A bell sounded. Only half a bell remained before the coronation.
Micafer sat at the edge of his royal bed in the holy chamber. The room was grand—far larger than ordinary quarters. The floor was volcanic crystal, its crimson-black surface glowing faintly, while the ceiling shimmered with obsidian shards arranged in mosaics. To his left, an obsidian glass panel replaced a mirror, and nearby stood a towering, aged wardrobe holding noble robes.
Opposite it sat a dark writing desk with a modest chair. On the desk lay a black book with blank pages and a silver pen—his kingly diary. At the center stood his bed, where he now sat, unease knotting his thoughts.
A whole kingdom rests on me... I am a leader now, guiding my people's path.
"It all happened too soon," he muttered, voice low and uncertain.
Shifting, Micafer folded his legs, buried his head in his hands, fingers tangling in dark hair.
They surpass me... and yet they look up to me!
"I need to level up," he whispered, falling back to stare at the ceiling.
His gaze drifted to the crystal window beside him, revealing the vast, earth-roofed city beyond.
"No stars," he murmured with a nostalgic grin, memories stirring deeper than he cared to admit.
"Stars," he repeated aloud.
Then it hit him.
"My abilities—I haven't done a full assessment."
He shot upright, eyes gleaming.
"Stats," he commanded.
A shimmering smoky screen flickered before him. His eyes scanned until something caught him.
[Stats]
Name: Micafer
[Divine Name]: Shadow God
[Core Type]: Veil Core
[Divine Ranking]: Veil King
[Divine Presence]: 2,076 / 10,000
He smiled quietly. "That's progress."
He read on, curiosity growing.
[Divine Aspect]: Shadow Cells
[Aspect]: Shape Shifter
"There it is," he breathed.
[Aspect Description]: A shadow technique allowing perfect mimicry of any form.
"That's a big win," he grinned, almost leaping from the bed—then settled, eager to see more.
[Enchantment]: Life Enchantment
"What's that?" he murmured, clicking the description.
[Enchantment Description]:
A one-time use power to reunite a soul with its mortal body.
His hands flew to his mouth in disbelief.
"I have the power... to restore life," he gasped, awe flooding his voice. "Even once—that's incredible!"
Composing himself, he moved on.
[Accessories]: Shadow Robe, Judgment Ring
[Accessory Description]:
Shadow Robe — armor woven with noble shadow. Ranking: Archshadow.
Judgment Ring — defense ring attuned to conscience. Ranking: Archshadow.
"These weren't gifts I was born with," he muttered. "They were given."
The Judgment Ring intrigued him, but his thoughts were cut off by a thunderous chime echoing through the palace like a cathedral bell.
"The second bell already?!" Micafer gasped.
"Guess I'll learn the rest after the next bell," he smiled, rising. "For now... Shadow Robe."
A robe of flowing shadows wrapped around him, black and white weaving elegantly.
"Judgment Ring."
A twisted ring split in white and black appeared on his left index finger.
Micafer approached the obsidian glass, staring at his reflection—the mortal shell of a divine soul.
He nodded slowly. "I can do this."
With newfound calm, he opened the chamber door. A rich red carpet stretched before him, aligned with the path ahead. To the left stood a purgator—a tall figure with small, undeveloped horns.
"Pardon the intrusion, my lord," the figure bowed. "Please accept me as your right-hand assistant?"
His voice was polite, humble—like every purgator Micafer had met.
Micafer tilted his head, studying him.
"What's your name?"
"Da—sorry—Lowly Dave," the purgator stammered.
Micafer smiled, appreciating the honesty behind the fear. "Shall we?"
Dave nodded, daunted by Micafer's calm kindness.
"Y-Yes, my lord."
The Throne Hall
With Dave's guidance and the red carpet beneath, Micafer stepped through towering doors into the throne hall—a marvel of divine design. Walls and floor were obsidian glass, layered in perfect hexagons. At the center, two steps elevated a majestic throne of swirling black and white diamond. At its peak, the sun and moon clasped hands in unity.
The Five Pillars and ceremonial maids already awaited. At his approach, they all rose.
Micafer smirked, amused by the ceremony, and took his throne. Dave stood behind him to the right. Only then did the others sit.
Kaelion stepped forward.
"The king has arrived. We begin with introductions and inauguration rites of the Black Creed."
His message was brief and clear. Kaelion returned to his seat, and Fraudrin stepped to the throne's foot. A bowl carved from solid shadow appeared before him.
His tone was firm—no pleasantries. The room was silent.
Fraudrin knelt, arm over the bowl.
"I am Fraudrin, Pillar of Gray Ink, and the Black Creed of Judgment."
He pricked his finger, letting blood drip.
"I pledge allegiance and welcome you to the Black Creed."
He bowed and stepped back.
Next came Azurack.
"I am Azurack, Pillar of Shadow, and the Black Creed of Obedience."
Blood joined the bowl.
"I pledge loyalty and welcome you to the Creed."
Micafer felt warmth stir—these weren't just subordinates but family.
Then Sera, the Third Pillar.
"I am Sera," she said with a smirk. "Pillar of Dark Light and the Black Creed of Lust. I pledge my life to you."
Blood met blood.
Galan followed.
"I am Galan, Pillar of Death and the Black Creed of Truth. I pledge commitment and welcome you."
Lastly, Kaelion.
"Pillar of Fiery Flame," he said simply. "My heart is with you."
A purgator brought an obsidian plate covered in white cloth. Kaelion accepted, removed his footwear, and stepped onto the platform.
He unveiled a crown—pure gold inlaid with obsidian shards, each peak bearing a humming orb of white or black.
Micafer knelt. Kaelion placed the crown on his head, then lifted the blood-filled bowl, offering it.
Micafer drank, wincing at the bitter taste. Then he stood.
"I am Micafer, the Veil King. I accept you all as my own blood."
Kaelion turned.
"The king has spoken. Now remains the mark of the Black Creed on his soul."
A murmur rippled among the Pillars.
One question burned:
Which Black Creed will bind him?