Void Disciple Diabolos of the Sun (#6783)

Owner: 0xF9Ef…0b5A

Void Disciple Diabolos of The Sun

In the age when the Barren Lands of Sun Haven lay untouched, a band of companions wandered from dungeon to dungeon, weaving tales of victory and treasure. Among them rose a dream—one sparked by a friend’s vision—to breathe life into the wastelands.

The barren earth was shaped into havens, and its bounty was shared with the needy. Thus, the Guild of Earniverse was forged—a fellowship where every soul earned their keep, and only the smallest tithe was taken. In Sun Haven, the Barren Lands were multiplied, bending reality to fit more lives into a single space.

But fate is a cruel scribe.
The one who dreamed it all learned that his own lifeforce was under siege by the pale sickness—leukemia. The healers spoke: the rite of surgery could not wait. And so, with no choice left, he offered all six sanctuaries for trade, decreeing that a quarter of their earnings be channeled to him, that his days might yet be extended.

The dream cracked. The income that sustained many fell away. Yet the guildmates knew—this sacrifice was for more than gold; it was for life itself.

From the ashes of the sanctuaries, from the very remnants of land and gold, a wizard arose. Cloaked in shadow, yet bearing the name of the Sun, he was bound to the cycle of endings and beginnings.

They called him the Void Disciple Diabolos of The Sun—a Death Eater who did not destroy for greed, but to preserve what truly mattered.

For the Sun was the memory of his lands.
And the visage of the Death Eater was the mark of the cause for which they were lost.

Ritual: Rite of the Barren Flame

By the Sun that once shone upon my lands,
By the Void that claimed them in shadow,
I call forth the Barren Flame.
Let what is false wither,
Let what is needed remain.
I am the Disciple of endings—
And the harbinger of what must endure.

Prophecy of Return

When the lands once barren breathe again,
And the needy walk unburdened under the Sun,
The Disciple shall rise from shadow.
His flame shall burn neither for gold nor conquest,
But to cleanse the rot that festers unseen.

Beware the mask, for it hides the face of mercy.
Beware the Sun, for its light can scorch as well as warm.

In the twilight of empires,
The Void shall open its mouth,
And through it, the last light of the Sun shall pass—
To judge the worthy,
And to end the rest.