Chapter 1 – A Millennia of Peace

Anastasija awoke in a lightless room. She felt energized for some reason. That was annoying, sleeping passed the time. The walls were of some dark stone, she knew that but the last time she had seen them was twelve hundred years ago. That was when she was locked in here. She chuckled, the darkness was quite comforting. The last time she had seen light, it was the blinding beams of that woman in the air. Was she dead now? Anastasija did not know. It annoyed her that she didn’t know, but then there was some satisfaction in that too. That woman was so irrelevant her name should not be known. It was beneath Anastasija to know. There was no door, no crack, no sign of any joining. It was as if she was locked in the middle of a perfect solid cube. She sighed, stood up and started walking. Twenty steps, turn left, twenty steps, turn left and so it went. Eventually, she started laughing. Twelve hundred years? What did they expect? For her to knock on the walls? To cry in the corner? To lose her mind and sanity? The stars would burn out first. These rocks would crumble eventually, time destroyed all. She could simply bathe in her self-satisfaction until then; her knowledge that the best they could do against her was simply lock her away somewhere. Arascus roared in a rage as the skin over his knuckles regrew. He did not know how long he slept after his final moments in Rhomaion, but he had not closed his eyes for even a blink since then. He was locked in a cube of Godstone. A thousand years he gave himself: Today was the day. In a few hours, he would celebrate the thousandth anniversary of his awakening in this solid cage. It was pitch black in here, he knew what Godstone was. He had built out of it before, it was unbreakable, it contained energy to surpass the Heavens. Even Leonifer and Mikanglo, rulers of Tartarus and Paraideisius would not break through it. But him? How could he not? He fist landed on the same spot again, his skin shattered, blood spilled over the room, his wrist exploded, his arm snapped at the shoulder. And again with the other arm. The same happened. With a roar, he smashed his head again that spot. His skull broke, his eyes went dull, his heart stopped, he fell backwards like a tree hit by a tidal wave. Over the next minute, the blood in the room slowly return to him as if dragged by magnets to his body. The shards of ivory bone rebuilt themselves, even the cracks disappearing. His muscle grew, his eyes regained their sharpness. The blood started to flow within his body again. He stood up and flexed his fingers. And then he did it again. And again. He tried it with magic at first, but his magic had started growing weaker after the first ten years. Now, he couldn’t even open a door to the Endless Treasury to pull out a blade. Had he grown weaker? He would never accept that. A few hours passed. There wasn’t a single crack on the stone. The thousand year anniversary came, and he did not stop. If a thousand years wasn’t enough, then he would give it ten thousand. Allasaria and Zerus dared to lock him in a cage? He would show them how much their cages meant. Who were they to go up against Pride? Eventually, Arascus did stop. Not out of fatigue nor unwillingness, he was too prideful to admit those sensations into his body, but out of curiosity. The Godstone started to shake. What could make Godstone quiver and shake? He took a step back, crossed his arms and waited. What it the apocalypse? Did some great beast come from the edges of the Universe to eat Arda? There was no force in his time that could do this. Maybe the White Pantheon had realised their mistake and come to beg for forgiveness, he chuckled at that thought. Sёarch* The NôvelFire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The shaking lasted for an hour. A day. Two days. Arascus shrugged. An earthquake, that was probably it, or maybe there was some war raging above his prison. He returned to beating the Godstone wall. His arm exploded and the shaking stopped. He burst out in laughter. Maybe they were checking if he was still alive. Fools. As long as a single being existed in this universe, there existed pride. The rumbling started again. Arascus punched the wall, it did not stop this time. Two months. It took two months of Arascus’ Godstone prison shaking from that outside force and his own force from the inside before he felt it as he fell backwards. His body regenerated once again, he stood up and ran his nail along the wall. Once, twice, thrice. A smile grew on his face. He had done the impossible. Godstone was a material of magic, it should be able to regenerate itself endlessly as well as being harder than titanium. But there it was. The Godstone had a tiny crack running along it. He punched again with a strength redoubled. His arm exploded and he took a step back. The shaking had only grown in power. He took a step back again, now, the shaking was only growing stronger and stronger. Arascus strained his eyes and ears, he could see nothing in this pitch black darkness, but he did not want to miss a single moment of what was happening. There it was! He knew his mind was stable, that wasn’t a hallucination. There was another crack. And another. Another and another. He blinked for the first time in a millennia as he stood there. The God of Pride was stunned. A tiny beam of pale bright white light was beaming into the prison.