The journey to the Temple of the Skies took three days across cursed lands.
Each night, the stars overhead seemed dimmer, swallowed by a growing darkness that crept over the world like a living thing. Even the beasts of the wild grew silent as Alan's group passed—sensing the new weight he carried.
Alan walked ahead, every step steady.
Seris followed close, sharp-eyed, her dagger never far from her fingers.
Kraevok brought up the rear, his broad sword resting casually on his shoulder, though his gaze never lost its edge.
They traveled without speaking much.
Some truths were too heavy for words.
*****
On the fourth dawn, they saw it.
The Temple of the Skies.
Or what remained of it.
A massive ruin of marble and gold, once built to honor the gods, now lay shattered across a barren plateau. Pillars the size of towers lay broken like matchsticks. Statues of forgotten deities wept black tears as moss and vines consumed their faces.
The air here was wrong.
It was too still.
Too aware.
Seris shivered. "I don't like this."
Kraevok spat to the side. "I like it even less that the gods let their house rot like this."
Alan said nothing.
His blue eyes were fixed on the heart of the ruins—where a faint, silvery light still flickered.
The last fragment of the ancient gods' blessing.
And he needed it.
*****
They entered the temple through a fallen archway.
The interior was colder than death.
Mosaics of battles long forgotten lined the walls, their colors faded. Depictions of winged gods, crowned kings, and star-born monsters stretched into darkness.
Alan could feel the power pulsing beneath the stone.
Something is still alive here, he thought.
They moved carefully, avoiding the cracked floors and collapsed ceilings.
Near the temple's center, the air shimmered.
A figure waited.
A guardian.
*****
It looked like a man at first.
Clad in silver armor, a greatsword stabbed into the ground before him. A helm shaped like a falcon's head covered his face. His presence radiated an aura of command so absolute that even the dust dared not settle near him.
As Alan stepped forward, the guardian raised his head slightly.
His voice boomed like a cathedral bell.
"Who seeks the gods' cradle?"
Alan met his gaze without flinching. "Alan Grey. Bearer of the Thirteenth Seal."
The guardian's gauntlets tightened around the sword.
"You are forbidden."
Seris glanced at Alan. "Any plan?"
Kraevok cracked his knuckles. "Yeah. Hit it till it stops moving."
Alan smiled faintly.
"No. He's not our enemy—yet."
Alan stepped forward again.
The guardian did not strike.
Instead, he spoke with ancient sorrow.
"The gods betrayed us. Abandoned their creations. I am the last oathbound—sworn to test those who come after."
Alan drew his katana, its blade shimmering with a low hum of restrained power.
"Then test me."
*****
The guardian moved faster than thought.
One moment stillness.
The next, a blur of silver light.
Alan barely blocked the first strike, the force sending him skidding back across the marble floor.
The second blow came harder, shattering stone where Alan had stood a heartbeat before.
Alan grinned.
This was no mindless beast.
This was a true knight.
And Alan would meet him with everything he had.
*****
Steel clashed against steel.
Magic flared with every strike.
The temple shook under their battle, ancient murals crumbling into dust.
Seris and Kraevok stood back, knowing this was a duel of fate—and interfering would only cheapen it.
Alan ducked under a sweeping slash and countered with a rippling cut, his katana singing with ancient power.
The guardian staggered.
Alan didn't give him time to recover.
With a flash of violet energy, Alan unleashed a hidden technique—the Phantom Rift Slash—sundering air and armor alike.
The guardian dropped to one knee.
But instead of despair, he smiled beneath his helm.
"You are worthy."
He plunged his greatsword into the ground.
The silver light enveloped Alan, sinking into his skin, merging with his very soul.
A new power was his now.
A fragment of the divine.
*****
The guardian faded into dust, his oath finally fulfilled.
Alan stood alone at the heart of the shattered pantheon, stronger than before, but burdened with even greater expectations.
The heavens themselves now watched.
And they would not forgive him easily.