Doomsday Alarm: Prophecies Really Are Useful!

"Then I'm chipping it?"

"Chip away."

"I'm really doing it!"

"...Go ahead. It's fine."

"Um... how about you do it instead? Young people are full of fire, afraid of nothing, immune to all evil. This old man is feeling a little nervous."

"I'll do it, then!"

This damned exchange was taking place right beside Dick's ears. The Commodore turned his head, too drained to even complain, and saw Governor Hutton and his adopted son Jaide "politely yielding" the chisel between them.

It was a tool of the stonemason's and jeweler's trades, its sharp end capable of chiseling raw gemstones from stone.

Besides being a formidable legendary shaman, a powerful regional governor, and the beloved father figure of the grassland orphans, Governor Hutton was also, like other Eredar who had lived through long ages, "versatile."

He was also a fairly skilled jeweler, another talent the Eredar possessed from birth.

But faced with the enormous Holy Stone before him, Governor Hutton did not dare strike the first blow. Dick had explained the preliminary plan and what these Holy Stones would be used for, but the ancient traditions of shamanism and his reverence for history made it truly difficult for him to convince himself to personally destroy an ancient Eredar relic.

After all, the four oldest elemental powers of Argus were watching. What if one strike angered them? As a shaman, he would be in for a miserable time.

The cunning old man intended to bestow that "honor" upon his promising adopted son. Jaide, the blunt and burly chief cavalry captain, snorted, took the chisel from his adoptive father, drew a deep breath, and raised it to strike.

Unfortunately, he could not bring himself to follow through.

He was afraid too.

And not merely afraid.

The finest rider of the Krokuun plains sighed and reached out to touch the Holy Stone naturally formed through the evolution of ancient elements. Its smooth surface resembled the finest crystal ore; its silky texture alone made one reluctant to harm it.

Jaide could not converse with the World Soul through touch, but he could still sense the magnificence of the power connected to this Holy Stone.

It was the World Soul that had given the Eredar the possibility of being born. By that logic, the Holy Stone before them was the "ancestor" of all Eredar.

"If we break this, we'll probably be struck down by heaven."

The true son of the plains sighed, handed the chisel back to Governor Hutton, and the father and son simply stared at each other. Everyone else watched from around them, but no one stepped forward to help. Even the Five Young Champions, brimming with courage as they were, had no intention of getting involved at this moment.

Clearly, destroying a Holy Stone placed too much mental pressure on them. Even thinking about it felt sacrilegious.

In the end, Dick could not stand it any longer.

Time was precious. There was no time to let them keep building themselves up.

He rose, carried his gem-studded warhammer forward, silently swung it up, and smashed it into the Holy Stone with a bang. The thing was valuable, but not actually very sturdy. Under Dick's monstrous strength, crystal-like shards immediately flew everywhere.

"Quick! Pick them up! Don't miss even the tiniest fragment!"

Governor Hutton shouted as excitedly as Kun, bending down to pick up several irregular shards himself before carefully blowing the dust from them. The others also hurried to retrieve the pieces that had flown away and bring them back.

Dick picked the smallest fragment from the pile and examined it before snapping it in half, reducing it to the size of a fingernail.

He held it up and waved it before Governor Hutton's eyes, then asked, "Governor Dad, if pendants were made to this standard, about how many pieces of jewelry could this Holy Stone produce in total?"

"Certainly tens of thousands. If every fragment could be properly used, it might even exceed a hundred thousand."

Governor Hutton made a rough comparison with a jeweler's precision and said, "But Krokuun does not have that many jewelers. Even counting apprentices, and working nonstop every day to polish them, it would take at least several years, perhaps even more than a decade, to make that many pendants and rings."

"What if we remove all decoration? Just combine them with crude jewelry settings in the simplest possible way."

Dick pressed on, "Skip all unnecessary finishing. Just make sure they will not break from wearing them or fighting."

"That would indeed greatly increase production speed, but these are divine artifacts. If we make them too shabby, it will make Eredar craftsmanship look disgraceful..."

Governor Hutton looked conflicted, but ultimately sighed and said, "I understand what you mean, Diakum. I will try to make a sample first, but you must also send news of this place back to the Seat of the Triumvirate as soon as possible. Whether it is the discovery of the Holy Stones, confirmation of the World Soul's existence, or the danger-sense bestowed by the World Soul that you mentioned, none of these are matters that you, a Commodore, and I, a governor, can decide in private. If this concerns the future of all Eredar, then the two Grand Executors must know immediately."

"Captain Neri has already gone to handle that."

Dick said, "Before Lord Velen and Lord Kil'jaeden arrive, we have our own work to complete."

He turned to the Five Young Champions and said, "Pick up the chisels and tools. Help the governor chisel and cut the Holy Stone fragments into suitable sizes. Jewelry-making is a talent carved into the blood and bones of the Eredar. You can all do it. Jaide, my brother, make a trip to Nathraxas Castle. Bring the craftsmen and tools from the castle back as quickly as possible."

"Got it!"

Jaide answered while gripping his elegant riding crop, then added helplessly, "But you know, Dick, ordinary people cannot cross this ridge. The elements protect this place."

"Not anymore, Jaide."

Dick glanced at the damaged Holy Stone behind him and said, "The World Soul has granted us the right and glory to resist. The ancient elements will become our companions and allies. They will no longer stop warriors whose hearts are set on battle. They may even generously share their power with us. If you intend to follow our father and become a shaman who serves the elements, then this is the best time. Ask, and the elements will answer! They, and we, must know that little time remains to prepare for this war."

Far away in Mac'Aree, at dusk in the Seat of the Triumvirate, Velen had finished handling state affairs and was attending a spontaneous gathering of believers in the Naaru Temple with his son. The Grand Executor, who had disguised himself as an ordinary person with magic, greatly enjoyed being among his people and sharing their faith. His son liked it as well.

The boy had inherited the Grand Executor's innate wisdom. Having trained in martial arts under his "adoptive father," Commander Kil'jaeden, since childhood, he was also sturdy and vigorous.

He was very sensible.

He knew his father was busy every day, so he treasured the rare leisure time he had with him.

Though still underage and not terribly interested in the Holy Light Doctrine, the boy saw his father earnestly sharing insights with fellow believers and pretended to be deeply interested as he listened beside him.

Yet compared to these dry and profound discussions of doctrine, he actually preferred hearing his father's fellow believers share stories of the warriors of the Holy Light.

For example, the currently popular storybook tale, "Holy Light Warriors Sweep Aside Cultists and Demons."

Its protagonists were Commodore Malderan and Commodore Diakum. To make it easier to spread, the priests had made a "tiny little" popularized revision to the story.

If Dick heard it, he would probably ask how old this colleague, who was apparently so valiant that he descended like the Holy Light itself and slaughtered demons with unstoppable might, was, what his title was, and where he served. Perhaps they had even worked together before?

Velen's beloved son listened with shining eyes.

He clenched his fists, utterly immersed in the thrilling demon-slaying tale. In his heart, he had already begun imagining the glorious days when he grew up and followed his adoptive father Commander Kil'jaeden's footsteps to become the most outstanding vindicator.

Velen, once an exceptional Arcane Mage, naturally noticed his son's reaction, but he did not think it was bad for a child to receive a heroic education.

After all, those stories were adaptations based on real events. This was simply part of social promotion.

Patriotic education had to be promoted, and it could never be neglected!

The Eredar authorities, having lived through the chaotic early years of the Second Co-Governance, clearly understood this principle.

But just as Velen was about to take his son to visit the Naaru in the temple, a series of indistinct visions suddenly flashed before his eyes.

The visions came with such force that Velen nearly lost control of his body for an instant. He sat down in a chair, gasping for breath, immediately alarming his beloved son.

As the son of a prophet, he had known since childhood that his father possessed the power to foresee the future. Seeing his father with his eyes tightly shut now, the boy immediately waved to the guards nearby and had them escort his father somewhere quiet.

This was a shared habit among all prophets.

They could use all kinds of methods to predict the future, but the visions represented only things that might happen. They were merely "possibilities," never facts themselves.

The difference between an exceptional prophet and a third-rate charlatan was that prophets could filter through the true and false images, make a series of judgments to determine what was most likely to happen, and organize it into prophecies others could understand.

If they indiscriminately accepted every possible future, then their careers as "prophets" would essentially be over.

The guards supported the Grand Executor out of the gathering area without disturbing anyone. Lady Ishana, the high priestess of the Naaru Temple, also hurried over, intending to send the Grand Executor to her meditation chamber.

But Velen stopped them.

Still troubled by countless visions, he said in a low voice, "This prophecy is different. I need to complete it before the Atama Crystal! I can sense that something important and dangerous is about to happen. Summon my brother! He must learn of this prophecy immediately."

"Yes, sir!"

The loyal guards immediately split into two groups.

One group escorted the prophet back to a secret chamber in the Seat of the Triumvirate, where the ancient Eredar relic, the Atama Crystal, was kept. The other set off on flying rays to find Commander Kil'jaeden and inform him of the news.

The commander should be honing his martial skills in the training grounds right now.

He lived an extremely austere life, abstaining from women and uninterested in pleasure. So much so that many of his personal guards believed Commander Kil'jaeden's only pastime was spending time with his brother Velen, while all his remaining passion was selflessly devoted to the people he loved.

Before long, Velen was brought into the relic chamber.

Rubbing his forehead as he endured the mental strain of the visions still constantly flashing before him, he leaned on his holy staff and approached the strange seven-colored crystal placed at the very heart of the Relic Hall.

It had an ancient, unadorned shape, like an unpolished chunk of raw ore.

Seven crystal clusters of different colors grew together, displaying an elegant golden ratio and symmetrical beauty. The differently colored clusters did not appear gaudy or cheap. Instead, beneath the light, every angle revealed a different refracted spectrum.

Kil'jaeden had once remarked that it resembled a crown...

Yet the story of the Atama Crystal remained somewhat obscure even in this age. For instance, Primordial Sorcerer Augure had discovered it in the mountains of Mac'Aree and used it to tame the elemental powers of ancient times, but aside from Augure, later Arcane Mages had no idea how to use it.

Every method had been tried, yet the Atama Crystal never responded.

Until one day a thousand years ago, when Velen accidentally activated the crystal under the guidance of a prophecy. A brilliant beam shot into the heavens for seven days and nights. When its light faded, two Naaru arrived in the world of Argus amid the radiance of the Holy Light and remained there to teach the Eredar its enlightenment.

According to the Naaru, the Atama Crystal was connected to their race.

But even they could not determine whether the crystal originated from the ancient and powerful primordial Naaru. The only certainty was that the Atama Crystal's potential had not been fully unleashed. It was capable of even greater things.

The reason Velen had come before the relic crystal to complete his prophecy was that it possessed the unusual ability to amplify prophecies.

Beside the crystal, the chaotic visions in Velen's mind were quickly reorganized, helping him sort and interpret them.

For the profession of a prophet, one that depended greatly on mysticism, the Atama Crystal truly was an invaluable aid.

When Kil'jaeden arrived wearing ceremonial armor, Velen's prophecy in the Relic Hall had already continued for a full hour, yet showed no sign of ending.

Having known Velen for thousands of years, Kil'jaeden realized that today's prophecy was anything but ordinary.

Though Velen was the greatest prophet in Eredar history and often spent a long time interpreting and explaining his prophecies, the initial stage of perception rarely took this long to complete.

Perhaps, like the world-sweeping plague they had encountered thousands of years ago, this was a "great prophecy" that would affect the future of Eredar civilization.

It left Kil'jaeden deeply unsettled.

He reached out and touched the forehead of Velen's equally worried son, then pushed open the doors to the Relic Hall. He gestured for the others to remain outside while he went in alone to check on Velen.

What he saw within the Relic Hall exceeded Kil'jaeden's expectations.

Velen sat before the Atama Crystal with one hand touching the relic. Its strange glow projected everything he saw and heard in the form of visions, like a badly edited, chaotic film. Kil'jaeden looked up at the visions tormenting his brother.

He saw endless demons marching across a world corrupted into an ink-green hell of lava.

He saw a burning giant crossing the sea of stars.

He saw the surface of Argus set ablaze, countless Eredar meeting annihilation in despair.

Finally, he saw himself...

A version of himself like a red monster sat upon a grim skull throne. His scarred body, covered in fel pustules, had become the form of a true demon. His wings closed behind him like hideous Bat Wings, and his monstrous claws lightly tapped against the scorching throne.

Before him, countless Clan members who had become fallen Man'ari fanatically cried out his name.

"Deceiver!"

They shouted in unison.

Like millions of voices gathering into a demonic cacophony that pierced the ears.

"No..."

The sight struck Kil'jaeden deeply.

He was a steadfast warrior, but after witnessing one possible version of his future, he felt only absurdity and fury.

That monster who ruled over destruction could not be him!

"Ah!"

Velen screamed at that moment, and Kil'jaeden immediately rushed forward to support his brother, whose eyes were bleeding.

Before he could ask anything, the two of them saw the visions above the Atama Crystal converge. That dark, colossal figure, like a god of destruction, suddenly appeared. As though it had devoured all light in that instant, it stood before them and cast its sinister shadow over them.

Against the backdrop of blazing fel fire, they could not even see the terrifying being's face or body. They could see only a pair of eyes filled with brutality and destruction, yet incomparably resolute.

They had seen Him through the prophecy. Naturally, He had seen them as well.

"Argus..."

A deep voice sounded from the vision.

The instant it echoed, Kil'jaeden and Velen beside him felt as though they had been cast into a hell of molten lava. Endless stellar heat surged toward them as illusory flames.

Kil'jaeden's first reaction was to shield his brother with his body.

But this was only a vision.

Their bodies suffered no injury, but even a brief spiritual contact through prophecy was enough to burn them.

The Grand Executors of the Eredar raised their heads amid the blazing vision of flames that seemed ready to incinerate the world. The god of destruction before them was fading away, but He had already delivered His final "prophecy."

"In thirty sunrises, I shall arrive. After thirty sunsets, there will be only submission."

Boom

The scorching vision of destruction vanished completely in that instant.

The light and shadow that seemed capable of burning all things became nothing, leaving only the shaken Kil'jaeden and Velen, blood still flowing from his eyes, in the quiet Relic Hall.

The two brothers remained silent, but they could hear each other's hearts pounding endlessly with fear and rage.

"Is... is this real?"

Kil'jaeden helped Velen to his feet and asked in a low voice, "Is this also one possible future?"

"No, my brother."

Velen wiped the blood from beneath his eyes and said hoarsely, "This is not a prophecy. This is a declaration! A declaration from doomsday. He is the 'Benefactor' spoken of by the Enlightened, and the Dark Titan Diakum spoke of, who commands the demonic army that will destroy the world. He has given us His final declaration. He and His army of destruction have already set out. Thirty days... It is not that they cannot arrive sooner. They have merely given us our final time to surrender and called it 'mercy.'"

"But why would He appear in your prophecy?"

Kil'jaeden said in a low voice:

"This has never happened before. I've never even heard of it."

"Because the prophecy involved Him, Kil'jaeden. He is the Lord of Destruction who stands above all things, the true god who walks among the stars. Not even fate can bind Him. He sensed that information about Him would appear in this prophecy, so He 'came here in person.'"

Velen sighed.

"Diakum's warning was right. You and I both underestimated the force behind the Awakeners' Cult. I do not believe such an existence would issue a thirty-day declaration of doom merely as a threat. My brother, I do not know how long we need to prepare, but He has given us only a pitiful thirty days."

"I will never..."

Kil'jaeden roared through gritted teeth:

"I will never hand over my world and my people to a god of destruction! Nor will I allow myself to end up in such a lowly, ridiculous state!"

"What did you see?"

Velen looked at his brother in surprise. Kil'jaeden did not hide it.

He trusted Velen as much as he trusted himself, and told him of the "Deceiver's vision" he had seen. Velen immediately gripped Kil'jaeden's hand and said solemnly:

"Do not believe it! Do not doubt yourself because of it! And do not let it breed fear and rage in your heart, my brother. It is merely a trick of the dark god. He wants to use it to break your mind."

"Of course. I will not give Him what He wants."

Kil'jaeden nodded. Just as he was about to ask Velen for more details about the prophecy, he suddenly heard Talgas calling anxiously from outside the door:

"Grand Executors, the Assassin Court's informants have sent back news! Governor Hutton and Commodore Diakum found the legendary Holy Stone deep within the Petrified Forest. Commodore Diakum met with the World Soul, and he said that the World Soul issued him a warning.

The evil god of destruction known as the 'Dark Titan,' along with His endless demon spawn, is approaching Argus!"

"What?"

Kil'jaeden's face changed drastically.

He strode out of the Relic Hall to hear Talgas's report.

Velen, his eyes bloodshot, fell several paces behind his brother. Yet the way he looked at Kil'jaeden was filled with an indescribable sorrow.

He had seen other scenes in the prophecy.

Every depiction and outline of the future had included him, yet his most trusted brother was no longer by his side.

Not a single one had him there!

Combined with the vision Kil'jaeden had just seen, that perhaps meant...

No!

Velen clenched his staff.

He made a silent decision. Even though he, as a prophet, had long learned to follow fate, this time he would not allow the dark future to capture and take away his brother.

He would fight it!

He would fight this unbearably heavy future with everything he had.

Leaning on the Staff of the Naaru, Velen left the Relic Hall.

Outside, Talgas was describing the message Captain Neri had sent back. Every detail was thorough; there was even detailed feedback regarding something like the "blessing of the World Will."

The more Kil'jaeden and Velen heard, the grimmer they became. The horrifying things they had just seen were enough to make them draw unsettling connections to these events.

"Captain Neri said that Commodore Diakum told her the Dark Titan's target is our World Soul!"

Talgas said solemnly:

"Therefore, if the Eredar do not intend to bow before the demons and offer up our world, then the only choice left to us is a war in which we fight as defenders."

"This is of great importance. We must go there ourselves."

Kil'jaeden clenched his fist and said to Talgas:

"Arrange for the Teleportation Court to prepare the teleportation immediately. Grand Executor Velen and I will go investigate in person."

"Yes, sir!"