than cattle. The strongest of them barely reach Level 3."