Ultimate Spin System: Ero Spin?-Chapter 120 - A World Set In Motion

Meanwhile, Across the Great Kingdoms of Elyzareth...

Draconis Dominion – The Storm of Equilibrium

In the heart of the Draconis Dominion, where towering peaks scraped the heavens and dragonkin ruled alongside humans, the Primordial Order struck. They descended upon the sacred city of Agaranth, home to the most revered seers of Arvail, the Keeper of Equilibrium.

But they were not unchallenged.

A lone figure stood at the gates of the Skyward Spire, the highest temple of Arvail. Grandmaster Alden Stormvale, the Arbiter of Fate, met them with unyielding resolve. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Alden, marked by Arvail’s divine gift, wielded the Stormveil Oath, an ability that allowed him to manipulate the very essence of balance. With a single gesture, he invoked Judgment Gale, a storm infused with both light and shadow, forcing the zealots of the Primordial Order into a stalemate they could not escape.

"Fools," Alden’s voice rang like thunder. "Arvail does not demand stagnation, nor does he permit blind fanaticism. If you claim to serve balance, then understand it first!"

Lightning crackled in his grasp, a fusion of light and darkness intertwining. The zealots, unprepared for a force that perfectly mirrored their own, faltered, their attack unraveling under the power of true balance.

By dawn, the Primordial Order had withdrawn from Draconis Dominion.

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Celestia Theocracy – The Wrath of Creation

In the divine capital of Elyndria, where floating cathedrals and radiant gardens flourished under the sacred light of Vaelora, the Mother of Creation, the Primordial Order made their move.

They struck with righteous fervor, claiming the city had "fallen into indulgence," that the miracles of life were a violation of natural order.

But against them stood High Priestess Elenai Verdantia, the Voice of Growth, and the might of Celestia’s Paladins.

With a wave of her hand, Elenai called upon Verdant Renewal, summoning massive vines that erupted from the marble streets, entwining the invaders in unbreakable, regenerative roots. The more they struggled, the more nature reclaimed them.

"You come to purge creation?" Elenai’s voice resonated through the grand cathedral halls. "Then be swallowed by it!"

Golden radiance burst from her staff, Rebirth’s Aegis, amplifying the life force of her surroundings. Even the dead earth beneath the invaders bloomed, rejecting their very presence.

The Primordial Order, unable to counter the relentless vitality of Vaelora’s will, fled Celestia Theocracy.

Oblivion Empire – The Evolution of Progress

In the vast, sprawling expanse of the Oblivion Empire, towering spires of metal and glass reached for the sky, their surfaces no longer tainted by the thick industrial smog that had once drowned the land in perpetual twilight. For centuries, the world had misunderstood them, believing them to be practitioners of shadowy magic—when in reality, their power stemmed from something far more tangible.

Dark Matter Energy.

A force unlike any other, harvested and harnessed for technological advancement. Yet, for the longest time, it had been imperfect, unstable, giving birth to the eerie black fog that once enveloped the empire’s cities and cast unnatural shadows across its streets. Those who did not understand its nature whispered of cursed magic, abyssal corruption, and forbidden sorcery.

But that was the past.

Over the last century, scientists, engineers, and scholars had perfected their energy systems. The blackened skies of Oblivion had cleared, and the once-toxic lands now thrived with controlled ecosystems. Cities gleamed with ethereal light, powered by clean Dark Matter Reactors, their emissions no longer a byproduct of ruin, but a beacon of advancement.

And yet, despite their progress, the world still saw them as a heretical, godless nation.

So when the Primordial Order descended upon the empire, it was no surprise.

They came, clad in divine armor, believing they had arrived to purge a kingdom of darkness. They chanted hymns of judgment, declaring the people of Oblivion blasphemers for rejecting the gods, for relying on their own knowledge instead of divine blessings.

They believed they were fighting against sorcery and corruption.

What they found instead was innovation and steel.

The Battle of Vaelthorn

The zealots marched upon Vaelthorn, one of Oblivion’s central research cities. They expected a battlefield of warlocks and abyssal cultists.

What they found was a city of engineers, scientists, and mechanized guardians.

At the forefront of Oblivion’s defenses stood Lord Chancellor Veyron Stahl, a man with no divine blessing—only a mind sharpened by knowledge and an iron will forged in the fires of progress. Clad in his Echelon Exo-Frame, a high-powered combat suit enhanced by stabilized Dark Matter energy, he watched the zealots approach with cold calculation.

As they raised their weapons, preparing to smite the "heretics," Veyron simply sighed.

"Every century, you come knocking," he muttered, activating his comm-link. "Bring the sentinels online."

With a single command, Vaelthorn came to life.

Sleek, towering Oblivion Sentinels—autonomous humanoid machines powered by refined Dark Matter cores—stepped forward in perfect synchronization, their energy shields humming. The city’s defense turrets activated, their plasma batteries locking onto the intruders.

The Primordial Order charged, their faith unwavering.

They expected magic.

They expected corruption.

They did not expect Dark Matter Blades slicing through divine shields, or kinetic railguns tearing through enchanted armor with ruthless efficiency.

Their spells, meant to purify darkness, had no effect—because there was no darkness to cleanse. The technology of Oblivion was not magic, but pure, raw science.

Veyron himself descended onto the battlefield, his etheric thrusters propelling him forward as he slammed his energy-enhanced gauntlet into the earth. A shockwave of force sent zealots sprawling, their divine protections meaningless against the sheer brute force of physics.

"You’re centuries behind," Veyron muttered, watching as the zealots faltered, confusion in their eyes.

For the first time, the Primordial Order hesitated.

Their teachings had prepared them to face necromancers, warlocks, and divine power.

They had not prepared for an empire that had evolved beyond the need for gods.

Realizing their mistake—realizing that Oblivion was not what they had been led to believe—they did the only thing they could.

They fled.

As the last of them disappeared beyond the horizon, Veyron removed his helmet, running a hand through his graying hair. He turned to his engineers and officers, who stood watching from the upper terraces of Vaelthorn.

"Increase production," he said flatly. "If they come back, I want them to see what real progress looks like."

Above him, the once-dark skies of Oblivion remained clear and unmarred, its cities thriving not through divine will, but through the boundless power of human ingenuity.