17 Chapter 16

--A few hours later--

--(Carne Village)--

Under the shroud of midnight, silence blanketed the village. The whispering winds weaved through the tall grass, as the nocturnal chorus of creatures lent an occasional rhythm to the otherwise tranquil night.

In a simple house, Biller-san slumbered on a humble wooden pallet crafted into a makeshift family bed. At his side rested his wife. Nestled between them lay their cherished treasures, their beloved angels. The eldest, a 12-year-old with auburn locks elegantly woven into a long braid flowing down her back, reclined against her father's left arm, cradled by his protective presence. Opposite her, her 2-year-old sister, with a lighter shade of the same captivating hue, wore her hair in a simple yet charming pigtail, cocooned within her mother's gentle hug. Together, they formed a perfect image of family: living under one roof, sharing a single bed, dining at a common table, each bound by their unique roles and responsibilities.

In the midst of the delicate dreams woven in the minds of the villagers, a sudden and violent tremor ripped through the village, shaking homes to their cores. It only lasted for a fraction of a second but some structures already teetered dangerously on the brink of ruin, while others succumbed entirely to the force, collapsing in on themselves.

The once sturdy wooden fences protecting the crops were thrown out of place. They rushed across the crops, damaging the harvest and allowing startled livestock to escape their confines. Even the fortified barricade encircling the village, designed with deeper holes and reinforced with heavy logs, bore the brunt of the tremor. It revealed signs of strain, evident in the disarray of its structure.

The night watchmen who stood vigilant, were sent sprawling to the ground by the tremor. Panic, shock and disbelief were etched on their faces after seeing the devastation that had befallen their village in a blink of an eye.

Fortunately, most of the houses were constructed from thatched straws and reeds, except for the pillars, making them relatively lightweight. As a result, despite the chaos, everyone managed to evacuate their homes safely. Some individuals residing in collapsed houses sustained injuries, but thankfully, none were severe enough to warrant urgent medical intervention.

Biller-san, cradling his youngest daughter protectively, anxiously inquired about his family's well-being. "Honey, are you all right? And Enri?"

"We're okay," Leiya replied reassuringly. "Just a small scratch on my shoulder, but the girl is fine." Her hand gently caressing her daughter's head in a comforting gesture

Gazing back at their now perilously unstable home, the family collectively released a sigh of relief, grateful for their safety amid the chaos.

As the family checked for any injuries, a neighbor from the adjacent house approached one of the guards--stationed at the south edge--who was still seated on the ground. "H-hey, what happened?" he stuttered, his voice tinged with concern.

Shaking off his initial shock, the man raised his arms in a plea for assistance, gesturing for the other to help him stand. With a supportive hand, the neighbor aided him to rise to his feet.

Brushing off the dirt from his legs and backside, the man tried to compose himself. "I'm not entirely certain if it was real or just my mind playing tricks," he began, recounting the surreal experience. "But I swear, I saw a streak of purple lightning shoot down from the sky and strike the earth. Strangely, I didn't hear any accompanying thunder. That might be what caused the tremor we felt."

As the conversation unfolded, villagers began to gather at the epicenter of the lightning strike, the heart of the village. A sizable crater, measuring 3 meters in radius and two and a half meters in depth, marred the ground. At its center lay a colossal, jet-black metallic sheet, glistening with an otherworldly sheen. Its form was somewhat circular, partially buried in the scorched earth. Every so often, the object emitted faint flickers of purple miniature lightning, casting an eerie and foreboding glow around it.

Amidst the crowd's hushed murmurs, all eyes turned towards a middle-aged man who boldly descended into the crater, seemingly unfazed by the potential danger. With a well-defined mustache and a full goatee adorning his face, he sported a maroon-colored headwear, snugly fitted atop his head. Despite the gravity of the situation, he exuded a serious or perhaps mildly concerned expression, suggesting a deeper understanding of the circumstances.

Despite his own perplexity about his impulsive action, the man found himself descending into the crater, driven by a compulsion he couldn't quite comprehend. As he peered closer at the metallic object, as big as his torso, he discerned what appeared to be a single scale—of a colossal reptile. Perplexed by this conclusion, he couldn't shake the certainty of his observation, especially when confronted with the unfamiliar inscriptions etched onto the ground around the object like some form of sigil, further reinforcing the notion in his mind.

(A/N: Scale and Inscription)

"Chief-san, what are you doing? That's dangerous," another man exclaimed as he descended into the crater, gently pulling the man, now referred to as the Chief, away from the peculiar object.

"The celestial being hath alighted upon this mortal soil. The faithful shall be recognized, and the devout shall be blessed," Chief-san murmured quietly, the words barely audible except to the man by his side.

The man glanced in the direction the chief had been fixated upon. "Huh? Did you just read that foreign writing?" he inquired, his tone tinged with confusion and disbelief as he attempted to make sense of the inscriptions on the ground saying "ᜀᜅ᜔ ᜈᜒᜎᜎᜅ᜔ ᜋᜓᜎ ᜐ ᜃᜎᜅᜒᜆᜈ᜔ ᜀᜌ᜔ ᜊᜓᜋᜊ ᜈ ᜐ ᜎᜓᜉᜁᜅ᜔ ᜁᜆᜓ ᜈᜅ᜔ ᜋᜅ ᜋᜓᜇ᜔ᜆᜎ᜔᜶ ᜀᜅ᜔ ᜋᜅ ᜈᜈᜒᜈᜒᜏᜎ ᜀᜌ᜔ ᜃᜒᜃᜒᜎᜎᜈᜒᜈ᜔᜵ ᜀᜆ᜔ ᜀᜅ᜔ ᜋᜅ ᜇᜒᜊᜓᜆᜓ ᜀᜌ᜔ ᜉᜄ᜔ᜉᜉᜎᜁᜈ᜔᜶".

"Let's go, Chief-san, let's head back. It's not safe here," the man urged, noticing Chief-san's sudden bout of dizziness.

As the chief nodded and made his way back up with the man's assistance, a woman in her mid-50s approached, her countenance etched with concern and worry.

"Chief-san, what are we going to do?" she implored, her voice tinged with anxiety. "The weather's been unrelenting for the past month, disrupting our harvest of quality crops. And now, with this devastation, the kingdom might as well reconsider our land's status..." Her voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken implications hanging heavily in the air.

Feeling the weight of the woman's concerns adding to his own headache, the Chief surveyed the desolation around him, making his unease even worse. With a fleeting gesture, he raised his hand in an attempt to interrupt the woman.

He understands the gravity of her concerns. The village had struggled to meet their tax obligations, resulting in accruing interest. Additionally, the recent birth of her daughter-in-law's first child weighed heavily on her mind which raised concerns about her family's future.

"First, retrieve anything that can still be used. As per the livestock, I think they've gone to the forest so we can't do anything about that..." Chief-san gave instructions. "Do not worry, everything is happening as per God's will." Chief-san said, not being aware of his own words.

Fatigue, perhaps, clouded his perception as he failed to notice the perplexed expressions that crossed the faces of the villagers upon hearing those final words. The people of Carne Village had long upheld a tradition of not believing in any deity; their faith rested solely on the collective effort of the community, fostering peace, happiness, and contentment. This belief had been ingrained since the village's inception. It was even consistently taught by the chieftain to the youngest members of the village. Therefore, the mention of the word 'God' caught them entirely off guard, which strayed far from their accustomed ideology.

"I think you're exhausted, Chief-san. You should take some rest," the man said, supporting the Chief's shoulder with a concerned tone.

With the assistance of a few villagers, they guided the Chief towards the well. Gently leaning against the sturdy, still-intact bricks forming the structure, Chief-san was handed a bowl of water.

Seated beside Chief-san, the man who had passed him the water—also the one who had heard the Chief's murmurs the inscriptions on the object—joined him, gazing up at the star-laden sky.

Turning to the chief, he voiced his uncertainties.

"Chief-san, are you certain about what you read on that object? Earlier, I was positioned at the north edge of the village, and I still can't wrap my head around that streak of purple lightning that struck the village. It was unlike anything I've ever seen before." His voice carried a mixture of awe and incredulity.

Staring at the reflection cast upon the water in his hands, Chief-san recounted his vivid dreams to the man beside him. "I've dreamt of this colossal black lizard-like creature with magnificent wings. It seemed to wield control over lightning, including the unusual purple variety you've just witnessed. It looked very majestic and powerful. In my dream, it brought about peace between warring nations, provided sustenance to famine-stricken lands, and offered shelter to lost creatures, regardless of their origin or race. It feels akin to nothing short of the notion of a 'God' to me. And I suspect that object is a scale of that very 'God'."

"I see. That's truly miraculous. If such a being had existed earlier, perhaps my wife and son might still be alive," Edgar replied, his voice carrying the weight of grief and longing for a different outcome to his past.

"Sorry for your loss, Edgar. However, there's nothing to lose in holding onto belief. At the very least, it might offer us some solace, knowing that everything unfolds for a purpose. Even your arrival in this small place two years ago could be the work of God—guiding you toward a fresh start, urging you to forge a new, happier life," Chief-san comforted Edgar with gentle words.

Upon hearing these words, Edgar lowered his head between his knees, overcome with emotion. Tears streamed down his cheeks as memories flooded back—recollections of the day when he and his family fled from the empire, a painful chapter etched deeply into his heart.

Edgar was once a knight serving a noble household within the Baharuth Empire. However, the ascent of the Bloody Emperor to the throne marked a tragic turn for the nobility. The household he faithfully served was among those ruthlessly exterminated. As a knight loyal to his household, he faced the same fate, along with his family, in the violent purge initiated by the new rule.

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