The following morning, Lucy stood in the grand hall, surrounded by the five thousand soldiers selected for the war.
Tension clung to the air like a thick fog, making it hard to breathe. Every breath carried weight. Every glance felt like it could split steel.
The room buzzed with restrained energy. Soldiers stood at attention, faces carved from stone, backs straight, eyes forward. Focused. Ready.
To Lucy's right, Llarm looked as smug as ever, arms folded behind his head like he was waiting for a picnic to start.
On his left, Eri fidgeted nervously, her fingers twisting over each other in a quiet, constant loop. Her eyes darted around the room like a trapped bird's.
Gindu, though—Gindu was different. The nervous wreck Lucy had first met was gone. In his place stood a man firm as a mountain, jaw set, shoulders squared.
Lucy noticed the change and felt something stir in his chest. Pride? Maybe. Solidarity?
But most of all, Lucy felt steady.
He wasn't trembling or second-guessing himself. His back was straight, and his expression unreadable. There was no fear in his stance. Just thought.
'I've pledged myself to Seraphine… but does that mean I'll have to kill?' The idea struck him like a bolt of ice water. His fingers twitched slightly.
'What if my enemy's just like me? Just fighting for their god?'
The thought chilled him.
Before he could sink too deep into it, a sharp sting snapped him back to reality.
"Gah—what the hell?" he muttered, twisting around.
Llarm stood grinning, hand still raised from the playful slap."Lighten up, man! Don't worry. If you get scared, hide behind the amazing Llarm!"
He struck a ridiculous superhero pose—chest puffed out, arms akimbo, chin lifted skyward like he could fly at any second.
Lucy blinked, then let out a surprised laugh."Right, right. I'll make sure to do just that."
They shared a brief chuckle, the tension around them cracking for just a moment. That single burst of laughter felt like a deep breath after being underwater.
But the levity didn't last.
The murmurs died.
A hush fell over the hall like a curtain being drawn open.
At the front of the room, five figures materialized onto the stage—each one clad in distinct armor, radiating power and presence. The five generals. Their eyes swept across the soldiers like predators surveying the pack.
And with them descended the goddess herself.
Seraphine.
A divine silence followed her appearance, as though the very air dared not whisper. The grand hall seemed to hold its breath.
Then, like moonlight breaking through clouded skies, her voice filled the space—pristine, melodic, laced with impossible serenity.
"My chosen children," Seraphine said with a gentle smile, "I hope you are doing well."
A few hesitant nods came from the crowd.
Her expression didn't waver, but the softness in her tone faded. Her following words cut through the silence with divine certainty.
"There is no way to sugarcoat this," she said, voice still graceful but heavier now, firm and final."In just a minute, I will teleport you to the battlefield where some of you… will die."
The words struck like a dagger of ice. The ripple of unease was instant. Shoulders stiffened. Breaths were held just a second too long.
Lucy's gut twisted, and around him, the energy had shifted. Even Llarm's posture lost a bit of its swagger.
"But do not fret, children," Seraphine continued, eyes moving across the crowd like a mother surveying her flock."When I attain full power, I will see to it that those who fall are restored, as if you never left this world. Death will not be the end for you."
Her smile returned, soft and serene."So fight well. Fight hard. This war is the most important one in the history of the stars."
Lucy swallowed, uneasy. The words 'some of you will die' echoed louder in his head than any promise of restoration. Still, he clung to the silver lining like a man gripping a branch in a storm.
'Death's already tried to take me once… and failed. Let's see if it can do better this time.'His grin was internal—sharp, dry humor used as armor against the dread creeping up his spine.
Seraphine continued, her tone tinged with what almost sounded like regret.
"I wish I could stand among you, blades drawn, heart bared, but the world you're going to cannot withstand the true presence of a god."
She raised her hand slightly, her figure framed in a celestial glow.
"Instead, I will send a projection of myself. It will serve as your eyes, your voice, your command. Through it, I will lead you."
With that, Seraphine fell silent.
The stillness that followed wasn't empty—it was thick, reverent. No whispers. No shifting armor. Just quiet acceptance-or fear—hanging in the air like mist.
But the moment didn't linger long.
She raised her hand slowly, her palm outstretched toward the crowd, her expression serene yet commanding. Moonlight kissed her fingertips as divine energy swirled faintly in the air.
"Get ready, my children," she said, voice like silk laced with thunder.
That was all it took for the tension to snap.
Lucy, who'd felt confident just moments ago, suddenly felt a crushing pressure in his chest.
His breath hitched.
'Oh crap. Oh crap.' The words screamed inside his mind like alarm bells.
Then the world twisted.
Without warning, he felt his entire body being pulled—no, ripped—from its place. Reality around him folded like paper in a storm, colors blurring and warping into nothingness.
He'd been teleported once before, but this time felt different—more violent, more final.
The tunnel they traveled through was dark, endless, and crowded. Shadows of thousands surged forward alongside him: five thousand soldiers, armored head to toe, weapons gleaming—each one a streak of silver and steel moving through the void.
Lucy didn't carry a weapon.
He had chosen instead to trust in his fists.
His silver armor, gifted to him by Seraphine herself, shimmered faintly as it clung to him like a second skin. Clean. Perfect. Untouched by war—for now.
The space around him was tight, made tighter by the presence of giants—towering beings whose bulk seemed to squeeze the corridor of shadow with every step. Even here, in transit, Lucy could feel the heat of their breath, the tension in their muscles, the weight of shared fate.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.
With a violent lurch, Lucy hit the ground.
Face-first.
Thud.
Lucy groaned, lifting his head off the ground as he spat out a mouthful of dust. He brushed the orange dirt from his messy black hair, blinking to regain his bearings.
Around him, familiar faces began to come into focus.
Llarm had landed in a heap nearby, groaning dramatically with his face still planted in the ground. Eri stood upright, albeit trembling slightly, and Gindu stood tall, his chin high, radiating quiet confidence.
Lucy managed a faint smile at the sight, but when he turned his gaze outward, scanning the vast open plain ahead, his expression shifted.
Confusion set in.
They were standing just outside a village.
He could see all the races—Dragonkin, Beastkin, Elves, Giants, Ogres—all moving about peacefully.
Fathers chasing after giggling daughters, ogres hammering metal at forges, beastkin sparring playfully with dragonkin, elves weaving shimmering threads of magic.
Just like Llarm had described.
It wasn't much. The homes were little more than clay-and-wood huts, the roads dry and dusty, the earth a burnt orange—but there was life here. Harmony. Peace.
And somehow it brought Lucy a strange sense of calm.
Until it was shattered.
Roughly a thousand yards away, another army emerged from the void, just like theirs had. A looming projection floated above them, casting a massive shadow across the field.
Ithriel.The God of Dominion and Control.
His image towered over the battlefield, even grander than Seraphine's. His cold eyes stared down at them with no emotion, no mercy. A strange, metallic crown spun slowly above his head, levitating as if held up by his will alone. His armor shone like silver ice, pristine, untouched—as if war itself dared not lay a hand on him.
Below his form, his army stood like statues.
Their generals stood out front, each one radiating a different kind of killing intent. The air around them crackled with pressure.
Then Seraphine's projection lifted her gaze, her voice echoing across the field. Calm, but laced with sorrow.
"Inhabitants of this world… I am sorry, but your planet has been marked for war."
The words fell like stones into still water. Ripples of dread expanded outward.
Lucy's heart didn't just drop—it plummeted, a dead weight crashing through his chest, leaving him hollow.
His head snapped back toward the village—the peaceful village alive with movement and sound mere moments ago.
The people had turned to face them, conversations dying mid-sentence, laughter fading to silence. Confusion, fear, and dawning horror were written on their faces—emotions so raw and universal they transcended species.
A small Beastkin girl with floppy dog-like ears pointed up at Seraphine's massive form, her tiny finger trembling, her eyes wide with terror no child should ever know.
Nearby, a Dragonkin father knelt to embrace his son tightly, scales glinting in the sunlight, wings folding protectively around the child.
His eyes, slitted and amber, held the resigned knowledge that this was the end.
That his protection would ultimately mean nothing.
'What in the world is going on?' Lucy thought, his stomach knotting with dread, bile rising in his throat.
Then the ground trembled, faint at first, like a whisper beneath their feet.
But it grew.
A deep, bone-shaking rumble that cracked the earth and sent birds screaming from the treetops in panicked clouds of wing and feather.
Dust rose in choking clouds. Loose stones jumped and clattered across the ground, a skittering percussion of doom.
Then it came.
A blast wave—pure, unfiltered divine energy—erupted from Seraphine's projection like the fury of a dying star.
The air itself seemed to split, to tear apart at the seams.
The village never stood a chance.
The people?Gone.
Vaporized.
One moment they existed—complex beings with hopes, dreams, and memories—and the next, they were particles dancing in divine light, indistinguishable from the dust of what had once been their homes.
Where once there had been warmth, life, and laughter, now there was only scorched desolation stretching to the horizon.
Nothing remained.
Only silence.
A silence so profound it pressed against Lucy's eardrums like a physical weight, making his heartbeat sound obscenely loud—a reminder that he still lived while thousands had been erased.
And the distant echo of Seraphine's divine power still hummed in the ruined air, coating Lucy's tongue with the taste of metal and ozone as he stared, unblinking, at the devastation beyond comprehension.