The return

In the bustling streets of Akyiv, Eastern Dunamis, outside the border of Centura, a man draped in a long black cloak, a cowl hiding his face, stood atop a makeshift wooden box. His fervent voice echoed through the air as he preached the gospel, recounting the ancient legend that shaped their world.

"The earth was formless and void," he declared, the hood no longer casting shadows over his face. "The light of chaos shone brightly over the surface of the deep, giving birth to the ether of the world, Dunamis was born."

As he continued, the crowd listened intently, their faces reflecting a mix of awe and fear. The hooded preacher spoke of Demiurge, a being who once found amusement in destroying worlds but met his match in Chaos, the embodiment of the formless void. The Primordial beings—Gaia, Uranus, Eros, Nyx, Erebus, Hemera, and Tartarus—were introduced as witnesses to this cosmic clash.

"In the battle that spanned centuries," the preacher proclaimed, "Demiurge devoured Chaos's siblings one by one until he stood alone. The black sky, an infinite void, bore witness to their epic struggle."

His words resonated with the onlookers, and the atmosphere grew tense. The preacher spoke of Chaos's victory, how Demiurge was subdued, and the Primordials could not be fully restored. "And from the kindness of Chaos's heart, Ether emerged—a force from which all things in Dunamis originated."

"All things are created from Ether," he preached, his voice carrying a sense of authority. "Ether is good, and therefore, all creations are good."

As he reached a fervent climax in his tale, a wagon pulled by a horse towering 7 ft.2.5in rolled into view, drawing the attention of both the preacher and the crowd. Two men led the wagon, and the preacher rushed towards them, proclaiming, "Repent! Let chaos save you and your loved ones!"

Within the wagon, a man pushed aside the cover, revealing his hooded head. He spoke with a tone of sorrow, "then Why didn't he save my wife?".

In the far west...

The quiet and sunny weather cast a serene atmosphere over the castle walls, creating an unfavorable setting for those stationed at the lookout spot near the gate. Amidst the tranquil scene, white birds soared through the blue sky as a disgruntled voice shattered the peace, exclaiming, "Ughh, this job is sooo boring!" The cry of boredom echoed from one of the lookout guards patrolling the walls.

The guards around him, sharing looks of agreement and dissatisfaction, found the lookout post monotonous. Despite its simplicity and seemingly good pay, the job required standing and watching for potential threats, touching on the narrative of day and night shifts, highlighting how the night shift held its own allure with complimentary perks like alcohol and sweet bread.

An older guard on the walls responded with a direct and disgruntled tone to the bored guard, emphasizing, "I don't want to hear any annoying whining; already heard more than enough at home." As the head of the guards, he sternly reminded, "You knew what this job was all about before you joined, so zip it."

Meanwhile, another guard lounging under the shade of the wall near the long stairs leading downwards yawned and remarked, "What's with all the noise? Some of us are trying to sleep through this job." A middle-aged guard responded, prompting the older guard, the head of the guards, to be taken by surprise. The older man moved toward the middle-aged guard, grabbing him by the neck and scolding him for sleeping on the job. Laughter erupted, indicating that such scuffles were a regular routine between the two men.

Another guard, vigilant and facing the outward direction, suddenly yelled, "Look at that, Chief! Could it be!?" The head of the guards, commonly referred to as Chief, widened his eyes in awe and disbelief. Urgently, he shouted, "They have returned! The hero is back!" The Chief's frantic announcement reached the guards at the gate, signaling them to prepare for the arrival of the commanding general and his army.

A soldier, serving as a messenger, gasped for breath as he witnessed this extraordinary event. Recognizing the significance, he knew he needed to report to the king promptly. Upon reaching the main castle, the guards at the entrance tried to stop him. "Hold on!" they said with unfazed authority.

"I must see the king. He's back!" the messenger exclaimed, still breathing heavily. At that moment, the head of the royal guard, Lord Zalaam, entered the scene. The guards stood at attention, ready to salute the king's head of security. "At ease. Why are you so tensed?" Zalaam asked.

"Because," the soldier, still struggling to catch his breath, was urged by Zalaam to get to the point. "Spit it out!!" Zalaam commanded.

"Zuka asked," the soldier finally revealed, a military position in the west.

Warlord Garjel, the first of his name." The guard worded out.