Bloody Odyssey

"Spear King…"

The Emperor's voice trailed off, carrying a weight that made the old man's bones ache.

"What brings you here? I assume you were aware of my meeting?"

Lord Maguire — the Spear King — bowed deeply, banging his head against the hard surface. Pain surged through his skull, but he grit his teeth as blood leaked from his forehead, staining the pristine floor.

"My Sovereign, please punish me for my rudeness… but I had no choice."

He raised his head slightly, his voice trembling with urgency and fear.

"The City of Roses is in shambles. Many died."

The Emperor's eyes stayed shut, but his face turned toward Maguire's direction. His expression revealed no emotion. No surprise. No concern.

But the entire palace began to vibrate.

A low hum spread through the walls, through the floor, through the very air itself. The plants trembled. The flowers shed their petals. The guards shifted uneasily in their adamantite armor.

"I'm sure that is not all you came here for."

Maguire trembled in his boots.

"No, my lord." He swallowed hard. "It was the Blood River. An Odama-level powerhouse."

"Don't tell me the Blood River Apostles are starting to make a move on the Empire."

One of the consorts spoke — a woman draped in silks, her voice carrying no fear. Only curiosity. Only calculation.

"Could it be something is wrong with that man?" She tilted her head. "I thought he was giving chase to them…"

Maguire continued, narrating all he had witnessed in the city. The attack. The chaos. The monsters. The healing.

"At first, I thought it was the Church of Light… until I saw him step out."

A pause.

"A Godfall."

The hall fell silent.

Then a man clad in royal blue mage robes stepped forward. His greyed-out hair draped below his neck length, and his face carried deep condemnation. The Emperor's personal Sage.

"It doesn't make sense." His voice was sharp. Cutting. "There is no spell capable of reviving dead souls for healing. That is impossible. That is heresy."

He turned to Maguire, his eyes blazing.

"My lord, I think this man has gone dumb. If he said it was the Saint, perhaps it would be more believable. But instead, he said it was a Godfall."

The Sage's voice rose.

"You will be punished for making a joke of the Royal Court!"

The Spear King was shocked by the sudden spark from the Emperor's personal Sage. His hands clenched at his sides. His jaw tightened.

Where you there? he wanted to scream. Did you see what I saw?

Just then, the Emperor raised his hand.

The Sage fell silent instantly. His mouth snapped shut. His eyes dropped to the floor.

"Continue, Maguire."

The old man gulped. Hearing the Emperor give him heed — hearing that calm, terrible voice — sent a shiver down his spine.

"My Lord… there is something off in the House of Fall. I can't pinpoint my head around it." He looked up, meeting the Emperor's closed eyes. "But the unease and fear I felt from him… was something unseen."

The Emperor's closed eyes narrowed.

Not confusion. Not concern.

Interest.

"Godfall…" He leaned back into his throne. "Huh."

For the first time, he opened his eyes.

Golden-brown irises stared out at the world. But they had no luster. No light. They were like the eyes of a statue — beautiful, but hollow. As if the man behind them had seen everything and found nothing worth keeping.

"You are all dismissed."

His voice was resolute.

With haste, the scholars and consorts departed. The sound of chatter followed them through the grand doors, echoing through the halls.

The Emperor remained.

His golden-brown eyes fixed on the Spear King.

"Spear King…"

As the Emperor was about to speak, an unfamiliar voice echoed.

It did not come from the hall. It did not come from the palace. It came from everywhere — from the sky, from the earth, from the very air itself. It was not loud in the way of thunder, but in the way of presence. A voice that could not be ignored.

Not just his attention — but the consorts who had just left. The scholars. The guards. The servants. The entire nation of Bertha heard this voice loud and clear.

Even the House of Fall heard it.

Powerhouses of the empire walked out of their abodes. Ancient warriors stepped onto balconies. Hidden masters emerged from shadows. They looked up to the sky, facing the direction of the voice with narrowed eyes and clenched fists.

Silent, well-hidden rage filled the Emperor's eyes.

His golden-brown irises — hollow moments ago — now burned with something cold and dangerous.

Who dares?

"Very good." The voice continued, calm and unhurried. "Now I have your attention."

A pause.

"Greetings, Bertha."

The name hung in the air like a challenge.

"I am Dax Godfall. Son of Omin Godfall."

Voices of the common folk chattered across the streets. Confusion filled the air like fog. Merchants stopped their trading. Children paused their games. Soldiers looked to their officers with uncertain eyes.

Godfall?

The House of Fall?

What is this?

Suddenly, a holographic figure appeared in the center of Bertha.

It was massive — towering above the tallest spires, visible from every corner of the nation. A figure of white hair, red eyes, and a smile that promised nothing and everything. He wore simple robes, but his presence was anything but simple.

Dax's image looked down at them all.

His smile widened.

"What sorcery is this?"

The words escaped the lips of the Emperor's personal Sage — the man clad in royal blue mage robes, his greyed-out hair now disheveled from the shock. His eyes were wide, his composure shattered.

This is impossible.

He had studied for centuries. Had mastered spells that could level mountains and summon storms. Had seen the works of the greatest mages and runesmiths in Bertha's history.

But this — this was beyond him.

The holographic figure pulsed with light that had no magical signature. No runic structure. No mana fluctuations. It was as if the image had simply decided to exist, and reality had no choice but to obey.

The top mages and runesmiths across the empire were smothered by the sight. They stared with awe, mouths agape, their minds refusing to process what they were seeing.

"When did the Godfalls get such an artifact?"

The question was asked by a consort — a woman whose voice usually carried nothing but confidence. Now it trembled.

No one had an answer.

In the House of Fall, the holographic figure loomed above the courtyard.

Clansmen gathered in the open space, their faces turned upward. Some shielded their eyes from the light. Others simply stared.

Dax.

He did this?

The goblins — those strange, modified creatures — stood at attention. Their eyes followed the image of their master with something that might have been reverence.

Alfonzo, still clad in his bio-armor, watched from the shadows of the Godfall towers.

Across Bertha, powerhouses emerged.

In a tower of white stone, an old woman with silver hair and eyes like burning coals looked up at the sky. Her fingers traced ancient symbols in the air, trying to decipher the spell.

Nothing.

In a mountain fortress, a warrior clad in black iron — a man who had killed Odama-level beasts with his bare hands — stepped onto his balcony. His face was carved from stone, but his grip on the railing cracked the metal.

Who is this Dax Godfall?

In a hidden chamber beneath the capital, a council of shadowy figures sat in silence. Their eyes were fixed on a scrying pool that showed the holographic figure from a thousand angles.

None of them spoke.

Neither did they understand.

The Emperor's eyes — those golden-brown irises that had no luster — remained fixed on the image.

His expression was unreadable.

But beneath the surface, something stirred.

Dax Godfall.

The name echoed in his mind like a bell that would not stop ringing.

Son of Omin Godfall.

He remembered Omin. Very well. And his time and service in my army.

His son?…

The Emperor's lips parted but no words came out. Instead, he simply watched and waited.