Chương 14: Preparation against War (2)
"In a few hours, this place will soon turn into a battlefield"
There was a tension that abruptly silenced the people's laughter, as Seon began her announcement.
A mother clutched her child to her chest, murmuring a silent prayer.
Nearby, an older man scoffed, with a slight of worries edged in his gaze, as he folded his arms slightly.
While others exchange a look of fear and disbelief.
They all knew the truth: War would never leave this place undone, no matter how much they tried to pretend they were deaf and blind.
It had been once Ortos who laid this announcement, and now Seon, their supposed prophet; eventually confirming it is inevitable.
Seon paused, feeling the mood in the room become heavier and much more gloomy.
Just then, the all-too-familiar system message appeared in her vision, flashing in a blue frame, she had come to loathe.
___________________________
[ System:
Protect the Abandoned Village
Reward: 200 Arcana Points]
___________________________
Seon clicked her tongue in annoyance.
'That damned system again.'
She hated how it always seemed to steer her toward the path of some divine savior, as if she had no control over her own fate.
Every time it appeared, it reminded her of her connection to the Gods, the ones she despised. The role of the "Left Eye of God" was something she never wanted.
Although she wanted to help these villagers... seeing that system makes her somewhat think again.
"The hell with being a savior! The hell being a prophet!" she accidentally shouted, her frustration spilling over. "Waking up with these cursed visions is already annoying enough! I'd rather be a villain than accept this damned fate!"
The room turned quiet, as Seon realized her outburst wasn't just a rant in her head— she ended up saying it out aloud.
Every eye was fixed on her, each dread emotions like wildfire.
Feeling hopeless—
"There's no more hope in this world"
"Even the Prophet gave up"
"Grandma, I'm coming soon ah"
"…"
What would they do?
When the supposed-to-be prophet and savior openly told everyone she was unwilling to do something in their village.
Wasn't that the only reason they even tried to do a forbidden ritual? Just to see if they can summon the 'Prophet'?
Seon fell silent, a scoff escaping her lips.
"I didn't say I'd save you."
"What do you think I am? Some kind of savior?"
"Do you really think anyone would want to wake up one day and be told they have to save the world?"
"Forget about being a savior! If you want to survive, you'll need to grit your teeth and do it yourselves."
"Praying to the gods won't change a thing. They'll only watch and feel pity as you fall."
Her words struck hard, and she could see it in their faces—some were hurt, others enraged.
A mother's eyes filled with tears as she hugged her son close, and a young man clenched his fists, glaring at his ground. An elderly woman, stooped and frail, whispered bitterly, "So even the Prophet turns her back."
Seon felt her jaw tighten. Have I been too harsh? The thought nagged at her, but pride held her tongue.
She took a breath as if to soften her tone for her next words.
Just then, Ortos stepped forward.
"Prophet, you're right," Ortos replied holding his staff firm, however, one may notice how his legs were shaking.
"Maybe it is selfish of us to put the village's burden on you."
Ortos looked around at the crowd before finishing his words. "But this is our home. If we do our best to survive… can we manage?"
Seon let out a slow breath, grudgingly, she gave a small nod.
"I'm not that heartless." She glanced at their helpless faces. "Since you're so lost, I'll lend you a hand. But don't expect me to hold it the whole way."
***
On the other side…
A wind swept over the desert hillside, carrying with it a biting chill. Under the darkened sky, not a single star dared to shine.
A flag emblazoned with a lion devouring a crown whipped in the breeze.
Below, a man clad in full silver armor stood on the hillside, his gaze fixed on the distant village nestled in the valley.
With an expression of 'confidence', he turned slowly, his eyes settling on the figure beside him—a young girl with blonde hair, her appearance strikingly childlike.
"What did you smell?" The armored man asked.
The girl, holding a yellow rose delicately between her fingers, closed her eyes before opening them, revealing a pair of red eyes.
Her lips curled into smile, showing her small but sharp fangs.
"I smelled a chariot just a while ago," she replied in a sing-song tone. "A strong one, But his scent just faded… Now in that village remained a high priestess. Though its only a small sprout for now."
"It seems the chariot abandoned the village after sensing our presence. "
The man nodded, seemingly unbothered by her description. "I see" he muttered before raising his voice. "Well then, no problem." His hand gripped the hilt of his sword tightly and he looked over his shoulder at the assembled soldiers.
"Soldiers! Ready your swords. Do not spare a single person."
"For the Ducato Teresa!" They shouted in unison, a battle cry ringing as they marched forward.
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