Julius stood in the celestial hall, his thoughts churning. The truth had struck him like a thunderclap—he had not merely inherited the power of the Shadow God. No, his inheritance was far greater. The five statues behind the throne were not mere decorations, nor were they lifeless relics of an ancient age. They were once kings—monarchs who had sealed their own strength within these petrified forms, all to take vengeance against the Dark King.
And now, they had chosen him as their heir.
But why?
The answer eluded him, and he had no time to dwell on it. What mattered now was the path ahead.
"The woman was right," Julius muttered. "I must become strong… I must become the god this world needs."
The power of the Forbidden Throne was a force beyond comprehension—an authority capable of granting him the means to stand against the Dark King and his faction. But gods were not simply born. They were believed in, worshiped, and followed. If he were to rise as a deity, what kind of god should he become?
"Would anyone truly believe in a god that appeared from nothing?"
The Forbidden Throne had its own might, a power that could draw believers with ease. But Julius knew that true strength came not from mere worshipers, but from devoted followers—those who would offer their faith unshaken, those who would kneel in prayer not out of fear, but reverence. His godhood had to be carefully crafted.
He turned toward the woman, his voice steady. "What name should I call you by?"
She bowed her head slightly before answering, "The name given to me by my lord, the Shadow God, is Astrea. You may call me that, my lord."
"A unique name," Julius remarked, his gaze sharp.
Astrea offered a small, knowing smile. "It is a name from ancient mythology. In the past, it belonged to a goddess of justice."
Justice. How ironic.
Julius exhaled. "You said I must become the god the world desires… but the world will not accept a nameless deity."
He had intended to declare himself the Shadow God, to gather followers under the mantle of darkness. But now, with the power of five gods coursing through him, could he truly limit himself to a single identity? No, it would not be enough.
"I need to become the god that the world has been waiting for," he declared.
He fell silent, his thoughts spiraling. Then, finally, he spoke.
"I have chosen a name. I will be—"
Astrea interrupted him before he could continue.
"Creating a name at random will not do, my lord. Even with the power of the Forbidden Throne, you require something greater—a name that once held power, a name that the world longs to see return."
Julius stilled. Her words struck something deep within him.
"Do you have a name in mind?" he asked, his voice low.
She nodded, her expression unreadable. "Yes. There is a name that the world still yearns for… a name whispered in longing across generations. That name is Zarthos."
The moment the word left her lips, Julius felt an inexplicable resonance within him. He did not know its meaning, nor its origin, but the weight of it was undeniable.
"This name…" he murmured. "Who did it belong to?"
Astrea's gaze burned with intensity. "It was the name of the Ascending King."
Julius froze.
"The Ascending King…?"
"Yes," Astrea continued. "It was the divine title of the king who once chose six monarchs to teach the path of magic. Under his guidance, they became the symbols of power and divinity."
Julius narrowed his eyes. "And yet, the world longs for his return? Despite his silence for a thousand years?"
Astrea chuckled, her voice tinged with amusement. "He was a god who cared for his believers. Without his guidance, the kingdom would have perished long ago. No one knows why he ceased answering their prayers. Some say he grew weary of false faith. Others claim there was a greater reason. But the truth… remains a mystery."
Julius understood. The reason did not matter. What mattered was opportunity.
The god who had once saved the kingdom. The monarch who had personally chosen his successors. The one whose return the world awaited with hope and desperation.
This was an opportunity too great to ignore.
He laughed, the sound echoing through the celestial hall. "The god Zarthos has returned to guide the world once more… what a grand tale!"
Astrea smirked. "It is the only way to gather true believers. By assuming the identity of Zarthos, you will have what you need. But you understand, don't you? A name alone does not guarantee faith."
Julius sensed where this was going.
Astrea continued, her voice firm. "If they are to believe, you must fulfill their desires. But tell me, my lord… how do you plan to do that? You are still weak in the material world."
Her words were sharp, but true. Julius had already realized his greatest limitation. While he could manifest his presence here, within this divine realm, he lacked true influence in reality. His power extended only to summoning believers to this plane and traversing within Oxenheim.
"I can wield the power of the Forbidden Throne with ease in this dimension," Julius admitted. "But I am still limited in the real world. My presence can only be felt within Oxenheim, and I can only bring those who already believe in me here."
Astrea nodded approvingly. "That is a good start. Then, we must begin by securing devoted believers within Oxenheim and fulfilling their desires. But to do that…"
She paused, her eyes flickering toward the Forbidden Throne.
"You must become stronger. I will assist you, but you must reach the Eighth Circle. Once you do, you will no longer need to grant every desire yourself. The moment the world believes in the return of the forgotten god, the Forbidden Throne's power will fully awaken."
Julius studied her carefully.
She was not simply a servant. She was cunning, methodical. She had already structured his path forward, guiding him toward his next step.
He smiled. "I will not try—I will ensure that I surpass the Eighth Circle and wield the Shadow God's power completely."
Then, his voice turned confident. "As for attracting believers… I have already set things in motion."
Astrea's expression shifted. "What?"
Julius smirked, then turned his gaze toward Caleb, the child who had unknowingly started it all.
"Because of this boy," he said. "His prayers reached me. Through him, I was able to act in the real world as Julius, a knight of the Silver Cathedral."
He continued, "By saving his father, rumors have already begun to spread—whispers of the Shadow God's return."
Then, his tone sharpened into command. "Astrea, can you spread the word? Let it be known across Oxenheim that the Ascending King, Zarthos, has returned—alongside the Five Monarchs—to lead the world once more."
Astrea chuckled, bowing her head. "Now I see why you were chosen as an heir. You have already set the stage."
Then, she spoke solemnly. "I will carry out your command. I will weave the rumors throughout the city and seek out the hidden faction of the Dark King."
"Good," Julius said. "Shall I transport you somewhere specific?"
Astrea shook her head. "Before that, you must create a Summoning Sigil."
Julius raised an eyebrow. "A what?"
Astrea sighed. "A sigil through which believers can call upon you. It will allow me to contact you as well."
Julius pondered. A means for his followers to reach him… just as Caleb had done with the engraved stone.
Julius turned to Astrea, his voice calm yet firm. "How does one create a summoning sigil?"
Astrea let out a sigh, her tone laced with sarcasm. "I keep forgetting how little you know about magic. Sometimes, I almost believe you really did come from another world."
Then, with unwavering certainty, she explained, "A summoning sigil consists of three key stages. First, its design—the creator has complete freedom in shaping it, allowing for individuality and recognition. Second, it must be infused with energy. And third, a phrase—words of prayer or invocation—must be established, allowing believers to reach their god through the sigil."
She paused before adding, "Many organizations craft their own summoning sigils, using them to contact their leaders when necessary. Intelligence networks, in particular, rely on such methods."
Julius absorbed her words. A summoning sigil was not just a tool; it was a means to establish influence in reality. The process seemed simple enough. If he could accomplish this, it would be a crucial step forward.
"I'll give it a try," he said.
Focusing, he envisioned the sigil's form. His fingers moved through the air, tracing intricate patterns in the void. The lines intertwined, taking shape, until finally, a symbol emerged—an eerie, ominous eye, reminiscent of the Nightmare Mark etched onto his palm.
Satisfied with the design, he considered the next step: infusing it with power.
Which force should he use? The Shadow God's essence? Or the power of the Forbidden Throne?
After a moment's deliberation, he chose the latter. This sigil was meant to summon him—not as a mere shadow deity, but as a god bearing the might of five kings. He still lacked complete control over the Forbidden Throne's power, but here, in this realm, his will was law.
Determination settled in his eyes.
He willed the sigil to accept the Forbidden Throne's energy.
Instantly, an overwhelming force erupted, surging toward the symbol. The celestial hall trembled under the sheer intensity of the unleashed power.
Madness. This was madness.
Astrea stood frozen. Thoughtless. Breathless. She could not even begin to comprehend the magnitude of this power. It was as if she had become an insignificant insect, moments away from being crushed beneath an unfathomable force.
Julius, however, did not share her fear. This power was his. The celestial hall quaked, yet he felt no terror—only certainty. This was the authority to command, the right to shape reality itself.
A divine power.
A terrifying feeling washed over him. If he willed it, he could end the world.
And yet… he could not affect reality directly.
His hands clenched into fists. If only he could wield this strength beyond this realm, none of his enemies would stand a chance.
Frustration flickered through him, but it only strengthened his resolve. He would claim this power in its entirety. The mysteries surrounding him, the enemies lurking in the shadows—he would need this strength to face them all.
His gaze fell upon the sigil, now radiating with his energy.
Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "Now… "Let those who seek the light of the forgotten king… call upon his name Zarthos."
."