The Day Hope Was Summoned

Dusk covered the royal palace of the Estevania Empire. Purple shadows stretched across the beautiful marble floors, hiding small spots of dust and blood that no one noticed—yet. The windows in the high throne room turned orange from the setting sun, making the gold and banners look lonely and old.

Princess Rinara stood close to the magic circle in the center of the throne room. Her heart beat fast. She glanced at her father, Emperor Hazard, whose heavy armor gleamed in the fading light. He looked tired, older than before. Beside him, the wise Sage Gritova held her staff high, eyes sharp and searching. Behind them waited Sir Andreas, the strongest Holy Knight, sword ever ready at his side.

Tonight's ritual was unlike anything described in ancient scripture. It was humankind's last desperate hope against the armies of Bestia, Dragonia, and Demonia—enemies who pressed them closer and closer to extinction. Everyone present knew: tonight would decide the fate of the world. Would Humania fall, or survive?

As the ceremony began, the air inside the magic circle shimmered with blue light, thick with tense power. The thirteen Pillars who joined hands for the Hero's Covenant stood quietly, prepared to give up part of their strength. From another world, a Hero would be summoned. If any Pillar died, a portion of that Hero's power would vanish with them. Of course, all the pillars are the elite of Humania races.

Sage Gritova stepped forward, raising her staff so its crystal caught the last glow of sunset. Her voice rang out through the throne room, both beautiful and solemn:

O spirits of our world—be a witness!

Thirteen hearts, one hope, one Hero!

By our courage and promise,

Unite us through fate and destiny!

Guide the power,

Let the true chosen one awaken here—

Show us the Crest of Thirteen Salvation!

As the chant ended, the swirling mist inside the circle faded away. For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then, a figure was revealed at the center—a young man, strikingly out of place in plain, unfamiliar clothes. He turned in panic, glancing at the strangers and the grand hall around him. Without warning, he dashed toward the throne room doors, his footsteps scattering echoes across the marble floor.

In that moment, a soft blue light shimmered on his right hand, and thirteen tiny symbols spun and fused together into a single, bright crest. The glow lit up his startled face—eyes wide, dark, and lost.

Sage Gritova pointed with trembling awe. "Everyone, look! The crest… Thirteen symbols! It's a sign! He really is the Hero summoned by our ritual!"

All eyes fixed on the young man, both hope and doubt struggling on every face. Rinara stared, still processing what she saw.

Not a mighty warrior, but a confused boy, his simple earth-like clothes weirdly thin, his black hair shining in the magical light. He stared down at the glowing mark, bewildered, as if struggling to understand any of this while running.

Sir Andreas leaned in toward Emperor Hazard, his voice hushed but urgent. "Is… is this truly our hope?"

The emperor's jaw tightened, and he nodded, voice low and resolute. "He must be. Our last card... May the gods forgive us if we are wrong."

***

A moment of silence filled the throne room, thick with confusion and anticipation. The boy's eyes, wide and lost, kept flickering from face to face as he backed toward the massive doors. Nobody moved to stop him, stunned by how different their promised Hero appeared.

Then, all at once, a piercing scream shattered the silence.

"R-Run!" The boy's voice was raw, unfamiliar—words mangled by panic and desperation. He looked not like a hero, but someone running for his life.

For a split second, everyone froze, thunderstruck, staring at the newcomer who only feared them in return. Then, before comprehension could take hold, three more figures stumbled out of the thinning mist nearby—pale, unsteady, and unfamiliar. Their faces twisted in pain and terror as they staggered into the ring of guards and advisors.

"Who are—?" whispered one of the knights, stepping forward.

The answer came in a rush of violence. One of the pale strangers lunged, biting down into a nearby guard's neck with horrifying strength. Blood sprayed across the marble, dark and sudden. A second guard, too slow to react, was tackled and mauled by another attacker. The guards raised their weapons, but shock and fear made them clumsy.

The newly-bitten victims fell to the floor, bodies convulsing. People inside the room began shouting, confusion exploding into full-blown chaos. More guards charged in, but the attackers did not stop. Even as they were cut with swords, the pale intruders ignored their wounds, relentless and wild, mouths open in strange, growling moans.

Princess Rinara stumbled backward as guards and hopeful vassals fell around her. The chamber was in an uproar. People cried out, calling for order, for help, for sense in this nightmare. Rinara's father, Emperor Hazard, barked out harsh orders. Sir Andreas moved to his side, sword flashing as he tried to protect the emperor from the biting chaos.

Rinara's eyes widened as she watched the fresh victims—knights and servants, people she knew—shudder on the floor, then jerk back to life in the same wild state as their attackers after several minutes twitching with a grave wound. But not all changed. Some who only suffered wounds but were not bitten remained normal, crawling away or shouting for priests.

Across the room, high priests poured healing light over the wounded, desperately trying to save them. But for those who had been bitten, nothing worked. Their bodies shook in agony, then grew still—and with unnatural strength, they would leap at their former comrades.

Some of the palace mages stepped forward, fear in their eyes but ready to protect their comrades. One raised his staff, his voice ringing out above the screams.

By the sacred flames of dawn,

Scorch away the darkness—

FLARE BURST!

A twisting trail of fire shot from his staff, striking one of the attackers with a roar. The flames wrapped around the attacker's body, smoke and burning flesh filling the air. But even as the attacker burned, he kept moving, driven by hunger and madness. The flaming figure crashed into a group of guards, biting and clawing until his own body finally dropped, motionless.

Other mages joined in, chanting spells and summoning sharp cold.

Oh frigid wind & water,

Become my spear—ICE LANCE!

Shards of ice burst forth, piercing through the attackers and showering the marble with icy fragments. Some of the infected froze in place for a moment, icy frost spreading over their limbs. But even then, they did not stop. Cracking the frozen shards off their bodies, they lurched forward, jaws snapping. The palace staff who were bitten collapsed, bodies shaking from the wounds—dead within moments, then rising again as part of the terrifying, spreading nightmare.

Dread grew heavy in Rinara's chest. She heard the boy's screams again, farther down the hall—a cry that echoed loss, horror, and the knowledge that something was terribly wrong.

"Gritova! Rinara! Follow after the hero!", shout Emperor Hazard while commanding the Royal Knight.

Sage Gritova's eyes met Princess Rinara, both of them nodded, full of fear but also resolved. The sage darted after the running boy, staff at the ready. Rinara followed, stumbling through the chaos, unwilling to let their last hope escape while the throne room descended into madness behind them.

As she glanced back, she caught one last terrible sight. A priest, hands glowing, desperately trying to save a bitten vassal—only for the dying man to clutch him close, gnashing teeth snapping at the priest's neck. The tide was turning too fast.

And with that, Rinara turned and ran after Sage Gritova and the Hero, the screams and wet sounds of battle chasing her down the endless corridors of the palace.

***

Rinara dashed from the chaotic throne room, her breath ragged and her mind swirling, but the scene in the corridors surprised her. Instead of panic or confusion, the palace beyond stayed as lively and normal as ever. Noblemen with bright sashes mingled with their families, and uniformed guards stood at their posts, polishing armor or joking quietly. Servants hurried between kitchens and storerooms, carrying trays of festival sweets and bright flower garlands. Everywhere, people smiled—certain the empire's hope was about to be realized.

The sharp contrast almost stunned her. Just meters away, people were screaming and falling, but here, the day's excitement carried on. Today was the Grand Ritual Festival—a day meant to assure Humania that hope had returned, that the world would soon be saved.

Rinara weaved through groups of richly-dressed courtiers and maids, offering quick apologies. "Excuse me… pardon us!" Sage Gritova hurried at her side, both of them following the trail left by the Hero. The crowd was thicker than usual. Nobles from distant regions, important merchant lords, decorated captains, and families of high-standing, all eager to witness the moment of legends.

Down the broad inner halls, tall windows looked out over rows of banners and paper lanterns. From here, Rinara could see the heart of Estevania aglow. Streets spilled with festival-goers from as far as Estevania Region outer wall. Musicians stood in every corner square, and children waved colored flags. Laughter and music drifted up even here, breaking through the palace calm.

At one crossing, Rinara nearly collided with a royal gardener holding a basket brimming with roses. "Pardon, Your Highness! Such a joyous day. Shall I prepare fresh bouquets for the Hero's feast?"

She managed a polite smile, heart pounding. "Later, perhaps. Thank you."

All around her, the sense of celebration was everywhere. Not one person seemed to suspect what horror had bloomed in the throne room. For now, the darkness had not yet escaped.

Sage Gritova whispered, "The festival hides what has happened from all eyes. We must keep calm until we know…"

A little ahead, they finally spotted the Hero—awkward and lost among the crowds, his nervous energy making noble ladies step aside in alarm. The blue crest on his hand still glowed faintly as he clutched it tight, almost hoping it would vanish.

For the rest of the palace, hope and joy still reigned. Only Rinara, Gritova, and the Hero knew a nightmare had begun to unfold, and its shadow had not yet touched the daylight outside.