Revealing Strength

After several days of arduous travel, Rowan finally arrived at the legendary Blood Sacrifice Grounds alongside the crowd.

The place was packed with people, members of the Darkmoon Clan gathering from all corners of the land. Their faces bore signs of exhaustion, yet their eyes burned with unwavering determination. Deep down, everyone knew that this might very well be their final chance to awaken the goddess. No matter how long and difficult the journey had been, they had come—clinging to the sliver of hope that still remained.

Meanwhile, in a grand and solemn stone hall near the sacrificial site, the high-ranking members of the Darkmoon Clan were engaged in a tense and weighty discussion.

Seated at the head of the chamber, Chief Modis surveyed the gathered elders and key figures with a grave expression. His voice, though calm, carried an unmistakable sense of resolve.

"This upcoming blood sacrifice is a matter of life and death for our clan," he declared. "I want to hear your thoughts."

The Grand Elder furrowed his brows, contemplating for a moment before speaking.

"The entire clan is whispering that this may truly be our final offering. If that is the case, then we must take drastic measures. I propose we triple the number of sacrificial warriors this time—thirty instead of ten. If that still fails to awaken the goddess… then perhaps nothing ever will."

Chief Modis nodded slightly, a steely glint in his eyes. "Indeed. Even if there is but a sliver of hope, we must seize it with everything we have. If thirty sacrifices are not enough…" He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for an irreversible decision. "Then today, we will offer every last awakened warrior in our clan—including myself."

A stunned silence fell over the hall. The gathered elders and warriors exchanged looks of shock and disbelief.

The clan chief—offering himself as a sacrifice?

Yet, to their surprise, no one outright opposed the decision. One by one, warriors stepped forward, their eyes filled with unwavering devotion. They voiced their willingness to lay down their lives for the goddess, to give their all for the slim possibility of her return.

Just then, a figure who had remained silent throughout the meeting finally stood.

It was the clan's Prophet.

His face was etched with sorrow as he gazed upon the determined expressions of his people. There was a deep, aching weariness in his voice as he spoke.

"If things have come to this… then I can no longer keep the truth hidden."

A hush fell over the room.

Even Chief Modis looked surprised. "What do you mean?"

The Prophet exhaled slowly before revealing the long-guarded secret.

"Before the goddess sealed herself within the altar, she spoke with the Prophet of that era," he said. "She had suffered wounds so grave that she could no longer absorb the power of faith. Entering the altar was her last chance—her final struggle to survive.

She warned that if she failed… she would disappear forever. And that, from then on, she would no longer be able to protect our clan."

The hall was deathly silent.

"The Prophet at the time, desperate to keep the goddess alive, devised the blood sacrifices," the Prophet continued. "Through the power of our warriors' bloodlines, we sought to sustain her, hoping that one day she would recover and reclaim her divinity.

But in truth, these sacrifices have only delayed the inevitable. The goddess continues to weaken. And this sacrifice… it will be the last one she can endure."

Chief Modis clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. But instead of backing down, his eyes blazed with even greater determination.

"If this is truly our final chance," he declared, "then let us go all in! Even if the odds are one in a million, we cannot afford to hesitate!"

The other warriors roared their agreement, their faces filled with grim resolve. There was no turning back now.

The Prophet looked around at his people—at their desperate, unwavering faith—and sighed. He had carried this secret for years, hoping to spare them from despair. But now… even he wished for a miracle.

Meanwhile, Rowan had finally reached the chief's encampment.

He had to meet the clan chief. He had to convince them to let him try—before they sacrificed their future in vain.

After some effort, he arrived at the entrance of the chief's tent, stopping before the guards.

"I have an urgent matter to discuss with the chief," Rowan said firmly. "I have a way to save the Darkmoon Goddess."

The guards were taken aback. After exchanging glances, they hesitated only briefly before disappearing inside to relay his message.

Moments later, Rowan was ushered into the tent, where Chief Modis waited with narrowed eyes, scrutinizing him with wary suspicion.

"You claim you can save the goddess?" the chief said, his voice edged with skepticism. "Then tell me—how exactly do you intend to do that?"

Rowan met the chief's gaze steadily. "That… I cannot reveal just yet. But I assure you—I have the strength to attempt it."

Chief Modis's expression darkened. "You expect me to believe that? Do you understand that our clan has not produced a single warrior of Sword Saint level for generations? And yet you, an outsider, claim to have such power?" His voice grew colder. "Or perhaps… you're here to sabotage the ceremony?"

Rowan didn't waste time explaining.

Instead, he unleashed his power.

A brilliant light filled the tent as an overwhelming aura surged forth—vast, unfathomable, and unmistakably at the level of a Sword Saint.

Chief Modis's eyes widened in pure disbelief.

"You—!" He staggered back, staring at Rowan as though he were a ghost. "Impossible! You don't even possess the Darkmoon Clan's bloodline—how can you have reached this level?!"

Rowan smirked. "I have my ways. Now, do you believe me?"

The chief was silent for a long moment. Then, without another word, he turned to one of his men.

"Summon the Prophet and the elders," he ordered.

This was no longer a matter that could be ignored.