The moon bled.
A supernatural silence slammed down like a cosmic uppercut.The sky — that celestial traitor — flipped from peaceful blue to furious crimson,as if light itself had just had its throat slit by shadow.
The chants died instantly.The dances crashed to the ground.All eyes snapped to the heavens.
The eclipse.Not a phenomenon.A fucking verdict.
At the heart of the ritual circle, the child had just been born —a raw, feral cry tearing through the night like a siren screaming the end of the world.
Half-Luméen. Half-Ombrelin. 100% anomaly.
On his forehead, a symbol pulsed — a perfect inversion of a sacred halo:light and shadow fused like cursed lovers.
This wasn't a baby.He was a signal.An imbalance.A middle finger to fate.
The elders froze, their wrinkles trembling like war drums.One stammered:— "Is this... a sign?"Another whispered, pale as a corpse:— "Or a curse made flesh..."
The murmurs exploded — a storm of secrets.The wind howled, torn from the world's belly.The sand spun like it was trying to escape the scene.Even the spirits — those normally wise, silent entities — burst in:twisted shadows, dizzy whispers, air warping like glitches in reality's code.
A cosmic fracture.
William's birth hadn't been planned.Or maybe it had —just not by the right entities.
And then all hell broke loose.
CRAAACK.
The sky cracked open — not like a dream.Like a mirror, shattered by fate's clenched fist.
Dimensional rifts tore through the distance — gaping scars of ink and void.And through them... they came.
The Saint Knights.
Chests high. Faces carved in steel.Armors gleaming beneath the blood-moon.Each one a verdict in motion.
A messenger burst through the trees like an explosion,gasping, panicked, sliding in front of Cello:
— "Chief… it's the king. He's ordered… the extermination of the Créolins. They call us traitors. It's… it's Lucius Nocturnus himself."
And time just... stopped.
Even the waves pulled back.Even the fire refused to crackle.Marie France collapsed to her knees.Her face buried in her hands, tears burning like acid:
— "He's going to kill his own daughter... for power…"
Cello, eyes hollow but jaw clenched, lifted her up.One arm held his son.The other, his love.And with a voice carved in burning black steel:
— "I'll protect our son. I'll rip through every god if I have to. But he will live."
And this time, even the elders stayed silent.
Madame Françoise stepped forward, stumbling — her eyes full of end-time reflections:— "Running… isn't shame. It's duty. He's the last thread between our worlds."
Baltazard nodded slowly, his aura crackling:— "You carry the dawn of a new cycle. And we… will be your sheltering night."
Sans Soucis, ever loyal, locked eyes with Cello:— "I've never bowed. And I ain't starting now. We'll hold 'em off, chief. To the last breath."
Nyx, luminous in the gloom, voice soft but sharp as cold steel:— "Thanks to William, our people will survive... even if the light betrays us."
And in the distance… the ships of the Sacred Order.Floating monsters draped in cursed gold and flaming crosses.Each sail cracked like a divine slap.
The knights' armor shone like fragments of judgment.
Step by step.
Until he appeared.
General Lucius Nocturnus.A silhouette of ink and frost.His voice, magical and ethereal, echoed everywhere:
— "Créolins… renounce your sins and join the king's light. Or burn in his sacred flames."
BOOM.War drums thundered.Knights moved into formation — perfect, inhuman, merciless.
And Cello, standing tall like a totem of defiance, roared with his son in his arms:
— "YOU DON'T TOUCH MY SON!"
Marie France, her hand in his, nodded:— "We don't hide anymore. We protect the legacy. All the way."
Sans Soucis drew his blade.His war cry split the heavens:
— "CHAAARGE!"
And in the chaos of a war foretold, under an eclipsed moon,the legend of William — the One — had just begun.