Chapter 661 The Omen at Dawn

The sky had not yet fully dawned when the oldest courtroom in the heart of Gaia was still illuminated by flickering candles. Inside the stone room adorned with ancient glyphs, seven members of the Psionic Council of Gaia sat in a circle. In the nights prior, they had barely slept—not due to politics, but because of whispers and nightmares that disturbed the magic system throughout the land. Uncertainty hung in the air, a heavy question buried in the minds of the members: 'Is this a sign from the universe, or an unavoidable disaster?'

At the center of the table, on a blue crystal board, lay a large map of the world—complete with swirling anomalies glowing red. All council members knew that this data was not the result of predictions, but a direct recording from surveillance glyphs in every corner of Gaia, Atlantis, and the borders of Earth. Among them was an unspoken worry about the possible meaning behind the light. Each member felt torn between loyalty to their clans and fear of the consequences of their next actions.

That night, for the first time in history, three red points glowed—at the heart of Gaia, in the Sanctuary of Oda Nobuzan, and one beyond anyone's reach, marking an unknown "spiral anomaly." A sense of dread enveloped them, as if the world they knew was under threat, stirring memories of ancient legends told by their ancestors about the return of the smoldering darkness.

"No prediction system can cover this," whispered the Chairwoman of the Council, an elderly woman named Salvera Maelis, her voice trembling between anxiety and awe. "Two new lives have emerged at the center of the world's spiral resonance... and I fear not only because they are special, but because they are the key to a disaster older than all of humanity's sins." She looked at her seven colleagues, trying to convey with her eyes the heavy burden they all had to bear. Would they decide to act, or wait until the darkness took everything?

On the other side of the table, a young man, Rethan, touched the spiral-shaped glyph faintly etched on the map. Blue light moved, revealing a sequence of unknown codes: veins of magic flowed like roots searching for a water source, yet never finding an end. The tension in the air made Rethan hold his breath, his heart racing as he realized the potential danger. Even just by touching the glyph, he could feel the resonance of fear flowing within his soul, as if its color reminded him of past mistakes that had yet to be forgiven.

"This... is the glyph of Fitran," he murmured softly. "He once sealed Beelzebub in this world five years ago. Our last records about Elyra, the child of Fitran and Beelzebub, indicate a spiral-void anomaly: the ability to draw ancient beings into the real world. We never truly eliminated that danger; we only covered it with walls of glyphs." Memories of the sacrificial battle flashed in Rethan's mind, each decision feeling like a weight on his heart. He remembered how his friends fought and suffered, all to keep this power sealed. But now, as a new bloodline arose, he began to wonder: should they fight against the fate that had been written?

"And now," Salvera continued, "two wombs—one belonging to Oda Nobuzan, the other to Queen Iris of Gaia—have housed the bloodline of Fitran. And the spiral code... is moving again. The world holds its breath, waiting for who will utter the first curse." Salvera felt a deep sense of hesitation and worry. She knew that every decision made at this moment would carry terrible consequences for everyone. The weight of her responsibility burdened her back, while the wise whispers of all wisdom and uncertainty competed in her mind. "Am I ready to bear this burden?" she thought, cradling hope and fear within her heart.

Midnight. Beneath the shadows of Gaia's oldest tower, two members of the Psionic Council stood at the edge of the balcony, their voices nearly swallowed by the roar of the wind. Their hearts were filled with doubt and fear, recalling what was at stake. Each passing second weighed heavier on the guilt that settled within their souls.

"We have no choice left. If this information doesn't get out, and the ancient beings truly rise…" One of them hesitated, holding back the horror that loomed in his mind, "...can we truly forgive ourselves?" "But who can be trusted? Even the King of Gaia himself is in doubt… If this news falls into the wrong hands—" The woman gazed at the night sky, as if searching for answers among the stars that did not shine clearly. "We will remember it forever; every decision changes everything." "You know who is truly ready to face the apocalypse: the King of Earth. They have the armies, technology, and the belief that all disasters must be prevented, even with cruelty." The stronger their desire to protect the world, the deeper their guilt festered.

A small glyph paper changed hands. The code of Fitran, the spiral line, the chronicle of Elyra's power, and two locations of pregnancy: the Sanctuary of Oda and the Underground Palace of Gaia. Each piece of information being transferred felt like an unbearable burden, forcing them to wonder if they were conspiring to save or destroy.

The next day, an anonymous letter was received by the King of Earth—containing all records, warnings, and prophecies. Uneasily, he examined the text, feeling a terror creeping down his spine. Could all this be avoided, or was it too late for everyone?

King Earth, Ardaius, read the glyph report in his private chamber, surrounded by war advisors and magic scientists. The crystal lights did little to soothe his heart; he knew the future of the entire world might be determined by the decisions made in the coming nights. His face reflected deep anxiety, as if every word in the report was an arrow piercing his heart.

"The child of Fitran and Beelzebub, Elyra, nearly drowned the world five years ago. Now there are two... and each is a pathway for the ancient beings that have been waiting for the spiral to open." Those words quickened his heartbeat, and Ardaius felt a disturbing unease, questioning whether he could handle this threat or if history would repeat its mistakes.

His advisor, a magus named Faedros, interjected, "The Psionic Council of Gaia is right—but they are also cowards. They allowed the bloodline of Fitran to persist out of fear of war, not conviction. If we let these two wombs complete their pregnancies... not just Tiamat, but the entire prison of ancient beings will open."

In Faedros's voice, Ardaius felt a wave of dissatisfaction; he knew the fear was not only from the short-term threat but also from the guilt gnawing at his soul. Feeling trapped between his responsibilities as a king and actions that might trigger more deaths made his heart tremble. "If we eliminate them, we risk the souls and hopes of many. Are we truly ready to choose that path?"

Ardaius nodded slowly. He was not just a king, but also a father who had lost three children in the previous spiral war. Their faces flashed in his memory, looking at him with innocent eyes; "From tonight, prepare the troops. No negotiations—we must eliminate these two wombs. Gaia will fall. Oda Nobuzan will vanish. If necessary, this entire world must be drenched in blood for one purpose: to stop the disaster before it is born." A decision that burned within him, causing new pain.

In the underground palace, Iris heard hurried footsteps outside her chamber. The royal doctor, protective sorcerers, and nurses moved back and forth silently, bringing new potions and spells. Everyone believed that Queen Gaia was merely suffering from a long war—no one knew, except the Psionic Council and a few chosen protectors, that within her frail womb pulsed a life that was not just a potential heir to the throne, but perhaps also the source of the world's end. Amidst the noise disturbing the silence of the night, Iris felt something deeper than her illness—a connection with the being that would be born, and doubt began to envelop her thoughts. "Is this the fate I have accepted?" she thought, as if answering the echo of her own heart.

Iris had nightmares every night: spirals encircling her body, ancient voices calling her name, and the shadow of a giant dragon (Tiamat) lurking from the crevices of her dreams. She woke up each time, her body drenched in cold sweat, feeling the vibrations of fear coursing through her bones. For a moment, she envisioned the fate of the guardians of Queen Gaia, wondering if this was all just a nightmare or a sign of something darker. She clutched the heirloom pendant of Sheena, hoping for answers from the past, but all that remained was a premonition that everything to come could no longer be prevented.

In the sanctuary of Oda, Nobuzan also lived under siege: rumors of her pregnancy spread—not as a miracle, but as a curse. Every whisper heard within the ancient walls of the sanctuary weighed on her mind, creating a guilt that pounded in her heart, as if she were the main cause of all the suffering that befell them. Loyal samurai risked their lives every night, killing Earth spies disguised as refugees. Yet Nobuzan knew that the outside world was counting down the days, waiting for the right moment to end her bloodline.

The following night, the Psionic Council gathered again—but now they knew that one among them had leaked all secrets to Earth. Worry enveloped the room, forming a tense aura that constricted their breaths, and it felt as if every second passed heavier. Salvera Maelis bowed her head in the shadows of the light: "We have betrayed the queen, the people, and the future of the world itself. But there is no turning back. War cannot be avoided, and we—"

Suddenly, an explosion shook the floor of the upper palace. Thick walls trembled; screams of the troops echoed from outside. The heart of each council member raced, exchanging anxious glances, realizing that their time was running out. A red signal appeared on the crystal board: Earth's forces had crossed the border, faster than expected, with war technology emitting the glyph "Void Eater"—an ancient spiral-destroying magic.

"War has come... and the world will pay the price for our lies," whispered a council member, his eyes filled with deep anxiety. He felt the weight of this responsibility, as if every word spoken could change the fate of many souls. In his heart, the battle was not just physical, but also an inner struggle against guilt and regret.

In the Sanctuary of Plum Blossom, Nobuzan realized time was almost up. She wrote a final letter to the child who might never be born: "If you read this letter, it means your mother has failed. But remember, the world is not just about power, spirals, or curses. Every hope, no matter how small, once existed for you." As she wrote, she recalled the smiles of children playing in the garden, smiles that now felt distant and seemed like mere shadows of the past. Tears streamed down her cheeks, as if each drop was an unspoken prayer.

Iris in the underground palace also prayed in silence, not to the gods, but to Sheena and Joanna—seeking forgiveness if she could not protect the blood of Fitran. She felt trapped between her responsibilities to her family and the deep love she had for those she had just come to know. "I am ready to bear the world's wrath. But do not let your name fade, even if I must vanish." So she spoke, her heart trembling; she clutched the ring once given to her by Sheena, a fading light of hope.

As the first sun rose from behind the mountains, thousands of Earth's forces, supported by magitek, magical vehicles, and killer paladins, had surrounded the fortress of Gaia and the sanctuary of Oda. Amidst the metallic uniforms and clashing metal sounds, there were hidden smiles; within the hearts of many warriors, a question trembled: 'Is all this worth it?' Above the tower, the banners of Gaia, Oda, and Earth waved not as symbols of agreement, but as signs that the world would change. There would be no more negotiations, only war until the last drop of blood fell—and in the midst of it all, two wombs became the center of the world's fate. In the silence before the storm, each leader was battling with a moral dilemma, whether power and sacrifice were worth the resurrection or destruction written in their destiny.