ERA OF DESTINY-Chapter 141: DAY 2: THE REVEAL AND PRE-WAR’S OPEN CHARION CALL– I

Chapter 141: DAY 2: THE REVEAL AND PRE-WAR’S OPEN CHARION CALL– I

Kiaria, Diala, and the others hovered above the marketplace, suspended in midair as though the world itself had yielded its gravity to them.

Below, the entire population of the fortress–tribes, associations, merchants, rescued captives–knelt as one, foreheads pressed to stone, bodies aligned in submission without instruction.

"Hail the Lord God."

The words rolled across the market place like a tide, layered and unified, yet Kiaria did not answer. He did not acknowledge the greeting, did not move, did not give the one command everyone waited for. Silence stretched. Breath held. Time passed without permission. Still, no one lifted their head–not even the children clinging to their elders’ sleeves.

Kiaria turned slightly and looked toward Princess Lainsa.

She stepped forward alone, her movement measured, her posture unchanged. No words passed between them verbally, yet something is going on between that silence. Kiaria spoke to her through spiritual transmission. The exchange lasted longer than comfort allowed, long enough for unease to ripple silently through the kneeling masses, yet no one dared to question it.

At last Lainsa nodded.

Several minutes passed without invitation.

A faint, knowing curve appeared at the corners of both their lips.

"Rise."

The command fell softly–and the world obeyed.

"Thank you, Lord."

The response came instantly, voices overlapping in relief restrained by reverence. Kiaria let it settle, then spoke again, his tone even, unraised, impossible to misunderstand.

"No casualties. If there are any–report to me now. Directly."

Silence returned, heavier than before. Tribal leaders moved in unison, stepping out from their groups only after confirming each name, each face, each absence. One by one, they knelt forward to report, voices steady, answers identical.

"All are safe."

Miru.

Cil.

Wul.

Meisa.

Wing Gu.

Moon.

Not a single loss.

"Geng. Mimi."

The names struck like thunder.

"Step forward."

Still holding each other’s hands, they moved out from the Miru tribe, their steps unhurried yet absolute. Kiaria regarded them briefly, then spoke.

"You both did well."

Geng bowed deeply, his voice controlled but sincere."All thanks to you, my Lord. Everything unfolded as you foresaw. Every prophecy reached its mark. We were only mediators–hands carrying what was already destined."

"Well said."

Kiaria’s gaze sharpened.

"From this moment onward, you are my personal disciples."

The verdict did not echo. It did not need to.

Spirituak energy surged. Geng and Mimi rose from the ground, not by will, but by recognition. Spiritual pressure wrapped around them gently, lifting them until they came to rest behind Mu Long and Aizrel, their bodies trembling–not from fear, but from proximity to something far beyond them.

"Separate," Kiaria ordered.

"Tribes. Associations. Rescued captives."

The crowd reorganized at once, lines forming without confusion, hierarchy reasserting itself naturally under his gaze. Kiaria descended, stopping just short of the ground, hovering a measured distance above it as he moved first toward the Miru tribe.

"Miru," he asked, voice calm, "how are things now?"

The Miru Chief stepped forward, bowing low.

"My Lord, life is returning to balance. The scars remain, but the weight has begun to lift. Freedom... is something the heart does not digest easily."

Monochrome mist drifted from Kiaria, enveloping the tribe without spectacle. Lingering pain, buried exhaustion, and emotional fractures eased quietly, without erasure.

"Thank you, Lord," the Miru tribe said together.

Kiaria’s gaze rested on their chief.

"You know who caused this. The one responsible is within the fortress–among tribes or associations. Speak."

The Miru Chief’s hands trembled.

"Lord... if anyone in a tribe dares to name them, or even think against them, the punishment is absolute. Not one life–but the entire tribe dies instantly."

"Understood," Kiaria replied.

"Step back."

He moved on.

Cil’s Chief came forward next, bowing with formality.

"Greetings, Lord–"

"Skip it," Kiaria said.

"Tell me what matters."

The Cil Chief straightened slightly.

"All lives are saved, but rebuilding has begun poorly. Essentials are scarce. Even with your order for mutual sharing, no tribe wishes to release what little stability they’ve secured. That is our present reality."

"And the cause?" Kiaria asked.

The chief met his gaze briefly, then lowered his eyes.

"With the seal on our foreheads, speaking the truth is the same as summoning death before its time."

"I understand," Kiaria said.

"You may step back. Aid will come–after this is settled."

He moved on.

One tribe after another gave the same answer, shaped differently, burdened identically. Kiaria listened to all of it without interruption, without reaction. When it was done, he did not turn toward the association members or their families.

There was no need.

He already had his answer.

Kiaria rose from where he hovered and returned to his companions, his presence shifting just enough for the pressure in the market to tighten.

Below him, the separated crowds stood in rigid clusters–tribes, associations, rescued captives–each group isolated not by distance, but by fear of being the first to speak. Faces were lifted now, but eyes remained cautious, scanning one another more than they watched the figure above them.

"Since none of you can reveal the truth," Kiaria said calmly, his voice carrying without force, "then we will ask the Formation Master directly."

The words struck harder than any shout.

Shock rippled outward. Leaders stiffened. Association members paled. Even the rescued captives instinctively stepped back, as though the accusation itself carried weight. No one spoke. No one dared to deny it. The possibility alone was enough to fracture certainty.

Kiaria’s gaze shifted–not toward leaders, nor elders, nor those with visible authority–but toward a single young man standing among the healed, his leg still wrapped, posture rigid from pain not yet fully faded.

"Do you agree with me," Kiaria asked evenly, "courageous young man?"

The man startled.

"You were the only one," Kiaria continued, "who dared to question the association openly. The only one who tried to move others to speak. Tell me–do you believe the Formation Master could still be here?"

The young man swallowed hard.

"Y-yes, Lord," he said, voice unsteady but sincere. "You’re right. But... with a God like you present... would he really dare remain? Wouldn’t he have already fled?"

Kiaria’s eyes did not narrow. They did not sharpen.

"Is he capable," Kiaria asked, "of escaping my sight?"

"I... I don’t know," the young man answered honestly.

Kiaria nodded once.

"Whatever the case," he said, "I will resolve it."

He descended slightly, his gaze resting fully on the young man now.

"You are admirable," Kiaria continued. "Tell me your name."

The man hesitated.

"My name is... Yifong."

Kiaria tilted his head a fraction.

"Yifong," he repeated."Or Yin Song?"

The market froze.

For the first time since the gathering began, people looked up without permission.

Yin Song’s throat tightened visibly.

"...How did you know?" he asked.

"I didn’t," Kiaria replied calmly. "You told me."

Yin Song’s eyes widened.

"You are admirable," Kiaria continued, unhurried. "Complex formations. Beast containment above your own realm. Layered traps. Oath-bound mechanisms. And still–standing among them in my presence, believing silence would protect you."

A pause.

"That alone deserves recognition."

Yin Song exhaled slowly, then laughed–short, controlled.

"I planned everything," he said. "Step by step. Layer by layer. No loopholes. No variables. It was flawless. So tell me–how did you find me?"

Kiaria’s expression did not change.

"Flawless?" he asked. "I saw vulnerabilities everywhere."

He stepped closer–still hovering.

"Stop trying to activate your seals, Yin Song," Kiaria said. "They won’t respond."

Yin Song’s pupils constricted.

"What do you think," Kiaria continued, "I was doing while you all knelt before me earlier? If you believed I was enjoying worship–then you misunderstand me."

A beat.

"Those seals were already broken."

Yin Song’s body shuddered.

Fear surfaced–but he forced it down, straightening.

"So what?" he snapped. "Do you think I’m afraid of you?"

Then he laughed loudly, sharply, forcing confidence back into his voice.

"I am invincible. Touch me if you dare."

Kiaria smiled faintly.

"Why would I touch you?" he asked. "You’ve killed many. You still hold association cores elsewhere. You laid vast formations beyond this fortress. You prepared backups, reversals, sacrifices."

His gaze sharpened.

"Why would I dirty my hands?"

Voices erupted.

"Kill him!""Execute him!""End him!"

Kiaria raised a hand.

"No," he said softly. "I do not kill so easily."

A pause.

"If anyone doubts that–ask Geng."

The name landed like a blade.

Kiaria’s eyes returned to Yin Song.

"But I am curious," he continued. "You prepared so many trump cards. So many contingencies."

His smile deepened slightly.

"Show me one."

Silence.

"Entertain us."

Yin Song’s laughter broke free, wild now.

"You asked for it."

He stepped back, hands moving into unfamiliar angles, fingers weaving symbols meant to command space itself. Spiritual pressure gathered–

–and vanished.

Nothing responded.

He tried again.

Nothing.

"What’s wrong?" Kiaria asked mildly. "Don’t waste our time."

Yin Song snarled and grabbed his hair, tearing it apart. Three needles slid free from his scalp. Another from the base of his neck. Pain carved itself across his face–but he made no sound.

The disguise fell away.

A middle-aged man stood there now, breath uneven.

"Oh," Kiaria said. "That was clever."

Then, colder–

"But not enough."

"I expected more from you."

Yin Song tried again.

Different seals. Different formations. Different triggers.

Nothing.

Minutes passed.

Then longer.

Sweat dripped. Breathing faltered. Hands trembled.

Confidence drained–not suddenly, but steadily, like blood seeping unseen beneath cloth. Every technique failed. Every method returned nothing. The silence of the world around him became unbearable.

At last, Yin Song stood shaking.

No formations.

No authority.

No response.

Just an incapable mortal trash.

For the first time, Yin Song surrendered. He understood exactly where he stood.

"I surrender."

Yin Song’s voice simply fell into the market place, stripped of calculation, stripped of confidence, stripped of the man who had once believed himself untouchable. Around him, no one reacted. The silence was heavier than any verdict.

Kiaria looked at him.

"Why the hurry?" he asked mildly. "Very well. I can give you one chance."

He descended a little more, still never touching the ground, his presence neither oppressive nor merciful–only absolute.

"I am kind," Kiaria continued. "I do not kill simply because someone is sinful. When I sense true repentance, when I see readiness to atone, my mercy preserves life."

A pause.

"So tell me. Do you want that chance?"

Yin Song lifted his head slowly. Confusion clung to his expression, mixed with exhaustion, disbelief, and the collapse of every certainty he had relied on. Yet beneath it all, something stubborn still remained.

"I accept," he said hoarsely.

"Show me your petty trick."

"As you wish," Kiaria replied.

From the space beside him, Kiaria retrieved his sword.

The Sky Crystal Shadow Severer Sword did not radiate power. Kiaria released it.

The sword fell and struck the stone market ground and buried itself one-third of the blade deep, the impact sharp, final, unquestionable.

"If you pull it out," Kiaria said evenly, "and wield it with your own hands, I will forgive you."

Yin Song’s breath caught.

"I will set you free," Kiaria continued. "No seals. No punishment. No pursuit."

He paused, then added calmly,

"There is no divine power layered upon it. No restriction. No trick."

"I am sincere," Kiaria said.

"I am a God. Gods do not need petty deception."

Yin Song stared at the sword.

"Then," he said after a long moment, "I will try with everything I have."

"Wait."

The single word stopped him.

Kiaria’s gaze sharpened–not in threat, but in clarity.

"I do not want confusion clouding your heart," he said. "Before you touch it... don’t you wish to know where you failed?"

Yin Song’s fingers twitched.

"I will tell you," Kiaria continued. "Every flaw. Every misjudgment. Every place where you believed yourself invisible."

He looked directly at Yin Song now.

"After that," Kiaria said,

"you may try.

Yin Song swallowed.

"...I am curious," he admitted.