Monarch of Darkness, Arsene

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With Zariels departure, the cool sensation of this void rippled with silence. Leaving only the sounds of my breathing and the echoes of footsteps, I proceeded along the transparent bridge of darkness when an indescribable cold seized my soul.

Pausing my footsteps, I glanced around with alarm, but only the glow of Luna seemed to fill my sights. No matter how much I pushed out my soul to see the unseen, the only thing that lay before me was darkness.

Summoning the Spear of Pestilence, my breathing stilled while a flicker of scarlet skimmed over my eyes.

"Aegis, what is this? This place. Why does it feel like no one has been here before." I sounded looking for answers. I had wanted to ask, but Zariel had distracted me.

"I do not know; once you entered the temple, you only needed to follow the path, and you should have found the throne, but this is different. Far different from what I foresaw." Said Aegis. "Be on guard. This place is strong with an ancient force."

Standing firmly, with my spear pointed to the ground, I continued. However, a cold within my soul continued to eat at my will. Despite my soul defense, devouring most of this force, I was defenseless. Nevertheless, my footsteps never stopped. Not with my recovery, the Path of Abyssal Night granted me.

I tempered my mind with this mysterious force, allowing my soul to burn with a cold flame of hellfire. My mind fell into the path of Form II, and a bloodlust tarnished by the blood of Heaven and Hell flowed without restriction. Within the Holy Swords, I was forced to hold back. Compelled to hide my bloodlust, my intent, but not here. Not within Noctem. I did not need to pretend.

I had killed many. So many I had lost count, but the cravings had always remained—the hunger not for death and destruction. But instead, the scarlet red that flows endlessly through my veins.

My lips rose with the pulsing of my soul, rippling with the flow of Abyssal Night. My footsteps came to a steady halt, and the ground beneath my feet dissipated into a mist. And from that mist came a mirrored lake. Shimming like the coming dawn, a wave of heavenly qi crashed over my flesh, pushing me back a couple of feet.

Darkening my vision with such force, the Qi of Abyssal Night slithered from my pores; I stood still and cold, readying my spear, with the tip pointed towards my target, holding a spear with an elegant silver cross guard near the blade, stained a foreboding black. Its wielder stood absolutely stunning under the glow of Lunafreya. Her hair was neatly folded into braids at the sides over loose curly silver hair. Her eyes were sharp, sharper than any eyes I had ever seen, cutting my heart with her piercing gaze. In contrast, her lips were an apple red that cascaded down into a frown.

"Arsene Snow," she said, her voice elegant and graceful, with nodes of the laws of darkness mixed in, "I am the Guardian of Noctem, the Myriad God of Nocturne."

Not allowing my guard to drop at the icy aura emanating with frigid grace, I spoke, "A simple name will suffice."

Serene as ever, she nodded, "I was warned about that tongue of yours."

"Tenebrae?" I asked, but she shook her head.

"Lunafraya," She corrected, narrowing her phoenix eyes. "My name is Zilya, a Knight of Twilight."

"Am I supposed to know what that means?" I asked, but she only shook her head.

"No, the knowledge you were granted regarding Noctem would not cover the inner mechanics of religions or organizations. The Knights of Twilight are a part of the Order of Lunafreya," Zilya said, "We study both: Forms I and Form V to the level of Paragon.

"HuH? I thought Paragon was a battle prowess?"

Zilya sighed, "many things have changed since the days of Zariel, many things indeed. What do you think it means to be a Paragon?"

Pondering her words for a moment, I found myself without an answer. I had just assumed it was a battle prowess and nothing else. The way everyone spoke of it simply made it seem like I just needed to be strong.

Hearing my answer of silence, Lady Zilya spoke, "It means to be perfect in mind, body, heart, soul, technique, to be the incarnation of perfection. Your brother, Zariel Snow, had chosen one of the most dangerous Mortal Dao's to master till eventually, he fell into its madness."

"Its madness?" I repeated.

Zilya nodded. "All who have chosen the Dao of Perfection as their Mortal Dao have all gone insane. Most of them end up killing themselves by carving their bodies to pieces, peeling their skin from their bodies in disgust. They did everything in their power to reforge themselves, till all that was left was madness. Because there is only one truth to perfection, and that is Imperfection is Perfection. What others see as perfect might be imperfect to you."

Finally, understanding it meant to be a paragon, shock filled my soul. To be perfect? In everything? Is that even possible?

I hastily shook my head and regained focus. Now was not the time to be distracted. A monster like this is undoubtedly at Paragon, and her spear is ready for battle. I needed to grasp her intent. For now, it doesn't seem like she is here to kill me.

"Are you done with questions?" She asked patiently; no trace of intent, much less scorn, was audible in her tone, only that iciness that seemed to originate from her comprehension of the laws.

"Not really. Are you here to stop me from reaching the throne?" I could not help but ask.

Glancing up at the moon, Zilya shook her head, "I am here to judge you, to see if you have the potential to be the next King. To free me from my confines," she said. "I need to see if you have the potential to be a Paragon and to make sure you don't die when you enter Iluthath."

"I killed Elder gods already; what more could you—"

"Your cunning can only take you so far." She said, cutting me short. "I have seen many lose their way. And as you are now, if something big doesn't happen, you are dead. You are not a control type like your brother, but that doesn't mean you cannot learn another form. I will test your metal, gauge your limit, and break you down."

"I didn't come here to be trained." I coldly informed, tightening my grip around my spear, brimming with a deadly pestilence."

"Next time you speak, use your Devil's Heart. Tempt my soul, tempt my mind. They are two separate entities. Do not forget that." Zilya said sharply. "You are embarrassing all devils heart users by not doing so."

"You're ignoring me."

'Correct. I don't answer to stupid statements."