Chapter 5: The Throne of the Nameless King

A World Without Solmira

The morning after the eradication of Solmira, the world felt emptier.

The sky bore no signs of destruction—no smoke, no ruins, no remnants.

Only absence.

Solmira had been one of the greatest cities in history, standing for over a thousand years. A place of culture, of faith, of defiance. And now—

Nothing remained.

Not a single stone.

Not a single corpse.

Not even whispers of the dead.

The land where Solmira once stood was barren, as if it had never existed.

It was not war. It was not conquest.

It was erasure.

And with it, fear spread like wildfire.

---

The Silence of the Divine

The remaining kingdoms froze in terror.

If Solmira, a fortress of divine warriors, had been wiped away without a single survivor—what hope did the rest of the world have?

No messengers dared to travel. No armies dared to march. Even the High Kings of the West, once arrogant in their divine blessings, did not speak.

But the silence did not last.

Because the Abyss began to stir.

And those who once served the Goddess saw an opportunity.

---

The Anointed Revenants

The Black Legion had once been the right hand of the Divine Throne. A force of holy warriors, bound by celestial pacts.

When the Goddess fell, they had been lost.

But now—something called to them.

Something whispered from the void left behind.

Something offered power.

And in desperation, they accepted.

The seven Grand Inquisitors, once chosen by the Goddess herself, knelt before the Abyss.

And in doing so—they became something else.

Something far worse.

Their bodies twisted, their divine auras corrupted. Their faith, once their greatest weapon, was now a hollow echo.

They rose from the depths of the ruins, no longer men, no longer holy.

And they had only one purpose.

To destroy the Nameless King.

To erase Caelum.

---

Seraphine's Decision

For three days, Seraphine did not sleep.

She had watched Solmira vanish. Had stood at Caelum's side as the world shattered in his hands.

And still—she had done nothing.

For the first time in her life, she did not know who she was.

She had been raised as a warrior of the Light, a sword of the Divine.

Yet now, there was no Divine left to serve.

And the only man she had ever loved was the one who had killed it.

Standing atop the balcony of Eldoria's palace, she exhaled shakily.

She could no longer remain silent.

She could no longer simply watch.

Even if it meant facing him.

Even if it meant breaking her own heart.

She turned sharply, her decision made.

Seraphine was going to stop Caelum.

Or she was going to die trying.

---

The Abyss Stirs

Far beyond the reach of mortals, beneath the ruined temples of the Divine Dominion, something awoke.

A presence that had been waiting.

Watching.

And now, in the aftermath of the Goddess's death, it was free.

A whisper spread through the void, slithering into the minds of the lost, the forsaken, the broken.

The world had always belonged to the divine.

But now—it belonged to the Nameless.

And they had only one decree.

"Erase the False King."

---

Caelum's Throne

The world called him many things.

Anathema.

The Destroyer.

The Nameless King.

But Caelum did not care for names.

He sat upon the high throne of Eldoria, his gaze calm as the shattered pieces of the world aligned themselves around him.

His empire was not built on conquest.

It was built on inevitability.

The kingdoms that knelt before him did not do so out of loyalty.

They knelt because they understood the truth.

There was no war to win.

No salvation to seek.

There was only him.

And soon, the rest of the world would follow.

Or it would burn.

Caelum leaned back, his golden eyes narrowing as he felt a shift in the air.

Something had changed.

Something was coming.

And for the first time in a long while—

He was intrigued.

---

Final Scene: The Black Legion's Approach

Night fell upon the lands of Eldoria.

And with it, shadows gathered at its gates.

The first warriors of the new war had arrived.

But they did not march under banners of men.

They did not carry the light of the divine.

They came as something else.

As something born from the Abyss itself.

Their armor, once silver, was now blackened steel. Their eyes, once bright with divine fury, burned with something unholy.

They had given up their names.

They had given up their souls.

And now, they spoke in only one voice.

"The False King will fall."

The First War of the Nameless had begun.