The world trembled and quaked as geysers of molten earth and flames shot into the skies. The vast stretches of barren lands, flattened and ravaged by constant war, opened like a lurking abyssal maw waiting for its final feast.
Countless beings across the lands were screaming and crying in both horror and panic, flooding their gigantic vessels as they shot out into space with desperation. Some of them turned to look back, gazing upon the shattered world that was now constantly crumbling inward, imploding in on itself.
At one of the most devastated places of that shattered planet, a small number of people had gathered. Most of them looked bloody and broken as their once arrogant and prideful expressions twisted and contorted into fear, fury and urgency. Their mounting dread and hatred were all directed toward one man who stood against them, his body similarly bloody yet maintained a calm and almost cold indifference to everything occurring around them.
"You fucking madman! Are you so eager to die that you'd even drag us with you?!"
A burly man with a severed arm roared furiously at their enemy. The stoic man in a torn black coat stared at him, the look in his eyes seemed to mock their despair. His silent scorn and condescension made their indignation rise with even greater force, just barely being reined in by their need to find a means of escape.
They knew that even if they managed to kill this bastard here, they would not survive either, not when the world itself was actively trying to kill them all. And in the midst of their subtle preparations for retreat, the man in black coat spoke with a gravity that locked them in place.
"Death is a friend, a familiar shed in which I find solace. Unfortunately, Death cannot take me. Not anymore. The Flamerite has burned all things that allows such comforting escapes. Now, in my end, there is only a void."
The man walked forward, every step he took toward his retreating enemies made the world crumble just a little more, die just a little faster. A brutal and hefty pressure descended upon them, a pinpoint area in which the very earth sank deeper and deeper toward the core.
This gravity accompanied a blazing heat that seemed to make the world's fiery spouts seem like candlelight as it practically melted the very space between them. A single step traversed an entire kilometer, though for beings at their level, even such a distance was tiny.
"Your first mistake was corrupting this very world to the point that it was begging to die. And your second mistake..."
His words echoed with a bitingly cold calmness through the blistering heat that now suffocated them. They tried to rise and scramble the pressure around them, hoping to retreat soon before the world fully devoured everything including itself, but there was no such luck.
High above them, as though an overseer witnessing the execution of sinners, a young lady made of cherry pink flames reinforced the gravity that pressed them down. Two literal stars had entrapped them. What more can they do? The man in black coat suddenly blinked into existence right in their midst despite being several hundreds of kilometers away just an instant prior.
"Was seeking to corrupt my daughter!"
His visage changed abruptly as his voice became like a booming whisper in the depths of their minds, resounding with a screech that resembled a mix of white noise and scratching metals. It was utterly horrifying as their minds all began bleeding from within, torn by metaphysical needles pricking them from everywhere.
Their orifices bled as they witnessed the transformation of this monster. They trembled in disbelief and confusion as a different kind of corruption began to gnaw at their already torn minds. They all had transformations of their own, but this man was different.
This was not a transformation.
This was... pure madness.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Uriah opened his eyes as he felt the ship slow down. Staring through the window, he could now see Torval much closer. Their descent was imminent and so did the realisation that war was at hand.
He had always disliked the idea of war. He found it unproductive and unnecessarily destructive. It was merely a cesspool of degeneracy, a breeding ground for moral degeneration.
Civilisation was built upon sapience and the natural instinct for growth and progress. So why do people descend into the complete opposite?
He never understood this.
But right now, he did not need to. The Pinnacle War had dragged him into it whether he wished for it or not. He would inevitably be involved in it regardless of his actions. So if that was the case, then he might as well take the initial advantage of his temporary anonymity.
Either way, he would have to witness the truths of the other paths for himself to understand how best to deal with them. And what better way than by engaging them, whether in discourse or in battle.
The ship began its descent. Pulled by Torval's gravity, the huge vessel came falling from orbit, its hull lighting up like a shooting star from the friction. The turbulence was immense, but everyone had already experienced it before. The protocols were deeply ingrained in them with disciplined training as they all sat at attention, seatbelts fastened tightly and oxygen masks sealing their noses and mouths.
With many more protections built into the ship, they faced little problems as their descent went through a steady deceleration and stabilization. And as they finally landed on the space port and the soldiers began filing out of the ship, what met them was none other than a man with a terrifying aura commanding respect: General Miars.
Most of the soldiers breathed a sigh of relief knowing that they would not necessarily be thrown to die in the battlefield while others, particularly the higher ranking soldiers who had heard that the General had lost contact, were baffled by his presence.
General Miars, however, did not mind them. He did not even bother reciprocating their salute as he stood there with a solemn expression. And after a few moments of patience, a figure finally appeared among the droves of soldiers alighting from the ship. A man in black coat who seemed awfully out of place in this military base.
General Miars immediately stepped forward and saluted to the man amidst the astonished gazes of everyone, but his words carried an urgency that few managed to catch.
"Greetings, my lord. Welcome to Torval. Please come with me. There is much to discuss."
~~~~~
Author's note:
Hello to everyone still waiting for this story to continue. I'm sorry for not writing for months, but here's the chapter that I've had prepared a long time ago already and just forgot to upload.
Along with that, I'm here to tell you that I've been working on rewriting this story. Just started so it's going to take a while.
One of the reasons I stopped writing Crucible Aeternum was because I wasn't satisfied with how the story progressed, especially with the end of Volume 1 feeling so rushed. The main plot has already been long drafted.
The only problem now is filling in the spaces in between to make the story progression more organic rather than forceful and rushed.
I'm also reworking some of the earlier chapters to add more nuance to the characters and scenes, but due to how much changes/additions there are, I realised that it would be better to just create a new entry for it. So stay tuned for that, if you're still interested in following this story.