Chapter 28
City of Ragork...
The city never slept.
Even deep into the night, the streets overflowed with people of all sizes and ages, voices clashing, footsteps overlapping, life moving without pause. This was the kind of city that breathed even at birdtime.
Most people were busy working, trading, arguing, living.
Then the moon changed.
At first, it stole only a few glances. A curious look here, a raised head there. But soon, the streets slowed. Conversations died. Eyes lifted together.
The moon was wrapped in a golden sphere.
A young girl tugged at her mother's sleeve, eyes wide as she stared upward.
"Mom… is the moon turning into the sun?"
Her mother did not answer immediately. She stared at the sky, lips pressed tight, then slowly shook her head.
"No. I do not think so."
"Then what is it?" the girl asked.
The woman hesitated. She knew her daughter would not let it go without a story.
In a low, careful voice, she said, "Maybe the gods are showing their blessing to us humans."
"The gods?" the girl gasped, excitement bursting across her face. "They are up there?"
The woman nodded with a small smile.
Finally, silence.
She turned back to the sky, relieved.
Then she noticed her daughter had closed her eyes.
Her small hands were pressed together.
She was praying.
The woman smiled. Children were adorable, believing anything they were told.
The smile vanished.
A faint golden glow shimmered around the girl's body.
At first it was barely there. A trick of light. Then it brightened.
The woman's breath caught.
Her eyes widened in shock.
Without thinking, she yanked her daughter close, wrapped her in cloth, and dragged her away from the crowd. They rushed through the streets, heads down, hearts pounding, until they reached home.
Inside, the girl looked up, confused.
"Mom… why are you scared?"
The woman stared at the glow clinging to her daughter's skin. It was not just light. It sank into her, as if she were being filled with it.
Fear twisted her face.
Memories surged.
Years ago. Her childhood.
Her older sister. Her friends.
They had glowed like this too.
Then they vanished.
No bodies. No answers. No killers.
They were simply gone.
It had taken her years to bury that terror.
Now it was back.
And this time, it was her daughter.
The woman's legs gave out. She fell to the floor, clutching the girl tight.
Tears spilled.
"Do not worry," she said, her voice trembling but unbreakable. "Mom will protect you. I will not let you disappear. I promise."
The girl did not understand. But she felt the resolve in her mother's arms.
She looked past her, through the walls, as if the house no longer existed.
Her eyes found the moon, cloaked in radiant gold.
"Is it because of the golden moon?" she wondered.
She was not the only one glowing.
Across the city, more lights appeared. Soft. Golden. Growing.
Beyond the city as well.
Atop the tallest manor stood a young man.
White hair streaked with red. A cascading crimson cloak fluttered in the wind.
His eyes glowed blood red as he surveyed the city below.
Golden lights dotted the streets.
He began to count.
"One. Two. Three. Four."
His lips curled.
"Five."
Then more.
"Ten."
A sharp, malicious grin spread across his face.
"Ten blessed ones in a single city," he murmured. "How many this year, I wonder?"
He licked his lips.
"We will be busy."
His gaze hardened.
"Better to wipe them out before they spread and become a real threat."
Then he smiled again.
"And while we are at it… we might as well enjoy the flesh of a few blessed humans."
He chuckled softly.
"What an irony."
"The cursed feeding on the blessed."
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Not just in the busy city of Ragork.
The strange phenomenon of people emitting a golden glow from their bodies was spreading across all five kingdoms. Across cities. Across borders. Across the world itself.
Those who truly understood what it meant were thrown into uproar.
Because for the blessed, only two paths existed now.
Life.
Or death.
And that decision would be made in the coming days.
Days that had already begun.
Meanwhile, back at the Bulwark of the Ayde Kingdom.
An old man sat cross legged in meditation. His eyes were not closed this time. They were fixed on the moon, wrapped in its unnatural golden radiance. His expression was deep, ancient, and impossible for an ordinary person to read.
A shadow flashed.
In the next instant, a figure knelt before him.
White hair cascaded down like reflected moonlight. A dark mask covered the lower half of his face.
"You called, Great Elder?" the newcomer asked, his tone calm and controlled.
The elder did not look away from the moon. He remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking.
"Gather all Shural stationed at the Bulwark," he said. "Bronze ranks included. Even the starters. Equip them fully. Move out immediately. Locate and secure every blessed one you can find."
Ashiro frowned.
He hesitated, then spoke.
"Even the starters?" he asked. "They have not earned their first star yet. They have barely tasted real combat. Sending them out now is extremely dangerous."
The old man understood the concern. His voice softened slightly when he replied.
"They will not act alone. Each starter is to stay close to a Silver or Elite Bronze Shural. Their role is support and observation. Casualties cannot be avoided, but we will prevent heavy losses."
He finally turned his gaze.
"The demons are already moving. The faster we react, the more blessed lives we save. That will matter in the long run."
Ashiro clenched his fist, then nodded.
"I understand," he said quietly. "We will do our best."
The elder nodded once.
In the next breath, Ashiro vanished.
The old man turned back to the sky.
"The Golden Days have begun," he murmured. "The blessed humans are being revealed. Selected."
His eyes darkened.
"The demons will go mad. They will slaughter as many as they can."
He sighed.
"Everything will fall into chaos."
Blood would be spilled. Lives would be lost.
How ironic.
The Golden Days would become days of mass bloodshed.
Even more ironic were the blessed humans themselves. At this very moment, they would feel less blessed and more cursed.
Many would die.
"But," he whispered, "may the survivors be more than before."
His gaze sharpened.
"And may the golden child spoken of by the oracle finally emerge."
To be continued.