A Dreamer's Justice

They were called the Primordial Gods, an omnipresence that is out of this world yet beloved by its people. 

The First God took over the heavens while the Second God ruled the underworld. The Gods were like day and night, constantly switching roles to protect the land and grant people blessings and knowledge. But one day, as humanity rose, they sought power.

The God of Light granted people the knowledge of Divine Arts, a catalyst to invoke supernatural phenomena and elemental powers. This increased humanity's reverence for the First God, amassing the followers of the Second God and converting them to join his side. This unjust and abrupt conversion incurred the wrath of the Second God, inciting a long-term war between the Divine Arts Apostles and the Cursed Kings. 

The war sprouted a great calamity. The Second God opened a portal from the underworld and sent abyssal monsters to the plane, wiping out almost the entire world's populace. But thanks to the overwhelming faith of humanity in the First God, the Light was able to conquer the dark and seal its power to the bottom of the abyss, never to be seen again for the last 10,000 years.

***

[Neswarths Arcane Academy]
Class A - Deusnician

"But even if the Second God's presence is no longer in this world, the residuals of his malevolent ruling still exist. Descendants of the Cursed Kings—also known as the Damniants—are everywhere in our continent. To prevent further damages to the world built by Yddra, we—the Eliads—are responsible for eradicating them."

All of the students remained silent as the professor of the History of Divine Arts, David Umphrey, laid out the historical sequence of what happened thousands of years ago. Although similar stories have been passed out generation by generation, keeping the topic fresh was the kingdom's way of maintaining the blessed ones' repugnant perspective towards the Damniants.

Despite ruling the whole land, they couldn't provide a settlement to the crux of the issue, which was eliminating the descendants of the Cursed Kings.

For them, the only way to achieve eternal peace was to erase the trace of the darkness lurking in the land. That was the order brought forth by the Divine Apostles who served the First God Yddra, and they were only following it for the convenience of strengthening their faith.

"Professor?" A young man by the name of Symon Fou Reinhold raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"I have a question. Is it still necessary to eradicate the Damniants even though they have been inactive for years now?" Symon glanced with a firm expression.

"Oh? And what makes you think that the Damniants are inactive?"

"As the future head of the Reinhold domain, I've researched various activities and dealings happening inside the kingdom. The number of reports stating that the Damniants are instigating public disorder as well as crimes related to them is minimal compared to the reports handed out by the Royal Mage Corps painting them in a negative light," he answered.

"Based on what you said, I'm assuming that you think it's wrong to kill them now that they've changed, is that right?" Professor David mused.

"Yes, Sir." Symon nodded. It might seem like he's composed but he couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the stares provided by his classmates.

One would ask "Why is he trying to defend the Damniants?".

It's only natural for them to have that kind of inquiry. After all, for someone who is a high-ranking Eliad like him to have an opposing view toward their enemy that is far from enmity, he could be subjected to an exposed ostracization and put shame on his family's name. It could be a grave danger, one that will put all of them at risk.

However, Symon is not just a normal noble. From a young age, he has been honing his skills in Divine Arts and his academic score is higher than most, earning him a significant title and respect from below. Not only that, but he also contributed a lot to the Magical Research Department, allowing him to leap to a higher rank than his classmates.

In other words, he's free to express his opinion regardless if it is unorthodox for someone like him.

"Well, I wouldn't blame you for a thought like that... After all, in the eyes of the innocent, our actions are diabolic. But these actions are the will of the Divine Apostles, orders that have been bestowed upon us ever since the Ancient War. Supposed that we halt our extermination, what do you think will happen?" Professor David didn't ask Symon. Rather, he turned to all of the students.

Murmurs started echoing around the room, their expressions filled with horror as they thought about what would happen.

"Our God gave us the authority to control the Divine Arts to subjugate the evil. The light that we have in the palm of our hands is the key to vanquishing the darkness. If we don't swallow the abyss, the abyss will swallow us..."

Symon closed his eyes as he nodded. He already knows the answer to the Professor's question.

The people's will are one and connected. And if a single variable were to stop them on track, it could sow discord between them, dividing the factions and culminating in broken shards of that unified will. It wasn't an ideal scenario for the Eliads.

It could potentially change the era—sway them away from that goal of ending darkness. It would cause an internal conflict or even a civil war.

That's why the mere thought of siding with the Damniants is considered taboo in most cases. No one in the unified period would spend their time fighting each other.

"I take that your silence means you've already grasped the answer, Mr. Symon?" Professor David Umphrey turned to Symon.

"Yes, Sir. Apologies for the inconvenience..."

"It's alright. I like students who are open-minded and willing to consider another possible perspective. At the very least, it lets us gauge where the people will reside."

As he said that, the bell chimed, indicating the end of their lesson for the day...

Symon grabbed his books and put them back in his case all while a certain beautiful girl was staring at him.

"You look quite troubled..."

"Lady Eina..." Eina Bluesy, First daughter of Maria and Rodolfo Bluesy.

Like Symon, Eina was an outstanding figure in the kingdom. An azure beauty that radiated from her led her to meet a lot of suitors, but all of whom were rejected on the spot by the lady herself.

She was friendly with other nobles, including Symon, who was her childhood best friend.

"Sorry, was my question uncomfortable to you?" he asked, scratching his head.

"Not at all. As the professor has said, I think it's great that you don't share the same sentiment as everyone else. It allows you to branch out perspective on the moral side of things and that makes you more pure." Eina smiled as she spoke. "Even I was a bit curious about the reasoning behind the slaughter".

"Pure you say? Is that how people see me nowadays...?" Symon mused.

"Well, your righteousness shines brighter than anybody. You have a solid morality, far from those higher-ups who know nothing but to kill... Even so, you shouldn't get complacent about it." She warned him.

"I'll keep that in mind..." Symon smiled as he walked away.

***

[Town of Fier]

In the southern area of the Querith Kingdom, a small village can be found burning.

A platoon was dispatched to the zone not too long ago, consisting of a small force of Royal Mages adept in Divine Arts. Their mission: to kill the remaining Damniants who have settled in the village for a long time.

"Keep up the pace. Don't hesitate to kill anyone who has a red mark on their face..." The leader of the platoon, Count Bertram, coldly instructed them.

"Yes, Sire!" With a firm salute, the forces proceeded onward.

Despite being old, the embers of his ruthless demeanor still exude from him. Count Bertram was a leading general back in the days when he led countless Royal Mages to subjugate a domain in the east infested by monsters. It was discovered that the mutations are caused by the Dark Arts invoked by the Damniants.

"Fire!" Five mages invoked a fire spell, and a barrage of fireballs started raining down toward the house, creating another wall of flame that prevented them from escaping.

"Run! We must escape!" Shouted by a single Damniant.

His loud voice alerted one of the members of the corps, redirecting their attention to the intersection. When they arrived, the Royal Mages cast a lightning spell, blitzing through the Damniants who were running away from them.

Seven—no... Ten people were razed by the lightning spell at regular intervals. It includes a mother of a child as well as seniors who couldn't escape. All of them received death the moment the spell hit them. There was no mercy present in those who were above them.

"Momma! Momma...!" The cries of the children can be heard. It wasn't deafening, but their tone was painted with worry and hopelessness. It couldn't be helped, their parents were dying right in front of them and they were helpless. It was beyond their reach to save themselves.

"What should we do with the young ones, sire?" One of the mages asked.

"While it may be hypocritical of me to consider this, we should spare the young Damniants..." He mused.

"Are you sure about that, sir? I don't think the capital would be sensible to accept young Damniants." The mage replied, scratching his head.

"That's fine, they'll just be sold in slavery instead... That's how it works." Count Bertram sneered as if looking into the future where all of the kidnapped children were being forced to work as a slave.

"Understood, I'll let them know..."

Sensing that there weren't any more grown-ups in the area, the Royal Mages started chasing the wandering kids.

Considering that young Damniants aren't capable of Dark Arts yet, they must have assumed that they wouldn't pose a problem for the Kingdom. Hence, why they only killed the adults and spared the children to take advantage of them.

The children are powerless in this era—they say.

He wondered if that was true...?

Just as they were about to nab the child, an ice spike suddenly appeared midair. It accelerated immensely before cleaving the head of the mage.

"What the—!" Panic rose from the platoon as another set of ice spikes pierced through the forces. Any set of protective barriers didn't last long as the hail split them apart. One mage lost his arm, and another spike then bore a hole through his chest and fell.

Blood squirted in the air. One by one, each mage that was staggered across the street had their heads popping out like a balloon being hit by a dart.

The ice spike's movement wasn't random. It targeted their most defenseless part and pierced through the vital organs. It's as if someone was controlling them at will.

"Tsk! We would get wiped out if we stayed too long, let's fall back for now..." Count Bertram immediately ordered.

"But Sir, we can't let whoever is attacking us alive!"

"We don't have time to find a rat! If we stayed here, the traps would kill us!" As expected of the general, he immediately sensed the impending danger.

Since the caster of Ice Spike would be difficult to track due to the barrage of the spell, the most optimal solution to ensure survivability was to fall back and bring whatever they could. Crossing the boundary and trying to snuff out the remaining Damniant would risk them being slaughtered as well so he ruled that out.

"Understood..." The troops couldn't ignore the danger as well.

After placing the kidnapped children in a carriage, the platoon set out, leaving the entire village drowning in flame.

This has been always the fate of those who hail from the Cursed Kings. It was an inevitable encounter, one that is deemed to continue in perpetuity until none remains.

He knew exactly what would happen to the village, that's why he set out traps and activated them when they got close.

Standing across the dusty street through the center revealed a young man dressed in all black. His eyes were red and it was gleaming with ferocity. His hair was as dark as the color of the abyss, there was no light inside of him. It was as if he was the amalgamation of the void itself as he basked into the pool of blood.

"Bell... So they took you as well, huh...?" He spoke in a low voice. It was devoid of emotion.

"̵I̴ ̴p̶r̸o̵m̸i̵s̶e̶ ̸I̴'̴l̶l̶ ̵s̸a̵v̸e̶ ̵y̶o̷u̵.̶.̶.̷ ̵J̵u̷s̸t̴ ̷h̸a̷n̶g̶ ̵i̶n̷ ̵t̷h̸e̴r̷e̸ ̸a̴n̴d̶ ̷w̵a̷i̴t̶ ̶f̴o̸r̶ ̶m̴e̸.̴.̵.̵"̵ ̸