Prologue. Siblings of Mutual Destruction
Clan of the Eight Divine Kings, Yaegas.
They were seen as saviors who liberated humans from the land once ruled by evil ancient gods, establishing eight thrones across the continent.
'When a rightful king sits upon the throne, the light of the Great Royal Mandate will protect the world.'
The masters of the thrones, revered for their immense power, came to be known as the Divine Kings and received the worship of all.
However, the Emperor appeared.
Emperor Yaeslat.
He subjugated his fellow Divine Kings, who were like brothers to him, and seized all eight thrones of the Yaegas Divine Clan for himself. To maintain his reign, he needed individuals capable of killing even members of the Yaegas Divine Clan. But…
Those who remembered the grace of the Eight Kings refused to stain their hands with the blood of the Divine Kings.
Then, from a distant continent, five sailing ships shipwrecked upon the shores. The people aboard them called themselves the Aragasa.
The Emperor approached them and made them his trusted followers. Without hesitation, they killed the Divine Kings and stained their hands with that sacred blood.
People began to call them the Emperor's Heralds, the Herald Clan, despising and loathing them.
When the Emperor died and the empire fragmented back into the Kingdoms of the Eight Kings...
The Herald Clan also fell into ruin.
***
After the empire's collapse, the Herald Clan lost all its power and faced persecution. Among them, a particular brother and sister endured the harshest of it.
These siblings were children born from a traitor of the clan.
The girl's name was Arael.
The boy's name was Azadin.
They were named after the protagonists of the mythology their clan had believed in before arriving on this land.
The Angel of Justice, Arael, and the Eyeless Evil Dragon, Azadin, were beings of mutual destruction, destined to fight from the beginning to the end of the world.
The fact that the siblings were given such names was a testament to the hatred their clan harbored toward them.
Yet, the girl named Arael grew up to be an exceptional figure—possessing remarkable beauty, outstanding skill, immense magic, and an arrogant nature—making her someone no one could ignore.
In contrast, the boy named Azadin was born blind and weak.
***
The spirit of martial arts sometimes turns into a merciless whip that strikes the weak. For the weakest boy in the clan, his environment could not have been more unforgiving.
When the boy was groaning from the wounds on his body and heart, a figure appeared before him.
"Fools, throwing away a diamond in the mud. No one here realizes this brat's potential. Tch."
The figure extended his hand to the boy.
"Rejoice, brat. You've been chosen as the disciple of the great Kazas. I will make you the strongest Herald."
"Huh?"
"What do you mean, 'huh?' This is the part where you cry tears of joy. I don't take disciples often, you know."
"The strongest Herald? Even stronger than Arael?"
"Of course. You'll need to defeat your older sister to be considered the strongest, right?"
"She's not my older sister. She's my younger sister."
"Look at this cheeky brat. Do I need to know every little detail? Just go along with it. Are you going to be my disciple or not?"
"Can I become a Knight of Salvation, too?"
Shockingly, despite being part of the Herald Clan, the boy held faith in the Order of the Knights of Salvation.
The Knights of Salvation preached that anyone, regardless of birth, could wield the mighty powers of White Magic if they upheld the virtues of courage, wisdom, and compassion. This faith had been the boy's emotional anchor, helping him endure the cruel persecution he faced.
"A Knight of Salvation? Those fools? Sure, you can become one. Not that I'd recommend it."
***
A rumor spread briefly through the sanctuary that Kazas, the enigmatic elder known only by name among the Herald Clan, had taken Azadin, the symbol of incompetence, uselessness, and powerlessness, as his disciple.
The other members of the Herald Clan were intensely curious about the circumstances, but time passed without any notable updates.
Then, on the tenth year...
Elder Kazas exercised his authority and forcefully appointed Azadin as one of the 108 Heralds, bypassing the usual procedures.
The Emperor's Heralds were both a curse and an honor to the Herald Clan, with only 108 allowed to exist in each generation.
Many fought and struggled to earn the position of a Herald, and even then, only a few succeeded. The clan viewed the appointment of the once-inept Azadin as a reckless outrage, and resentment festered among them.
But by then, Azadin had already been appointed and was on his way to the distant southeastern frontier.
Chapter 1. The Devil of Gold Coins (1)
A girl received a gift from her fiancé.
It was a gold coin engraved with the face of a man she didn't recognize.
"What's this?"
Her fiancé glanced around cautiously. Though there were only rocky mountains and flocks of sheep around, he was wary, as if someone might overhear.
"It's an Emperor's gold coin."
"An Emperor's gold coin?"
"Yeah. Have you ever heard of the Herald Clan?"
"Oh, the soulless ones?"
The Herald Clan was infamous, known as Divine King Slayers, the Soulless, harbingers of ill omen, and other dreadful names.
Even a girl with little education had heard the stories meant to scare children.
"Exactly. They say this coin can command those soulless beings. But be careful—even possessing it is enough for the Inquisitors of the King's Church to execute you."
"What?"
The girl was so startled that she nearly dropped the coin.
"Why would you give me something so dangerous as a gift?"
"Haha, don't be scared. But you never know. If something happens to us... draw a triangle on the ground, place this coin at the center, and the Herald Clan will come to help you."
He smiled as he spoke.
"Let's hope it never comes to that."
***
That spring, a severe drought struck.
Not a single drop of rain fell until planting season, causing wells to dry up and people to flee in terror.
However, the lord of the region, Margrave Kazel, considered the villagers' attempts to escape a serious crime and sent soldiers to subdue them.
The soldiers were led by Margrave's son, Kozel, a powerful mage said to possess the blood of the Divine Kings.
He hanged the fleeing villagers from trees and confiscated their property. He then commandeered the village hall as his personal camp and summoned local maidens to serve him.
One of the women dragged there returned home in a miserable state, having been violated by the Margrave's soldiers, who were no better than a gang of bandits. Terrified, the villagers sank further into despair.
The girl decided to escape with her fiancé's family. But as if to prove the rumors of his sorcery true, Kozel intercepted them on their escape route.
"This is the problem," Kozel muttered.
He mockingly shaved his beard with the blade of his longsword, gazing at the frightened farmers with contempt.
"Even beasts show gratitude, but you—you're worse than animals. You live only because of the grace of the divine bloodline, our blood. And yet, you cower and try to run just because of a little drought? Such ingratitude."
"N-no, that's not it."
"Please, at least spare the children…"
The elderly members of the girl's fiancé's family begged, but soldiers burst out laughing and swiftly ran their spears through the children.
"Stop it!"
At that moment, Kozel ordered them to stop.
"You fools. How can you be so unimaginative? Don't you know what real fun is?"
"Ah, young master."
"We're ignorant and don't know much. Please, show us how to have fun."
The soldiers chuckled like mischievous boys, kicking the bodies of the speared children to pull their spears free.
"First, hang the people from a slightly taller tree. Make the children support their parents and the wives support their husbands."
"Ah!"
The soldiers marveled at Kozel's suggestion, seemingly impressed. They swiftly set up nooses on the large willow trees at the village's edge with practiced ease.
The branches of the willows weren't particularly sturdy, yet the soldiers hung people with ease, as if they'd done this many times before. How many had they hanged to become this skilled? Hanging one or two people clearly wasn't enough for them.
"No... Safiya! Run!"
The girl's fiancé panicked at the approaching soldiers and tried to make her flee, but a sharp blade split the air, slicing through his flesh.
Kozel had slashed his fiancé's back.
"Oh dear. If I do it like this, he'll die too quickly. My mistake."
Kozel chuckled, holding his blood stained sword.
"No worries. Tie a rope around his waist. That'll make him last longer, just like the others."
The soldiers, still laughing, tied a rope around the bleeding but still-living fiancé's waist and hung him from the tree, adding a bag of sand to his ankles.
The girl, her fiancé's family, and other villagers dangled from nooses, gasping for air, while the children squirmed beneath them like helpless support stones.
"Well, peasant girl, hold up your fiancé. If he's left hanging, the pressure will burst his veins and he'll die."
They positioned the girl beneath her fiancé's dangling body.
The girl couldn't move an inch, struggling to ease the burden on him.
"Yes, support him. Don't move. Understand?"
"Ha-ha-ha…"
Among the laughing soldiers, a knight with a hardened expression muttered something.
"Don't spill the blood of the Divine Kings so carelessly."
"Hm?"
Kozel stopped and turned.
The man was a Northern warrior in his early thirties, appearing older due to his silver-gray hair and somber expression. His hair, though reminiscent of the Yaegas bloodline, leaned more toward graying or whitening prematurely.
His eyes, more gray than blue, seemed to gaze beyond the people in front of him, as though lost in distant thought. His entire demeanor radiated fatigue and indifference, but beneath that lay a sharpness, like a sheathed, ancient sword.
"Well, well, look who it is. Sir Zebeck, my sword instructor."
"Do you really need to go this far to punish these people? As a noble bearing divine blood, shouldn't you at least maintain some decorum?"
"Decorum? That's not for me to worry about. As long as word of this doesn't spread, my reputation will be just fine. Or what? Are you planning to run your mouth about this, Sir Zebeck? Will you, a holy knight sanctioned by the King's Church, tarnish the reputation of a noble with divine blood?"
"The truth can't be hidden forever. Is maintaining dignity so difficult?"
"I'm a man of passion. I prefer to let it out when I want and silence those who oppose me. Speaking of which…"
"Shall we get rid of him?"
The armed soldiers began surrounding Zebeck.
"No, let him be. Look, teach, I'm sparing you because of the fond memories of my childhood. Understand?"
"..."
Humiliated, the knight's face reflected shock and pain.
"The whip."
Kozel called out, and a soldier handed him a whip.
With it, he lashed the girl.
Crack!
She staggered, groaning from the pain of her torn skin, but she managed to steady herself and continue supporting her fiancé's weight.
"See? Problem solved. Lighten up, teach. Life's meant to be enjoyed."
"..."
"Now then, hold on as long as you can, peasant girl."
***
Kozel, Margrave's son, and his soldiers hung the girl's family from trees and left with their confiscated property.
The girl stood there, enduring excruciating pain, bearing the weight, and braving the agony and humiliation.
"Safiya, I was wrong... Run."
"Ifan."
She shook her head, calling her fiancé's name.
Blood dripped steadily from her feet onto the ground. The pain from her wounds was worsening.
Even if she abandoned her fiancé and ran, she felt she wouldn't be able to survive.
"..."
Suddenly, the girl realized that she still had the Emperor's gold coin. She had placed it inside a secret pocket sewn into the lining of her clothes.
"Will the Emperor's Heralds really come?"
She wondered, her curiosity mixed with desperation. With her weakened toes, she traced a triangle on the dry ground.
It was just a simple triangle drawn on parched earth, but drops of her blood fell onto the ground, staining it.
Struggling to stay upright while holding the sandbag, she carefully pulled the gold coin out of her secret pocket and dropped it onto the triangle.
The coin glowed softly, and a faint light spread along the lines of the triangle.
"Ah!"
It was true. The stories were real. Startled, she called out to her fiancé.
"Ifan, did you see that?"
"..."
But her fiancé didn't answer.
The coin dissolved and melted into the ground. A moment later…
An owl, rare to see in these parts, flew in and perched beside the willow tree.
[Petitioner who longs for the Emperor's justice.]
A voice emanated from the owl.
[The nearest Herald will arrive in approximately two days. Until then, you must endure.]
"T-two days?"
The girl was horrified.
With her injuries—and her fiancé's condition—there was no way they could last that long.
"What happens if we can't endure?"
[The petition will be canceled, and the coin will be kept as payment for the Herald.]
"N-no…"
There was no time to celebrate the fact that the magic had worked. The girl realized she now had to endure the harshest two days of her life.
Amid the searing, arid winds that dried the land and cracked stones, the girl endured suffering worse than death.
With no rest, her injured body trembled as she stood there, holding the sandbag. As night fell, the shadow of a person approached her.
Whether it was the darkness or her blurred vision, she couldn't see clearly. Cold liquid touched her parched lips.
It was water.
"Who... who's there?"
"Shh."
The unknown figure urged her to stay quiet and placed a pole beneath her to relieve the weight. Her shoulders suddenly felt lighter, and she collapsed onto the ground.
"Can you eat?"
"..."
"I'm afraid your husband won't make it. His wounds are too severe. But you... you might survive if you get treated."
"Who are you?"
"I'm here secretly. If the young master finds out, it'll be trouble."
"..."
The girl realized he was one of the soldiers, the holy knight named Zebeck—the only one who had opposed Kozel.
"Eat."
The man placed dried fruit in her mouth and sat down beside her.
"May I treat your wounds?"
"..."
She hesitated, dazed and unsure. Her mind, clouded and barely functioning, couldn't comprehend why an enemy soldier would suddenly show her kindness.
But one thing was clear: she had to survive until the Herald arrived.
"Please."
"Alright."
The man poured water over her wounds, cleaned them with a bandage, and applied ointment.
"If I wrap the wounds in bandages, they'll notice. Get some rest. I'll stay here and watch over you until sunrise."
She didn't trust him, but her eyes closed on their own, and she fell asleep.