Chapter 1 - Prologue (1/2)
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--Fortune Cemetery, Year 12,321 of the Rebirth Era.
The world was encased in a myriad of black clouds which little light seeped through. The entire surroundings of this world were filled with a rainbow flourish of both fresh and old blood. Corpses of all races, sizes, and colors littered it as if it was a battlefield of old; however, there were still sounds of those in their death throes and those exclaiming their battle-cries. While life and death continued to be unclearly defined within this world of constant struggle, a male youth adorned in white robes stood silently in mid-air.
The chaos in this world was ignored.
This individual who seemed like a youth possessed a solemn expression and a powerful aura which caused all those who looked towards him to cower away and try their luck in reaping lives elsewhere, lest their lives are reaped.
The male youth had waist-length black hair, a slim yet elegant figure, and a set of dazzling silver wings that seemed to illuminate the surroundings, but didn't possess the standard holy characteristics that these angelic-like wings would typically bestow upon mortals. Instead, these wings held an imposing and tyrannical feel that would cause those who looked upon them to feel their lives were no longer theirs.
His eyes looked towards a dilapidated palatial door, brownish in color, connected to nothing that stood upright, and untainted by the rainbow blood in its surroundings. It possessed an almost mundane aura, which could be easily overlooked as a lost object of one of the weaker individuals of this world.
”Ezekiel!”
A middle-aged man with waist-length silver hair, two silver wings positioned on his back spread wide, seemed to have blinked directly to the male youth's side. His expression contained confusion and a little reverence as he gazed at the youth beside him.
”Jeremiah.”
The youth named Ezekiel acknowledged, his gaze towards the door remained unblinking and fixed.
Those eyes were slightly heated.
Observing this, the newly arrived Jeremiah remained silent. The youth before him was one of the unrivaled talents of the cultivation world and whatever he decided to do, he held no power to assert any questions. If he did and this angered Ezekiel, it's likely that even if the gods and buddhas wished for him to keep his life, he'd still lose it here. To be more accurate, even if they begged, the situation would likely be the same.
This world was a battlefield filled with death, and with Ezekiel here, it became even more chaotic. The level of slaughter performed just a few days ago would leave many psychopaths and cold-blooded murderers to grimace in inferiority. He had little desire to just be another name on his belt.
Therefore, silent and waiting he remained.
Luckily, he didn't wait for long.
A ripple of almost endless power surged outwards quietly from the door. It swept almost this entire gargantuan world and brought about a sensation of infinite death and calamitous power. Feeling this, Jeremiah's expression turned so pale that it was as if he'd seen death itself, and death gave him a date. Jeremiah sweated profusely while his eyes widened to the size of suns.
The world went silent.
The door opened silently.
Ezekiel's eyes brightened to the point where the stars were inferior. Unlike his compatriot beside him, his expression was filled with no hint of fear. He vanished inwards with no hesitation.
”E-Ezekiel!” Out of sheer fear, Jeremiah shouted. He stood there dumbfounded and fiercely panting. After a long while, he felt the auras of many that were both his equal and his inferior surge from the eight directions. Gritting his teeth so hard that blood dripped from the sides of his mouth, he followed after Ezekiel.
--Sirius Titan Realm, Year 12,323 of the Rebirth Era.
A dense light filled with brilliant sharpness sliced downwards towards a silver-robed male with unprecedented speed. The male responded with a slight smirk underneath his hood and a wave of his sword, completely denying the light any choice in its continued existence as it was swiped into destruction.
”Cease this, Ezekiel.” A rough masculine voice demanded.
A middle-aged man whose eyes were crimson red, muscles brimming to the brink upon his deep black body, and a great sword larger than his own body within his hand that resembled a wolf's fang appeared almost out of thin air. His expression was filled with imperial malevolence as he calmly eyed Ezekiel from afar.
”You can not escape, accept your death.” He added. His tone was filled with a calmness and arrogance that could cause the heavens to feel insulted.
Ezekiel, the youth in silver-robes, lifted his hood from his head to reveal a face so handsome that it seemed it was sculpted by the gods themselves. He held an arrogant smirk filled with absolute confidence. Whether it was in his own abilities or other factors, no one knew.
”With just you?” Ezekiel responded.
The middle-aged man looked calmly at Ezekiel as if his words or tone were the antics of a fool. As if on cue, many different auras of all types of intensity surged from the horizon in all directions. They seemed to be honing their flights towards this direction at top speed. Ezekiel's eyes didn't move from the man as his smirk never faded.