At first, there was nothing.
Blackness pressed in from every direction, thick and heavy like oil. The darkness had weight to it, crushing down on everything, suffocating, alive in a way that made no sense.
Then a hand appeared. White gloved fingers, long and elegant, too perfect to belong to anything human. The hand beckoned slowly, deliberately, each movement precise and intentional.
A voice cut through the void, smooth as silk wrapped around broken glass.
"You wanna be King of Kings, don't cha? Then shake my hand... come onnn... one more time, why don't you shake a poor sinner's hand?"
The words echoed, multiplying, bouncing off walls that didn't exist, growing louder and louder until—
Light exploded across everything like a knife slicing through fabric.
Ephraim's eyes snapped open.
A sea of clouds stretched endlessly in every direction. Thick white and grey vapor rolled like ocean waves frozen mid crash. Above him, the sky burned pale purple, caught somewhere between dawn and day, neither one nor the other. No sun. No stars. Just endless violet emptiness.
He lay on a crude wooden raft, six feet of weathered planks lashed together with fraying rope. No sail. No oars. No logical reason it should move at all. Yet it glided smoothly across the vapor, catching wind that shouldn't exist.
Ephraim Boichi. Sixteen years old. Light skinned with messy wavy black hair that stuck up in every direction, and cutting straight through it from forehead to crown, a white streak like a skunk's tail. Green eyes, currently scanning his surroundings. Lean but muscular, visible even through his cropped black jean jacket worn over a white tank top. Black jeans. Black and white Converse with the laces loose and untied.
A knapsack sat beside him, half open, contents spilling slightly.
He sat up fully, joints popping as he stretched. Cracked his neck. Yawned.
"Almost there now, let's take a lookie."
He pulled a holo pad from his jacket pocket. A thin rectangle of glass and light that projected a blue screen into the air above his palm.
MESSENGER CONTRACT Marine Vessel 237 Primary Target: The Knife of Dedra Payment: 40 Tithes, 40 Eddies
Below the text, a compass arrow pointed steadily forward.
Ephraim grinned. Cocky. Confident. The smile of someone who'd done this before and would do it again.
"Alrighttt, one more mission and I can rank up. Let's make some magic happen."
He stood with a dramatic groan, cracked his knuckles, and leaped.
Not a normal jump. A launch. His body shot into the air like a bullet fired from a gun, soaring impossibly high, covering a mile and a half in a single arc. He landed without a sound on the bottom hull of a massive warship floating in the distance.
The ship was enormous. A floating fortress of dark metal and reinforced steel, bristling with cannons and watchtowers. The hull curved upward into multiple decks, flags bearing military insignia snapping in the wind.
Ephraim found a ventilation shaft. A metal grate barely three feet wide. He pried it open with his fingers and squeezed inside.
The shaft was cramped, claustrophobic. Metal walls pressed in from all sides. Darkness stretched ahead, broken only by thin beams of light filtering through distant grates. He crawled forward on hands and knees, the sound of his movement echoing softly.
"Holy shit, this place is a maze. I'll nev—"
He stopped.
An aroma drifted through the ventilation system. Sweet. Savory. Unmistakably food. His stomach growled loud enough to echo off the metal walls.
"Can't hurt to check the menu a bit."
He shifted direction, following the scent, crawling faster now. Found an exit grate and looked down through the slats.
A maintenance room sat below him. Maybe fifteen feet down.
He pried the grate open and dropped through.
CRASH.
He landed hard on a rolling tool cart loaded with wrenches, hammers, and spare parts. The cart exploded on impact. Tools scattered across the floor with deafening clangs and crashes. A wrench bounced off a pipe, creating a bell like ring. A hammer hit the ground and spun. Metal rolled in every direction.
"Shit," Ephraim whispered, freezing in place.
Footsteps approached. Heavy boots on metal flooring.
A maintenance worker rounded the corner, flashlight in hand, squinting into the dim room. He swept the light across the scattered tools, the overturned cart, the grate hanging open above.
"Hello?"
Silence.
He took another step, light playing across empty corners.
"Captain needs to do something about these damn rats," he muttered, shaking his head. "They're gonna fuck something up down here eventually."
He turned and walked away, footsteps fading into the distance.
Above the exact spot where the crash had happened, Ephraim floated silently three feet off the ground. His body bobbed slightly up and down, attracted to magnetic points in the ceiling above and floor below, using the opposing forces to suspend himself mid air like a balloon caught between two fans.
He waited until the footsteps disappeared completely.
Then he dropped, slowing his descent this time with careful magnetic pulls. Landed softly. Silently.
He crept past the doorway the worker had disappeared through, moving like a shadow, and slipped into the laundry unit next door.
The room smelled like detergent and steam. Industrial washers lined one wall, dryers on the other.
"Come onnn, how can a fuckin' laundry room not have laundry? What the fuck?"
He rifled through empty racks, checked hampers, opened lockers.
Finally found it tucked in the back. An all black private uniform with a brimmed hat, freshly pressed.
He grinned, grabbed it, stuffed his regular clothes into his knapsack, and changed quickly.
The uniform hung loose on his frame. Too big in the shoulders. Too long in the sleeves. Pants bunching at the ankles.
"Alright, a bit loose, but whatever."
Ephraim strolled confidently up metal stairs, past multiple decks, weaving through corridors. Marines gave him odd looks, confused by the ill fitting uniform, by the cocky walk, by the fact they didn't recognize him.
But nobody stopped him.
He found the café on Deck 3. A large open space with metal tables bolted to the floor, a serving line along one wall manned by cooks in stained aprons. The smell of fresh bread and grilled meat made his mouth water.
He grabbed a tray and loaded it up. Then grabbed another tray and loaded that one too.
Sat down at a corner table and proceeded to gorge himself. Ten plates. Twelve. Fifteen. He lost count, eating like he hadn't seen food in days.
Two corporals approached. Older men with salt and pepper hair, stripes on their sleeves, faces already red with anger.
"PRIVATEEE!" the first one screamed, voice cracking with outrage. "WHAT IN THE GODS' NAMES HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?! WHY DO YOU THINK YOU CAN EAT ALL OF THIS?!"
The second joined in, jabbing a finger at Ephraim. "WHY ON DEMETER'S SOIL DO YOU THINK YOU CAN WEAR YOUR OUTFIT LIKE THAT?! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!"
Ephraim, mid bite into what might have been his sixteenth plate, held up one finger.
Both corporals paused, mouths hanging open in shock.
He chewed slowly. Swallowed. Took a sip of water.
Smiled.
"My bad, boss man. I'm hungry as shit, you get it, don't cha? Hahahahaaaa."
Their faces went from red to purple.
"I'll fix it right away, uh, sir man."
They lunged forward, arms outstretched, ready to grab him.
Too slow.
Ephraim leaped backward over the table in a perfect arc, legs kicking up. Mid flip, he magnetized the table and chairs behind him (metal furniture suddenly attracted to his body like magnets to a refrigerator) and kicked out with both feet.
The table and four chairs shot forward like projectiles.
CRASH.
Both corporals went down hard, pinned under furniture, groaning.
The entire café erupted into chaos. Marines jumped to their feet. Trays clattered to the floor. Someone hit the alarm and a wailing siren echoed through the entire ship.
Red lights began strobing.
Fuckkkk, great going Ephraim, he thought, already running. Could've at least found the damn blade before pissing them off.
Ephraim sprinted down the corridor as marines poured in from every direction. Three guards ahead raised their hands, water coalescing between their palms into pressurized streams.
They fired.
Three jets of water shot toward him like bullets. Ephraim grabbed at the magnetic fields around the water itself and pulled, bending the streams around his body. The water curved mid flight, splashing harmlessly against the walls behind him. The redirected streams hit the ceiling above, raining down like a sudden storm.
The first guard charged at him, baton raised overhead for a downward strike.
Ephraim sidestepped right as the baton came down. The guard stumbled forward from the missed swing. Ephraim pivoted on his back foot and drove his elbow into the guard's ribs. The man doubled over with a grunt. Ephraim grabbed the collar of his uniform, felt for the metal buttons, and magnetized them to himself. He spun in a circle, using the magnetic pull to swing the guard around his body like a shield.
More water blasts came from the other two guards.
The streams hit their own man instead. Ephraim released him and the guard collapsed to the floor, soaked and groaning.
Two more guards rushed from the left. Ephraim dropped low and swept his leg out in a wide arc. His shin connected with both guards' ankles simultaneously. Their feet flew out from under them and they crashed onto their backs.
A fourth guard dropped from an overhead pipe above him, knife in hand, blade pointed down at Ephraim's back.
Ephraim felt the metal blade before he saw it. He magnetized the knife and yanked. The weapon ripped from the guard's grip mid fall and flew into Ephraim's hand. The guard landed off balance. Ephraim spun and drove his knee up into the man's chest. The guard flew backward and slammed into the wall with a CRACK.
Three more guards appeared ahead, moving in tight formation.
Ephraim threw the knife straight up. He magnetized it to the ceiling and it stuck there, quivering. All three guards looked up, tracking the blade.
Ephraim ran forward. He slid on his knees beneath the first guard's legs, popping up behind their formation. The first guard spun around. Ephraim grabbed his arm and twisted, locking it behind the guard's back. Using the man as an anchor point, Ephraim planted his foot on the guard's lower back and launched himself sideways, delivering a spinning back kick that caught the second guard clean across the jaw.
The second guard's head snapped to the side and he crumpled.
The third guard swung a wild haymaker. Ephraim ducked under it, trapped the extended arm, and twisted the wrist. The guard yelped and dropped to his knees. Ephraim raised his leg and brought his heel down on the back of the guard's head in an axe kick.
The guard face planted into the floor.
One last guard stood at the end of the corridor, hands glowing blue. Water gathered between his palms, compressing into a dense sphere. He thrust his hands forward and the water bullet shot out like a cannonball.
Ephraim pushed off the wall with magnetic force. His body launched sideways into a horizontal spin, rotating through the air like a corkscrew. The water bullet passed beneath him, so close he felt the spray.
Still spinning, Ephraim magnetized the metal floor beneath the guard's feet and pulled hard.
The guard lurched forward involuntarily, his stance broken, arms windmilling for balance.
Ephraim came out of his spin and drove both feet into the guard's face in a drop kick.
The guard's head rocked back and he went down hard, unconscious before he hit the deck.
Ephraim landed in a crouch and kept running.
"Mannnn, what the fuck, this place is a maze, I'll never... HOLY SHIT, THE BLADE!"
Down the hall, maybe fifty feet ahead, the Knife of Dedra sat mounted on the wall in a glowing glass case.
Fifteen marines stood in formation between him and the blade, weapons drawn.
Ephraim grinned.
"Time to boogie..."
He charged.
They charged back.
The first three marines came at him together, moving as a unit. Ephraim magnetized the metal belt buckles on all three and pulled. The buckles yanked toward him and the guards stumbled forward, crashing into each other in a tangle of limbs.
Ephraim jumped. He planted both hands on the center guard's shoulders and vaulted over the pile of bodies. While airborne, he twisted his hips and whipped his leg around in a spinning heel kick. His foot connected with the first guard's face, then continued through to clip the second, then finished on the third. All three heads snapped to the side in sequence.
They hit the floor.
Ephraim landed in a crouch.
Two guards rushed from his left, weapons raised. Ephraim rolled forward, passing between them. He came up behind them, grabbed the first guard's belt, and magnetized it. Using the magnetic pull for leverage, he lifted and threw the guard over his hip. The man flew through the air and crashed into his partner. Both went down in a heap.
A water blast came from the right.
Ephraim cartwheeled sideways. He didn't let his hands touch the ground, instead using magnetic repulsion against the metal floor to keep himself hovering horizontally in the air. The water stream passed harmlessly beneath his spinning body. He landed balanced on one hand, legs pointing straight up. Then he pushed off hard and twisted into a tornado kick, his body spinning vertically like a top. His heel cracked into a guard's temple.
THWACK.
The guard dropped.
Three guards surrounded him in a triangle formation, coordinating their approach. Smart move.
Ephraim looked up. An overhead pipe ran the length of the corridor. He magnetized it and pulled himself up, swinging forward like a pendulum. As he swung past the first guard, he extended his leg in a flying side kick.
CRACK.
His foot connected with the guard's sternum. The guard flew backward.
Ephraim used the impact to redirect his momentum, swinging back the other direction. As he passed the second guard, he brought his elbow down from above like a hammer. It connected with the top of the guard's head and the man's knees buckled.
Ephraim released the pipe and dropped behind the third guard, who was still spinning to track him. The moment Ephraim's feet touched down, he swept the guard's legs. As the man fell, Ephraim magnetized the metal vest the guard wore and pulled, suspending him horizontally in mid air for just a second. Ephraim drove his knee up into the guard's ribs.
The magnetic pull released and the guard crashed to the floor.
Five more guards rushed forward in a desperate wave.
Ephraim spotted a baton on the ground. He magnetized it and the weapon flew into his hand. He ran to meet the guards head on, using the baton like a club. He deflected the first guard's punch with the baton, then cracked it across the guard's wrist. The man yelped. Ephraim spun the baton and blocked the second guard's attack, then wound up and hurled the baton like a spear, magnetizing it for extra speed.
The baton shot forward like a bullet and slammed into a guard's solar plexus. The guard flew backward and hit the wall.
Four guards left.
Ephraim dropped into a low stance and spun, his leg sweeping out in a wide arc close to the ground. His shin took out the ankles of two guards simultaneously. As they fell, Ephraim planted his hands and kicked his legs straight up into a handstand. He snapped both legs forward and caught the third guard under the chin. The force lifted the guard off his feet.
The fourth guard lunged from behind, trying to grab him. Ephraim felt the metal zipper on the guard's uniform. He magnetized it and pulled the guard closer while simultaneously pushing himself away with an opposite magnetic force. They shot apart. Ephraim spun to face him, trapped both of the guard's reaching arms, and delivered three rapid straight punches to the chest. Each punch was magnetized, the metal buttons on the guard's uniform pulling toward Ephraim's knuckles and amplifying the impact.
The guard staggered backward, gasping for air.
Ephraim jumped and drove his knee into the guard's face.
The guard went down.
Then the captain emerged from the corridor behind the blade case.
Tall. A jagged scar ran from his forehead down to his jaw. Massive build with arms like tree trunks. Eyes burning with rage.
"Come on, Captain," Ephraim said, breathing only slightly harder. "I'm tired. Just gimme the damn thing. You know Soloris wants it. I doubt you haven't seen the contracts put out."
The captain stepped forward slowly, deliberately.
"Hahahaha!" His laugh was loud, theatrical. "You're a brave mudblood, but sadly, this is where you end. BECAUSE YOU FACE PALLY O'RYLLIE JOHNSON!"
Ephraim deadpanned. "Dude, there's no way that's your name. That's lame as fuck."
"YOU... YOU DARE SPEAK TO A CAPTAIN THAT WAY?! THIS IS INSOLENCE!"
"You're a MARINE captain," Ephraim said, laughing now. "You're the loser here. Hahahaha, how old are you, like 50, still in the marines? Come onnn, you can't even join a Prophet ship? That's embarrassing, man."
The captain roared.
Ice exploded from his hands in all directions. Jagged spikes shot out, freezing the walls, cracking the floor panels, transforming the corridor into a winter wasteland.
Ephraim grabbed metal scraps from the floor with magnetism and bent them into a makeshift shield in front of his body. He charged forward through the ice storm.
A spike shot toward his face. Ephraim tilted his head and the spike whistled past, close enough to feel the cold. Another spike came from the left. He bobbed his head left. One from the right. He slipped right. His head weaved side to side in a boxing rhythm, dodging spike after spike as he closed the distance.
He got within range and threw a quick jab at the captain's face, then followed with a cross. The captain raised his forearm to block. Ice encrusted his arm and absorbed the impact. Ephraim immediately pivoted and drove a hook toward the captain's liver. The captain twisted his torso and deflected it.
They traded blows back and forth. Ephraim threw a jab. The captain blocked. The captain threw a hook. Ephraim ducked. Ephraim threw an uppercut. The captain leaned back.
The captain wound up and threw a massive overhand right. Ephraim magnetized a section of floor grating and ripped it up in front of him like a shield. The captain's fist smashed through the metal, shattering it. Ephraim dropped under the punch and came up with an uppercut aimed at the captain's jaw.
The captain leaned back impossibly far, bending at the waist, the uppercut passing inches from his chin.
Ice suddenly covered the floor, turning it into a skating rink. The captain slid forward on the ice like a speed skater, building momentum. He drove his knee up toward Ephraim's ribs.
Ephraim magnetized his boots to the metal floor beneath the ice, locking himself in place. He caught the captain's knee with both hands. Using his magnetic anchor for leverage, he twisted hard, trying to force the captain into an armbar.
The captain was too strong. He ripped his arm free with brute force and spun with the motion, his elbow coming around in a back elbow strike. It caught Ephraim across the cheek.
Stars exploded in Ephraim's vision. He stumbled backward, his magnetic anchor breaking.
The captain pressed forward. Ice formed around his fist, growing into a massive frozen club. He swung it like a baseball bat.
Ephraim ducked. The ice club whistled over his head and smashed into the wall behind him with a deafening BOOM. The wall cracked. Frozen shards exploded everywhere.
Ephraim saw his opening. He drove a low kick into the captain's lead leg, magnetizing his own shin guard to add force to the impact.
CRACK.
The captain's leg buckled slightly.
Ephraim followed up immediately with three quick straight punches to the captain's ribs. Each punch magnetized, the metal buttons on the captain's uniform pulling toward Ephraim's knuckles with metallic thunks. One. Two. Three.
The captain grunted and swung wild with his ice club arm. Ephraim slipped to the outside of the punch, trapped the arm against his body, and tried to execute a hip throw.
The captain didn't budge. Too heavy. Too big.
Instead, the captain used Ephraim's grip against him. He lifted Ephraim off the ground and hurled him into the wall.
CRASH.
Ephraim's back screamed in pain. He immediately magnetized the wall behind him and pushed off hard, launching himself like a springboard. He flipped over the captain's head and landed behind him.
The moment Ephraim landed, he threw a spinning hook kick at the back of the captain's knee.
The leg gave out. The captain dropped to one knee.
Ephraim grabbed the captain's head with both hands, pulled it down, and drove his knee up at the same time.
CRACK.
Ephraim's knee connected with the captain's face. The captain's nose exploded with blood.
But he was still conscious. Still fighting.
Ice erupted from the captain's body in all directions like an explosion. Ephraim backflipped away, magnetizing scattered metal debris on the ground and pulling himself backward faster. He landed in a crouch ten feet away, breathing hard, watching the captain slowly rise to his feet.
More guards, corporals, and officers had arrived, packing into the corridor. But they stayed back, forming a wide circle, knowing better than to interfere.
The captain wiped blood from his face and grinned. A horrible, bloody smile.
"You're good, kid. But not good enough."
Dozens of ice spears materialized in the air around him, all pointed at Ephraim. They launched forward like a firing squad.
Ephraim ran straight toward them. He magnetized the metal walls on either side of the corridor. Left wall. Right wall. Left. Right. He pulled himself from wall to wall in a zigzag pattern, running horizontally along the walls themselves, defying gravity. Ice spears shattered against the walls where he'd been a split second before.
He launched off the right wall in a flying knee, soaring through the air toward the captain's head.
The captain caught Ephraim's leg mid air with one massive hand. Raw strength stopped all his momentum cold.
Ephraim twisted his body and threw a spinning back fist with his free hand. It connected with the captain's temple.
The captain's grip loosened. Ephraim dropped to the ground, rolled backward away from the captain, and popped up into a fighting stance.
The captain charged like a bull, ice forming armor plating across his entire body.
Ephraim waited. Watching. Timing.
At the last possible second, Ephraim stepped aside like a matador. As the captain barreled past, Ephraim grabbed his arm. He magnetized his own feet to the metal floor, anchoring himself like a post in concrete. Using the anchor point as leverage, he redirected all of the captain's forward momentum to the side.
The captain flew past him, unable to stop, and crashed into the wall.
Ephraim didn't give him a second to recover. He dashed backward, putting thirty feet of distance between them.
He grinned.
"ESSENCE TECHNIQUE!"
Ephraim's body blurred. He became a streak of motion, there one moment and gone the next, closing the thirty feet in an instant. The air around his fist distorted and rippled as magnetic fields compressed into a single point.
He drove his fist into the captain's gut with every ounce of force he had.
"BULLSEYE!"
The captain's eyes went wide. Blood sprayed from his mouth.
And he flew.
Not stumbled. Not fell.
Flew.
His body shot backward like a cannonball fired from a cannon, punching through the metal wall with a deafening crash. He disappeared through the hole into open air beyond the ship.
The marines lost it.
"ESSENCE USER!"
"IT'S AN ESSENCE USER!"
"RETREAT! RETREAT!"
They stampeded in every direction, trampling over each other to get away.
Ephraim walked calmly to the glass case and grabbed the Knife of Dedra. A beautiful dagger with a curved blade that shimmered like liquid water. He stuffed it in his knapsack and sprinted toward the hole in the wall.
He jumped through into open air.
Water blasts chased him from behind, pressurized streams trying to knock him out of the sky. Ephraim grabbed onto invisible magnetic currents in the air and pulled, swinging himself through space like Spider-Man on webs. He dodged left, then right, then spun in a corkscrew as a water blast passed through where his chest had been.
His raft floated far below. He swung down toward it and landed with a soft thud.
He quickly stripped off the marine uniform, changed back into his regular clothes, and tossed the uniform over the side. It disappeared into the cloud sea.
Ephraim used his essence to accelerate the raft, magnetic pulls against the vapor itself. The raft shot forward, faster and faster, putting distance between him and the warship.
Miles away, safely out of range, Ephraim pulled out his holo pad and checked for the nearest Messenger station.
Cloud Falls.
His face lit up.
"Perfect! I can drop this shit off, get my official rank ticket, and be right on my way to New Eden for the tournament."
In the distance ahead, Cloud Falls appeared on the horizon.
The city was massive, built entirely beneath a layer of clouds, under a vapor waterfall that somehow cascaded upward, defying gravity. Buildings sprawled across the entire view. Stone and metal and glass. Lights beginning to glow as evening approached. The whole city alive with movement and sound even from miles away.
Ephraim lay back on his raft, knapsack on his chest, hands behind his head.
He accelerated forward using magnetic pulls, going faster and faster.
The wind picked up. His hair whipped back.
He grinned at the pale purple sky, thinking about Prophet rank, about the tournament, about becoming King of Kings.
The raft shot toward Cloud Falls.
He tapped his holo pad, marking the contract as complete for drop off.
The device blazed with golden light, so bright Ephraim had to shield his eyes. The light expanded outward, projecting a massive three dimensional hologram above the raft.
A figure materialized. Tall. Imposing. Draped in flowing white and gold robes that moved with their own wind. Bronze skin. Sharp, angular features. Eyes that burned like molten gold. A presence that radiated divine authority.
Nero The Champion.
Demigod to Soloris. Right hand of the Sun God himself. Voice of the Prophets.
"Greetings, mortals of the Nine Skies."
His voice was deep, resonant, carrying the weight of divine authority. It seemed to reverberate through the air itself.
"I speak to you today on behalf of Lord Soloris, God of the Sun, Keeper of Light, and Sovereign of New Eden. Hear these words and know them to be truth eternal."
The hologram shifted. Images of New Eden appeared behind Nero. The floating paradise city gleaming in endless daylight, its towers reaching toward unseen heavens.
"For centuries, the Messenger system has served as the backbone of our civilization. Brave souls who traverse the Nine Skies, delivering hope, carrying justice, maintaining the bonds between our scattered peoples. You are the lifeblood of commerce, the bearers of truth, the unsung heroes who keep chaos at bay."
Nero's expression hardened, his golden eyes narrowing.
"But these are dangerous times. The lower skies grow restless. Piracy increases. Lawlessness spreads like plague. The Marine forces, meant to protect our citizens, have grown corrupt, complacent, weak. They fail in their sacred duty."
"Lord Soloris has seen your struggles. He has witnessed your courage. And in his infinite wisdom, he has decreed that change must come from those who have proven themselves worthy through trial of blood."
The image behind Nero changed, now showing the New Eden Coliseum. A massive arena that could hold hundreds of thousands, its architecture both ancient and impossibly advanced.
"In seven days' time, the Messenger Tournament will commence. Every Messenger who has achieved rank advancement eligibility may compete."
Nero stepped forward in the hologram, and for a moment it felt like he was staring directly at Ephraim.
"The victor, the one who stands above all others, will be granted Prophet rank. You will ascend to New Eden. You will walk among gods. You will be given resources beyond your wildest imaginings, authority that spans the Nine Skies, and the personal blessing of Lord Soloris himself."
A pause. The weight of it hung in the air.
"But understand this. The tournament is not for the faint of heart. You will face opponents who have trained their entire lives for this moment. Essence users. Magic wielders. Warriors who have conquered impossible odds. Some of you will fall. Some of you will break. Only the strongest, the most worthy, will rise."
The golden light intensified.
"Registration opens in seventy two hours. Preliminary rounds will eliminate all but the top sixty four competitors. To those brave enough to enter: Lord Soloris watches. The Nine Skies watch. Your ancestors watch. Show them what mortals are capable of when pushed to their absolute limit."
He raised one hand, golden light swirling around his fingers.
"May the strongest claim their destiny. May the worthy ascend. And may Soloris's light guide your path to glory."
The hologram flickered.
"Registration details have been uploaded to all eligible Messenger holo pads. The tournament begins in seven days. Prepare yourselves."
Nero's image held for one more moment, those burning golden eyes seeming to see through every person watching.
Then the hologram vanished.
Ephraim stood frozen, his holo pad still glowing faintly in his hand. His heart hammered against his ribs. His breath came quick and shallow.
All he could think about were those words. Prophet rank. Ascend to New Eden. Personal blessing of Soloris.
King of Kings.
The dream he'd had since he was a kid.
His hand tightened around his holo pad.
"Seven days," he whispered.
Then he grinned. Wild. Confident. Ready.
"Seven days until I become a god. YESSSSS, WOO HOOO, I'M FINALLY GONNA BE A PROPHETTT!"
The raft shot toward Cloud Falls, accelerating faster and faster across the cloud sea.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered a white gloved hand reaching through darkness.
But that was just a dream.
Right?
TO BE CONTINUED