The dragon's voice rumbled like an ocean locked beneath stone.
"Before your chains, before the prisons of gods and the sundered realms, there was only one world. Vast, unbroken, alive. It was called Solivareth — the Boundless Whole. A land where mountain veins carried fire, oceans spoke in tides, and stars leaned low to listen. In those days, there was no division of Heaven, Hell, or Earth. All walked the same soil beneath the same sun."
Tianlong's eyes half-closed, galaxies flickering like the memory of a dream.
"And into this perfect unity came one who should never have been feared. Vel-Karuun — the Hellish King, the Monarch of No End, the Crownless Flame. Not a tyrant, not a butcher. No. He came to learn what it meant to be mortal."
The frost-laden air pulsed with reverence as the dragon spoke his name.
"He saw men laugh, cry, raise children, break bread in homes warmed by fire. He saw their frailty — and he loved it. He envied it. For what is eternity, Nameless, if not a curse of distance? What is power, if it cannot let you feel the warmth of a family's embrace? Vel-Karuun wished to live, not rule."
Nameless frowned, his voice low. "A king… who longed to be human?"
"Yes," Tianlong whispered. "That is why he came to them not with swords, but with open hands."
Vel-Karuun walked among the cities of Solivareth with no crown, no throne. His fire did not scorch; it warmed. He taught mortals to weave sigils that bent storms, to carve wards that healed wounds, to harness the breath of earth and flame without fear. Under his guidance, fields flourished, rivers were tamed, and knowledge spread like dawn across shadow.
"Do not worship me," Vel-Karuun had told them, standing before a thousand gathered in a square of stone. "I am no god, no tyrant. If you see me as king, let me be king only in service. My fire exists to keep you alive, not bowing."
And the people cheered, their voices ringing like bells.
"Yet," Tianlong's tone grew heavier, "even kings who refuse crowns cast shadows long enough for others to hide within."
There were seven among the mortals who shone brightest in Vel-Karuun's sight. He named them his companions, his trusted stewards. Each was gifted a fragment of his fire, a shard of his wisdom, so they could guard the cities in his stead.
He entrusted them with the growing citadels, the academies of sigils, the order of peace he had built. For Vel-Karuun, at last, had found what he had sought across endless ages—a family.
He had taken a consort, one not divine, not eternal, but mortal. With her he had children. And for the first time, the Monarch of No End dared to live as if the end existed. He laughed beneath roofs not made of flame. He broke bread at tables not made of ash. He held his children close, and for those fleeting years, he believed eternity might have mercy.
Nameless's chest tightened. "He gave everything away—for them? For mortals?"
"Yes," Tianlong murmured, sorrow and awe twined in his voice. "That was his sin, and his glory. He believed trust could change the world. He gave power not to himself, but to seven, women and men he thought brothers and sisters of his soul."
The dragon's galaxies darkened, his breath a gust of sorrow.
"But power does not change men. It reveals them. And while Vel-Karuun raised his children, the seven raised something else—a hunger they dared not speak aloud. In the hollow of his trust, they built their whispers. In the shadow of his flame, they birthed their ambition."
Vel-Karuun once spoke to his seven, the last time Tianlong ever heard his joy. His voice was warm, unworried, as he looked toward the horizon where cities glimmered like jewels.
"Guard them well while I am gone. For I wish to watch my children grow before the years steal their youth from me. A realm can wait. But the laughter of my sons, the touch of my daughter's hand—these cannot be delayed."
And the seven bowed deeply, their words honeyed:"Rest easy, King of No End. We shall protect your realm as our own."
But behind their lowered eyes, their hunger festered.
The dragon's head lowered again, his voice breaking into a growl.
"That was the golden age, Nameless. The time when even the Hell King thought himself mortal, thought himself safe. That was when Solivareth was whole. But golden ages are fragile things. The brighter they shine, the darker the shadow they cast. And Vel-Karuun's shadow was long indeed."
The chamber fell silent. Nameless's breath echoed, ragged in the frost.
And in that silence, he felt it—the weight of a story whose beauty already promised tragedy.
The golden age shimmered above Solivareth. Cities thrived on fire that did not burn, rivers sang with tamed currents, children carved spells into the air as easily as they played games. It was the dream Vel-Karuun had wanted — a world without fear.
But beneath the marble towers and dawn-lit streets, seven gathered. Not in halls of honor, but in a cavern deep below, where no star could reach.
"He gives us power, yet keeps the Vault from us. He builds walls around secrets while feasting on laughter and love. Is that a king… or a coward?" Hengshi, whose hands had once shaped wonders for the people, now clenched as if holding invisible tools.
"What use is creation if its limits are chained? I dream of forging life itself — yet he withholds the blueprints of eternity." Mingzhu's blind eyes quivered with the glow of visions. She spoke in a rasp, "There is a castle beyond time. A place of doors without end. The woman Elara guards it. I see her, though I do not know her face. The Vault… it calls."
Tieyun's iron gauntlet scraped against stone, sparks leaping. "We waste our strength protecting peasants who sleep under roofs he built. Give me an enemy, and I will grind them to dust. But what war is there to fight in paradise? If we cannot conquer beyond, then paradise itself must burn."
Zhanyue, once arbiter of disputes, let out a quiet laugh that chilled the air. "He says love makes him human. What weakness. What folly. Perhaps love deserves to be sealed away — mocked for what it is. A chain around eternity's throat."
Eryu, the only one who trembled, spoke softly: "Do not say such things. Vel-Karuun trusts us. He gave us his fire, his wisdom, his people. To betray him is—"
"—inevitable." Ziran cut her off, his voice measured, almost kind. His fingers traced lines of balance in the dust, dividing, separating. "He seeks wholeness, yet Solivareth is too vast to remain one. The realms must fracture, as all things do. And I will shape that balance. We are not stewards, Eryu. We are heirs."
A shadow moved at the edge of their circle, unseen yet palpable. Lianxu, the God of Deception, whispered from the dark corners, "Truth is only a mask. And masks are worn to hide desire. Even kings cannot see the fracture forming until it is too late. I twist hearts, shape doubt, and the world bends under my shadow before a blade is ever drawn." Their eyes met, seven flames flickering with the reflection of hunger, trust already corroding. And though Eryu bowed her head, silence pressed her throat shut.
Above them, Vel-Karuun laughed in his home, cradling his children. He did not hear the oaths whispered in stone and shadow. The golden age had not ended. Not yet. But the first crack had sounded. The seed of betrayal had been planted…