episode_0009

The city turned into pandemonium.

As the gates of Fallen, closed for decades, swung open, countless killing machines massacred the city’s inhabitants.

They wore heavy armor, and on their shoulder plates, shimmering jewels reminiscent of stars were embedded.

Wielding their swords with refined auras, they mercilessly cut down those fleeing at superhuman speeds.

Whether children, the elderly, or the sick and dying.

Everyone, except for those with tattoos on their bodies.

The Prophet’s Knights, Netzach.

Belonging to the Prophet’s Knights, symbols of justice, they eliminated unnecessary impurities with a cold, sharp justice.

***

Clink-

A man in pure white priestly robes picked up a teacup.

The Prophet, wearing a pristine white mask with no patterns or openings, savored the tea, drinking it through the mask by some unknown principle.

“Remarkable.”

Praising the tea’s flavor, he looked down at the maggots sprawled beneath him.

No, not entirely maggots.

Though they presented themselves poorly, somewhere among them, there must be a ‘Hero’ and a ‘Prophet’.

‘A Hero among such people?’

Who could it be?

And who here used ‘that magic scroll’?

A magic scroll that only those with foresight could use, passed down through generations since the Golden Age.

It was unbelievable that among these wretched-looking maggots, there was someone who knew how to use an item only Prophets could wield.

‘Well, I’ll find that out eventually.’

Lucas, the Prophet of Light, thought.

“Your Excellency, the Archon.”

At that moment, a knight approached him.

The Knight, Tiferet.

He was a commander, leading the knights of the Netzach rank.

“What is it?”

“We’ve gathered everyone with tattoos.”

“Is that so.”

“However-”

The commander hesitated.

“Just three. We haven’t subdued three yet.”

“What did you say?”

At those words, Lucas finally turned his head towards the commander.

Though his expression wasn’t visible due to the mask, he seemed to be demanding an explanation.

The middle-aged knight, sensing this, replied.

“There’s one who can use ‘cursed power’.”

“…Huh. This is a future I haven’t seen.”

Was it because another Prophet was in this city?

Perhaps his foresight was disrupted by the presence of an unknown Prophet, causing him to fail to perceive such an impurity.

But that was beside the point.

The Prophet of Light frowned at the fact that these so-called Netzach-ranked knights still hadn’t subdued a single novice.

“Even if he knows how to use cursed power, he must be a fool who doesn’t know how to use it properly, yet you still haven’t managed to subdue just one such fellow?”

“…I apologize.”

“You fools.”

As the commander bowed his head at those words, another knight soon presented a report.

“Commander-nim.”

“Have you succeeded in subduing him?”

“No, it’s not that-”

At the knight’s perplexed demeanor, as he struggled to explain, the Prophet of Light shouted, as if his patience had run out.

“Stop dithering and just explain it quickly!”

“Someone claiming to be a Prophet has appeared.”

“What?”

***

Clank- Clank-

The knights approached, their heavy armor clanking.

Two were dragging a man covered in blood, while the other two were walking on their own.

And.

……!

Looking at a white-haired woman among them, Lucas, the Prophet of Light, immediately felt a certainty as he saw her.

The brilliant power of a star contained within her soul confirmed that she was indeed the one possessing the qualities of the hero they sought.

With that certainty, the Prophet of Light’s lips stretched into a long smile beneath his mask.

Then he said.

“Kill the rest.”

The commander quietly bowed.

Swish-

At his signal, the surviving Fallen citizens with tattoos were brutally slaughtered.

“Screams-!”

“Help, please help me!”

“Waaah! Mama!”

Slice-

Thud-

In less than a minute, the remaining hundreds of Fallen citizens were massacred.

Now, the only survivors left in this city were Agape, Kara, and Roland.

The Prophet of Light, whose interest in the Fallen citizens killed by his command had long vanished, walked towards them.

Thump- thump- thump-

In the cold silence, only the sound of his footsteps could be heard.

Thump-

He stopped his steps and glanced at Kara once.

“Gasp…”

Kara, trembling with fear, lowered her head.

Soon, the Prophet of Light’s gaze turned to the blood-soaked man.

Minor scratches remained on the bodies of the knights holding the man on either side.

“How many died?”

One of the two knights answered that question.

“Three were killed.”

“Three, huh.”

Even if he hasn’t awakened, cursed power is still cursed power, is that it?

‘No.’

No matter how strong cursed power is, it’s impossible to kill three Netzach-ranked knights.

They possessed strength at least on par with aura users.

Thinking that far, the Prophet of Light instantly discerned Agape’s qualities.

‘What a waste.’

If only he hadn’t been born with a cursed fate in a cursed city, he would surely have become a legendary hero, capable of raising a new star in the heavens.

The Prophet of Light inwardly lamented the fact that such a valuable talent was born in the cursed city of Fallen.

But that was only for a moment.

Finally, his gaze turned towards the brown-haired boy.

Beneath his curly hair, brown eyes met his.

“Are you a Prophet?”

“That’s right.”

It was an immediate answer.

But the Prophet of Light still frowned, as if he didn’t understand.

“I don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t sense any divine power from you.”

That magic scroll, usable only by Prophets.

Considering the circumstances of the incident, it was clear that this brown-haired man had activated it, yet only a faint power of a star was felt, with no divine power within.

But unusually, despite the absence of divine power, his foresight didn’t work on the boy.

This meant that he too was a Prophet with foresight, just like himself.

“I will ask you exactly three questions.”

“I will answer with utmost sincerity.”

“Who carved the Ancient Star into you?”

The Ancient Star.

Also known as the Prophet’s Star.

Only Archons, the highest-ranking Prophets, had the authority to carve the Ancient Star, so most Prophets were appointed after being chosen by Archons, unless it was a truly rare case.

Unless it was a truly rare case.

“I don’t know either.”

It was sincere.

His intuition, honed from seeing countless people as an Archon, told him so.

“If I don’t sense divine power, why does my foresight not work on you?”

At those words, Roland rolled up his pants.

Then, a black scorch mark, covering his right leg up to the calf, came into view.

“Because of the cursed power, I can’t properly use the Star’s power.”

For cursed power had a repulsive force that prevented the use of Star power.

‘No. It’s a little different.’

To be precise, it’s not just a repulsive force.

Cursed power completely eradicates the ‘potential’ itself, granted to the human soul, preventing the use of Star power.

Yet, despite being eroded by such cursed power, this fellow can still use the Star’s power.

The fact that his foresight didn’t work was precisely the proof.

In other words, it meant he had inherited an exceptionally special or strong Star power.

“Then I will ask one last question.”

“Please speak.”

“What Star power did you inherit?”

Roland offered a faint smile, in a way visible only to the Prophet of Light.

As if he had anticipated those very words.

Seeing that smile, as if he saw through everything, the Prophet of Light instantly had the existence of an Ancient Star flash through his mind.

“The Moon.”

The Moon.

The Star of the first Prophet, Feanor.

Once a symbol of navigators, a star that illuminates the night where even the sun cannot shine.

As he spoke the name of that star, which stood at the apex of all Ancient Stars, the surrounding knights could not hide their astonishment.

And the same was true for the Prophet of Light.

“A lie.”

The first word he uttered was denial.

“It’s a lie. The Moon Prophet reincarnated this quickly? Surely, the previous Moon Prophet, just a few decades ago-”

“Committed suicide.”

!!!!!!

Information known to no one except Prophets, the Imperial Family, and their related house, the great Impurities family.

Publicly, it was known as a death due to old age, but Roland knew the truth as if it were natural.

But as if that wasn’t the end, Roland spoke a ‘phrase’ that was deep in the Prophet of Light’s memory.

“The stronger the light, the deeper the darkness also becomes [a proverb about the inherent balance between opposing forces].”

……!

The stronger the light, the deeper the darkness also becomes.

Clench-

Hearing those words, the Prophet of Light, no, Lucas, clenched his fist tightly.

‘Words spoken by that old man.’

Words that mocked him with a bitter smile, exposing his limitations as a Prophet.

A young man he had never seen before knew those words, which only he in this world knew, apart from that deceased old man.

This meant he had used his foresight against him.

‘The only Prophet who can use foresight against other Prophets is the Moon Prophet.’

In other words, it meant that the brown-haired boy was none other than the Moon Prophet.

But questions followed one another, leading to yet more questions.

Why had the Moon Prophet appeared in such a cursed city?

Such questions.

“What’s important now isn’t such questions.”

At Roland’s words, Lucas’s gaze returned to him.

“No matter how much a Prophet reads the future with foresight, isn’t it limited to perceiving only fragments of the vast flow of fate, unless they are the great first Prophet Feanor?”

He was right.

Originally, this place, Fallen, was once called Ember, the City of Fate.

As it was the City of Fate designed and created by Feanor himself, a flow of destiny unknown even to himself as a Prophet might have given birth to the Moon Prophet and a hero in this cursed city.

It was true, no matter how many times he thought about it.

However, separate from that, annoyance surged within him.

Even though he was clearly a different person, that young upstart was too much like the previous Moon Prophet.

From his tone of voice, to shamelessly exposing his true thoughts, and even his impudence in touching his sore spot as if it were his own home.

If he weren’t a Prophet burdened with a great cause, he would have killed that fellow long ago.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I propose a deal.”

“A deal?”

Before that, Roland shifted his gaze to the surrounding knights. It was a signal for them to create a private space for the two of them.

……

‘I don’t like it, but the words of the Moon Prophet must never be ignored.’

Although he disliked that arrogant attitude, he had no choice but to dismiss the knights.

The knights withdrew, and now only Roland and the Prophet of Light remained.

“Please spare that friend.”

At Roland’s nod, the Prophet of Light’s gaze turned to the blood-soaked, black-haired man.

“Weren’t you trying to kill him?”

“Naturally.”

He is a fellow who has not merely been eroded by cursed power, but has reached a stage where he can instinctively utilize that power.

From his position, knowing the source of that power, he couldn’t simply stand by.

“He is a man carrying the seed of what could become a great evil. Perhaps he could become an even greater evil than my worst imaginings.”

Even though he valued personal gain more than a grand cause, unlike other Prophets, he was still nominally a Prophet, and an Archon, holding the highest rank among them.

Given his position, he absolutely could not overlook a dangerous element harboring the seed of evil.

“Even if it means fulfilling your long-held desire?”

The Prophet of Light’s body stiffened on the spot.

Anger surged again as his sore spot was exposed, but Roland’s words were so tempting that he suppressed his rage with superhuman patience.

“Do you know what my long-held desire is?”

“To become the greatest, isn’t it?”

Whether as a Prophet, or as a member of your family.

The Prophet of Light, having heard the latter part, remained silent, as if prompting him to continue.

“You are the Prophet of Light. It’s like a baptismal name given to you because you possess the light attribute of divine nature.”

That’s right.

For a Prophet’s epithet is named differently according to the nature of their divinity and the characteristics of their carved star.

“And the stronger the light becomes, the deeper the darkness also becomes.”

As light grows stronger, darkness deepens.

Conversely, if there is no strong darkness, light will never grow stronger.

For the magnitude of light is proportional to darkness.

“Soon, a massive ominous cloud will loom over the continent.”

“The ominous cloud has already loomed for a long time.”

“No. I’m not talking about the Army of Death.”

The Army of Death.

It referred to an unprecedented catastrophe that had been eroding the continent for decades now.

It was also why they had dropped stars from the heavens, meticulously searching for those born with the qualities of heroes.

The endless army of corpses, originating from the capital of the old Elf Empire, was meticulously advancing and growing in strength even at this very moment.

But an ominous cloud even greater than that Army of Death would descend upon this continent?

As a Prophet who saw the future, the Prophet of Light, who had no memory of seeing such a future, easily found Roland’s words unbelievable.

“I have never seen such a future.”

“I suppose not.”

A very arrogant reply.

At that reply, the Prophet of Light’s expression furrowed.

“How arrogant.”

Even if he was the Moon Prophet, he was still a novice who hadn’t received proper training.

Even if he had inherited the great foresight of the Moon, the implication that his foresight was superior to his own, who had even risen to the rank of Archon, was simply too irritating to overlook.

But Roland said nothing.

It was as if he was saying, ‘Believe it or not, it’s up to you.’

‘No way.’

Seeing the young Prophet’s excessive arrogance, a hypothesis flashed through his mind.

A disaster that would cast a great ominous cloud over the continent.

He had not seen it.

But conversely, if the Moon Prophet had seen it-

“A Prophet.”

The true identity of the great disaster was a Prophet.

“Someone among the Prophets would become a greater disaster than the Army of Death, is that what you’re saying?”

As if to imply that speaking those words would change the future, Roland offered neither affirmation nor denial.

Instead, he asked him once more.

“Are you now inclined to make a deal?”

Roland had already secured the upper hand in negotiations.

“The dream you harbor is too extravagant for your abilities. That dream, someday, will create a massive rift within you.”

“My foresight, and my power and standing as an Archon, are all growing stronger. What more do I need to do beyond this?”

“I told you, didn’t I? The stronger the darkness, the stronger the light will also become.”

Even if an ominous cloud of the Army of Death’s magnitude looms, your limits will soon be revealed.

Therefore, I will help you.

How to survive when an immeasurable great evil is born.

And how to grow stronger from it.

With those words, Roland immediately began to recite a plan for the future, based on the future he had seen, spanning several years ahead.