World of Ruin: Act 12 - The Rise of the Wanderer King

The crowd's voices filled the air like an ocean wave, their chants of devotion deafening. Every man, woman, and child bowed before Sebastian, declaring him their king. Yet as he stood there, staring at their hopeful faces, his chest tightened—not from pride, but a heavy despair.

"I am no king," he said, his voice breaking through the noise, its weight silencing them. "I walk my own path—one of death and tragedy. I cannot take you with me on this path."

The crowd shifted uneasily, their hope replaced with confusion. Whispers rose among them, rippling like leaves in the wind.

The woman who had cared for him stepped forward. Her expression was calm but knowing, her soft smile a beacon in the sea of uncertainty.

"What's wrong with them?" Sebastian asked her, his tone sharp with irritation.

She chuckled lightly, tilting her head as though amused by his question. "When our people declare a king, it is until death. Whether you accept it or not, you are now our king—not by the will of the people, but by the choice of God."

Sebastian took a step back, his hands clenched into fists. "What are you talking about?"

But before she could respond, a sharp pain shot through his head, blinding and excruciating. The world tilted, his knees buckling under the weight of his body. He clutched at his temple as dizziness overtook him.

"You are still unwell," the woman murmured as he crumpled to the ground. She motioned to the crowd in an ancient tongue:

"Uthkari nañara! Varsakk!"

Three women rushed forward immediately, their faces etched with concern. They supported Sebastian as he teetered on the edge of consciousness, their steps steady and practiced as they guided him back to the healer's chambers.

His body trembled and burned with fever. Sweat drenched his skin, pouring from his face like a flood. Once in the room, they laid him on a bed of woven blankets.

The healer motioned to the women as she introduced them in a hushed tone: "Liora, Althea, and Naomi. They will assist me in tending to you."

Althea, with dark curls framing her face, cradled Isiah gently. Her voice hummed a lullaby in a hauntingly beautiful language, its melody strange yet soothing. As the song filled the air, Sebastian's heavy eyelids finally closed.

---

The Vision

When Sebastian awoke, he was no longer in the room. The world around him was luminous, bathed in ethereal light. Beneath him, there was no solid ground—only an endless expanse of water, perfectly still and shimmering.

In the distance stood a figure cloaked in white. His robes moved with a breeze that Sebastian couldn't feel. He cradled two infants in his arms—one was Isiah, and the other, a child Sebastian didn't recognize.

Sebastian hesitated before taking a step forward, his voice small in the vastness of the space. "Where am I?"

The man turned his head slightly, though his face remained obscured. His voice, when it came, resonated with a power that stirred the waters but left Sebastian strangely calm.

"They are rising," the man said softly, looking down at the children. "This world has forgotten their home—Nolvastia."

Sebastian froze, the name igniting a flicker of memory deep within him. "Who are you? Are you God?"

The man chuckled gently, a sound that vibrated through the air. "No, child. I am not God. I am but a servant, a mere fragment of His light sent to guide those who are lost."

"An angel," Sebastian murmured.

"If that is the name you give us," the man replied. Then his tone shifted, filled with an ancient sorrow. "But you have forgotten so much, Sebastian. You, too, have turned your back on Nolvastia."

Sebastian furrowed his brow. "I don't even know what Nolvastia is. What are you talking about?"

The man stepped forward, his feet causing gentle ripples on the still water. "It is the place you were meant to guide your people toward—a land of truth, purity, and strength. This world is crumbling, filled with sin and despair. You were not born to wander endlessly or destroy. Your destiny is far greater."

Sebastian felt his chest tighten. "I'm no leader. I've brought nothing but destruction. I can't lead them… I wouldn't know how."

The man's voice softened, but it carried the weight of divinity. "Then you shall learn, Sebastian. Hidden throughout this world are two thousand pages—the Book of David—a scripture of wisdom, strength, and understanding. Find them, and you will know."

Sebastian shook his head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Who is David? Why me? There has to be someone better—someone capable of doing what you're asking!"

The angel cradled the children closer to his chest, and his voice became sorrowful yet resolute. "Because you have already walked the path of death, Sebastian. You have been forged in fire, stripped bare of illusion. This world does not need kings of comfort—it needs warriors of faith."

Before Sebastian could protest further, the angel turned, his face lifting toward a distant light. His voice rang out with a finality that shook the waters around them into a chaotic tempest.

"The Lord has entrusted you with a great and terrible responsibility, Sebastian. These people—you will lead them from the Deadlands, out of despair, and into the hope of Nolvastia. You are no longer the wanderer. You are no longer the destroyer. You are His chosen king."

With those words, light engulfed the vision, and Sebastian fell backward into darkness.

---

The Awakening

Sebastian gasped, his chest heaving as he awoke in the healer's chamber. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his body trembling as he stared into the dimly lit room. Liora stirred, blinking herself awake at his sudden movement.

"Sebastian… are you all right?" she asked softly, reaching for his hand.

He flinched at her touch, his eyes wide and unseeing. But when he turned to face her fully, she gasped. His irises, once deep brown, now shone an impossible shade of blue—like restless, churning oceans.

"Just what have you seen?" she whispered.

Sebastian paused, taking a deep breath before speaking. His voice carried a quiet power.

"I shall be your king," he said simply, the words filled with the weight of his vision.

Then, exhaustion took him once more, and he drifted back to sleep.

Liora sat back in her chair, staring at him in awe. "Earlier today, he rejected us. Now, he speaks with the voice of destiny."

---

The Speech

When morning came, Sebastian emerged from the chambers, dressed in royal attire and practical armor. He stood before the gathered masses, their eyes wide with anticipation. Beside him, Solomon, a skilled translator, stood ready to convey his words.

"I acknowledge the title you have given me as king," Sebastian began, his voice steady and filled with a newfound conviction.

(Solomon's translation: "Avandi reshnut sebhrān…")

"But this is not where our story ends. This place will not sustain us. It will fall. At dawn, we leave for the north, to a land where we will build something new—a nation free of fear, free of sin."

The crowd murmured, their doubts visible in their eyes.

"Tough times are ahead," Sebastian continued, "but together, we will survive. Together, we will fight against the darkness, the sin that threatens to consume us. And together, we will rebuild a home worthy of our dreams."

His words rang out, filling the air with hope. After a moment of hesitation, a single voice cheered—and then another, and another, until the entire crowd roared in unison.

From that moment, Sebastian was no longer a wanderer. He was their king.