That Unique Monster Who Just Got the 'Consciousness' Passive Skill-Chapter 171: Prophecy

And so they laughed and spoke.

"Y-Your Grace!" stuttered the younger brother, with a dramatic air. "'Unkingly' certainly isn't a term you should bestow upon your noble name—"

"Yes, yes, boy… Do flatter your king. Gwah-hah! In the meantime, quieten down and pour your king some more wine!" After he was poured yet another full glass of the sweet beverage, the king raised his glass, guffawing still. "Now that my children have gathered, here's to the Unkingly King!" Promptly, glasses were passed, and everyone raised their glasses.

The older brother shook his head but ultimately grinned. "May he live long."

"Fu-fu. To Father."

"To the King!"

Thus, the family gathered. Well, a handful of other royal princes and princesses didn't attend this meeting, but it was because they didn't have to. The three children gathered with their father were here because of one thing that unified them three. Warfare. All three had a take on the State's recent wars. And they were here to discuss it.

The king, his son, his boy, and his girl had gathered. Pleasant laughs and words were passed around between all of them, and soon, all three children were reminded that it was late. Late at night. Soon, the chimes of midnight would ring through the nightly city. Soon, they were all to sleep. Now was no time for idle chattering.

King Folvin's private apartments were in his image: Even with dozens of female servants tending to him, the king was uncombed, and so his royal rooms were messy. He was heartily gross, and his rooms always smelled of sweat, whores, whine, and putridity. But he was the king, so there was still a heavy sense of nobility and grandeur in his apartments. Not without a manly, dominant touch: Fancy decorative hunting gears and trophies were hung here and there.

And the hearty fat man was the king, so, after he was done half-spitting his liquor on his beard and hairy chest, King Folvin appeared as the King.

"Hurry along, now." Those words were king-spoken. The royalty took the liberty to sit on her father's mat, by his feet, and their gathering hurried along, then.

My children, the king said, I've had a dream. No, multiple dreams. And he had gathered his three children, the ones who had a say in the matters of the military, to discuss these matters with him. Because, in fact, the Kingdom was in peril.

The king's dreams started roughly a month ago. On the day I was created by the System. The oracles and philosophers had been gathered then, under the king's counsel's order, in order to interpret and to see through the delicate prophetic signs in the Ruler's dream.

The one who had the Title "Ruler of the Kingdom of Roerden," in other words, King Folvin, had, for a lack of other talents, the gift of prophetic dreams. In this world, the land, and the mana resources it withholds, is said to serve its king. Through Mana, it was possible. Prophetic dreams, wherever they came from, were seen at times of crisis. It was to avoid a crisis at the time it came. Prophetic visions appeared to the concerned ones when they were necessary.

And King Folvin dreamed that the Kingdom was in peril.

Why had heroes from the other side been summoned in the first place? For that very reason.

The visions started a month ago, but then, they only intensified.

The dreams were always the same, but, the more King Folvin saw them, the stronger the sense of urgency and dread he felt during those intensified.

The dream went like this: It is soon nighttime. The sun is ready to set in the horizon. But the sun is strange. It is still casting its red flames all across the blue sky, with surprising power, as if it wasn't willing to dive down behind the horizon. The flames it casts are full of warmth, though, so King Folvin doesn't feel like saying anything at all about it. He is lightly dressed, and his toes are curling in the gorgeous green lawn under his bare feet. He looks around himself and sees a mansion that is his, grand prairies surrounding him, and the royal family by his side.

He feels great, but at some point, someone else appears. Someone he doesn't know. Someone who, when he approaches King Folvin and places a hand on the king's shoulder, feels really cold. The person is mostly a shadow, but King Folvin can see his eyes. Deep blue as the ocean. Looking intensely into these eyes, the king says that he loses himself in the wild storms appearing therein. At once, King Folvin's life is swallowed whole, and he sees the rest of the vision through an outsider's perspective.

There's still the king, the blue-eyed, cold person, and the rest of the royal family. Night has gathered, however. The gentle warmth of the sun vanished as if instantly, and everyone gathered inside the spacious mansion. They do, they eat, and they are ready to spend the night. But the blue-eyed person is still there, as cold as the night.

All of a sudden, all the vision becomes a blur. When he sees back again, King Folvin sees himself, the king, in a very large bedroom, where there are enough beds for all his offspring. Everybody sleeps, or rather, slept. Flames are everywhere, everyone burns, but there are no cries. The world is ending, but nobody notices. The king himself is on the largest bed, but he doesn't notice. The flames intensify around him. He notices two things: The one wearing his crown is a female, and she isn't alone in his bed.

The one who wears the crown is hugging the blue-eyed, cold person, with her face buried into the blue-eyed person's stomach. Together, they seem really close to each other. The one who wears the crown starts to cry, and the unknown blue-eyed stranger hugs her back, pats her head, and tells her that everything is all right.

"I'm here for you, now. Your enemies are defeated. Don't fear: I'm here for you, now."

The flames burning everything are pure-white. Finally, from the blue-eyed person's gentle smiling, gaping mouth, King Folvin sees leaking white fumes and flames.

He knows, then, the blue-eyed person is the enemy.

And he wakes up.