The night sky hung low, dense black clouds obscuring the many constellations while a fragmentary moon appeared intermittently between the clouds, casting mottled and shadowy light.
In an ancient, desolate ruin beneath the Cyart Royal Capital, the area was encircled by withered vines and twisted trees, the air filled with an indescribable scent of decay and malevolence.
Suddenly, a deep, prolonged horn sound sliced through the night sky, resembling a call from ancient times that awakened the dark forces slumbering beneath the earth.
With the echo of the horn, a group cloaked in gray robes, their faces shadowed by hoods, noiselessly gathered on this cursed land.
They marched in eerily uniform steps, holding various kinds of sacrifice in their hands.
Live creatures struggled and emitted cries of despair, gems that flashed an ominous glow, and scrolls engraved with ancient runes, each emanating a heart-palpitating evil energy.
In the center of the ancient desolate ruin stood an altar constructed of black boulders, atop which complex and twisted patterns were engraved, seemingly a portal to another evil world.
Before the altar, a figure clad in a white robe with an indistinct face and deathly pale hands like a corpse, the Wordless Elder, slowly emerged, clutching a staff embedded with a black gemstone.
A mass of black text appeared in mid-air, gradually distorting into form.
"In the name of Tranquility, sworn by darkness, we gather here to offer pure blood and souls, to summon that indescribable entity, grant us eternal peace after death!"
The Wordless Elder, serving as the main priest, uttered no sound physically; the gray-robed figures around him knelt, chanting old spells deep within their hearts.
As the chanting accelerated, the patterns on the altar began to slowly illuminate, and streams of black smoke rose from the ground, entwining around the altar and forming a vast and terrifying vortex.
The heart of the vortex seemed to harbor a terrifying presence slowly awakening, emitting a suffocating aura.
Many souls, including the former Cyart King, also shrieked and roared within the center of the vortex.
The evil sacrificial ritual thus commenced its prelude.
People suddenly sensed an unprecedented wrongness in the air, a difficult-to-describe repression and trepidation pervading, much like dense black clouds silently looming in everyone's heart's deepest recesses, making them involuntarily stop what they were doing and look towards the distant horizon.
Inside a room, Byrne rose slowly, looking towards the distance.
"What's happening..."
At this moment, not just the people in Nasir City.
Around the world, many Extraordinary Exponents sensed the anomaly; before long, not only the Exponents, but even ordinary people felt something was amiss.
Initially, people only sensed a subtle change, as if the nocturnal cold was sharper than usual, the twinkling of the stars now lacking their usual tranquility and peace, but as time passed, the strange feeling intensified into a clear and palpable evil fluctuation.
This evil fluctuation surged like an undercurrent, silently spreading through the air, carrying a chilling dread, as if countless invisible eyes were covertly watching this world. Everyone started to feel uneasy, as if a terrifying entity was approaching and they were powerless to escape.
Extraordinary Exponents at Monarch Level could even clearly feel the malevolence within this evil fluctuation, a deep sense of imminent danger looming within their minds as if a disaster was impending.
They conveyed their feelings to those around them.
"Something is happening in the East!"
"Such a strong scent of death, what exactly is happening?"
"A tranquility's air..." Experience more on empire
"Byrne, will you come to ask for my help?"
The capital of Lorne.
An aged man with a distinctive demeanor, the Pope of the Salvation Church, opened his eyes and muttered.
"Great Lord of Salvation, please bless us."
"At this moment, humanity and many intelligent races are once again at a crossroads of life and death."
"The shadow of an otherworldly god descends!"
He knew that a terrifying ritual was about to commence in the East, and no one could stop it now.
An extremely fearsome Evil God.
Was about to descend.
"Otherworldly god... Tranquility... Songster..."
"Fortunately, it's not Him... Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise..."
The Pope narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"It's Cyart; we must dispatch those below the level of Heavenly Enlightenment to Cyart."
As the spells continued to be chanted and the black smoke grew denser, the entire space beneath the Cyart Royal Capital seemed to be enveloped by an invisible layer of darkness.
The souls chosen as sacrifices wailed in despair, but their voices soon drowned in deeper, more primal forces.
The vortex at the center of the altar began to darken and take shape, as if a huge, invisible presence was being summoned from another dimension.
The air became abnormally heavy, oppressive to the point of making it hard to breathe, as an ancient and tranquil power permeated the atmosphere, instilling unprecedented fear and reverence in everyone present.
Just then, a gentle ringing sound emerged, as if the heavens were being torn apart.
And as the tearing sound faded, everything around became extremely quiet.
A huge, twisted figure gradually appeared from the vortex.
It was an otherworldly god clad in a black evening gown, wearing a white bird-bone mask, its eyes like deep black holes, devouring all the surrounding light.
Tranquility Songster!
Its body, a mix of twisted white gas and decaying flesh, caused the entire Cyart Royal Capital to tremble upon its descent.
The Songster slowly spread its arms, as if to embrace the entire world.
Followers of the Words of Tranquility, witnessing this, fell to their knees one by one, offering their final loyalty and admiration to the Evil God.
They believed that through this tranquil ceremony, they would receive the peace granted by the otherworldly god.
Every world possesses a "World Will," the strongest barriers that protect those worlds from being invaded at will by the gods from beyond.
The followers of the otherworldly gods always sought ways to crack open these barriers.
The arrival of the Songster also triggered strong reactions across the world.
Globally, dark clouds flashed with lightning and roared with thunder, and fierce winds howled as if the natural world, under the control of the World Will, was furiously protesting against this sacrilegious ritual that desecrated life and order.
But the Songster was indifferent to it.
It silently raised its head.
The next moment, nature quieted down, and all the flashes of lightning and howling winds disappeared.
As if it had been granted peace.
The entire Cyart Kingdom seemed to be shaken by an invisible force, and people reacted differently, but all without exception revealed fear, despair, and chaos.
Some screamed in terror, running around, their faces filled with helplessness and despair as if foreseeing a tragic fate.
Others chose to kneel on the ground, hands folded in prayer, murmuring to the gods of the True Gods Church, seeking their protection and forgiveness.
They believed that through earnest prayer, they might perhaps convince the Evil God to abandon its intention of destroying the world.
Yet some, though filled with fear, had not lost their reason and quietly observed all the changes around them.
However, it was extremely eerie that no one could make any sound at all.
The tranquil power enveloped the entire country.
A bizarre and powerful energy fluctuation welled up from the void, and the world was enveloped by an indescribable evil force.
In previously silent graveyards, barren battlefields, and forgotten ruins, unimaginable changes began to occur.
The soil gently trembled, tombstones slowly tilted, as if something was stirring beneath the ground.
Suddenly, beams of white light shot from beneath the earth, piercing the silence of death.
As the light faded, the once dormant remains under the yellow soil slowly opened their hollow yet profound eyes.
Though their faces were decayed, their eyes sparkled with an eerie glow not of this world.
These deceased, whether valiant warriors, innocent civilians, or wicked criminals, were now awakened by the power of the Tranquility Songster.
They staggered out of their graves, their limbs stiff yet unnervingly powerful, as if the pain and despair of their former lives had transformed into endless rage and strength!
In the graveyard of the Lion clan, a long-dead corpse slowly climbed up, its voice hoarse, but under the influence of the Tranquility Songster, the sounds did not carry.
His eyes were filled with extreme fury, pain, and hatred!
Any member of the Lion clan who saw his resurrection would be absolutely petrified!
No one would forget his existence!