The winds howled viciously atop a snowy mountain, tearing up loose rocks and sheets of snow and ice. A maelstrom of particles constantly brewed, obscuring the mountain peak from view.
Deep within the storm, a small stone plateau rested, completely shielded from the flurry of white debris by a magical force.
A burst of crimson red lights exploded at the center of the plateau, giving form to what looked to be a middle aged man with graying hair. He wore a traditional military garb, adorned with a crimson red cape that billowed softly in the wind.
His appearance was not random, for several people were waiting at the location already, their presence heavy with authority and power.
The new arrival glanced around silently, eyes narrowing at times as he scanned the faces present, before taking a glance at an antique watch on his wrist.
A snort interrupted him, prompting the man to look up at the source of this contempt.
"Humph!"
A short statured old man hobbled over, a head of white strands and wrinkled skin clinging tightly to his frail looking figure. Despite the almost pitiful figure of the old man, he stood unwavering in the face of the middle aged man.
The old man's face twisted into a sneer, "Calling this meeting at the Summit and arriving at the last minute? Saint Gideon, don't you have any shame?"
The man walked right up to the old man, their bodies mere inches from one another. While both seemed unassuming on the outside, a hidden force boiled underneath, threatening to burst through at any moment.
The middle aged man reigned in his anger, growling under his breath, "Corpse Supreme, I suggest we begin this Summit Meeting immediately so we can all go back to our own domains"
Corpse Supreme stared back for a moment, his gray, blank eyes unblinking. A moment later, he smiled, backing up a few steps and giving Saint Gideon a mocking bow, "Naturally"
Not paying the old man any more attention, Saint Gideon did a quick head count of everyone present at the location.
"Twenty seven Saint-Supremes," he frowned, "Less than half of the known Saint-Supremes have arrived, though I guess we can proceed for now"
The other Saint-Supremes came closer, gathering in a rough circle with clear distance apart from one another. Not a single one of them gave into one another, their auras in a constant battle, threatening to spill over and boil.
"I'm sure we've all seen the signs," Saint Gideon said. He held out his wrist where a holographic image in blue tint glowed in the center of the Saint-Supremes.
It was a display of the sky, as ordinary as any other day, save for a blotch of shadows condensing into a set of words, large enough for anyone to see on the ground.
Submit or war
It was a simple message, though the implications of it were terrifying, especially considering the origin of these words.
Saint Gideon lowered his wrist and the hologram dissipated, his expression complicated.
"An hour ago, the Harbinger of Negativity, Noah Blackwell, conjured up these messages above the domains of every Saint-Supreme," his face darkened, "We either lower our heads to him or go to war against his immortal power"
The pride of a Saint-Supreme was immense, for they have lived for countless years and risen past immeasurable opposition to get to their current level. Asking a being at the zenith of the world to submit themselves is no different from asking for a death sentence. The only thing greater than their strength is their pride.
And yet they took this matter seriously, for it was the Harbinger who asked them this.
An existence born to this world with immeasurable power, all for the sole purpose of killing another Harbinger. That is not something Saint-Supremes can contend with, for it is known that only a Harbinger can kill another Harbinger.
War could only mean one thing for these powerful beings, their eventual death at the hands of an immortal freak much more powerful than them.
Saint Gideon gnashed his teeth in indignance, "How can we simply bow our heads after reaching this level? Simply because he is a Harbinger?"
Faint wisps of flame swirled around him as his anger peaked, "Our efforts cannot be reduced to this shameful predicament. We may not be able to kill him, but surely we are able to seal him away with our combined efforts!"
A few of the Saint-Supremes expressed agreement based on their facial expressions. After all, each of them possessed a domain in which they have nurtured over the years, becoming their own kingdoms that function outside of civilian governments.
Going under Noah was the equivalent of throwing away the fruits of their labor and working under someone else, something outside of their imaginations after so many years at the top of the societal pyramid.
Without warning, Corpse Supreme let loose a loud, sickening cackle. His coarse laugh seemingly cut through the bare plateau, sharper than the turbulent winds.
Saint Gideon frowned, his gray beard twitching, "What's the meaning of this?"
Corpse Supreme let his laugh die down naturally, his eyes glinting with amusement as he looked at Saint Gideon the same way one looked at a fool, "The only Harbinger of Negativity to win the War over Fate, and you buffoons believe you can seal him?"
He let loose another peal of laughter, unable to contain himself.
"This is quite possibly the strongest being to ever exist throughout time we are talking about! I don't think anyone could seal him, let alone touch a strand of hair on his body"
Saint Gideon's eyes bulged with anger, threatening to pop out while his veins popped.
"You!!"
His aura surged, a crimson mass that enveloped his body from head to toe like a thick blanket of magma, its searing heat threatening to burn down the entire mountain. Corpse Supreme did not stay idle at this threat, his own energy matching his opponent's.
A greenish power clashed with the crimson aura, a cold, chilling air filled the space opposite to Saint Gideon.
Right as their auras peaked, threatening to go all out into battle, a young voice called out abruptly.
"Stop!"
In an instant, a suffocating air pressed down, smothering the auras of both Saint-Supremes, wiping them out like candles in the wind.
A youthful person stepped forward, their face seemingly like that of a young child's, with wide sparkly turquoise eyes. Their aura was nonexistent, completely nonexistent as if it were contagious, muffling out the others.
Saint Gideon flexed his fingers, his flames smothered out. He turned to the youthful Saint-Supreme, "Saint Nicolas, your Nullification ability can come in handy against the Harbinger, surely"
Saint Nicolas fixed up his clothes, robes made from pure white cotton, "No," he said simply, his voice light and straightforward.
Gideon frowned slightly, "No? What do you mean? Your sole power is to nullify, sealing away the power of Saint-Supremes effortlessly-"
"Is useless," Saint Nicolas said flatly, eyes blank, "My power gives me no combat ability, only turning a bunch of Awakeners into common folk for a duration"
He shuddered slightly, the winds fluttering his robes, "Against the Harbinger..."