High noon burned hot over the cathedral. The dusty thunder of hooves echoed against the rhythmic clanging of shimmering steel as the Awakened-warriors approached, clad in heavy armor and wielding glowing celestial shields.
They marched slowly down the sacred cobblestone road of the cathedral, red banners fluttering from spears pointed toward the heavens. Their steel helmets glistened brilliantly under the harsh sun.
Waiting in the shade of the cathedral corridors were the women, holding smoking censers of incense. At their front stood Xurien Wrez, clutching a twelve-inch obsidian cross to her chest. She wore a long white blouse that reached her ankles, cinched tightly at the waist. Her pearly hair was tied back like a vine hanging down her back, but her cheeks were pale and her fingers trembled with every approaching stride of the horses.
She could hear the hushed whispers of her companions, speaking of nothing but the heroic deeds of the prince. Their chatter died instantly when the group of formidable Awakened-warriors reached the cathedral gates. Standing at the vanguard was the prince—tall and resplendent in his majestic armor.
"Prince Cerceux, please come inside. The priest awaits for the sacred blessing," the guard announced, gesturing the way with a mid-grade sword, a symbol of Thallerion bravery.
"Then let us proceed, comrades," the prince's baritone voice commanded. With a signal from his gloved hand, he suddenly closed his fist in the air, halting the movement and breath of every warrior behind him as if his word were absolute law.
"We did not come here for war, so do not cause a scene in this place. I understand the women here are kind—and sacred."
Respectful smiles broke across the faces of the Awakened-warriors, as if a king had just issued a new decree. They met the women standing at the side of the cathedral, who looked like frozen statues melting at the sight of the prince's handsome smile. The fragrance of incense met the steam of horse sweat.
The prince's grip on his reins tightened when he saw Xurien. He dismounted his white horse, his boots hitting the rough floor with a heavy thud, the armor at his waist clashing loudly. The others followed his lead.
The very air seemed to shift during their first encounter. "Lady... are you the one who will bless us?" Prince Cerceux asked. His soft, iridescent gray eyes fell upon the obsidian cross before traveling up to her face. Cerceux froze. Xurien's face looked like a flower in full bloom; he found himself being uncharacteristically careful, as if every second were made of gold. "I am Cerceux Herzthroven." He removed his black glove and offered his hand to Xurien, a ring shimmering with the engraved title: Awakened-Hunter.
"I am ready for the blessing." Xurien's fingers shook slightly as she reached for the prince's hand. Her eyes widened as she felt the unexpected softness of his palm. A bittersweet smile touched her lips as she tried to steady her breath. To Cerceux, it was the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Their hands remained joined for five seconds until a faint spark of electricity flickered between their palms, crawling up their veins like a tickle. They quickly averted their eyes, cheeks flushing, hearts leaping like birds desperate to escape a cage.
Prince Cerceux felt as though his soul, usually hardened by adventure and trial, had been ruthlessly pierced by the arrow of Sagittarius. He gazed at Xurien again as if time had stopped, only to have the moment shattered by a warrior stepping between them.
"Wait, my Prince... isn't it the duty of a Cyprioxian priest to give the blessing?" A gun glinted at the man's waist, and a cigar was tucked into his pocket. "As far as I know, that sacred act happens inside the cathedral." Xurien noticed him scratching his arm.
"Alexunther Escaniel," the prince said coolly. "There is plenty of time—why not converse with them first? It would be rude to ignore their presence." Xurien giggled softly, seeing Cerceux's face twist as if he had eaten something bitter, annoyed by the interruption. To her, the prince's annoyance was charming.
"He is right. We are not the ones to give you the blessing," Xurien said, feeling awkward as time seemed to stretch between them. "But my advice... horses are not allowed inside."
"No problem." With a simple wave from the prince, the guards took the reins of the horses and led them away, the sound of their hooves fading.
"Follow me, Father Hendrich is waiting," Xurien said seriously, clearly trying to maintain her composure. She turned to lead them.
But Cerceux's voice acted like a rope tied tight around her feet. "Wait. Your eyes are beautiful, but they are not the eyes of Thallerion."
Cerceux could hear Xurien catch her breath. "What is your name, milady?" Her cheeks burned like a thorny rose. She turned slowly after a deep breath, a forced smile on her lips.
"I am Xurien Wrez. I am from the nation of Cypriox, but my father is of Thallerion blood. As an Awakened-Healer, my mission is to help the sick."
Xurien noticed a wound on Alexunther's arm that looked like a crab bite. She handed the obsidian cross to a companion, stepped forward, and took Alexunther's hand. Her green eyes glowed as a white halo with a cross appeared above her. A white light like fire emanated from her hand, crawling warmly over Alexunther's wound. The venom was stinging despite the small size of the injury. "I also heal wounds using the power of the Crux entity."
"You truly are a Cyprioxian." Alexunther's eyes widened. He rubbed his skin and laughed with joy. "The stories are true... the women of Thallerion's church are skilled healers." The foul smell and the itch were gone. "Since I was scratched by that monster's claw... the wound wouldn't heal. But now, look Prince... it's gone!" He flexed his arm in front of the other warriors to show off Xurien's skill, while the women behind Xurien watched with quiet amusement. Xurien took her cross back and returned to her group.
"Is that so? Aren't you going to thank Xurien for her kindness?" Cerceux said with a slight frown. Alexunther immediately struck his fist against his chest in a salute. The prince cleared his throat to get everyone's attention, looking at Xurien again.
"Does the Crux entity even hear the prayers of Thallerion, even when our world is wrapped in the clashing of steel?" Alexunther and the others watched the women closely. "Can it be said... that the Cyprioxian Crux grants victory, or is it the Thallerion race itself that changes fate?" Prince Cerceux's words made the warriors nod; they knew he was testing her. "Tell me truly: do the Constellar Entities hold our destiny, or do humans forge their own?"
Xurien met the prince's challenge with her head held high. "My Prince, the Crux hears those who believe and truly pray."
"But if the people of the world—the leaders who play roulette with war—are living on the bribes of darkness, the curse of exploitative entities will not stop for their greed." Xurien looked at him firmly. "If you believe humans dictate their own fate as mere tools of war, how can people understand peace and hope? With every bite of war, so many orphans are left behind. Kings celebrate—but it is the blood of heroes that is spent. Why does war continue to live?"
"Only God knows the destiny of each soul, and no one can change the course of the world. But can steel or kings change the logic of life if it is already written in the Book of God?"
Prince Cerceux fell silent, his gaze fixed on her. A sudden surge of joy hit him; he was impressed that Xurien thought so deeply. "You amaze me... if it is God's destiny for Thallerion to succeed in war—does a flower still bloom in the middle of bloody soil? Does a white dove still wander through woods eaten by fire? Or does a hero still have a home to return to after never-ending battle?"
"Why does a hero bind himself if time only moves in circles? The heart always beats, but steel rusts no matter how sharp it is," Xurien replied.
"When the hero returns, he will seek the half of the heart that war carved away." The prince's words felt like a promise. His warriors went still, even the clinking of their swords stopped. Behind Xurien, the women gasped at the prince's poetic metaphors. "I hope peace no longer requires fire and steel, where the church and the kingdom unite in a single vow." The women almost prayed for it to be true.
Xurien did not answer but looked at the prince gently. Remembering Orion's prophecy, she brought the cross to her stomach. She smiled with hope.
"And may it be that upon the hero's return, his eyes meet the flower that waits and hopes in God's promise." Xurien spoke seriously, though fear flickered in her eyes, for the reality beyond Thallerion's borders was violent.
"This cathedral is witness, and in the name of the Great Orion, I am Cerceux Herzthroven, Prince of Thallerion... I promise that hero will return—I promise." That was the first time she truly knew the prince of the Herzthroven line. After the blessing, the prince and his warriors departed for the Northern part of Rigil, where the Military headquarters were located.
The Border of Rigil
Prince Cerceux and his men were met by the stench of death in northern Thallerion. Massive walls blocked the path of dark, clicking chitinous limbs—crustacean-like in hardness with rough exoskeletons. Tails slammed against the walls, leaving cracks. They possessed scorpion stingers nearly 0.5 meters long, with a total weight of fifty kilograms. Their heads were elongated like sea anemones, soft but lined with sharp teeth and iridescent, wrinkled white skin.
"Prince, here is the document we recovered from inside the first laboratory," Alexunther said grimly as Cerceux scanned the distance with a telescope. The sound of the creatures battering the barricades caused constant, minor tremors. "The document says this isn't biological or natural mutation. It's a deception of magic, using science and technology to create a new evolution."
"An evolution?" Cerceux adjusted his telescope, peeping into a black hole—a cave mouth coated in green slime, residues of failed experiments. The air smelled of salty pus and surgical chemicals. The creatures crawled out one by one, their eight legs stabbing the ground with a crisp sound that left a radar-like hum. Their "Spencers" (throats) expanded and contracted like a bloated fish, and their two pincers were as sharp as saws.
Alexunther stepped beside the prince with thick papers. "This is the document titled AS-Myrmex Lab 170." He read the codename from the twenty-five-page file. It contained handwritten notes in squid ink and drawings of DNA helixes—and strangely, stick-man drawings with crazed faces and earthworms, as if the worm and the human were in love. Alexunther couldn't make sense of it.
"Does this doctor have a child, or is the owner of this document just childish?" Alexunther wondered.
"Our researchers say these aren't aggressive or fast, but the Spencer is strong and every stinger strike is paralyzing," Alexunther reported. "These biopunk-prototypes are called... Anemone Scorpis Myrmex, or AS-MYRMEX 3.0 for short."
"Ah... I see. Sea anemone head, ant body, scorpion stinger, Spencers, and chitinous legs... but is this new version poisonous?" Cerceux asked while looking through the lens.
"It has a high anesthetic property, but the stinger isn't immediately lethal... it feels like a mosquito bite," Alexunther said, suppressing a laugh. "But experts observe that every sting leaves a wound that turns purple. After a week, the victim suffers partial paralysis, fever, and convulsions."
"So... if they get stung, the symptoms don't show immediately? Will the Cyprioxian religious-healers have a chance to treat them?"
"Our first group of warriors who were bitten in the first lab have returned, but some suddenly collapsed during preparations," Alexunther explained. "Agencies are alarmed by these sudden faints. All of Thallerion is questioning Cyprioxian healing... it seems they cannot remove the magic of the AS-Myrmex."
"Maybe magic isn't the cause... could it be a disease carried by the AS-Myrmex?" Cerceux suggested. Alexunther buried his face in the document, trying to read the scientific explanations until he felt his head ache. "How do these pests reproduce so fast?"
Alexunther closed the file and faced the cave. "At first glance, it looks like a cave, but this is where they self-replicate. According to the document, there are three phases. First, they are white-skinned hatchlings about 0.3 meters long. Second, their skin hardens and the exoskeleton turns black. Third, after three months, new mutations begin, and they start self-replication for breeding. Their gene replication processes both male and female traits."
"Are these not humans or clans with shape-shifting abilities?" Cerceux asked, zooming the telescope 20x.
"The report says they are purely experiments."
"My suspicions were right... they are just pests with altered DNA trying to break the algorithm of celestial genes." Cerceux wiped his cheek with a white cloth and walked to a table. "In short, only a madman would do this."
Cerceux sat in the headquarters tent built on a high cliff near the Rigil border. The warm wind played with the edges of maps weighed down by his heavy, gleaming gun. The coffee-colored maps were marked with red ink, highlighting routes and tactical diversions for troop movements.
Alexunther took a drag from his cigar, the tip glowing red. Ash fell to the ground as he approached Cerceux. "The experts agree." Smoke curled from his mouth as he crumpled a document stained with black blood. "We found that this is run by a mysterious man using the pen name: Dr. Ophiuchus."
"Dr. Ophiuchus?" Cerceux repeated, brow furrowing. "What kind of doctor is that? We need to investigate this man." He hooked the telescope to his waist, his jaw tightening. "His experiments are a curse that must be purged."
"But based on the labs we've entered, he seems to be collecting specimens—a strange hobby. If you notice, when these creatures are in a critical situation, they explode like remote bombs. Simply put, his creations are biopunk-prototypes that haven't fully evolved."
"If this is just a test subject... that man must be truly delusional in his desperation." Cerceux tapped his finger hard against the wood. "There is only one thing to do... we must destroy every laboratory where he hides."
He gripped the sword at his waist. He pointed to a defense military messenger. "Tell everyone... avoid the AS-Myrmex stinger and the bite of its head. This experiment is dangerous; send long-range shooters first to immobilize them." Cerceux signed the parchment and stamped it with the Herzthroven emblem before handing it to the messenger. "Deliver this order."
"Yes, my Prince... it will reach the command leaders immediately." The messenger ran toward the troops.
Cerceux flexed his fingers after pressing the stamp. A grin spread across his face. "We're going to mince those scorpions into fine pieces... let's see how that mad scientist reacts." Prince Cerceux smirked, teeth gritted in anticipation.