Chapter 41: Chapter 39: Visions
John and Vincent huddled together, their pupils reflecting the nimbus light emitted from the ancient scrolls. Fragile amid their fingertips, these scrolls were more than relics; they were the heritage, the knowledge of their dear friend Eron K.Arisato.
Eron, a paradigm of knowledge within the boundaries of time and matter, had now seemingly vanished. Yet, his enlightenments were still spiraling brilliantly on the scrolls, a beacon in that melancholic ambiance.
Nearby, their girlfriends, Alexandria and Angelica, were seeing the world through digital lenses. The room echoed with the video feed of their favorite YouTubers, Markiplier and JackSepticEye. Their laughter danced around the elaborate tales and quirky jokes ventilated by these internet idols, juxtaposing against the grave atmosphere around the ancient texts.
But the primary task was far beyond these ephemeral joys. The foreboding dangers that lurked in a world unseen required immediate attention. The mission was not to defeat a known enemy; it was about deciphering the identity of the malevolent force itself.
John gripped Vincent's arm suddenly, his eyes glazed as if peering into a void. Vincent, startled at first, soon joined him in the venture. Their consciousness swirled in unison, navigating a dreadful odyssey that could alter humanity's fate. A cognizance erupted, embracing moments within their minds, incidents strung across the threads of their shared vision.
Returning to the scrolls, John and Vincent's brows furrowed in concentration. As they read about monstrous enemies and epic battles, a sudden vision overcame both of them - a vision charred with fire, stained by loss, but also bearing a shimmering hint of hope.
This vision was not just revealing - it was prophetic. It was the compass, the roadmap, direction to an enemy that prowled within the darkest corners of existence, an enemy emerging not from their darkest fears but from the deepest and most unfrequented part of the Russian forest.
That's where they saw it - a shard of a portal pulsating with an almost unseen ferocity, like an erratic heartbeat. It erupted in volatile energy, revealing an unprecedented enemy that could make the staunchest Arisato warrior shiver with dread.
They were called the 'Restless Ghouls'.
Returning to the scrolls, John and Vincent's brows furrowed in concentration. As they read about monstrous enemies and epic battles, a sudden vision overcame both of them - a vision charred with fire, stained by loss, but also bearing a shimmering hint of hope.
As the vision came to a close, their heartbeats erratic and eyes wide, they were suddenly brought back to reality by the concerned faces of their girlfriends. Alexandria and Angelica had paused their discussion mid-sentence, the men's pained expressions worrying them deeply.
Still shaken by the vision, John started, "We saw the potential downfall of Europe." Vincent added, "But also, a sliver of hope on how to save humanity." They explained the appearance of the restless ghouls and the danger they presented, both their faces hardened with the decision that had already made, they had to face this threat.
As they prepared to leave, they were bathed in the worried concern of their beloveds. Yet, they knew their destinies were calling to them, their vision a beacon in the night they were bound to follow. Farewells exchanged and hearts heavy with uncertainty, they ventured towards their destiny.
Many miles away, nestled in the deepest part of a Russian forest, the prophecy was beginning to unfurl. A portal, as ancient as time itself, erupted. From its depths emerged the ghoulish nightmare - a terror so raw, it brought fear and anger in the Arisato Clan, a fearsome breed of evil. Armed with high creativity and malevolent intentions, these entities had been kept in check for centuries in the eerie seclusion of the portal. Now that they had been unleashed, the prophecy was proving true.
They were the Restless Ghouls, creatures stripped of physical matter yet brimming with a thirst to harvest life. Their energies feeding off fear and pandemonium, their existence only known through whispered legends in Arisato clan's stories.
It lay on John, Vincent, and the knowledge they had gleaned from Eron's scrolls to halt the ghoul's destructive march. As they journeyed towards the impending menace, they knew the odds were stacked against them. They would be challenging not only their destiny but also the lives of countless individuals.
Yet, the Restless Ghouls were not foes to be underestimated, nor the challenges they would present. But one lesson echoed loudly from the teachings of Eron K.Arisato - 'In knowledge, there laid their power.' Their quest to eradicate the unstoppable force had just begun. As they sat in the dim-lit room, their story was just unfolding. A story written across the dimensions of courage, fierceness, loyalty, and the invincible will and strength of the human spirit.
(Next Day)
Vincent and John strutted into the prestigious hall of the United Nations Conference. The presidents of Europe and high-ranking military officers of various countries, along with members from myriad guilds, had rallied for this crucial gathering. Their countenances, laced with apprehension, reflected the grim reality that the conclave had been summoned for—the rapid descent of Europe into darkness.
John took to the podium, his bearing that of a man prepared to unleash stormy news. He addressed the delegation about 'The Restless Ghouls,' not the kind of zombies put forth by contemporary fiction, nor those of folklore. Far stronger, intelligent, and deadlier, these were mutants with soulless eyes, devoid of pupils. They brought with them a horrifying plague, capable of driving a sane man to utter madness, eventually transforming him into one of them. They were reaping vessels for Mind Worms, parasites entwining with dead human neurons, controlling them, or rather, puppeteering them.
The auditorium was instantly suffused with gasps and murmurs of sudden stark horror. But the worst was yet to come. The Restless Ghouls, according to the brothers, were orchestrating a grand cataclysm—an opening of a portal to an unimaginable dimension.
The hall erupted into chaos, with leaders demanding immediate capture and execution of the unearthly tormentors. Vincent interjected, his voice like a soothing balm on rattled nerves. He proposed 'Exodus,' a strategic operation focused on the evacuation of civilians while the military and warriors from different guilds gear up to defend their respective nations.
Just as the participants were slowly beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation, a man, half out of breath, burst into the room. He reported spine-chilling news—the Restless Ghouls had launched an attack near the borders of Belarus and Ukraine.
In the ensuing pandemonium, John, struck with an intense premonition, clutched his head. John was not a mere war strategist; he was also the vessel of eerily accurate visions, a prescience that was now imparting another revelation. This time, the prophecy was of an individual, one single man who would be instrumental in tipping the balance of the future—a beacon of hope, a savior of Europe and humanity. He would face the diabolical mastermind controlling the Restless Ghouls.
Vincent, sensing his brother's distress, rushed to John, who explained, in hushed tones, his vision. The news shook Vincent, but it also instilled in him a renewed resolve. Only the brothers shared this knowledge, a secret burdened with the tremendous responsibility of identifying and aiding the foreseen savior.
The conference, that started with an eerie report about Europe's impending doom, had morphed into an epic saga of an approaching savior, shrouded in mystery. For Vincent and John, the battle had just begun—their plight was not only to defend Europe's borders but also to guide its destiny.
In the ensuing weeks, the two brothers' tale would become a prophecy of hope, a call towards unity, and an outright war cry against impending darkness. The fate of all humanity had been beseeched upon one man, the savior, and while the darkness was yet to descend fully, the spark of optimism gleamed within everyone, a testament to humanity's indefatigable spirit. The savior, the destiny of Europe, remained unknown, but within each heart echoed the sound of perseverance, of hope, and of an unwavering trust in a brighter future.
The story of the 'Exodus' had just begun to unfold.
In the heartland of Europe, an ominous storm was brewing. Fevered murmurs swept across nations like wildfire, stoking a terror that threatened to engulf the world. A lethal disease had infiltrated the human race, one so deadly it was said to demolish not only physical health but the very spirit. Chaos was looming, and humanity stood on the precipice of anarchy.
Amid the turmoil, one calm centre held steady at Marseille, France. John, an obscure figure within the high-strung government, had transformed this maritime city into a beacon of stability. From his command center overlooking the city, he watched with piercing eyes as thousands of European citizens thronged the Marseille docks, a human tide in search of refuge.
Behind him, the soft tread of familiar soles. The shadowy figure of the French president materialized amidst the flurry of activity in the command centre. "Why are we evacuating, John?" The president's voice carried a whiff of disbelief. "Why are we sending them away, leaving our cities to be defended by only the military and a handful of guild warriors?"
John barely glanced at the president; his gaze lingered on the sea of civilians huddled at the port. "Because," he started, his tone solemn, deliberate, "this disease lays a siege not on our bodies, but our spirits. It gnaws away at the moral fabric of our soldiers and saps them of the will to fight. It will fracture us from within, paving the path for downfall."
"If we are to maintain the fighting spirit of our troops, we need to protect our people, our families. They are our strength, our insignia of humanity. They need to be safeguarded away from the tainted frontlines," he concluded, finally turning to meet the eyes of the French head of state.
A shadow of understanding flickered in the president's eyes, swiftly replaced with steely determination. But his voice rang with uncertainty as he regretfully intoned, "John, it will be a tremendous task to gather the pieces to rebuild a shattered Europe. Our counterparts are chafing under the strain - their anger is palpable. I fear this decision may flare up tempers, leading to deeper divides."
John's response was swift and terse, a cold hard statement of fact rather than a threat. "If they do not heed these warnings, they will find themselves facing an enemy far more powerful than they can ever comprehend." He gestured towards the disease-engulfed lands beyond the safe enclave of Marseille.
With this chilling statement hanging heavy in the air, he returned his attention to the civilians—men, women and children alike—escaping the impending doom. His mission was clear, and his decision unshakeable. The human spirit was not a bargaining chip in this game of survival; it was the very essence that held them together against the onslaught of apocalypse. And he vowed to guard it at all costs.
After that, the President left to focus his work. As the President was leaving, John stare at the man's retreating form. He couldn't help but sense something dread that may happened, not knowing what kind of obstacle they might face.
As John descend from the cliff, he was greeted by his brother Vincent. Who was standing and looking at the people who were waiting at the ships to pick them up, saw the fear and sadness that was looming the atmosphere. John knew that this is the best way for them to flee from danger.
Now they turn their attention to the soldiers that were mixed by military and guild warriors the guild warriors came from the Guild Chosen Civil Defense and The Legion of Carpe Sun they formed into a 10 Army Division with the help from their Western Allies. Some 514th Infantry Division and also some from Guilds of Chose Civil and the Legion of Carpe Sun joined together to form 3 Divisions and now, their mission is to intercept the Restless Ghouls' advance.
In the heart of Marseilles, under the cloudy skies, the presence of a looming tension could be felt. Dread and Fear. As the last of the civilians were evacuated to safety on the huge container ships anchored in the harbor, there was a sea of hardened faces preparing for war.
From across the European continent, soldiers had arrived, delegated to stand against the impending threat. Their banners fluttered in the early evening wind, each carrying a distinct emblazonment of their respective units. The most eye-catching were the Chosen Civil Defense with their silver and teal banner, and the Legion of Carpe Sun, resplendent in gold and crimson.
Amongst this intricate tapestry of soldiers from different races, religions and ways of life was John. Standing, he surveyed the battlements, his magic surging with anticipation.
Among the trove of soldiers, one individual caught his attention: a seemingly ordinary soldier from the one of the 3 Division Groups. Yet, there was something ethereal about this soldier. An invisible aura of resilience and drastic courage enfolded them. Sensing the immense battle spirit, John felt a sudden surge of optimism. It was as if the soldier was embodying the untamed will and endurance needed to warm the dread chilled hearts on the battlefield. John made a mental note. This person, whoever they were, had a vital role to play against the demonic foe they faced - the Restless Ghouls.
Eventually, the remaining soldiers were dismissed, each returning to their respective sentry locations. But not before John muttered a quiet prayer for their safe return.
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