Chapter 75 - The Battle against Destiny (2)

A stunned silence swept through the tent as the word hung in the air.

"No."

Luca’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean—sharp as a blade drawn in the dark.

The flickering lantern light cast harsh shadows on grim faces. Tension snapped taut, and for a moment, no one moved.

Then the Knight Commander, a broad man with dark hair and a permanent scowl etched into his brow, turned toward him like a storm breaking loose.

His voice thundered.

"Miss Seraphina, I stayed silent even when you brought

him

into this war council—because I thought we had more pressing matters than arguing over your whims." His tone sharpened like iron being hammered. "But now, he dares interrupt our strategy? Who does he think he is?"

Several knights murmured in agreement behind him—disdainful stares and muttered curses trailing like an echo.

Someone from the Holy Kingdom scoffed aloud.

"This is a matter of survival. Not a place for tantrums or self-importance. Don’t be a nuisance."

The murmuring began.

Knights behind the commander straightened with scowls and narrowed eyes. Whispers curled like smoke through the tent.

"He’s just a kid—"

"Why’s he even here?"

"This isn’t a game."

Someone from the Holy Kingdom, adorned in pure white with a golden crest, spoke loud enough for all to hear.

"This is a matter of survival. Not a place for tantrums or self-importance. Don’t be a nuisance."

Luca’s gaze swept across the faces in the room. Dismissive. Impatient. No one wanted to listen.

He sighed inwardly.

Of course. I expected this. But still... he thought they would at least listen to what he had to say.

Then—

"Can you at least listen to him?"

A voice rang out—measured, firm, and surprisingly neutral. Silence slammed into the room.

All eyes turned toward the back of the tent, where a tall woman stood wrapped in deep violet robes. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, and mana shimmered faintly around her like mist catching moonlight. She belonged to the Magic Tower—that much was obvious from the etched runes stitched into her sleeves.

Seraphina stepped forward.

"I’ll take responsibility for whatever he says."

Her voice was calm but resolute.

Luca looked at her, startled.

Responsibility...? She’s putting herself on the line for me?

That wasn’t just support. That was a declaration. If he were wrong, her reputation—perhaps even her life—would be on the chopping block.

Why?

The room froze again.

The Knight Commander glared at her.

"It could cost us everything. Are you

sure

you want that burden on your name?"

Seraphina hesitated. Her lips parted, but no words came out. The weight of his question was too real, too dangerous.

And then—

"The Magic Tower will take responsibility."

The woman from the Magic Tower spoke again.

Her declaration landed with weight.

Luca looked surprised as he saw that mage, but then as if understanding something he nodded at her in gratitude, which she returned with a nod of hers.

The Knight Commander’s lips curled.

"Why?" he asked. "Why would the Tower risk its name for

him

?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"That’s none of your concern." She gestured toward Luca without taking her eyes off the commander.

"Let the boy speak."

Luca stepped forward.

The air in the tent was razor-thin, every gaze fixed on him—some skeptical, others outright hostile. But he didn’t falter. His voice, quiet yet steady, broke the tension like a blade through still water.

"That thing outside..."

He looked each of them in the eye—knights, commanders, priests, mages. Some flinched. Most didn’t blink.

"We know what it’s capable of."

He paused a beat, letting his words settle.

"One hundred warriors. An elite force from the Kingdom of Valdros. Armed with enchanted gear. Contracted with the beasts."

"They didn’t even get the chance to draw blood."

That quiet line struck harder than any shout. A few in the tent stiffened. Others glanced around, uncertain.

"They were wiped out. Erased. In an instant. No time to retreat. No time to fight back."

"If you still believe we can simply hold the line and survive until reinforcements arrive... then you’re lying to yourself."

He turned, locking eyes with the Knight Commander.

"Fifteen hours of defense won’t save lives—it’ll

cost

them. The longer we try to endure, the more we bleed."

Someone from the Holy Kingdom scowled. "And what would you have us do? Charge to our deaths?"

Luca shook his head.

"No. I’m saying we face reality."

He gestured toward the map again, voice rising—not with anger, but urgency.

"That monster was sleeping beneath the mountain. But the Devil Cult... they

did something

to it. We don’t know what, but they awakened it, reshaped it, poured their dark mana into it until it became what it is now."

His voice hardened.

"They turned it into a weapon."

Silence.

Luca scanned the room—priests, nobles, generals. All of them silent. Murmuring about the devil cult.

"There’s no point hiding it anymore. After today, the truth won’t stay buried. The cult’s hand is clear. And the world will know it."

He stepped closer to the center, a voice refusing to be ignored.

"So here’s the truth: if we keep playing it safe, waiting,

defending

, we die. Slowly. One by one."

"But if we fight—

really

fight—we have a chance."

His words landed heavy, each one hammering against fear.

"We need to go on the offensive. The only way to save lives now is to weaken that thing—and kill it before it kills us."

A few faces turned toward one another. Some doubt wavered. Others began to consider.

"Our greatest weapons now aren’t just swords and formations—they’re divine energy, light-aligned magic, and sacred artifacts. The monster’s essence is twisted by darkness. That means it’s vulnerable to purity, to light, to the divine."

He turned to the priests in white and gold.

"You’ve been healers until now. But this time... you’re going to be our front line."

One of them paled. "We’re not trained for direct combat—"

"You won’t have a choice," Luca cut in gently but firmly. "None of us do."

He turned next to the mages of the Tower.

"While we fight—wave after wave—you prepare a final spell. Something powerful. A ritual strike that can bring it down once we’ve weakened it enough."

The silver-haired mage nodded once. "It can be done."

Luca exhaled slowly, the weight of everything on his shoulders—but he didn’t flinch.

There was still hesitation in the air.

The murmurs returned—quieter than before, but no less pointed. Doubts lingered like fog, clinging to armor and titles.

"It’s reckless..."

"Even if we weaken it, who’ll land the final blow?"

"What if the divine spells don’t work?"

Voices fluttered like moths around a flame—uncertain, nervous.

Then—

"I agree with him."

The words rang out, calm and sure.

All eyes turned.

Aiden stepped forward, arms crossed, the firelight glinting off the crest of his cloak. His expression was firm—unyielding.

"This is the best course of action. Waiting will only cost us more lives."

The murmuring faltered. Even the more vocal knights fell quiet.

He was the grandson of the Sword Duke—his word carried weight. No one could dismiss him.

Then came another voice.

"I second it."

Selena emerged from the right side of the tent, her cold violet eyes locking with Luca’s briefly before facing the others. Her voice was as composed as ever, but there was steel beneath her calm.

"We’ve seen what hesitation leads to. I’ll stand with him."

A breath passed—then another figure stepped forward.

Aria.

The Holy Kingdom’s representative hesitated, glancing at her fellow priests. Then she drew in a slow breath and stepped closer to the table.

"The Holy Kingdom... agrees to it as well."

The words hung for a moment. Heavy. Final.

The murmurs stopped.

No more whispers.

Just silence—and acceptance.

The Knight Commander exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if trying to release the tension still clinging to him.

"Fine," he muttered. Then louder, "Alright. It’s settled."

He turned to the others.

"Inform your camps. Make preparations. We move out immediately."

Commanders and aides dispersed swiftly, voices rising in disciplined cadence outside the tent. Word spread like wildfire. The final plan—no more hiding, no more waiting.

Everyone was to prepare.

Everyone Summoned their contracted beast as they began to move.

***

"Is my divine revelation becoming reality?"