Chapter One

In the sprawling tapestry of history, legends often intertwine with truths, and myths breathe life into the edifices of power. Such is the tale of humanity's near demise and the celestial war that ensued—a conflict so profound that its echoes still reverberate through the annals of time.

The Light Bringer, a being shrouded in mystery, emerged as humanity's savior, vanquishing the demon king and sealing him within the infernal depths of hell. It is said that this enigmatic champion chose five mortals and anointed them as messengers. These chosen few ventured forth, erecting five distinct churches, each a bastion of faith and power. Yet whispers of skepticism lingered, suggesting these tales were mere fabrications, a masquerade to clutch the reins of control.

I am RaeJin Sentinel, the firstborn of David Sentinel, the sovereign of the Sentient Kingdom—a realm that has flourished under the vigilant rule of my lineage for eight centuries. Legend holds that the progenitor of our dynasty was a descendant of one of the five heroes of The Light Bringer.

Following the celestial war, fealty was sworn not to kings or queens but to The Light Bringer, whose messengers erected an authority that promised to shepherd the world with fairness and justice. In those nascent days, only 57 kingdoms bent the knee to this newfound governance, while hundreds more stood in defiance. Now, only 175 kingdoms are woven into the tapestry of the World Government Authority (WGA).

Atop the Altrone Mountain lies the sacred city, revered as the very site where The Light Bringer descended from—and ascended to—the heavens. The Sentient Kingdom, among the inaugural ten to pledge allegiance, stood as a pillar of the WGA.

It was within this historical context that the Elite Academy was founded—a crucible for princes and princesses, grooming them to ascend thrones and lead nations.

On the cusp of adulthood, at eighteen years old, tradition beckoned me away from the familiar stone walls of my royal abode to the hallowed halls of the Elite Academy. Despite the opulence of my upbringing, the desire to venture beyond the high ramparts and witness the vast world was an incessant whisper in my mind.

Packing for the journey was a bittersweet affair. My younger sisters clung to me, their small hands gripping my legs in a silent plea for me not to depart. Yet the call to explore, to learn, and to eventually lead was a siren's song I could not ignore.

The voyage to Altrone Mountain was mercifully uneventful, the sea's mood as placid as a slumbering baby.

The staircase to the holy city was a marvel—a seemingly endless ascension into the clouds, a path walked by countless feet over the ages. When we finally breached the threshold of the city, the grandeur of the tall gates and the exquisite architecture struck me silent. Legends told of ten thousand angels laboring to raise these structures from the earth—a myth I'd scoffed at until now.

The entrance ceremony of the Elite Academy was an affair of pomp and circumstance, a stark contrast to the rustic simplicity of my journey. The dean's welcoming speech was an introduction to our new life as students.

Our dorm assignments followed swiftly—segregated quarters for the young men and women who would one day rule the lands. Each of us was handed a guidebook, a tome that promised to unfold the secrets of governance and leadership.

My roommate was none other than Kade Triyoult, a prince whose forebears once stood in open rebellion against the WGA. His kingdom had since atoned, bending the knee for the greater good. Kade, with his striking features and royal bearing, carried the air of one born to command, yet beneath the veneer lay the all-too-familiar taint of arrogance and entitlement. It suited me to befriend him, to learn his ways, and to use that knowledge for my own ends.

Our first lectures on kingdom management were as dry as the parchments we read from. While my peers' attention wandered, I absorbed every word and every lesson. Knowledge was power, a currency that would become invaluable when the time came.

Then came the assignment—a hunt for three ancient artifacts hidden within the campus. Our history professor, a cunning old fox, had crafted this challenge to mimic the trials of our ancestors. We were divided into teams, each given a cryptic clue penned in the ancient language.

My ability to decipher the text was a closely guarded secret, one that led me to a hidden door in the library, obscured for centuries behind a shelf of forgotten lore. Beyond lies darkness.

I tossed a book into the void, but no sound of it landing reached my ears. The room—or chasm—was profoundly deep.

Before I could devise a plan to descend, my teammates stumbled upon me.

"Raejin, how did you get here first?" Jake inquired, suspicion lacing his tone.

I faced a dilemma: reveal my secret or concoct a believable lie.

With a shrug that I hoped appeared nonchalant, I replied, "I overheard another team mention the library. Just lucky, I guess."