The Herald's wings stretched wider—wide enough to blot out half the horizon.
When it moved, the clouds above twisted as if space itself were being folded and pulled apart.
The capital shook again—this time not from footsteps, but from pressure.
An invisible weight pressed on the world, making air harder to breathe.
The Saints trembled.
One fell to his knees, gripping his chest.
Another staggered backward, gasping.
"This pressure… it's like the gravity is changing!"
Eris stepped forward, unaffected.
The relic beside him spun faster, its seven faces flaring with rainbow fire.
High above, the Herald bent its massive head—its face a smooth, mirror-like surface reflecting no light, no emotion, no features.
Yet everyone could feel its attention.
It was watching the capital.
It was searching.
And it had already found what it wanted.
Eris.
A spear of distorted light formed in the Herald's hand—its edges flickering like torn fabric.
The Saints panicked.
"It's preparing an attack!"
"We must retreat—Eris, we must defend the citizens!"
"A Herald's strike will wipe out half the capital!"
Eris lifted a hand.
The Saints fell silent.
He didn't take a battle stance.
He didn't gather energy.
He simply looked up—steady, unshaken.
The relic drifted forward, placing itself between Eris and the sky.
A hum rose—a pure, clear tone that silenced every scream, every tremor.
In response, the Herald raised its arm.
The glowing spear crackled with unstable energy, bending the very air around it.
Then—
It threw the spear.
The world blurred.
Air ignited.
A blinding line of distorted reality tore toward the city at impossible speed.
People screamed.
Children covered their heads.
Soldiers shielded civilians instinctively.
But before it hit—
SHRRRRRNNNNG!!
A seven-colored barrier exploded outward from the relic, expanding like a blooming flower of light.
The spear struck it—
—and the city vanished in white.
For a moment, everyone felt weightless.
Sound faded.
Time stopped.
When the light cleared, the barrier still stood—cracked, trembling—but unbroken.
The spear had dissolved against it.
The Saints gasped in awe.
"He blocked a Herald's strike…"
"That shouldn't be possible…"
"The boy shouldn't have power like this…"
Eris stepped forward again, calm.
The Herald, far in the mountains, froze.
Its mirror-face shifted slightly, as though reassessing the target.
A pause.
A low, echoing resonance rolled across the sky—
like a distant choir speaking through stone.
BOOOOM—OOORRRM—OOOORRRR…
The Herald extended both arms now.
Wings unfolded further.
Mountains crumbled beneath them.
It wasn't attacking.
It was descending.
It began to float toward the capital, moving slower than any creature but with a presence that made the world feel too small to contain it.
Land cracked.
Forests died instantly.
Clouds peeled away from its form like dust brushed from a statue.
The Saints stumbled backward.
"We cannot fight that…"
"There's no strategy for this—no formation—no spell—nothing…"
"We must evacuate the entire region!"
Eris kept walking, step by step, until he stood at the very front of the plaza—right at the edge of the first marble stair.
The relic hovered beside him, whirring with rising intensity.
One of the Saints cried out:
"Eris! It isn't too late—fall back!"
But Eris didn't move.
He whispered:
"The capital cannot fall today."
Then, without looking back, he added:
"And I don't need you to protect me."
The Herald's shadow finally reached the capital walls—
a colossal darkness that stretched across a hundred streets.
Wind roared.
Pressure crushed stone.
Towers cracked.
As the Herald lowered itself into full view, its mirror-face gleamed—
and a single, hollow whisper slid into everyone's minds:
"Descendant…"
The relic trembled violently.
Eris lifted his head.
"I hear you."
The Herald extended a hand toward him…
…and the ground beneath the capital split open.