Roman walked at the very front of the formation, his steps steady, purposeful.
Around him, the Twelve Paladins Regiment moved in perfect unison, forming a protective circle—six at each side, their armor shimmering with holy inscriptions. Behind them followed Pope Lucius Serapheal, Archbishop Desmond Herman, the selected priests, the elite nuns, and the senior clerics who had been summoned for this extraordinary meeting.
To any outsider, it looked as if the Holy Empire itself was escorting a king.
But Roman Crowell didn't seem to notice the grandeur. His focus remained sharp, carved with determination.
After several long corridors, the group reached the Pope's Office.
A paladin knight rushed forward, bowed deeply, and swung the heavy doors open.
Inside, Pope Lucius hurried past everyone.
He grabbed a chair with both hands and personally placed it at the head of the long circular table.
Roman blinked, startled.
"Y–your Holiness, please. You're embarrassing me," he said gently. "You are the Pope, and I am just a nineteen-year-old noble kid."
The Pope lifted his head sharply.
"Age does not decide worth," he said with a trembling yet firm voice.
"The fact that you are the Chosen Warrior, the last hope of humanity, is the greatest honor in this world. Meanwhile, I am nothing more than a mortal whom the Goddess has entrusted to guide Her church."
Roman fell silent.
Seeing the Pope bow in humility shook even the Twelve Paladins.
Only after the Pope insisted did Roman finally sit.
The Pope sat beside him.
Archbishop Desmond Herman occupied the next seat.
Around them, the chosen priests, nuns, and the Twelve Paladins filled the room.
Every gaze, every breath… rested on Roman
Roman leaned forward, voice steady.
"First, I apologize for arriving without prior notice. But the danger we face now is far beyond normal. This is a threat to everything we hold dear."
The room stilled.
Roman continued,
"And before anything else… I want to know about the Prophecy of the Twelve Demonic Fallen Angels, and you mentioned them as twelve harbingers
How did the Holy Empire know?
How did you identify me as the Chosen Warrior?"
He exhaled deeply.
"Because after the first dungeon break, when I defeated the boss… I was in a coma for eight days. When I woke up, I heard the Warherald prophecy . But I want to know how you learned this." heavy silence fell.
No one dared speak.
Finally, Pope Lucius lifted his hand.
"Archbishop Desmond. Bring the Prophecy Book."
After a moment, Archbishop Desmond returned with an ancient, leather-bound tome.
The book itself seemed older than kingdoms pages yellowed, the cover scarred by time.
He placed it gently before Roman.
Roman opened it.
The first line chilled him.
> "12 A.D — On a calm evening, the sky tore apart."
He kept reading.
The prophecy described horrors unseen by modern mankind:
A golden sky turning black.
Something massive falling crying, screaming in a language not of mortals.
The earth shaking violently.
A gigantic fissure opening in the land.
Twelve winged beings titans falling one after another.
Their golden light fading into pitch-black darkness.
Chains bound them.
Their mouths were sealed shut.
Their wings were ripped, twisted.
The last one, before being swallowed by the earth, screamed:
> "We will kill you god, you goddess, and your precious humans.
We will take this world."
Roman's hands tightened around the pages.
He continued reading.
The ground above them began leaking a black liquid corruptive, poisonous, killing beasts and blighting the air.
Priests who approached the land vanished mysteriously.
Even Popes of the past died after investigating.
Until Goddess Aria intervened.
She spoke through visions:
> "These twelve are the Fallen Demonic Angels.
Should they break free, humanity will perish.
But I shall not abandon My creation.
I will send My Chosen Warrior the Warherald.
Honor him as you honor Me."
> "Should he fail, humanity shall vanish from the surface of the earth."
Roman stared at the page for a long time.
Inside, a storm churned.
Why me? Why did the goddess choose me?
Why give me the burden of an entire world?
I'm reckless. My past is stained with regret and blood.
I've made unforgivable choices.
I'm the worst candidate for this.
Yet he also knew
I'm strong enough.
If I push myself…
I can do it.
But then there was fear.
I don't want to return to being Ronald.
I don't want to become that monster again.
Suddenly
> ⚠︎ SHADOW SYSTEM WARNING
"You are the perfect choice.
You are no longer Ronald.
You are Roman Crowell Warherald."
The screen glitched violently
Then shut off.
"Roman?"
Pope Lucius leaned forward.
"Are you alright?"
Roman snapped out of his thoughts.
"Yes… sorry. I was thinking."
He pointed at the book.
"Is this the end of the prophecy?
Do we know their names?
Their powers?
Their weaknesses?"