The "Golden Age" did not end with a scream; it ended with a census.
In the sun-drenched spires of the Aurelian Court, the math of the Soul-Light was being replaced by a more terrifying calculation. The birth records were undeniable: the white hair was winning. Every union between a gilded Aurelian and a salt-skinned Revenant resulted in a Child of the Descent. There were no golden throwbacks. No "pure" Aurelian blood could survive the genetic bone density of the First Descent.
The fear began in the birthing wards. Aurelian mothers, whose bodies were built for the graceful channeling of mana, suffered under the heavy physical toll of the Revenant line. Infants, even in the womb, possessed a physical strength that fractured Aurelian bones. To the Court, these were no longer just children; they were Superweapons with a Soul.
Discrimination blossomed in the silence. Once viewed as "Valuable," the Revenants were now whispered of as parasites. By the summer of Year 106, the Edict of Purity was signed. Anyone bearing the "Mark of the Breach"—the bone-white hair—was removed. They were rounded up and escorted to the borders, back to the iron-and-shadow halls of the original Revenant compound. The Aurelians had decided that their kin were now a plague.
Year 169: The Witchcraft of the Exiled
Sixty-three years of isolation turned the Revenants’ grief into an industrial masterpiece. At the base of the old Zenith, they achieved the impossible: the synthesis of Gears and Grace. They integrated the Soul-Light into their machines, using Intent as a fuel source. To the Aurelians, this was not science; it was Witchcraft.
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From floating observation posts, the Mages watched the Revenants construct a massive, circular structure of humming alloy. They saw the violet sparks—the color of the Great Descent—and their paranoia turned to fever.
"They are building a weapon to erase us," the Council declared.
In reality, the Revenants were simply trying to finish what Commander Eris Thorne had started. They were building a Door. They didn't want the Otherworld; they wanted the "coffin" they called home. They did not know that the Earth they yearned for was already gasping its final breath.
The first strike came from the sky—a rain of Amber Gold artillery. The Aurelians attacked with the intent to annihilate, but they hit a wall of absolute density.
The battlefield was a study in how the Soul-Light dictated the behavior of the Footmen, even those who could not cast a single spell:
- Red-Eyed Vanguards: On both sides, those in the "Red State" acted as berserkers. They abandoned all defense for maximum physical output, leading the charge with suicidal ferocity.
- Amber Gold Duty: The rank-and-file held the line with sustained durability, their eyes burning with the focus of professional soldiers.
- Blue-Eyed Reserves: Those in the "Blue State" were held in the rear. Their intent was preservation; they were the precision units and the last line of defense, ready to retreat or snipe if the line broke.
The Revenants, however, fought with a heavy, sorrowful restraint. Their ancestors had spent a century believing they had "No Neighbors." Even with fire falling from the sky, their instinct was to protect the "Portal Opener," not to conquer. They could have crushed the Gilded Legion with their hybrid weapons, but they waited for a gap in the madness to simply... leave.
The Mages, unable to break the Revenant lines, retreated in traumatized awe. They realized they had stepped on a Wyvern’s Tail. They rebranded their former friends as Dragonspawn—a mutation to be contained, chained, and eventually, harvested.
The "Golden Age" was dead.