The room was shrouded in darkness. Wind howled, slamming against the windows. Lightning tore across the sky in violent arcs of red and gold. Thunder followed—raw, guttural.

I closed my eyes. Inhale. Focus.

Energy stirred—dormant, subtle, like a gentle stream threading through my veins. My body tensed. Veins swelled. Silver streaks threaded through my black hair as I laboured to hold the flow.

[MANA BUILD-UP AT 1000%. STABILISING ENERGY CORE.]

My eyes snapped open, glowing gold.

Hands trembling, I reached out and pressed them against the crystal orb. It shimmered—silver laced with flecks of gold.

Power flowed. Blue. Green. Yellow. Red. The room blazed in radiant colour.

A silence bloomed, then whispers—eager, electric—rippled through the crowd.

The king leaned forward, hope burning in his eyes, clutching the queen’s hand.

The crystal flickered. Dimmed. Then—

Crack!

Shattered.

Gasps tore through the Hall of Heroes. Faces dropped. Eyes dimmed. Hope… extinguished.

Saint Lilith fell, her golden curls flying. Glass sliced her skin. Blood pooled.

“Lilith!” Camille screamed, sprinting to her side. Attendants lifted her from the shards.

I barely turned before—

SLAP!

Pain bloomed across my face. Camille glared. Rage in every line of her posture. She fell to her knees before the court.

“I, Camille—a devoted servant of this nation—declare Diana Hart, the 1000th summoned hero, the prophesied Calamity. Even her magic nearly killed the saint!”

Her voice rang clear. Her smirk was sharper.

The queen stood fury incarnate.

“Guards! Execution board—now!” Her glare stabbed through me, venomous and cold.

Whispers surged: “A heretic.” “She defies the gods.” “A Palicid!” Then, silence.

The king raised his hand. He studied me—silver hair, crimson eyes calculating.

“Execution would anger the gods. The Divine Clock reads premature.” “I strip Diana Hart of her title. She shall be banished from the capital, a courtesy: one pouch of one thousand gold coins. Now go. Leave. And never return.”

Guards stepped forward.

I breathed. Held my ground.

“You bloody bastards think I’m afraid?” I spat. “Banish me. But when this world burns—don’t come crawling.”

I turned, heels sharp against the marble. Didn’t flinch.

Bang! The gates slammed shut behind me.

Now you're wondering how I got here, but it all began just three hours ago.

6:30 AM Darkness…

Thud. A sharp pain struck the back of my head. Silence enveloped me.

Time blurred. Consciousness floated. My other senses picked up the sounds of people talking… and the sharp scent of sour vinegar.

[Soul integration at 100%. The host body is activated.]

Light flooded my vision. I opened my eyes. My fingers grazed silk sheets, a blanket, and wood—likely from the headboard. A soft breeze rustled the curtains. Somewhere distant, chimes rang like whispers.

I squinted and realised I was in a large room. Just as I propped myself up, a voice echoed beside me.

As I opened my eyes and surveyed my surroundings, I noticed it was a simple room. There was a dressing table, a window, a bed, a door I assumed led to the bathroom, and a small wooden study table. Sunlight bathed half of my bed, and the curtains danced in the wind as dust particles floated in the light like little ballerinas.

“You're finally awake, Lady Diana... here, take this.”

Turning to my right, I saw a woman with short brown hair. Her calloused hands offered me a cup of water. She wore white robes with a golden sun and moon crest on her sash.

Her warm hazel eyes fell on my thigh as she asked:

“You’re the 1000th hero. Have you chosen a card yet?”

Her gaze scrutinised me, and an unsettling feeling washed over me. My mouth was dry, and the water in my cup sloshed around as I gulped it down, my eye twitching.

“So how did you know my name? I don’t remember telling you anything,” I said, brows lifted and head tilting in confusion.

This woman seemed suspicious, so I decided to wait and see what she would do next.

Her hand landed on my shoulder, and I pondered her words. She trembled slightly as she turned to the side and coughed before introducing herself.

“I’m Camille, the 80th junior priest to the saint. I work in the Valkyries' Grand Temple.”

As time passed, our conversation flowed animatedly; however, I couldn't shake the impression that she kept flinching and sweating, perhaps due to the heat.

She explained as we left the room:

“Because you’re a hero, we are only given basic information about you through the messages received by the saints in prayer.”

Basic information… yes, basic information such as name, age, gender, and physical appearance… and so on.

After a while of walking, we reached a giant wooden oak door with chip carving and relief carvings. The outer frame of the Narthex was carved with roses and vines. The doors had six panels divided into three on each side, featuring images of doves and a saint praying—all crafted using relief carving techniques.

I reached out, my finger brushing over the smooth, warm surface of the oak door. An earthy scent mingled around it.

Light flooded in past the arcade—a series of arches supported by columns or piers, forming a covered walkway. A rosy pink reflected from the rose plant that grew on the cloister's pillars—a covered walkway, often with an open arcade, surrounding a courtyard.

Within myself, my heart raced. My fingertips began to glow as I sensed a warm energy—dormant, like a docile beast.

Camille reached, her hand pushing the door open. The oak door groaned. A small breeze lifted from the pressure. We strode in.

Inside the naos—the central and most sacred space, housing the main deity's image or cult statue—I walked on white ceramic tiles. A soothing scent of lavender wafted into my nose. My fingers brushed over oak seats in the nave—the main part of the temple where the congregation gathers for worship.

A soft voice carried through the air, reciting words in a language I didn’t recognise:

“Nos ad te prospicimus, Vetos, Imperator Caelestis, Deus terrae et pacis. Duc me gratia tua et concede sancto regi nostro scientiam et sapientiam nationi. Sana aegros, cura pauperes, et purga haereticos qui sanctitatem simulant. Duc me ad pacem.”

I froze mid-step, brows wrinkling in confusion. Camille noticed my hesitation.

“That’s Latin,” she whispered. “A sacred invocation. The Saintess is praying.”

Her eyes glimmered as she translated softly: We bow before you, Vetos, Heavenly Emperor, God of the earth and peace. Guide me with your grace and grant our holy king knowledge and wisdom for the nation. Heal the sick, care for the poor, and purge the heretics who feign holiness. Lead me to peace.

Following the sound, I saw a woman draped in a white peplos that covered her feet, a golden rope—a cincture—tied around her waist. A white blindfold covered her blond hair, draped over her back as she knelt before an altar and statue of a lion. Candles and offerings of food were laid around the chancel—the area around the altar, often slightly elevated, and where the clergy and choir may be located.

I blinked.

Camille, noticing my confusion, whispered,

“This is Saintess Lilith. One of the five great saintesses.”

Pointing in her direction, her body trembling from excitement, she was about to explain further—but I stopped her.

My finger silenced her in a shushing gesture. I don’t want to hear your ‘I have a dream’ speech and life story, thank you.

I thought, smiling as I scrutinised Camille. Her body flinched as if she heard my thoughts. She turned away, offended.

“This woman… how dare she be so rude. This wretch,” Camille thought, her face turning away.

To be continued in part two...