The beginning after the end

Michael opened his eyes, struggling with exhaustion. Yet, there was nothing to see—only endless darkness stretching in all directions. He could not hear anything either and even his own body felt like it was barely there.

Then, the cold came. It seeped into him, not just through his flesh but into something deeper, something intangible. It numbed his thoughts, slowing them with each wave until even remaining conscious felt like too heavy of a task.

But did he even have a reason to stay awake? If there had been one, it had already slipped from his grasp, lost in the void. The cold was all that remained.

And with it came understanding. This was death, his end.

Yet, the revelation brought no fear—only relief. His life had been nothing but pain. The cold began to feel strangely warm like a mother's loving embrace. It made him feel welcomed and he welcomed it in kind.

Michael let his eyes close, prepared to never open them again.

But was fate ever kind to him?

A piercing light shattered the darkness, tearing through the void with merciless force. It clashed against his senses, demanding his attention. Anger flared within him—an instinctive, irrational resentment for being dragged back from the peace he had finally found. But then, as the light swallowed him whole, his anger was eclipsed by something else.

Terror.

***

Michael opened his eyes.

This time, his sight was clear, the haze of darkness lifting as his surroundings came into focus. A moment ago—if he could even call it that—he had been lost in the darkness. Now, he stood in a place brimming with life, color, and presence. The change was so sudden it made him feel dizzy.

Lingering fear curled in the pit of his stomach, accompanied by something sharper—anger. He had been at peace, hadn't he? Why did it feel like something had ripped him away from that final rest? The memory of light, of something vast and overwhelming, flickered in his mind before slipping through his grasp like grains of sand.

'What… happened? Where am I?'

He forced himself to focus. Around him, figures stood in neat formation, an audience clad in rich fabrics and gleaming armor. Rows of knights stood tall and disciplined, their hands resting on the pommels of their swords. Beside them were men and women draped in silks and jewels, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and reverence. 

'Nobles perhaps? What the hell is going on?'

Then, there were the others—the handful of people standing nearby, shifting uneasily. They looked as lost as he. Their clothes were foreign, their faces varied. Some wore what appeared to be battle gear, others casual clothing. The sheer diversity made Michael's head spin. It was like he had stumbled into some kind of elaborate costume party.

His confusion only deepened when he finally looked ahead.

At the heart of the chamber, towering over everyone, sat an enormous golden throne. The craftsmanship was beyond anything Michael had ever seen, intricate patterns of divine symbols carved into its surface, glowing faintly with a light that seemed almost alive. It radiated authority, making even the air feel heavy. Anyone standing before it would feel insignificant—just an ant in the presence of something greater.

Seated upon it was a man who could only be The Emperor.

Age had graced him with long silver hair, but there was no frailty in his posture. His back was straight, his expression impassive yet commanding. His sharp gaze swept over them, measuring, judging. He exuded an aura of absolute authority, the kind that made people kneel without being asked.

Michael barely had time to process it all before a powerful voice rang through the hall.

"Warriors! Hear my words!"

The command cut through the murmur of whispers, silencing the chamber in an instant.

But the voice did not belong to the Emperor.

Michael's gaze shifted to a figure standing slightly lower on the steps of the throne—a man dressed in regal finery, his bearing dignified, his presence almost as commanding as the Emperor himself. His voice carried unwavering authority, his tone sharpened by conviction.

"I am Prince Carl von Farhavaen, firstborn of Emperor Edward von Farhavaen, ruler of the Holy Empire and protector of the Light, before whom you now stand. Kneel in his presence"

Michael hesitated. Around him, the others were already lowering themselves to their knees without question, whether out of instinct or self-preservation.

The situation seemed ridiculous at best but not wanting to stand out Michael decided to play along. He knew too little to make any decisions.

The prince, satisfied by their compliance, continued.

"By the grace of the All-Father and the blessing of the Goddess of Light, you were summoned here. The greatest warriors from distant worlds, deemed worthy to aid the divine in spreading their truth" His voice swelled with fervor. "Rejoice, for you are to become the heroes of this nation"

A heavy silence followed. The prince let the words sink in before his tone softened, though it retained its authority.

"I understand your confusion. You have many questions, and in time, they will be answered. But first, we must proceed with the Awakening Ceremony—so that the divine blessings bestowed upon you may manifest. Servants!"

A lectern—carved from a stone so white it seemed to deny the existence of any other color. It reflected the light around it with an almost unnatural purity. At the top of the altar, a shallow indentation had been carved, perfectly shaped to fit a human hand.

"You may stand" The prince's tone was composed, but the unspoken expectation was clear. "Step forward, one by one, from right to left. Place your hand upon the altar"

A test. A ritual. An evaluation.

Michael glanced to his right, realizing he would be last. Four others stood ahead of him.

The first to approach was a middle-aged man clad in well-worn armor. Unlike the knights in the hall, his design was distinct, the metal dented and scratched—used, and tested in battle.

He stepped forward without hesitation, pressing his palm against the altar.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, without a word, the knight withdrew his hand and stepped back in line. His eyes flickered with something distant and a hint of confusion.

The prince nodded. "Next"

And so it continued. One by one, each person stepped forward, placed their hand upon the altar, then stepped away, their expressions unreadable, their bodies tense.

Then, it was Michael's turn.

He exhaled, steadying himself. His heartbeat increased with each step forward. He placed his hand upon the stone.

Everything changed.

The throne room vanished.

He was standing on the edge of a cliff, waves crashing violently against the rocks below. The wind howled past him, the smell of salt in the air. He turned his gaze upward.

The sun burned gold in the sky. Its rays twisted, shaping into the figure of a woman—a being of ethereal beauty, her form woven from light itself. She reached toward him, her fingers delicate, beckoning.

A trance-like pull guided his own hand forward.

Then—something in his chest lurched.

A memory surfaced. Blinding light. Overwhelming. Unrelenting. Devouring. And buried within it—something monstrous. Hidden behind the glow. It was watching him. 

Michael's fingers barely brushed hers before his entire body recoiled, his instinct screaming at him to run. 

The woman's expression darkened and the dream-like world shattered into nothingness.

Michael's eyes snapped open.

He was back in the throne room. His hand had already left the altar.

He stood frozen for a moment, his pulse racing, struggling to process what had just happened. But like the others before him, he simply stepped away without a word.

The prince surveyed them with satisfaction.

"The ceremony is complete. The blessings you have received will guide you through the trials ahead" His voice carried a quiet triumph. "Now, each of you will be assigned a Grandmaster—your guide and protector"

The moment he finished speaking, armored figures stepped forward, approaching each of them.

Michael barely had time to process before a woman knelt before him.

She was in her late twenties, her blonde hair tied back in strict discipline. Her armor gleamed a stark white, pristine and unyielding. She bowed her head slightly, but her cold, piercing gaze never wavered from him—sharp and focused.

"My name is Sarah, Grandmaster Knight of the Holy Empire"

Her tone carried neither warmth nor hostility.

"I will be in your care from now on"

Michael stood still as Sarah's words reverberated through him, her cold gaze never leaving his face. Her tone was even, devoid of any emotion, yet there was an undeniable authority in the way she spoke. Her presence was as imposing as the knights surrounding the throne room, and Michael couldn't shake the feeling that she was judging him.

'In my care' Michael thought. The words seemed strange to him, like they didn't belong. Wasn't he supposed to be the one figuring out what the hell was going on here? Wasn't he the one who had just been dragged out of death's embrace, only to be shoved into this absurd situation?

He blinked, trying to push the confusion away, and forced himself to speak.

"Care?" His voice sounded rough, more uncertain than he intended. "What do you mean by that?"

Sarah didn't respond immediately. She simply stood there, unmoving, her eyes unwavering as if his question hadn't been one at all. For a long moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for something.

When she finally spoke, her voice was almost mechanical. "You are a chosen warrior, summoned by the divine to serve the Holy Empire. As such, you will need guidance. I will be the one to provide it"

Michael frowned, his mind still struggling to keep up with the events unfolding around him. He had been summoned? By the divine? That didn't make any sense. He had been dead. Or at least he thought he had been. Was this some kind of twisted afterlife? Some divine scheme he had been dragged into?

The prince, Carl von Farhavaen, stepped forward, his presence overwhelming as he addressed the group once more.

"Now that the ceremony is complete" He said, his voice deep and commanding "You are to prove your worth by aiding the Empire in its mission. Only then will you fully unlock the blessings of the gods, and only then will you be worthy of your true power"

The words hung heavy in the air, filled with an unmistakable weight of expectation. Michael wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. The idea of being tested—of being used for some grand, divine purpose—felt wrong on so many levels. He had his doubts, but one thing was clear: whatever was going on here, he wasn't in control.

Sarah's hand came to rest at her side, and Michael couldn't help but notice the sword strapped to her waist. He wondered if it was meant to intimidate him or if it was just a reminder of the role he was now expected to play. She was, after all, a Grand Knight—someone who lived for the Empire, for the gods, for the mission or at least he assumed it to be the case. He still had no real grasp of the situation.

He glanced around, eyeing the others in the room. The strange group of individuals that had been summoned with him. They all looked as confused and uncertain as he was. Some had even exchanged brief glances, silent questions passing between them. But none of them seemed ready to speak up, to challenge the situation. For all he knew, they were just as lost as he was, their fates now intertwined with whatever scheme was unfolding before them.

"Well, what's next?" Michael asked, more to himself than anyone in particular. But Sarah seemed to take it as a command.

She moved toward him, stepping lightly, almost gracefully, as though every step was calculated, measured.

"You will follow me" She said. "Everything will be revealed to you shortly. Come"

Without another word, she turned and began walking, her armor clinking softly with each movement. Michael hesitated only for a moment before he followed, unsure of what else to do.

The others began to move too, some more reluctantly than others. Michael walked with his head down, trying to ignore the stares of the other knights and nobles in the hall. His mind raced, trying to make sense of everything.

As he followed Sarah through the grand corridors of the palace, Michael's thoughts wandered. There was a nagging feeling deep inside him that he couldn't shake. Something was off, something he had sensed during the ceremony, in that strange vision with the woman of light. The memory of that piercing light, the terror, and the feeling of something hidden behind it—it haunted him.

His questions remained unanswered as they entered another chamber. This one was far smaller, with a long table at its center, set for what appeared to be a council meeting. Around the table sat various individuals, each in varying degrees of formal attire, their expressions ranging from stern to casual.

Michael noticed a large map on the wall, a detailed chart of the Holy Empire, with territories, cities, and borders marked in meticulous detail. The Empire was vast—much more so than he had initially thought. And these people... they seemed like they were preparing for war.