UNMEI: Pantheon's Game-Chapter 124: Traitors

Damion stood in the darkened chamber, its walls cracked like old skin, the air thick with dust and silence. The only light came from a dying torch flickering near the doorway.

Beside him, Cel waited, quiet, unmoving, his hands resting in his coat pockets, head slightly bowed beneath his hood.

Azrael Rodeny and Soul's mirror stood calmly in front of them.

Footsteps echoed. Then came Magma.

His stride was impatient, shoulders broad, cloak still damp from the storm outside. Without a word, he removed his hood, revealing his daek, scar-lined face and sharp, burning eyes.

One by one, they lowered their hoods.

"We're all here now," Damion said softly, almost to himself. A strange calm settled over him.

Magma didn't bother with greetings. Instead, he reached into his cloak, pulling out a thick vial of crimson liquid and tossed it toward Damion, who caught it midair.

"Took my 3 days straight to make it... i wasted my whole Neba reserves several times. Magma said, voice clipped. "It's more than enough, drink only half of it. It works only once, one ability use. Your ability will be pushed to its absolute limit. So don't waste it."

Damion inspected the swirling potion with quiet curiosity, then turned to Cel and handed it to him without a word. Cel accepted it wordlessly, his expression unreadable beneath the dim light.

Azrael broke the silence next, arms crossed. "So... what now?"

Magma exhaled harshly, wiping his hands on his cloak. "I did my part. I gave you the potion. It's Damion's turn now."

Damion stepped forward, the torchlight casting long shadows behind him. "First," he said, voice calm, deliberate, "I'll use your potion to strengthen the prayer. I'm going to call upon a god."

Magma raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully. God? What is he planning?

"Then," Damion continued, eyes flicking toward Serena, "I'll need Soul's Mirror's ability to reach into Etheome. The divine plane. That's where the Sword of Rules is."

The room fell into silence again. Even Magma couldn't mask the shift in his expression as his eyes widened. Sword of Rules? One of the three great artefacts in seven worlds.

"You're out of your mind," he muttered, but Damion was already turning.

"One more thing," he said, facing Magma again. "Send word to your people in Sarodenly. Send Enren and Omen in the upcoming Neba trial." He paused. "Yes i know you have two blessed humans Magma."

Magma narrowed his eyes. "What's the point of that?"

"You don't trust me?" Damion said smoothly. "You want to kill the other Blessed right? Then use your own people... what? Aren't you confident in their abilities? What's the better place to kill them other than a Neba trial?"

A long pause.

"Let them do what you want," Damion added. "Just make sure they make it to the trial in time."

Magma stepped forward then, his voice dropping low, dangerous. "And what about my escape? You promised me a way out."

"It'll come," Damion replied. "After the Whispers' first trial ends."

That was enough to snap the tension. Magma's boots scraped forward across the stone floor, his steps heavy, threatening.

"You're playing a dangerous game, boy. I could snap your neck right here."

Cel didn't move from his position. He simply stepped between them, a smile playing on his lips as if the idea amused him.

"You can try," he said. His hands stayed in his pockets. "But I promise you, if you do... you won't leave this world intact."

Magma tensed, his jaw clenched. But he didn't move.

Serena finally broke the silence with a sigh. "This is a waste of time. Fighting here is meaningless. I should be searching for Asyl. If the King finds out I'm gone..."

She turned to Damion, her tone sharp. "Whatever plan you're working on, finish it. Quickly."

Damion gave her the faintest of nods. His mind was already elsewhere, on gods, on swords, on the fate of kingdom yet to fall.

Once the others had vanished into the dark, the chamber felt heavier, emptier, yet somehow more intimate. The torchlight flickered softer now, casting strange shadows on the stone walls.

Damion stood in silence, his back to Cel, eyes lingering on the potion Cel still held in one hand.

"You going to explain it all now," Cel finally asked, "or am I supposed to follow you blindly?"

Damion didn't hesitate. "Fine."

Cel blinked, caught off guard by how easily Damion agreed. But then again, it was always hard to predict what Damion would do next.

Damion turned, expression unreadable. "First, we get the Sword of Rules."

He walked slowly across the room, gesturing absently. "Serena's ability will let us summon it. It's her blue Neba ability. She can draw weapons from history, real ones, with their power intact. But it's not easy. That level of summoning requires detail, precision, permission. And power."

Cel nodded slowly. "So... the potion."

Damion glanced at the vial in Cel's hand. "Exactly. She'll also drink it to amplify her ability. Then, she'll pray to Mirathis, the god of fame. Since he's the one who forged the Sword of Rules thousands of years ago, he knows every inch of it. He'll give her the exact image she needs, and, if we play this right, his blessing to wield it temporarily."

"And why would Mirathis hand sword that strong to humans" Cel muttered, piecing it together.

"That only i know... but sword will be wielded by Azrael," Damion finished. "He'll carry it into the first Neba trial."

A silence passed.

"And after that?"

"We move." Damion leaned against a stone pillar. "Azrael prepares for the second trial. Meanwhile, we start dismantling the other families, one by one."

Cel tilted his head. "And your father?"

There was something more serious in his voice now. Something colder.

Damion grinned.

Aramir.

"The King?" Damion said, amused. "I already have a plan to bring him down. I'm going to use Magma."

Cel raised a brow. "You're going to pit him against your father?"

"Two monsters," Damion said with a slight shrug. "Let them clash. Either way, the battlefield breaks."

Cel's eyes narrowed. "You know... I wanted to fight Magma."

"You might still get your chance," Damion said, pushing off the pillar. "Just wait."

Cel exhaled and looked away, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You'll be the great king."

"I know."

The torch behind them sputtered, the flame shrinking slightly, as if it too were holding its breath for what would come next.