(Noah's POV)
[Clairvoyance]
I had expected a flicker of foresight… a glance at a path that may come.
But what I received—
Was a nightmare I could not wake from.
The moment the skill activated, the world around me fractured.
Not like a dream, not a gentle shift.
Like reality itself broke apart—and hurled me into the void.
[Clairvoyance: Activated]
★★★
Flames.
That was the first thing I saw.
Black and violet—twisting, roaring, alive.
It wasn't just fire. It was an unnatural hunger, a curse given form. It licked the sky, climbed towers, burned the heavens.
And I—
I stood in the middle of it all. Invisible. Untouchable. Unseen.
But I could feel it.
The blistering heat.
The choking ash.
The endless screaming.
"No…"
This was the Imperial Capital. Angelis.
And it was dying.
Stone cracked like bone under pressure. Towers groaned before collapsing in a roar of dust and shattered glass. Magic barriers fizzled and shattered like thin paper against the storm.
People were running.
Not from monsters.
From Heroes.
They wore brilliant armor once meant to inspire hope.
Now it was splattered in blood.
Their blades cut not through beasts—but through children.
Their spells scorched homes, not battlefields.
And beside them moved shadows in black robes and silver masks. Their faces unreadable, their presence unnatural. Together, they moved like a machine of death—a symphony of ruin.
"Please, no—!"
"Run, they're coming—!"
"Why are the heroes—?!"
The civilians screamed, cried, begged—
And died.
Their voices were swallowed by flame and rubble.
And above it all, as if mocking the chaos, floated the burnt remains of the Hero Association headquarters, its crest shattered and falling like snow.
Then the vision dragged me deeper.
To the heart of the storm.
To the Imperial Palace.
It was under siege.
Holy knights stood their ground, swords glowing, armor cracked.
Mages chanted desperately, channeling layered wards.
But even they—the Empire's elite—were crumbling.
And then I saw her.
Sitting atop the broken ruins of the central plaza, surrounded by bodies and scorched banners—
A throne made of shattered stone and steel.
Atop it sat a woman draped in darkness.
Her long black dress didn't shimmer. It didn't reflect light.
It devoured it.
Like the night itself clung to her, refusing to leave.
Her hair flowed down like a waterfall of shadows—long, smooth, yet wild—spilling over the sides of the throne and mixing with the ash-covered ground.
Her skin was pale. Almost… translucent.
And her eyes…
Void.
Not glowing. Not dull.
Just... empty.
As if she were a doll with a soul long extinguished.
In her hands rested a harp.
A twisted, beautiful, silver-stringed harp, its wood blackened and ancient, carved with runes no language dared translate.
Every time her fingers touched the strings, the air quivered.
Not music.
Destruction.
Every note she played unleashed a sound wave that cracked buildings, shattered glass, and turned cobblestone to dust.
It wasn't a melody.
It was a curse woven in harmony.
Strummmm...
A wave of energy rolled across the square.
A tower in the distance collapsed.
She played again.
Ting... strummm...
A dozen knights screamed and collapsed, their ears bleeding.
She was calm. Silent.
A queen on her throne of ruin.
And then—
A lone figure stepped through the flames.
Olivia.
Platinum blonde hair, dirtied with ash and sweat. Her white robes were torn, burned at the edges. Her emerald green eyes—so bright, so alive—were filled with rage and disbelief.
She stood tall, her blade in hand, divine light flickering like a wounded flame.
But her voice was strong.
"HEY!"
The woman on the throne didn't look up.
Didn't blink.
Didn't stop playing.
"Why?! Why are you doing this?!"
"Why do you people always have to come and kill innocent civilians?"
"Why can't you all live in peace?"
Still… no response.
The harp continued.
One hand.
Two fingers.
Gentle strokes of catastrophe.
Olivia's voice cracked.
"You killed them. The innocents… the children…"
Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her blade tighter.
Divine power surged around her body in violent waves.
"I won't let you continue this!"
She charged.
Her steps carved cracks in the ground, light exploding around her with every stride. Her blade glowed—blessed by the heavens, humming with divine wrath.
She raised it to strike.
Just one blow.
One moment.
But the woman on the throne…
Played three notes.
Ting.
Strum.
Thrum…
And the world shattered.
Sound rippled like a tidal wave.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't a blast.
It was deafening silence—a vibration that pulled at the soul.
Olivia screamed.
Blood poured from her eyes.
From her ears.
From her mouth.
She collapsed, shaking, her blade clattering beside her.
"No…" she whispered.
A single tear slipped from her cheek.
And still, the woman sat.
Emotionless.
And then…
The harp began to change.
Its silver strings twisted and hummed.
The wood expanded, warped, and bent.
No glow. No chant. No magic circle.
Just pure will.
The harp's frame extended. The top curled. The bottom lengthened and curved.
The strings tightened—six of them now, drawn taut like fate itself.
It was no longer a harp.
It was a bow.
A weapon made of despair.
The kind of weapon even gods would fear.
Its limbs were carved from blackened bonewood. Engraved runes shimmered along its edge like whispers from the void. The grip was wrapped in threads of silver and shadow.
It didn't need an arrow.
The woman pulled back the string—
And intent answered her.
A single black arrow manifested.
Silent.
Weightless.
So dark it looked like a wound in reality.
She aimed.
Olivia looked up, barely able to speak.
"W-Wait…"
The string snapped forward.
No flash. No noise. Just… inevitability.
The arrow pierced Olivia's neck clean.
Her divine flame flickered—
And was gone.
Now a black flame emerge and devour Olivia's body.
Ash scattered in the wind.
The woman lowered her hand.
Now the bow transformed back to harp again.
And a single tear of blood slipped from her eye.
But her expression… never changed.
Still empty.
Still hollow.
As if she hadn't killed someone.
As if she had killed everyone already—and felt nothing.
She resumed playing her harp again.
And then suddenly—
A shadow stepped into view out of nowhere.
A tall man in a black robe, face hidden beneath layers of darkness. His presence was wrong. Like the world bent around him.
He turned.
And his eyes locked onto mine.
"No—" I whispered, backing away.
He saw me.
Even though I was just an observer.
And in that moment, the vision collapsed.
Reality splintered.
And I—
Was thrown out of the world.
[Clairvoyance forcibly terminated.]
"Arghh....Haaa....haaa....haaaa,".
I sat up, choking on air.
Sweat drenched my body. My heart pounded like a war drum. My eyes stung from tears I didn't remember shedding.
"Wh-what… was that…"
I gripped the bedsheets, knuckles pale.
The flames still danced behind my eyes.
The screams still echoed.m my
And the image of Capital, Palace, Church and Olivia—
Falling, fading, gone—
It wouldn't leave me.
Was that the future?
Or a nightmare?
Was it prophecy…
Or a warning?
And most terrifying of all—
"Heroes were killing Civilians."
"Who was those Mask people?"
"Who was she?"
"Who was that Man?"
"Did he really saw me? But how?"
Now what should I do?
There are still many things I don't understand.
But before I could dwell more into it a voice broke through my tension.
"Noah~"
To be continued...