Chapter 36: Thousand Heavenly Piercings
The sky over the Valley was unusually clear that morning. It was the kind of blue that seemed almost painted on, too perfect, too gentle. There was no wind, no birdsong, not even the usual scent of moss and blood that had become familiar over the months of war.
Herald stood amongst the five thousand troops of Eudenia, flanked by soldiers from Calvados and Liberal. All of them, men and women alike, had begun to believe—foolishly, perhaps—that this would be the beginning of the end. The enemy was on the retreat, or so the scouts had said. Supplies were coming in regular. Letters from home arrived more often. Peace had started to feel real.
Herald stood in the second line, his sword hanging loose at his side. The blade was chipped and dulled, a veteran’s weapon. Beside him, Narell cleaned his rifle’s scope, muttering a prayer. Lio stood on the other side, chewing on dried meat. Even in stillness, the men and women of the Allied Army kept a sense of motion. It was a quiet anticipation, the calm that came before either peace or death.
And then everything changed.
A crack split the silence, not from the earth but from the sky. It wasn’t thunder. It was something else. The clouds, though none had been there began to swirl, churning in wide spirals like a whirlpool in the heavens. The blue was ripped apart, replaced by a shimmering tear in the sky, a jagged scar of pale white light.
From that tear descended a man. At first glance, one might have mistaken him for a fallen god or some forgotten celestial angel. He wore nothing but pale silver cloth that seemed to shift like water, and his long white hair floated around him like it had never been subjected to gravity. His eyes were the strangest thing: blank, crystalline, like they hadn’t yet decided what color to be. His skin had an ivory sheen, not quite human, not quite divine. He didn’t walk—he floated. Hovering a few feet above the field, he tilted his head, almost childlike, as if confused by where he had arrived.
The entire Allied force went still.
No one raised their weapons. No one moved. Even the generals, even the steel-hearted veterans, simply stared. Something about the man, his presence froze them. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was an ancient, primal confusion, like looking upon something that didn’t belong.
The man looked down at his hands, flexed his fingers, then looked around the field.
"What is this place?" he said softly.
Herald felt his stomach twist. The voice was gentle, but hollow. Not emotionless, even worse, he was unaware.
The man raised his hand toward the sky and pointed one finger upward. A ripple of mana burst from the gesture. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t even visible at first, but those attuned to mana felt it immediately. Herald’s skin prickled. The general of Eudenia, a hard-nosed man, barked an order.