The rumbling did not fade this time.
It grew.
A low, rolling vibration swept across the land like an invisible tide—dislodging tiles from rooftops, making windows tremble, sending flocks of birds scattering into the dark sky.
In the capital square, people huddled together, eyes fixed on the distant mountains where a faint, unnatural glow pulsed like a waking heartbeat.
The Saints exchanged tense glances.
"That light… it's coming from the Forbidden Range," one muttered.
"That place has been dormant for centuries," another whispered.
Eris stepped down the palace stairs, each footfall steady despite the shaking earth.
The relic drifted at his shoulder, rotating slowly—its seven faces glowing brighter in response to the disturbance.
One of the younger Saints quickly walked up beside him, trying to match his pace.
"Eris—this energy… it feels wrong," she said, voice trembling. "It doesn't resemble anything from our world."
Eris nodded, expression unreadable.
"It isn't from our world."
A collective gasp from the crowd followed his words.
Another tremor rolled through the capital—this one sharper, like something massive scraping against the crust of the earth.
A child cried.
A mother clutched her son.
Priests began chanting old hymns in trembling voices.
Eris lifted his gaze to the horizon.
A pillar of light suddenly erupted from the heart of the Forbidden Range—blinding, pure, towering high enough to pierce the cloud barrier.
The ground cracked beneath the city streets. Dust lifted into the air. Several watchtowers swayed alarmingly.
Then, without warning—
The pillar bent.
Not like a beam of magic.
Not like a stray flare.
It bent like a living creature stretching after a long slumber.
The Saints recoiled in terror.
"No… no, that's not possible…"
"That isn't energy—it's an appendage!"
"A limb!? That's a limb—!"
The light dimmed enough for its silhouette to take shape.
And the shape confirmed their worst fear:
A colossal form was rising from beneath the mountains.
Not a beast.
Not a titan.
Something… older.
Eris whispered only one word:
"The Heralds."
The Saints froze.
"The Heralds of the One Being?"
"They were only myths—legends—warnings left by the ancients—"
"I thought they were destroyed—!"
Eris didn't answer.
He kept walking.
Behind him, the relic's glow sharpened, becoming a brilliant halo of fractured light. It emitted a soft hum—like a voice trying to speak through static.
The colossal silhouette in the mountains continued rising.
A head formed.
A torso.
Arms that distorted the air around them.
Wings made of fractured, bending reality—like mirrors breaking in slow motion.
The Herald turned.
It looked at the capital.
Every lantern in the city blew out at once.
Panic erupted.
Screams filled the air.
Families fled into their homes.
Soldiers dropped their weapons.
Priests fainted.
Yet even as chaos surged, Eris stood unmoving.
The Herald took one step.
The mountains around its feet collapsed like sand.
A shockwave blasted through the region, toppling several buildings near the city walls.
One Saint shouted over the noise:
"Eris! We need to evacuate! This city cannot withstand a Herald's approach!"
"Run! The capital will fall!" another cried.
Eris didn't move.
He stared at the Herald's distant form, eyes calm—almost cold.
"The relic awakened for a reason," he said quietly.
"This is that reason."
The relic pulsated harder, brighter—almost urgent.
Then, slowly, it floated in front of Eris, rotating faster and faster.
A beam of seven-colored light shot upward from its core, splitting the clouds and forming a towering pillar above the city.
The Herald froze mid-step.
The wind stopped.
The world held its breath.
Eris inhaled deeply.
"This will be the first confrontation."
And as the sky rippled with otherworldly pressure—
the Herald began to lower its wings.
Preparing to descend.