Rotell had been incredibly stressed recently.
Ever since that day, she felt like shadows followed her around wherever she went. Sometimes it was subtle, just a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, but at other times, it was more direct, like something attacking her while she and her guards rested.
Whoever was targeting her was either a lunatic with too much money or someone trying to wear her down.
She sighed, dark circles already forming under her eyes.
Looking to her side, she found Arthur and Elena walking calmly, surrounded by a small group of guards and a few maids.
Everyone was dressed in festive clothing, the kind that was meant for celebration, rather than fighting.
They had come out to enjoy the night, to forget the weight of the calamities and politics for a few hours.
Rotell glanced at Arthur.
Staying near this little shrimp had its advantages. As a hero with future sight, he could predict ambushes and traps before they happened. She knew his limitations, he couldn't tell her exactly what he saw, but that didn't stop him from nudging her out of danger wherever possible.
If he was just a little bit older, she might actually start to feel something for him.
Her thoughts drifted to the marriage her father had arranged.
Slowly, she was beginning to accept it. After all, she didn't want to be locked in the castle for the rest of her life. If she followed Arthur, perhaps she could finally leave the Cross Continent and explore the vast world outside.
"Hey, do you guys have any plans before the third calamity? I mean, obviously after the second one," Elena asked, her eyes scanning the lively streets.
The night street was alive, like the market street during the day, just brighter, and more vibrant. Lanterns of every color swung in the gentle night breeze, casting flickering patterns on the marble stone road. Music and laughter echoed from every corner, and the smell of roasting meats and sweet pastries filled the air.
Arthur shook his head. "I just want to spend a year studying at the Royal Academy of Magic. It should help me."
Elena rolled her eyes. "How does it work? You can't just look ahead, right? You actually have to do what you see, otherwise it doesn't count or something?"
Elena was genuinely interested in how his ability worked.
Arthur snorted. He refused to answer anything about his ability, not because he couldn't, but because he didn't want to. He could talk about his limitations, but not the actual events of whatever he saw. Even if others guessed, that didn't mean he would explain. And yes, Elena was correct, if he wanted to see his own future, he had to physically do the actions he foresaw. Thinking about something and changing it on a whim was impossible. Once he glimpsed the future, he was locked in. He had long stopped looking at his own future for this very reason, terrified of seeing something he didn't want to.
Arthur changed the subject, looking at Rotell. "What are the Hellion Empire's plans? You sold a few tickets to leave the continent, does that mean that you're planning to set sail early this time?"
Rotell nodded. "After I passed the information to my Imperial father, he immediately chose to send representatives to the surrounding continents to prepare. Although the Sky Tower has already spread some of the information, he wants to make long-term preparations."
Elena snorted from the side. "Don't forget about your third sister! I heard she's marrying into my maternal family! What's up with that?"
Rotell blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"
Elena grinned slyly. "You don't know? My father was an explorer. He scooped me up and brought me to the Cross Continent for an adventure. I'm not originally from here."
Rotell's interest was piqued. "The Evergreen Town Lord?"
Elena nodded.
Rotell frowned. "How did you go from one of the most prestigious families in the world to a small-town girl in the middle of the forest? Is your father crazy?"
Elena burst out laughing. "It's a lot safer than a family like the Grasswinds. Did you know they change young masters about every two years? That's how competitive they are."
Rotell looked away, quieting down. "I don't know much about my third sister's marriage."
Elena shrugged. "Me neither." That was a lie. Rolilly's marriage was going to be a huge pain in the ass, but Elena didn't have the energy to deal with it right now.
"Hey!" a sudden voice called. Elena and the others turned to see Kilemin approaching, dressed as festively as everybody else.
After joining them for a stroll, he asked, "Since we're all gathered, what do you guys think about the next Calamity?"
Arthur pursed his lips. "It's not going to be good. I suspect it will be more severe than the first one."
Elena sighed. "There's not enough time to evacuate the western region, even if we wanted to."
Rotell frowned. "How were they able to divine it? Divination shouldn't work for the Calamities, right?"
Kilemin shook his head. "It's not that divination doesn't work. It's just harder to pull certain events out of the chaotic web that makes up the future. For the second Calamity, we already had a lot of information, which made it easier to divine. Even with what we know, they could still only narrow it down to three possibilities."
Elena nodded. "It's really just logic, mostly. That's why the second Calamity could be touched with divination."
Rotell furrowed her brows. "You mean it can be divined because it's not a secret?"
"Yes," Kilemin said. "Information is key in divination. The more you know, the more accurate it becomes. That's why some powerful people avoid appearing too much, they don't want their information to be used against them."
Rotell suddenly realized that the three heroes walking down the street with her were all far more knowledgeable about divination than she had assumed. A chill ran down her spine. She hesitated, then asked, "Can you… see my future?"
Elena and Kilemin exchanged looks, and Arthur remained silent.
"Why are you all so quiet? Am I going to die?!"
"Idiot," Kilemin spat.
Elena shook her head. "It's never a good idea to know your own future. Changing something that's already been observed is incredibly difficult. It's a kind of observer effect. If a random stranger tells you, 'You'll die in seven days,' you can ignore them. But if a real diviner gives you that information, things become… complicated."
Rotell asked timidly, "Then… will I at least live past the fifth Calamity?"
Kilemin ignored her, but Arthur and Elena both nodded.
Rotell exhaled slowly, finally able to relax a little.
The night streets stretched around them, alive with colorful lanterns and bustling festivities.
Stalls sold everything from roasted meats of all kinds to glittering trinkets from all around the continent. Children darted between the adults, laughing as acrobats performed on ropes strung between buildings. Magical lights floated above the crowd, forming shapes of dragons and phoenixes that swooped through the air in magnificent dances.
A street performer had gathered a crowd near a fountain, juggling flaming torches while spinning in midair, leaving trails of white light in the darkness. Another performer balanced on a tall unicycle, tossing knives that narrowly missed his assistant's head, drawing gasps and cheers.
Nearby, a small puppet theater showed a miniature retelling of the last Calamity, the tiny figures moving with astonishing realism. A musician played a string that shimmered with a faint magical glow, the notes echoing like wind through the lantern-lit streets.
For a moment, Rotell allowed herself to forget the weight of the world, the looming Calamities, and even her father's plans.
Walking among friends, guards, and strangers, she felt a tiny spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she could survive, and even enjoy the life that lay ahead…
* * *
Same street, another place.
Snuggled between the countless street stalls was a small and simple candy stand.
Behind it stood a small green-haired girl with a bright and sweet smile, Petra.
She worked quietly with a few beast maids to help her on the side, their ears twitching as they passed out wrapped sweets to patiently awaiting customers. Petra handed a colorful candy stick to the man in front of her, accepted his silver coins, and sent him off with a polite wave.
The line moved forward.
Next up was a teen dragonoid girl with big, hungry eyes that shimmered with an innate kindness. Petra smiled at the half-blood dragon. She looked around fourteen, too young to be reasonable, but too big to be a child. She was at 'that age.'
The girl leaned over the counter, her nose twitching slightly as she looked through the display of colorful treats. Rows of crystalized fruits, sugar glass animals, and brightly weaved sticks gleamed under the lantern light. Finally, she pointed to one of the options on the board.
"That one," she said.
Petra nodded and got to work.
She grabbed a blob of warm orange candy from the small pot beside her, its surface glowing softly under the heat with a strange spirit. With skillful little hands, she began to shape it by stretching, molding, and blowing through a thin glass tube as if she were making tiny art.
Slowly, the piece of candy began to take the form of a fist sized candy dragon, its wings flared, and its tail curled around the stick like it was ready to breathe fire at any moment. It was an eastern dragon, a slight oddity in this world.
The dragonoid girl's eyes widened with interest.
As Petra worked, the dragonoid girl found herself studying the strange little green-haired girl more closely.
There was something odd about her. A feeling, it was faint, but it made her scales itch. She found it difficult to pin down, but she felt… This girl… she felt a bit like those lunatics from back home, but there was something off about her, like she wasn't quite the same.
The copper girl's eyes snaped to Petra's head, where she found little protrusions that weren't quite yet something that could be called horns.
They were too underdeveloped, which made it even weirder. They should have at least broken through their casings at that age, so she immediately assumed that Petra was extremely underdeveloped and malnourished. In addition, without the horns, she found it almost impossible to guess Petra's species.
"You're a dragon," she muttered to herself. "But what kind…?" she asked out loud.
When Petra finally finished, she proudly held out the candy dragon for inspection.
She exchanged the treat for a few silver coins, smiling brightly.
Then the copper girl asked, "Little girl, which clan are you from?"
Petra froze. "Huh?"
"You're a dragon, right? Where are you from?"
That question… she didn't even have an answer herself.
"I don't know," Petra admitted after a shy pause. "I'm an orphan from the north. I think I'm an Emerald Dragon though… probably… maybe?"
The copper dragon tilted her head, squinting at her like she was trying to see something hidden under her skin.
"You don't feel like an Emerald Dragon," she said faintly.
Petra blinked. "What does an Emerald Dragon feel like?"
The girl shrugged. "I don't know. Just… not like you."
For a while, neither spoke. The crowd moved around them, the sound of laughter and music from nearby performers filled the air. Bubbles of light floated overhead as magicians amused children with tiny illusions.
The copper dragon eventually pulled over a small stool and sat to the side of Petra's stand, watching as the girl continued to make candy for the next customer.
Petra didn't mind.
Neither did the beast girls.
After a while, the two started to talk again quietly about the dragon clan.
And as the festival's noise faded into the background, the night carried their quiet voices away, mixing them with the sound of laughter.
* * *
In another part of the street, a dark figure was staggering through the outer areas of the crowd.
He moved quickly, blending into the flow of people, making sure never to stray too far from the larger groups. Every few seconds, he would glance over his shoulder, his black eyes flickering.
This large figure was Gallion, the bald demon from before.
He had seen better days.
His face was burned, stained with dried blood and dust. His breathing came in shallow bursts, and his movements were heavy, but his eyes were still sharp.
He, like all the others, had survived worse.
Unlike most of the other Demon Commanders, Gallion had failed to escape the city.
For the past few days, he had been constantly on the move. The Church of Light was everywhere, like a pack of hunting dogs. He barely had time to rest, much less heal.
He probably cursed more times in the past day then he had in his entire life.
He had already realized that the city was silently sealed off. No one could leave without a full inspection. Even with his disguise and suppressed aura, he couldn't risk approaching the city gates, much less the city wall. One slip, one detection spell, one anti magic wave, and he'd be done for.
He didn't know if Petik was alive, but he was sure about Raina. She had fought with one of those winged monsters, one with eight wings! There was no way she survived! Even if she did, she was probably just a hollow shell.
As for the old man… Gallion could only assume he had escaped. That one was slippery after living for so long.
Gallion's pace slowed suddenly.
His head tilted slightly, and his nostrils flared powerfully.
A familiar scent drifted through the air.
Raina?
Impossible!
His muscles tensed, his eyes darting through the crowd. The scent was faint but unmistakable. It was impossible, yet it was still there.
He froze for several seconds, torn between logic and instinct. It could be a trap, no, it was a trap. The Church might have set this up, knowing he would come. But if it wasn't…
If it really was her, then this was the opportunity he desperately needed.
He clenched his teeth and began to move, quicker this time, slipping through the crowd like a large shadow.
* * *
Meanwhile, In another part of the street, the crowd parted unconsciously for a small procession.
One of the male angels walked in front, flanked by two priests and a single armored paladin. The angel's pale wings were hidden beneath a long white cloak, his golden eyes scanning through the masses. He walked with precision, slipping through the packed crowd like the wind.
Behind him, one of the priests read aloud from a parchment.
"Three captured in the lower quarter, two confirmed dead. The rest… still missing."
"So it really is the fifteen remaining Demon Commanders," the paladin said, voice laced with disdain. "They've fallen so far. It's almost sad."
"It can't be helped," the angel replied without looking back. His tone was cold and ethereal. "Without a king to unite them, they can only rot into oblivion."
"Still," the paladin said, shaking his head, "I can't believe it's true. Nodaba was locked in the Sky Tower all this time. How did he even get here?"
"It's because of the High Elf's," one of the priests said. "The Sky Tower was built on top of something that contained a prison. If the barriers weakened, even a little, someone could have slipped through. Luckily humans came to the Cross Continent just in time and reinforced it."
A younger priest spoke up from the back, nervous but curious. "But how did they intend to break him out? They had to know we were here, right?. They must still have a plan, right?"
The angel gave a sharp look over his shoulder. "That's exactly why we must find the remaining demons quickly. We can't allow them to regroup."
The paladin nodded grimly. "He used the crowd as cover to escape. If this was the holy land, we could just cleave through everyone, Tsk."
"You know they won't let us do that," one priest muttered.
The paladin scoffed. "The old man from the Sky Tower isn't as heartless as people think."
The angel said nothing. His gaze had suddenly shifted toward the far side of the street. His golden pupils contracted sharply. For a second, he looked confused, then he rubbed his eyes, almost as if he was uncertain of what he had seen.
The others noticed.
"My lord," one of the priests asked softly, "is there something there?"
The angel didn't answer right away. His wings twitched faintly beneath the cloak. The halo above his head started to spin slightly faster. "Did you not feel that?"
The paladin frowned. "Feel what?"
"It was faint," the angel said slowly, his voice low, "but it was… not a demon."
The paladin looked around. "There's nothing, my lord."
"I felt it," another voice said quietly.
They turned.
The Demon Hunter, cloaked and silent, stepped forward from behind. His expression was emotionless, almost inhuman, but his hand rested lightly on the hilt of his pure white blade.
"You felt a flicker of an extremely dark power, correct?" the hunter confirmed.
The angel narrowed his eyes, then nodded. "So I'm not imagining it."
The Demon Hunter's tone was grave. "That was Chaos, my lord. There can be nothing else."
For a moment, none of them spoke. The festival lights flickered ominously overhead, and the faint hum of distant laughter seemed to fade as the world darkened slightly.
The angel stared in the direction of that lingering darkness.
His instincts screamed at him to move. He didn't know what he would find there, but he had a feeling it wasn't tied to the demons.
"Troublesome…!"
Without another word, he turned and began walking in the exact opposite direction of Petra's stall.
* * *