🌐 Language / 言語
🇺🇸 [English Edition]
🇯🇵 [日本語版]
Holy Maiden Lizleu had lived within the walls of the Fane since her childhood. After her parents were lost to the flames of war, she was gathered into the Aztla Covenant—a providence overseen by The Arbitrate.
Years passed, and the girl grew into a woman within those cold, stone walls. Though her bed was meager, she never knew misery; she had a roof, and she had bread. To her, every crumb was a blessing to be repaid. When she reached her fifteenth year, the Revelation had descended upon her in a pillar of soft light. Chosen by the Goddess Aztla, she was granted the Divine Pulse and ascended as a Holy Maiden.
Now, years later, she stood as a woman grown, yet her devotion remained as pure and lethal as the day she was chosen.
“Listen well, Lizleu. Only you can do this. This is a battle to preserve our nation’s soul.”
The Arch-Hierarch, Zakner, spoke with a face as flawless as carved marble. He took Lizleu’s hands—now the hands of a seasoned warrior—into his own. Having matured into her role, she had been inducted into the Elite Guard, serving as Zakner’s shadow and his silent blade for The Arbitrate’s darkest necessities.
For Lizleu, this was the ultimate grace. To serve the man who represented the faith that raised her was her only reason for being. She swore a silent oath to exceed his every expectation.
She strapped a gold-inlaid dagger to her hip and vanished into the moonlight.
“There is no doubt. This belonged to him.”
Seated upon his lavish bed, Zakner held a blood-stained necklace up to the morning sun. A mocking laugh escaped him. The gem was still slick with the lifeblood of the man who had dared defy him.
“Come here, my pride,”
Zakner said, his smile twisting into something dark and possessive as he beckoned her. As she approached, he pulled her close, his hand sliding across her collarbone with a practiced, chilling intimacy.
“I love you. Truly,”
he whispered. His voice was flat, yet to Lizleu’s ears, it was a divine gospel. Now a woman, she understood the weight of his words through the lens of a devotion that had long since spiraled into madness.
“Lord Zakner…”
With a look of ecstatic fever, Lizleu cast aside her raiment, heavy with the blood of the slain, offering her soul and body to the only “god” she had ever known.
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