The minister sat cross-legged in the center of the sacred hall, eyes shut tight. Threads of psychic energy wrapped around his forehead as he used his rare telepathic gift—one that let him peer through the fabric of time. He reached out to the past, tracing the horrific events that had unfolded in Ausweritch five days ago.
But something was wrong.
Suddenly, the air grew cold. His breath hitched.
Inside the vision—within the memory itself—Lucas turned his head.
And looked directly at him.
With murder in his eyes.
"I know you're watching me… Meriot," Lucas growled, his voice cutting like a blade through the vision. "You're next."
The minister gasped and fell backward, eyes wide in terror.
"I-It can't be… Impossible!" he screamed, scrambling away like a man possessed.
Everyone in the royal chamber—King Alexander, Queen Yulene, and the young Prince Judas—stared in alarm.
"What is it?! What did you see?!" the king demanded, grabbing the minister by his robe and shaking him.
The minister's body trembled violently. "L-Lucas… He saw me. He saw me in the past! That's not supposed to be possible!" he stammered.
"Explain! What exactly did you witness?!" the king shouted.
The minister's eyes rolled back slightly, sweat pouring down his temples. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as the mental strain took its toll.
He choked, spat out blood, and managed to whisper, "M-Meriot… is next. Two days, my lord… He's coming in two days…"
His body collapsed from exhaustion, and soldiers rushed to carry him away.
The queen cried out, her voice cracking, "No… Not our Meriot… What will become of our people? What will happen to Judas? He's still just a baby…"
King Alexander clenched his fists, staring out the window toward the horizon. "I know… but we have no other choice. We must prepare for war… even if it's against a demon who calls himself a god. We worshipped him—trusted him—and now he's turned against us. It was all a lie!"
He slammed his fist into the wall, a crack running through the stone.
That same night, the order was given. The Kingdom of Meriot would prepare for battle.
---
Two Days Later – Battlefield Outside Meriot
A fierce wind howled across the desert plains. The sun vanished behind a thick wall of sand kicked up by the storm. Standing at the front lines, King Alexander sat atop his majestic white horse, sword sheathed and eyes sharp.
"Men! Be ready!" he shouted, scanning the horizon.
From within the swirling sand, four shadows emerged. Ominous and slow. Their shapes slowly became clear through the storm, like monsters waking from a nightmare.
The king gritted his teeth. "CHARGE!!"
The ground shook as the army surged forward.
But before they could clash—
One of the four enemies raised his spear toward the sky.
Dark clouds gathered almost instantly. A bolt of lightning crashed down from the heavens, obliterating a third of Meriot's army in an instant. Screams echoed as charred bodies collapsed to the ground.
A second figure, larger than the rest, stepped forward. He lifted a massive war hammer and smashed it into the earth. The ground cracked open like paper, splitting wide and swallowing soldiers whole. Their screams disappeared into the abyss.
Despite the horror, King Alexander rode forward with twenty of his most elite knights. Among them was Wing, the kingdom's blessed swordsman.
But something strange happened.
Their horses—normally fearless—refused to move. Their legs trembled and collapsed beneath them.
"What the hell's going on?!" one of the knights shouted.
Then another man pointed to the sky. "L-Look! Up there!!"
A figure floated above them.
A young man—handsome, chest bare beneath a flowing kimono—descended from the heavens. Light broke through the sandstorm behind him, forming an almost divine halo. He spread his arms, as if welcoming all beneath him to his world.
It was Lucas.
The Meriot soldiers felt a strange mix of fear and hope. Some even bowed, seeing him as a god.
Lucas landed with eerie grace, walking toward them with his hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable.
"Please… Save us," one of the knights begged, crawling forward.
King Alexander met Lucas's gaze. "Please… we surrender. I beg you, have mercy. Spare us…"
Lucas stopped.
He raised a single finger and pointed directly at the king.
A terrifying force swept through the air. The king's soul was yanked from his body in an instant, sucked into Lucas's hand. His body crumpled to the ground—shriveled, gray, and lifeless.
The remaining knights froze in horror.
Lucas stared at them, expression calm.
"Raise your heads," he said, voice strangely gentle.
They hesitated, but obeyed.
"I want to know something," he continued. "Who was the one who spied on me in Ausweritch?"
The surviving minister—among the knights—shakily raised his hand. "I-It was me… Lord Lucas…"
Lucas's smile faded. His voice turned cold.
"You want to know why Meriot was attacked? Why your people are dying?"
He stepped forward.
"It's because you dared to violate the privacy of a god. You peeked into my life. Into my past. Into my very essence. And for what? Information? Power?"
Lucas turned to the others. "Your king is dead. Your army is gone. And all of it… is his fault."
The soldiers stared at the minister. Their gazes sharpened.
Lucas smirked.
"You want revenge?" he said, as if offering them a gift. "Go on. Take it. Cleanse your guilt."
The knights hesitated… then pounced.
The minister screamed as his former allies stabbed him over and over. When it was done, his body was a mangled mess.
They turned back to Lucas, kneeling. "Please, Lord Lucas… We pledge ourselves to you. Please forgive us."
Lucas laughed.
"Forgive you? Forgive traitors who kill their own comrade without hesitation?" His tone turned mocking. "Do I look like a fool?"
The men exchanged fearful glances.
Wing stepped forward. "Please, Lord Lucas! We were wrong… but we'll follow you forever. We believe in you… like we once believed in our king."
Lucas's eyes narrowed.
"Step aside."
They parted.
He walked toward the minister's body, touched it—and it turned to dust, which floated into his hand.
Lucas turned to the soldiers. "Now… let me show you something."
He pointed to one of the knights.
"You. Come here."
The man stepped forward, trembling.
Lucas placed his hand over the knight's mouth and poured a pinch of the dust in.
"Swallow."
The man obeyed.
"Now," Lucas said, "what do you see?"
The soldier closed his eyes.
"I… I can see the past. Not the future."
Lucas grinned.
"Try harder. Focus. Look one minute into the future."
The knight's face turned pale.
"No… No, no, no!"
"What did you see?"
"All of us… d-dead…"
Lucas's smile widened.
"Exactly. Because that is your future."
He snapped his fingers.
Without hesitation, the knights raised their weapons and stabbed themselves. Blood poured across the battlefield.
The dust-fed knight dropped to his knees, watching his comrades fall.
"No! Please! I have a wife! We just got married!" he sobbed.
Lucas knelt beside him, whispered coldly, "Then I'll send you to heaven for your honeymoon."
And crushed his throat with one hand.
The knight dropped dead.
Lucas turned to the four figures standing behind him, his eyes gleaming.
"Well, well… shall we go?"
---{End of chapter 2}