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Geshk Forest — not long after Lanafit left the soldiers’ camp, the sound of hoofbeats echoed through the trees.
The hoofbeats were dense but not hurried.
After all, this forest was filled with trees, and the paths were narrow, barely wide enough for a single person — trampled out by hunters over time.
To gallop here would be nothing short of a death wish.
Hearing the noise, the stationed soldiers immediately came to the entrance to welcome whoever was arriving.
Soon, a cavalry unit of thirty to forty riders emerged from the forest depths.
Leading them was a figure in radiant silver armor with golden trim, mounted on a tall, snow-white steed.
Among the other soldiers, he stood out like a flame in the night.
Had Lanafit left just a little later, she would have seen that this man was the very same officer she had glimpsed earlier at the village chief’s house.
“Lord Rinalit Aikuith!”
The welcoming soldiers immediately lined up on both sides upon recognizing the rider.
One middle-aged officer, apparently in charge, stepped forward and bowed respectfully.
“You’ve worked hard, my lord!”
“They still haven’t confessed?”
Rinalit asked the moment he arrived, not even bothering to bow his head to the officer greeting him.
From atop his massive horse, he merely cast his eyes downward — his arrogance impossible to ignore.
Though the officer was displeased by Rinalit’s haughty attitude, he dared not express it.
Given the vast gap in their ranks and status, he could only suppress his frustration and answer respectfully.
“Reporting, sir — they still haven’t admitted anything. I personally believe it’s unlikely these villagers stole the ‘miracle.’”
To the officer, these were just simple, backwater peasants.
They had indeed entered the forest repeatedly out of greed for the “miracle,” but even under torture, they stuck to their original statements.
It was unlikely they had taken it.
But his reasoning only sparked Rinalit’s irritation.
“Are you questioning my judgment?”
Rinalit’s sharp gaze bore into him, making the officer shudder and quickly shout:
“Absolutely not, sir!”
Rinalit Aikuith was notoriously arrogant and petty, even among the already prideful noble officers.
His reputation for being intolerable far surpassed that of his peers.
The officer, a low-ranking quartermaster with no noble status, could hardly afford to offend someone like him.
“Hmph!”
Rinalit snorted and, with a sharp tug on the reins, turned to the knights behind him and barked:
“Return to camp!”
He didn’t spare a second glance at the officer beside him.
But just as he was about to ride away—
BOOM!!!
Like the very earth was being torn apart, the ground violently trembled.
Birds burst from the treetops in great flocks, while the howls of panicked beasts echoed from every direction.
The tremor was so intense that Rinalit was thrown off his horse.
Though the horse wasn’t particularly tall, Rinalit’s armor was so heavy that the fall left him completely disoriented and dazed.
Fortunately, the officer next to him rushed over and helped him up.
If not for that, Rinalit might have taken several minutes to get up by himself, weighed down by his armor and the quaking earth.
Panic spread among the troops.
Horses stomped and neighed in agitation.
But as suddenly as it began, the shaking stopped — the forest fell silent, as if nothing had ever happened.
Still, the tremor lingered in everyone’s minds.
The soldiers whispered among themselves, trying to guess what could have caused such a quake.
“SILENCE!”
Rinalit shouted, but the arrogance on his face now seemed a little shaken.
Falling off his horse had made him a laughingstock — especially after scolding others mere moments before.
Seeing the officer still dutifully supporting him, Rinalit shoved him away angrily.
If this man had done his job properly, Rinalit wouldn’t have been stuck at the gate so long, and none of this humiliation would have happened.
He silently added the quartermaster to his list of people to punish later.
Surveying the now-silent crowd, Rinalit gave his next order:
“Send out a scouting team to investigate the quake. This forest is where the ‘miracle’ fell just three days ago. A quake right now must be—”
He never finished the sentence.
His eyes widened in shock.
From deep in the woods, a beam of blinding light shot into the sky, piercing the clouds — as if trying to shatter the very heavens.
Everyone stood stunned.
Not just them — people from a hundred miles away could see the pillar of light reaching into the sky.
The beam lasted a full ten minutes before slowly fading away, leaving the forest in eerie calm once again.
Wasting no time, Rinalit immediately led his knights toward the source and ordered reinforcements to completely surround the area.
When they arrived, what they saw was breathtaking.
A magnificent blue sword, embedded in a stone, stood proudly in the clearing.
Its blade, protruding from the stone, shimmered with a cold and majestic brilliance.
Sacred light pulsed around it, making it feel holy and solemn.
What truly stunned them was the sight of countless forest animals gathered in silence around the sword.
They stood in a circle at a distance, heads bowed — as if paying reverent tribute to the sacred weapon.
Rinalit ordered his troops to guard the perimeter, then approached the stone cautiously.
His eyes locked onto the sword, greed and ambition gleaming in his gaze.
This… this was undoubtedly the “miracle” that had fallen from the heavens.
His hand trembled with excitement as he reached for the hilt.
The moment his fingers touched it, the sword flared with light, and a shockwave blasted out from it — blowing Rinalit’s helmet clean off.
Had he not instinctively tightened his grip on the hilt, the force would’ve thrown him backward as well.
Then, as the brilliance surged again, a divine and beautiful voice echoed throughout the forest.
“We are those who dwell above the sea of clouds.
We speak the will of the Creator God.
We are the guardians of order in this world, ever hopeful for peace and harmony among all beings.
Yet, the seeds of despair have broken free from their chains in the underworld.
A tyrant of suffering is once again descending.
The gods, unwilling to let their people suffer through eternal night once more,
have poured all divine power into forging the holy sword Rapexbaina, a gift to all beings, to rescue them from calamity.
Before despair consumes order and the night of suffering spreads across the skies, the warrior chosen by the divine prophecy shall draw this holy sword,
and with it, cut through darkness, bringing forth peace and the dawn of hope.”
The voice echoed across the heavens and earth, lingering long after it had ended.
The knights who had followed the light were already kneeling devoutly on the ground.
In this world, everyone revered the gods, and to them, this sword was a divine gift to the mortal realm — how could they not treat it with reverence?
But Rinalit, at this moment, was overcome with excitement.
The Holy Sword Rapexbaina — what a magnificent name.
Such a sword must surely be meant for someone as noble as him.
According to the divine message, whoever could draw the sword would be the chosen hero of the gods.
If he could do that, fame and fortune would be his for the taking.
Gripping the glowing hilt with both hands, Rinalit stared at the radiant blade.
He tightened his hold, hope and ambition blazing in his heart — the future he dreamed of seemed within reach.
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“What’s going on?!”
Rinalit was utterly confused.
The sword still remained deeply embedded in the stone.
It looked like an ordinary rock, yet even after using all his strength, he couldn’t pull the holy sword free.
He tried several more times, even using enhancements from his martial techniques, but the sword didn’t budge — not even a little.
Could it be that he wasn’t the chosen one?
Ridiculous! How could someone as noble as him not be the chosen hero?!
Seething with frustration, Rinalit drew his ornate longsword from his waist and raised it high — slashing down hard at the stone.
If he couldn’t pull the sword out, then he’d just break the rock apart.
He refused to believe there wasn’t a way to take it.
CLANG—!!
A deafening metallic crash rang out.
The force of the blow stirred up a cloud of dust around them.
Pain shot through Rinalit’s grip as shockwaves reverberated up his arms.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
His beautifully crafted sword, forged by a renowned blacksmith, had snapped in two.
And the “ordinary” looking stone?
Not a single chip.
Not even a scratch.
Everyone around was stunned — every last one of them.
Even the real culprit hiding up in the trees nearby.
“What the hell is this rock made of? Why is it so hard?”
At that moment, Lanafit didn’t yet realize — the stone was just an ordinary stone.
The real problem wasn’t with the holy sword at all.
As the agent of a dark god’s will, a witch’s prophecy carried with it the binding force of the world’s laws.
If that weren’t the case, how could those “shut-in” goddesses in the sky be worshipped as deities?
So, the “fake holy sword” Lanafit had carefully forged… had become a true holy sword.
And the “fake divine prophecy” had also become a true prophecy.
The laws of the world had engraved themselves into the stone, making it unbreakable.
Only the one truly chosen by fate — and only when the world was on the brink of crisis — would be able to draw the holy sword Rapexbaina.
Thus, this rock infused with world laws had become utterly indestructible, remaining so until the sword was drawn.
This whole stunt?
Turning falsehood into truth.
A masterstroke of magical deception.