The story being shown wasn't just for the gathered audience. Across the realm, every settlement under Drakaryx's command, from towering cities to distant frontier towns, had arrays projecting the same sight. This was Odesues's way of remembering his beloved. For nine hundred years, he had done so unfailingly, ensuring that Astraea, the Star Maiden, remained alive in the memory of all who walked the Great Realm, her name forever tied to its history. The constellations themselves, a tapestry of stars retelling their story, were a way to remember her, since Astraea's powers had once revolved around the constellations and stars. The celestial patterns adorned Alex's and Zahra's attire were also keepsakes of remembrance, woven to honor her legacy. Though the custom was only required of clan members, it was a quiet symbol to the world that her light still guided them. As the Founder's Echo came to an end, the sky cleared once more. The constellations faded away, leaving behind a vast, glittering sea of stars. A hush spread among the gathered crowd. Those chosen for the Sky Pride Tournament wore expressions of elation, murmurs growing in their ranks because they knew what was to come next. They would stand before Odeseues Drakaryx, the Inheritor, the Strongest of the Hegemons, the strongest in the entire realm. Moments later, the starry sky itself began to dim. It turned black, not the color of night, but of absence, a void that consumed light and form alike. Then, as if parting a curtain of nothingness, the darkness split open to reveal a figure behind it. He stood tall and unmoving, his abyssal eyes sweeping over the world with silent authority. His features were sharp, sculpted, and austere, his skin the pale hue of ash. Long strands of pitch-black hair flowed down his shoulders like a river of night. He was clad in layered robes of deepest shadow, the inner fabric fitting close to his form, while the outer layers drifted weightlessly, like a veil woven from the void itself. The second sequence of the New Year's celebration was known as "The Tribute of Dawn." Each year, Odesues himself would appear, offering praise to allied powers and honoring their efforts throughout the realm. He would bestow rewards, titles, territories, or even blank wishes that the clan or, in rare cases, he himself would fulfil, before concluding with a declaration of goals for the coming year. These proclamations often shaped the realm's destiny, promising to end growing conflicts, expand dominion into new lands, or uplift the lives of those dwelling in harsher domains. However, in recent years, as wars, chaos, and plague ravaged the world, this once-festive tradition had undergone a change. Now, the Tribute of Dawn had become a memorial, a solemn sequence dedicated to the fallen. In the ceremony's final act, Odesues would offer a tribute to those who had fallen defending the peace of their realm, immortalizing them in the hearts of the common people. Odesues raised a hand, and silence fell across the two balconies. His voice, deep and unhurried, carried across the mountain peaks and into the cities far below. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝✶𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖✶𝕟𝕖𝕥 "Children of the Great Realm," he began, his tone calm yet resonant, "May the new year bring you the strength to endure and the wisdom to remember." He paused, eyes sweeping across the gathered multitudes before a faint, almost bitter smile curved his lips. "Just moments ago, you all watched the story of my past. Many among you might say I had a noble heart, that I fought for justice, for love, for peace." His voice hardened, the warmth draining from it. "No. That is a lie." A cold wind stirred as he continued, each word sharp and heavy with truth. "My heart burned only with vengeance and emptiness. I fought not for glory or compassion, but to feed the hollow void within me, to give purpose to loss that could never be undone." He lowered his gaze, the faint shimmer of sorrow glinting in his abyssal eyes. "The true heroes are not those who survived. They are those who fell. Noble souls who gave everything to protect this realm, to buy the peace we stand upon now with their blood." He lifted his hand, and a faint constellation shimmered above each star, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. "I cannot possibly name them all, but I will remember a few." "Harkim Lliad of House Ikaroues," Odesues spoke the name slowly, and one of the stars brightened, forming into the image of a young man with sharp features and golden hair. "A young warrior of twenty-seven, who fell defending the City of Dawn from the wretched Skaven." "Meriam Laheas," Another star flared softly. "Our daughter, who burned her life away to heal eleven hundred and eighty-four souls cursed by mutation, knowing that every life she saved pushed her closer to losing her own." Name after name followed, each one a spark of light, each story a fragment of sacrifice. The tribute continued for nearly twenty minutes, Odesues reciting nearly a hundred names, some belonging to rulers, others to nameless soldiers or commoners whose deeds had shaped the world unseen. And with every name spoken, the stars responded, before fading into the vast and silent void. When Odysseus finally fell silent, the night itself seemed to mourn, the stars dimmed, and the air felt still. Odesues drew a long, visible breath, his gaze sweeping over the countless faces before him. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of ages, calm, solemn, unyielding. "Our realm is once again being swallowed by the flames of ruin." The air itself seemed to tighten as he continued, each word deliberate and heavy. "If it were within our power alone, we would have silenced these threats to our peace long ago." His voice carried a hint of anger, "But they persist, parasites feeding upon our lifeblood, thriving on our restraint. It is clear now that the strength of the few will no longer suffice to cleanse them, like the stain they have become." He paused, his expression hardening. "I will not stand here to make half-hearted promises or to speak of perseverance. I will promise this instead, that we, the Drakaryx, will stand against every threat with all that we possess, and with all that we are." "I am not here to give empty words, nor to dress our resolve in eloquence." Odesues's tone deepened, each syllable resonating with the unmistakable power of command. "From this day forth..." "The Drakaryx Clan shall open its gates to all worthy souls. Those who have reached the Fifth Step of Power, and who have yet to reach the Age of maturity." Murmurs swept through the balconies, confusion, awe, even disbelief. "They shall be granted the right to enter our sacred grounds, the Domain Trials, the Great Dragon Chambers, the Ocklarian Dungeons, the Walkway of Solitude, and the Fortress of Visions, every deathland, every protected site, every resource that we command." Gasps broke the silence like thunder. The privilege he offered was beyond comprehension, a resource from the vast list capable of moving mighty figures, so the entirety of it was something that couldn't even be quantified. Odesues allowed the noise to fade before continuing, his following words colder, sharper. "And we shall not stand alone." "The Umbryssan Clan, the Magi Empire, the Cultivator's Domain, the Empire of Iron, and countless affiliated powers will stand beside us, though talent or through resources, their hands, their power, and their faith pledged to guide this new generation." He looked down at the silent, waiting crowd, kings, warriors, and rulers alike, before delivering the final decree. "But hear this well, nothing will be given freely. Every aspirant shall earn their place through Echoes of Concord, a currency forged in service to the realm." "Aid its people. Defend its cities. Stand against the evils that plague our lands. Only those whose actions reflect true loyalty will earn the prize and reap the benefits." The silence that followed was absolute, a silence that trembled with awe, fear, and the undeniable spark of hope. "You can learn how the echoes are assessed and redeemed from the nearest authorities," Odesues intoned. "I hope our efforts yield a brighter year, one of peace and true happiness." "But for this year, we have much work to do." With that final charge, the feeds across the cities fell silent, and Odesues faded into the void that had birthed him. Alex felt no surprise at the magnitude of the proclamation. Every power's ultimate aim in opening their treasuries to the public was the same: to make the otherworlders grow enough to help the Realm Ruler. Because if the powers failed to stop the True King, then their survival depended on the Realm Ruler, who at the moment did not have a certain chance of saving the realm. Yes, it would burn through resources gathered over centuries, but every power understood the stakes. Fail, and the True King's triumph would mean no realm left to defend, no empires to rule, no people to save. Those few who survived the cataclysm would be at the mercy of the invaders, and their fate would be worse than death. As for why they offered their support to everyone and not solely to the otherworlders, they had little choice in the matter. Still, the distribution of rewards remained within their control, and just as they had set the age limit to favor adventurers, they would once again tilt the balance when granting rewards. This facade would persist until the true king deemed his preparations complete, and the only thing left to fulfill his design was mass death. When that moment came, he would unleash utter ruin upon the realm.