Chapter 57: 57:Dawn Of New Era

In the heart of Veydrin Duchy, within the towering walls of his grand estate, Grand Duke Ruth sat upon his chair, fingers rhythmically tapping against the polished wooden table. His sharp, calculating eyes remained focused, lost in thought, when suddenly loud gasps echoed around.

The muffled cries of servants and guards reached his ears, a ripple of unrest spreading beyond the doors of his chamber.

His fingers halted.

His cold gaze flickered toward the door.

"Rami."

A shadow moved swiftly. Rami,stepped forward, bowing his head in respect.

"What is this sudden commotion?" Ruth asked, his voice steady, yet carrying a weight that sent a chill down the spine.

Rami hesitated for a moment before answering, his expression laced with uncertainty.

"My lord, an unusual phenomenon is occurring outside."

Ruth’s brows furrowed slightly.

"An unusual phenomenon?"

He rose from his seat, his long coat sweeping behind him as he moved toward the massive window. Rami followed closely, his throat dry under the Grand Duke’s presence.

As Ruth’s gaze fell upon the sky, something strange reflected in his cold, nonchalant eyes.

There was a darkish hole.

A great, consuming void had stretched across the heavens.

The daylight had turned into a swirling abyss of blackness, as if the universe itself had been swallowed whole.

And then, amidst the void, something even more unsettling.

A black star.

It did not twinkle.

It did not glow, rather it seemed to be absorbed.

Everything around it dimmed, lost, and forgotten, as if erased from existence.

Rami swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly.

"Rami..." Ruth’s voice, though calm, carried an eerie undercurrent.

"Do you know what this is?"

Rami shook his head.

The Grand Duke took a long drag from his cigarette, the embers briefly illuminating his face. Then, he flicked the ashes onto the tray and exhaled a slow, heavy breath.

"I don’t know but people are saying it’s a sign."

Rami’s heart pounded.

"A sign?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ruth’s lips curled ever so slightly, a glint of amusement.

"Yes, a sign of ill omen."

Ruth turned his gaze back to the devouring blackness above.He exhaled another plume of smoke, watching it disappear into the air.

Then, with a smirk, he muttered

"Whatever it is.As long as it doesn’t affect the Veydrin, I don’t care or else.."

"I won’t hesitate to tear it away."

........

The Luther Dynasty was not built on diplomacy or alliances—it was carved from the bones of fallen enemies, cemented in blood, and fortified by an iron will. The name Luther inspired both awe and terror, whispered with reverence in the grand halls of power and shuddered upon in the dark corners of rebellion.

At the heart of this dominion stood Castle Valtoria, the seat of absolute power.

It was no mere fortress—it was a monument to dominance, a citadel that scraped the heavens with its obsidian spires and golden-tipped towers. Its massive walls, thick enough to withstand a siege for decades, bore the scars of a thousand battles, their jagged marks serving as a reminder of those who dared to defy Luther rule.

Inside, the castle pulsed with the lifeblood of an empire.

Crimson banners embroidered with golden lions draped the walls, a symbol of the unchallenged might of the Luther bloodline. Knights in black and gold armor patrolled the corridors, their mere presence enough to make lesser men falter. Courtiers and nobles walked in hushed, measured steps, for a single misplaced word could mean ruin.

Yet, despite the magnificence, the air within the Emperor’s chamber was thick with decay.

Deep within the heart of Castle Valtoria, beyond the throne room and the war halls, lay the Emperor’s chamber.

A room befitting a man who had conquered nations. Grand chandeliers of black crystal hung above, their dim glow casting ghostly shadows. The bed, carved from the wood of a thousand-year-old iron oak, was as much a throne as the one in the palace hall.

And upon it laid a man who had once ruled with an iron fist.

A man whose mere name had sent kingdoms trembling.

Edward V, the Blood Conqueror.

Once, his very presence could turn the tide of war. A warrior-king who had drowned the lands in the blood of his enemies, tearing through rebellions and crushing nobles who dared to challenge him.

But now—

Now he was a husk of his former self.

His body, once sculpted from war and battle, was now frail and skeletal, wrapped in skin too thin to hide the bones beneath. His once piercing golden eyes were now sunken, like dying embers of a great fire.

Yet,when they opened, they still burned.

"Your Highness!"

The sharp cry of knights filled the chamber.

Five golden-armored warriors, the Emperor’s personal guard, tensed at the sudden movement. Their hands gripped their swords, ready to strike down any unseen threat.

Beside the bed stood a man of towering presence—his long silver beard untouched by age, his robes carrying the weight of authority and wisdom. The moment the Emperor stirred, his gaze darkened, yet he remained composed.

"Pieard."

A name that carried power.

He was the Emperor’s most trusted man, his right hand, his shadow. A man who had orchestrated both the rise and fall of countless nobles. He had no crown, yet his will could shape the empire.

Edward’s voice, though weak, carried the weight of a king’s command.

"Pieard..."

The old advisor immediately stepped forward, lowering his head.

"Yes, Your Highness. Your humble servant is here."

With a slow, unsteady motion, Pieard reached out, supporting the Emperor. But the moment their hands touched he heard a whisper so soft, yet so deafening.

"You can feel it, can’t you?"

Pieard stiffened.

He had felt it.He had felt the air shift.

Felt the very fabric of fate twist.

The world was changing.

And it was not the hand of His Lord that was guiding it.

Yet Pieard did not answer immediately. He simply met Edward’s gaze.

"Yes, My Lord."

Edward’s lips curled into a bitter smile.

"The world is changing..."

His voice was soft, yet it echoed with an eerie finality.

"And I will not live to see it."

Pieard’s breath hitched, but he did not flinch.

"Please stop, My Lord. You still have many years to—"

Laughter.

A deep, dry, and hollow laughter.

"Hahahahahaha!"

The Emperor’s voice, once capable of rallying armies, now sounded like the rattling of death itself.

"You know better."

Pieard lowered his head.

Edward Val Luther, the Blood Conqueror, was dying.

And nothing—not gold, not power, not even the will of the gods—could change that.

"Let’s not waste time."

Edward straightened himself, his hollow eyes burning with one last order.

"Summon them."

Pieard’s gaze flickered.

"Them, Your Highness?"

"All of them."

"All?"

The knights stirred at the words.

"Yes." Edward’s voice did not waver.

"Call every noble. Every lord, every duke, every general."

"Before this lion enters the coffin..."He pauses a bit.

Then, a slow, chilling smile spread across his face.

"I wish to see the ones who will carry this empire after me."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"That shall be my final duty... as an Emperor."

Silence followed after which Pieard bowed.

"As you command, My Lord."

14th February 789..

The Imperial Scholars recorded the date that would be reckoned in the history of Heinz Empire as the beginning of the ticking clock of the Era of Chaos that would soon burn and engulf the continent.