Chapter Forty-Nine: The Oracle

The Land of the Setting Sun, though not as ancient and formidable as Huaxia, possessed thousands of years of cultural heritage. This legacy endowed them with the means of self-preservation in the face of the resurgence of the uncanny—namely, the Oracles.

As the name suggests, Oracles were mortals tasked with conveying the decrees of the gods. According to the culture of the Sunset Kingdom, all that the Oracles did was guided by divine instruction.

Beside a colossal statue of a woman, several rows of people stood, while below them knelt a mass of commoners.

Those who stood were the Oracles; those who knelt were ordinary folk.

They knelt in supplication, praying the gods would grant them more and stronger Oracles.

Kneeling at the very front was the king of the Kingdom of the Setting Sun. Indeed, this was a monarchy.

The king, now aged, knelt devoutly before the statue.

“Great Goddess of the Skies, according to the news from Huaxia, the resurgence of the uncanny has begun in full. We beseech your light to shine upon this land, and may your divine radiance protect every citizen of the Sunset Kingdom.”

At these words, the goddess’s visage upon the statue shifted—from serene calm to anger.

Suddenly, a young man among the Oracles stepped forward. “The Goddess of the Skies is showing her wrath to the king! The deity is displeased with his rule!”

His proclamation sent a ripple through the kneeling crowd; heated discussions broke out.

The old king stared at the Oracle in shock. This Oracle was none other than his own son, the crown prince.

“Hill, what... what do you mean?” The king’s hand trembled as he pointed at his son, anguish filling his gaze.

“What do I mean?” Hill gave a wicked smile and muttered under his breath, “In the name of the gods, I sentence you to death!”

A golden light flashed in his eyes. He drew the sword from his waist and brought it down upon his father, blood spraying in all directions.

Hill’s face betrayed not a shred of remorse for patricide—only exhilaration.

He raised his bloodied sword and shouted to those below, “The gods have chosen me to be this kingdom’s new monarch! Only I can lead you through this uncanny resurrection to the very end!”

Not a soul doubted his words. In their faith, the words and deeds of the Oracles were never wrong.

Hill saw the crowd’s attitude and smirked in satisfaction. He was now the new king of the Sunset Kingdom; his coup had succeeded.

The other Oracles were left dumbfounded—was such a thing even possible?

He turned to the towering statue. “My goddess, I apologize for my father’s earlier offense. I have slain him to appease your anger.”

The Goddess of the Skies was bewildered. Her wrath had been directed at the resurgence of the uncanny—not at the old king. But as a deity, she cared not for the life or death of a mere mortal.

The immense statue began to radiate golden light, bathing every person present. The sight left all in awe.

“Could it be... is she turning us all into Oracles?”

Some quickly understood and began to accept the light, letting it flow into their bodies.

After some time, the light faded. The original Oracles grew much stronger, and all those kneeling had gained the power of an Oracle. Some possessed only the faintest trace of that power, their strength barely above nothing, but at least they were Oracles now.

The former Oracles, who had been ranked S and A, now all reached S rank, and even beyond...

The Goddess of the Skies was well pleased. Her statue emanated an ethereal voice, as if whispering into every ear:

“This is all I can do for you. Now, you may all grow stronger through cultivation. From here on, you have only three chances to summon me. You must endure this calamity.”

“Goddess!” All present knelt, their voices reverent.

Her voice sounded again: “Remember—never provoke Huaxia...”

But her words were abruptly cut off, as if forcibly interrupted.

The Oracles below were left confused. Never provoke Huaxia... what? She hadn’t finished.

But none of the newly made Oracles cared; as long as they stayed away from Huaxia, it mattered little. The Sunset Kingdom and Huaxia had no dealings anyway, separated by a vast sea.

These were representatives from all corners of the kingdom. Now as Oracles, they could stand against the formidable uncanny creatures.

Just as everyone was basking in their newfound power, a man burst in, running straight toward the statue, tripping in his haste and sprawling to the ground.

This was the sacred place of the Goddess of the Skies, where entry was strictly regulated. Not only had this man entered without permission, he had done so at a run—a grave breach of protocol.

“Who are you, to dare intrude here?” Hill leveled his sword at the man, his voice harsh.

The man scrambled to his feet, about to explain, but Hill cut him off at once, “No need for words. By law—death!”

No sooner had he spoken than the newly empowered Oracles flexed their muscles, eager to try their powers on this rule-breaker.

“Kill him!” someone shouted, and the rest surged forward, each vying to be the first. Golden light flashed everywhere. When the crowd parted, the unfortunate man was nothing but a smear of flesh.

Hill smiled in satisfaction. But at that moment, all present sensed several overwhelming auras approaching—so powerful they could barely breathe.

Suppressing their terror, they stepped outside to investigate, but their hearts sank at the sight: three monstrous dragons were staring at them, as if waiting for them to emerge.

Before the foremost could react, a torrent of black flame swept over them, reducing them to ashes.

“It’s the dragons! The dragons!” someone screamed in panic.

Hill saw it too, and brandished his sword. “Do not panic! The great goddess will protect us. Now, we must slay them! Charge!”

He led the charge himself. The others prayed silently for the goddess’s blessing and rushed into battle, engaging the three dragons in a desperate melee.

After a long and bloody fight, the three dragons, wounded, finally flew off in the direction of the White Flag Nation, now the stronghold of uncanny creatures.

But the Oracles’ ranks had been decimated, reduced to a third of their original number. Truly, the founder’s labors had ended before they could reach fruition.

Hill raised his sword high, miraculously unscathed—his clothes only a bit dirty, not a drop of blood upon him—and cried, “We are victorious!”

“Ah!” the people echoed his cry, no one noticing anything amiss, nor questioning why the new king had not been seen in the thick of battle.

Their cheers complete, they placed the bodies of the fallen Oracles on a boat and sent them drifting out to sea. On the shore, the remaining Oracles wiped tears from their eyes, as if mourning the sacrifice of their comrades.