Aug 4. Medith slipped back into the everyday, wading into a river of work. A tangle of tasks waited: syncing guild upgrades with Olivya, merging with Gill and company, and more besides.
It was grinding and it was heavy, yet the road tilted toward light, like dawn pushing fog off the hills. As Medith’s reach grew, her name rose like a banner in the wind.
People came like migrating birds to a lighthouse, clamoring to prove their mettle. When word spread she’d welcomed former Southern Kingdom Hunting Corps, the flood swelled.
Only now did Medith feel Pers’s words land like a stone in her palm: the Southern Kingdom wasn’t one iron plate. Many soldiers probed for entry, and a few rats sniffed the grain.
But under Medith’s eyes, any rat trying to slip through was a mouse ramming a cat—suicide beneath a hunter’s moon.
...
Aug 7. After three days, the recruitment fair closed like a market at dusk. To every power, the Crimson Sunset Guild blazed like a new star after the Sanctuary of Freedom and Bloodhand Gang battles.
That day they’d used human hands to shake the heavens and flip fate; day and night swapped places. People dubbed them [The Chosen], and some devout swore Medith was a messenger sent by the gods.
The loudest chorus rose from the Elf Clan, fervent in their faith in the Ancestor Master...
...
“Your Majesty the Queen, the one of prophecy is most likely Medith. How shall we proceed?” An aged elder watched from a high ridge. Beside him stood a beautiful, mature female Sprite with a Scepter, its grip engraved with the letter [N].
“Who would’ve thought...” The Northern Queen’s voice drifted like wind over snow. “The fated one would rise under the Eastern Queen. Our Wind Clan stands strongest, backed by the mountain of Onomiya, and the one holding it is still the [Storm Maiden].
“When the Onomiya incident breaks, the Wind Clan will press outward and step beyond the mountains. Is all of this the Ancestor Master’s design?” The Northern Queen’s gaze went distant, threaded with solace, reluctance, and envy.
“She commands a Prophet Squad, and God’s child has power enough to unmake sky and earth,” the elder said, voice dry as bark. “With that woman anchoring the East and growing our clan’s reach, we’ll share in the light.”
The elder only shrugged, weatherproof. The Northern Queen sighed, white hair pure as a snow lotus lifting in the bleak wind. Her eyes turned far and dim, thoughts wheeling like birds over a cold lake...
...
[Deep West]
“It’s about time.”
“Everything’s back on track.”
“The world’s largest game board is laid out.”
“Barring surprises, Luo Tianfeng has stepped onto the board.”
“Next is Shi Yi.”
“Then we accelerate and push this world along its course. About three years remain.”
“What year is tonight?”
“Year 996, Aug 7.”
“Time’s thin. Sacrifice what we must. Begin.”
In the dim hall, four old men spoke in voices like rusty gears. A many-colored butterfly drifted out, wings flickering like stained glass, and floated toward the near north.
...
Aug 8. Olivya’s smile bloomed like spring sun; joy rose to her face and made her glow. Medith’s rise lifted her too, like catching a thermal into blue heights. A letter from her father brimmed with praise, calling her sharp-eyed and noting her voice now carried far more weight.
These days, the Dusk Legion took only handpicked blades. A guild once only hundreds leapt to five thousand, elites among them names like Nora and Sprites.
“Olivya, I’m heading north. You know what I mean, right?” Medith arched a brow, as if this had been plotted ages ago.
“Of course.” Olivya nodded. “Charge without worry, General. If anything breaks, call me—I’ll send you an army.”
