Chapter 340 Nobody takes me seriously

A soft shiver moved through the gathered villagers. Even Karl stopped his quiet muttering about Soulstream for once, staring wide-eyed.

"Yes," the old priest continued, his voice a low rumble beneath the crackle of holy flames. Sparks danced up into the night sky like tiny stars, as if carrying prayers to the heavens.

Villagers, young and old, huddled closer, faces lit with an orange glow, eyes reflecting the flickering fire.

"The rain," he went on, raising his wrinkled hand toward the cloudy sky, "once fell upon our lands like fire itself — hissing, boiling, turning our fields to ash, our rivers to steam. The soil grew bitter. Families wandered, searching for shelter that did not scorch their feet. But our ancestors were brave, and stubborn in their hope. They gathered together under a single flame when all seemed lost."