Three Days Ago. The World of Eldoria.

Astravale Square was a suffocating crush of bodies.

Copper and silver flashed in the dull light, arcing through the air and splashing into the wishing fountain. The people muttered prayers, their voices merging into a low, buzzing drone that vibrated against the teeth.

The sky was the color of a fresh bruise. The white doves that usually roosted in the plaza had vanished, sensing the violence hanging in the air. Aina moved through the press, her figure swallowed by a heavy black cloak. Every step was a battle against the tide of humanity.

The prayers weren't for salvation. They were just the warm-up act for the gallows.

It was the final day for the Grand Duke of Astravale. The entire ducal house was set to swing, condemned by the Kingdom for alleged collusion with dark witches.

"Milady, the Duke would never turn to paganism," a frantic whisper came from behind Aina. "He and the Duchess are the most devout followers of the Holy Order. It's impossible."

Trailing Aina was Vianne, her maidservant, similarly shrouded in a dark hood. Unlike Aina's stony silence, Vianne was a mess of nerves, her words tumbling out in a stream of terrified denial.

Aina didn't answer. She just let the current of the crowd carry her.

Everything had unraveled so fast. Less than a year ago, she had taken Vianne and fled home to escape an arranged marriage. Now, the Duke's estate was in ruins. Her father had been stripped of his noble title, and the entire family had been dragged into chains.

They were tied up on the gallows platform, looming over the wishing fountain.

Aina's brow furrowed beneath her hood. She knew the truth. Her parents were zealots of the Holy Order; they loathed dark magic with a passion. Collusion was absurd. Having grown up inside those walls, she would have known if her father was dabbling in heresy.

The charges were a lie. They were a fabrication by the Kingdom's High Council to placate the masses.

But why?

The question gnawed at her. She needed to understand the root cause—the real conflict of interest—if she ever hoped to save them.

Was it a territorial dispute? Was it payback for her runaway stunt? Or was it the new crystal vein discovered on their lands?

Possibilities raced through her mind as she drifted closer to the scaffold. Through the gaps in the crowd, she saw them: her father and her three brothers, looking broken and humiliated. She glanced past her father's second wife; Aina felt nothing for the woman. She didn't matter.

"Vianne," Aina whispered, keeping her head low. "Do you remember where my father's right-hand man lives? We need to—"

Silence.

"Vianne?"

Aina realized the frantic whispering behind her had stopped. She spun around. The space behind her was empty.

Panic, cold and sharp, spiked in her chest. She scanned the sea of hoods, ready to search, when a commotion erupted near the gallows.

"Grab her! She's a conspirator! She's trying to free the heretics!"

Aina's stomach dropped into the abyss.

Forcing herself to remain invisible, she merged with the surge of spectators rushing toward the noise. When she finally wrestled her way to the front, she clamped a hand over her veiled mouth to stifle a scream.

It was Vianne.

Her loyal maid lay face down on the cobblestones, pinned to the earth by two guard spears driven through her back. Bright blood pooled rapidly beneath her, running into the cracks of the stone.

In her death grip, Vianne still clutched a leather waterskin.

Aina recognized it immediately. It belonged to her eldest brother, Ragnall. Years ago, Ragnall had saved Vianne from dying of thirst by the roadside, giving her that very flask before bringing her into the household to serve Aina.

They had grown up together, and Aina knew Vianne's secret. The maid had loved Ragnall from afar, a silent, hopeless devotion bridging the chasm of their social stations.

Vianne must have seen Ragnall up on the platform—lips cracked, dying of dehydration—and snapped. She couldn't bear it. She just wanted to give her savior a final sip of water.

To the guards, however, it looked like a prison break.

Tears streamed down Aina's face as she stared at the familiar body crumpled on the ground. But the nightmare was only beginning.

The chaos caused by Vianne gave the Kingdom officials the excuse they needed. The execution order was given early.

Through a blur of tears, Aina watched. She watched her father and brothers kick and struggle against the ropes. She saw their faces turn a grotesque purple, their eyes bulge from their sockets, their tongues swelling and protruding, dark and swollen.

In their final, agonizing thrashing, they seemed to be screaming silently at her across the crowd: Run. Run. Run.

Grief and despair flooded Aina's heart, a torrent of emotion that transcended space, filling the heart of the Aina standing in the Tower Defense World.

Revenge… I want revenge.

The thought was primal, all-consuming. But she was just an Alpha-level being. Against the might of a Kingdom, she was nothing. The square was ringed by the Holy Order's Templars. One wrong move, and she would be swinging beside her father.

Tower Defense World: Kindling Platform 3318

Inside the command tent, Orion sat in silence, listening to the end of Aina's tale. He offered no immediate platitudes.

Aina finished speaking and stared at him, her eyes burning with an intensity that bordered on madness. Minutes ticked by before Orion finally broke the silence.

"To destroy a world is a heavy burden," Orion said, his voice low and resonant. "It is rarely necessary."

He leaned forward, the firelight dancing in his eyes. "But to scour the surface of a world? To eradicate the specific people and race you despise? That is a simple matter."

He held her gaze. "That is your world. It is the soil from which you will rise. Think carefully before you ask this of me."

Orion, as a Creator, held a deep aversion to the destruction of worlds. Every world was a miracle, a leaf on the World Tree. He knew the cost of creation. Only the greedy, the truly malevolent, sought to shatter a planet entirely. Most Demigods and Gods preferred conquest or enslavement.

Total annihilation was a waste. It was crude.

Aina didn't hesitate. The image of Vianne on the stones and her brother's hanging corpse flashed before her eyes.

"Sir," she said, her voice trembling with cold rage. "Wipe them out. Every human in that Kingdom. And the entire Holy Order."

The hatred in her soul was an ocean, vast and bottomless.

Orion nodded once. "Then prepare yourself."

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