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The Circle of Chief Priests was an esteemed order of the Temple, bound by oath to safeguard the faith and the Kingdom of Narea. While there wasn't a fixed number of seats, twenty-three members currently held their positions in the exclusive group. Like all bodies of power, political strife ran rampant within the Circle, dividing it largely into two factions - the “inner circle” who remained loyal to the High Priest, and the “dissidents” who rallied around the charismatic chief priest Kerius Brandt. It was the prayer of every aspiring seminarian on earth to join this elite cohort of priests and it was from this assembly that the coveted position of the High Priest was elected. To be considered for a seat in the Circle, a priest had to be Level 30 or above and possess a singular skill, preferably an AOE, that could enhance the overall effectiveness of the Circle. A notable requirement for a membership in the Circle was that each priest must possess at least one Guardian of the Vulture Family.

The Vulture Family comprised 66 guardians who possessed a unique trait exclusive to their species. Their bellies, akin to cauldrons, served as a potent source for crafting a diverse array of concoctions, often utilized as AOE skills such as Poison, Confuse, Hex, Enrage, Heal, and many more. The creation of these powerful concoctions involved the consumption of specific ingredients, with the guardians frequently fermenting the remains of deceased animals within their stomachs for an extended period to enhance the potency of their brews. Their family boost focused on strengthening the skills of the guardian knights.

Family Boost

When (3) of the members are present, each member receives +35% in skill effect and Belly Cauldrons are activated.

(5) +60% in skill effect

(7) +95% in skill effect, summons an uncommon beast

(9) +140% in skill effect, summons a rare beast

(11) +300% in skill effect, summons an epic beast

Of the 23 chief priests, eleven were dispersed throughout the Kingdom, the Republic, Brokham Island, and the Lamerian continent carrying the influence of the Temple of Ora to the far-off corners of the earth. Seven of them led by Kerius were accompanying King Otto II on his voyage across the Endless Sea to visit Queen Charanya of the Kingdom of Aya. The formal pretext for their meeting was to engage in peace talks to end the twenty-year war over Nanuk Island, a conflict that had caused great strife between the two great powers. However, with King Otto II’s conquest-driven foreign policy manifestly evident, many believed he sailed with an underlying agenda.

This left only five in the capital city of Bricester all of whom were a part of the inner Circle and staunchly loyal to the High Priest. But failure had an insidious way of spreading fear and doubt amongst those it touched. It shook people to their cores, causing them to question everything they held dear. And on this night, the chief priests, unaccustomed to falling short, were about to undergo a trial by fire.

Three of the chief priests were now moving swiftly and covertly into the Queen's Garden as chaos consumed the grand palace. Flames cast dancing shadows on the walls as servants and guards scurried about with torches and lamps, desperate for answers about the missing Princess. Aithon Kraus, Lv. 41, Elsie Bearheart Lv. 37, and Jivanti Suriya Lv. 32 deftly evaded the eyes of all who crossed their path. Leaping over hedgerows and slipping into the thick grove of maples, they made their way towards their covert rendezvous point hidden away inside this grand enclosure. Shortly after, a green vulture dropped from the skies to join them inside the gigantic grove.

"What in the name of God Almighty happened in the Queen's chamber?" Elsie demanded urgently, her red eyes blazing as she stared up at Aithon. Despite her age of 40, she had the appearance of an eight year old girl. Her unique heritage as a partial descendant of the Nephilim race, a species that was wiped off the face of the earth during the last apocalypse, allowed her to age at a slower rate than most humans. And she relished capitalizing on her deceptive look to catch her opponents off guard. Her large, polished eyes were ringed with thick, dark lashes while her glossy lips and her rosy cheeks were smudged onto her white porcelain skin. Her silky brown hair tied into ponytails on either side of her head completed a very doll-like face that her opponents often failed to take seriously until it was too late and they found themselves riddled with Elsie’s needles and blades snuffing out their lives.

She donned her typical white and burgundy priestess robe, with a gambeson underneath for added protection. Cradled in her arms was her bear guardian, Voodoo, in his small doll form. A shoulder belt adorned with her collection of needles and blades hung from her small frame, each one dipped in a potent mixture of her own homemade jam, stored in a small satchel at her side. The types of jam varied, each inflicting a different status effect on her enemies, including poison, slow, confuse, hex, and more.

“Someone beat us to the child,” Aithon muttered the words in shame, unable to meet the gaze of the woman less than half his size. Aithon was six feet and four inches of toned and hard muscles that even his hard leather armor could not hide. The Windchasers, his pair of single-edged sabers, hung from his waist like extensions of his sinewy arms, the tips of their sheathes grazing the ground below. His fingers were always poised over their hilts, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

“Who?” barked Elsie.

“Had I the answer to that, I’d be driving my blades through their hearts right now, not chit-chatting with you ladies,” grunted Aithon as he removed his silver mask, revealing a face just as hard and sharp as the rest of his body, with striking features that must have been chiseled in. He turned towards Elsie, finally meeting her fiery gaze with his stunning hazel eyes.

“Hmph. Or they their blades through yours,” Elsie retorted, notably annoyed by his hauteur.

“The knowledge of the mission was kept under lock and key. Only His Excellency and the five of us were privy to the knowledge,” he grunted in frustration.

“Don’t forget your sidekick,” Elsie said with a sharp edge to her voice.

“Gerhard? I only brought him along because I needed something to throw at Astro in case he came after me,” Aithon scoffed. “Besides, the kid lacks the capacity to plan something like this. And his devotion to the Temple is nearly fanatic. Remind you of anyone, Jivanti?” Aithon's tone was condescending as he shot a quick glance towards the old lady squatting in the garden, busy picking pink lady’s slippers.

"I implore you two to cease this bickering, lest we be heard by the guards," Jivanti Suriya, a Lv. 32 healer, interjected as she plucked a bloated, round tuber from its stalk and began to crunch it with her teeth. Jivanti hailed from the Kingdom of Aya, a continent located southwest of Narea, spanning thousands of miles across the Endless Sea. Once a witch doctor who served Queen Charanya, she was one of the few Ayans to convert to the Temple of Ora, and a decade ago, was admitted into the Circle for her exceptional knowledge of herbs, medicine, and healing abilities. There were few notable features about Jivanti, except for her brown-toned skin, long white hair cascading naturally over her shoulder, and black, glossy eyes that belied her age. Deep wrinkles etched into her face suggested she was well into her dotage, though no one knew her actual age. Her green vulture, Nekhbet, the smallest in size among the Vulture Family, had graying feathers around her eyes and beak, and sat gently next to Jivanti, carrying multiple satchels of herbs. Jivanti spat out the contents of her mouth, rolled it up into a ball and fed it to her vulture. “And shouldn’t we be guarding the palace perimeters right now?” Jivanti asked, spitting some more out onto her hand.

“My guardian Ignacio and Gerhard’s vulture are in the skies surveying the Palace. We’ll know immediately if anything attempts an escape,” Aithon replied confidently. “What is it you’re chewing on this time?” Aithon, momentarily distracted, asked in a tone of annoyance.

“Pink lady’s slippers make great calming agents,” explained Jivanti in her gentle voice. “Would you like a piece?” she offered the masticated green matter wet with her saliva on the palm of her hand.

"Dear God, woman,” muttered Aithon, staring in disgust at the wet lump of green.