Ch:29 – Presage
Year 5014, Day 10 of the Moon Season.
Far to the north of Lumen Kingdom, within the towering cathedral of white stone and stained glass, she stood at the center of a battlefield.
The Saintess vivid green eyes trembled.
The sky churned like a wounded beast, clouds spiraling in violent rings above a burning horizon. The air reeked of burnt wood and ash. Bells tolled in the distance, no, not bells. Wails. They echoed from every direction.
Before her, the capital of Lumen, her sanctuary, her goddess’s blessed land, was drowning in flames. The streets flowed red like rivers. Nobles in silk and peasants in rags alike were trampled beneath merciless ugly and green feet.
Three million souls.
She felt them.
Each life extinguished was a needle driven into her heart.
And then she saw them.
An ocean of countless figures in pitch-dark armor advanced in peculiar random shaped formations. Their presence alone swallowed sound. No clashing metal, no battle cries, only the oppressive march of annihilation.
Above them fluttered green flags stitched with a sigil she could not decipher, yet somehow understood.
'Danger.'
Against this threat, the knights of Lumen charged in radiant armor blessed by the light element: only to be crushed, torn apart, reduced to broken dolls beneath black and violet nails. Arrows and magic rained from watch towers and the top of walls.
It clashed against the invaders as though striking stone. But they were just too many.
Her breath caught.
She turned her head to the side something ominous pulling her. There, atop a mound of corpses, stood something watching her.
A helm shaped like a crown of thorns. Eyes glowing faintly through slits of darkness.
It was a huge goblin lord who wielded an even bigger axe with thick green fingers.
And behind that figure, an army that did not end.
A force vast enough to swallow nations.
A single thought burrowed into her mind: 'This is not a war.'
The ground split forcing cathedral pillars to shatter and fall.
'This is...'
A green rugged hand, massive, armored, merciless, reached toward her.
And in that instant, three million voices cried out at once.
She screamed.
She jolted upright.
The nightmare shattered like glass.
Cold air filled her lungs in ragged gasps. Sweat drenched her body; the linen sheets were twisted in her fists as though she had been fighting for her life.
The door burst open.
“Saintess!? I heard—!”
Koto stood at the threshold, blade half-drawn, eyes scanning for assassins.
But there were none.
Only her breathing while sweat flowed down her beautiful and mature face. He could see how she shook but at least he was able to relax, for no harm had come for her.
The church room was silent. Moonlight filtered through colored glass, painting her in fragments of blue and crimson.
She forced air into her lungs. “It was… a premonition.”
Koto’s posture stiffened. “I will wait outside.”
He left without another word.
Once alone, she pressed trembling fingers against her chest.
She could still feel the three million deaths.
This was no ordinary nightmare.
The Goddess had never shown her something so vast and horrifying.
She rose slowly from the bed, casting aside her brown night garments. White robes flowed over her slender frame like falling snow, the fabric luminous against her green hair. As she fastened the sash, her reflection stared back from the polished mirror.
“If this is truly fate…” she whispered, voice barely audible. “…then may the Goddess descend herself.”
When they entered the Pope’s chamber, the air was thick with incense and authority.
Kraus, tall, skeletal, wrapped in immaculate white, rose from his chair like a drawn spear.
“What has transpired?”
She did not sit. “Our kingdom will be destroyed.”
The words fell like a verdict freezing the room as if an ice mage has used a skill.
Kraus’ fingers tightened on the brim of his papal hat. “how could this be? Just who?”
The memory surged back the endless black tide, the emerald banners. “An army clad in black armor… carrying green flags.”
Silence.
Koto shifted slightly toward the northern window, ensuring no ears dared linger.
“If such a force exists,” he said carefully, “it could be the demon race. The holy book speaks of dark armor.”
“No,” she replied. Her voice was steady now. “It was worse.”
The warmth around her began to rise, mana pooling unconsciously at her feet. Even Kraus felt the subtle pressure of divinity pressing against his bones.
“They will come in ten years,” she continued. “In one of the warm seasons.”
Kraus’ expression paled.
Year 5014, Day 90 of the Moon Season.
The grand council chamber was silent as a mausoleum.
At the long stone table sat the pillars of Lumen’s power: the king, the Saintess, and seven heads of the Rose households. Each ruler commanded one-eighth of the kingdom’s territory, and each bore five enchanted rings marking their lineage and authority.
Yet today, that outstanding status that carried power felt small.
The doors opened for the Saintess to enter.
The bishops followed, white robes marked by green octagrams, shields gleaming under torchlight.
Mana radiated from her naturally, gently, warmly, suffocating in its purity. Even hardened nobles felt sweat gather at their temples.
King Lark Lumen inclined his head.
“Welcome, Serenity.”
She seated herself opposite him.
Formalities were unnecessary when discussing extinction.
“My visions have grown more frequent.”
All eyes were fixed upon her.
No one dared interrupt.
“My first vision showed the fall of Lumen. A black-armored army beneath green flags.”
Murmurs rippled.
“Green flags?” Eliane asked.
“There are records,” Serenity continued. “Two centuries ago, before the 499th Hero Summoning Ritual… a Level 100 Goblin King led an invasion under green banners.”
The temperature seemed to drop.
Even Alfred, the kingdom’s greatest swordsman, narrowed his eyes.
“Level 100… with an army?”
“Yes.”
“And this time?” Ryu asked quietly.
Her gaze sharpened.
“This time, it feels stronger. The goblins looked... different. I think they evolved?”
The room understood. If the same being had survived two centuries... It would not have stagnated. It would have gotten stronger and wiser.
“I saw only devastation,” she said. “No heroes capable of beating it. No divine message.”
The implication struck harder than any blade.
The Goddess had been silent for too long without delivering a proper celestial message.
The nobles began speaking about mobilization, fortifications, southern borders, and evacuation strategies.
Then Zylph proposed abandoning the outskirts.
Angelica’s fist shattered the stillness against stone, not willing to abandon civilians.
Steel flashed to her throat in a heartbeat by one of the royal guards.
Tension ignited.
“Enough,” the king commanded.
Serenity closed her eyes briefly.
In the depths of her memory, she saw once more the crowned figure standing atop corpses.
Those red vile eyes that watched her.
She opened her eyes unwilling to give up and lose.