Three days after Reed's strategy meeting, the kingdom began to stir.
From village to village, from city to city, a prophecy began to spread.
It was said that the system had revealed a sacred battle.
"The Hero Seric will cut down the Demon King before destruction comes."
Those words filled the walls of the temple, were spoken by the priests, shouted by the people.
Even the kingdom's knights spoke of them on the battlefield.
They had no idea.
They were playing into a monster's plan.
Seric stood in his war tent, staring at the prophecy.
The kingdom's generals stood behind him, silently awaiting his orders.
Finally, a man in golden armor—Duke Randal, commander of the kingdom's forces—spoke.
"Your Majesty," he said, his voice filled with respect. "This is clearly a sign from the system. Fate has chosen you."
Seric gripped the hilt of the Holy Sword. His golden eyes glinted.
All his life, fate had guided him.
The system gave him power.
The system gave him victory.
So when the system spoke…
He listened.
Seric lifted his head. "I will face the Goblin Lord myself."
The generals stared.
Duke Randal stepped forward, nervous. "Sir, it is too dangerous. Our forces can attack at full strength."
Seric stared at him sharply.
"Fate has chosen."
Reed sat inside the ruined temple, waiting.
Shia stood nearby, twirling her knife with the patience of a hunter.
Velka, on the other hand, couldn't hide her unease.
"He really came?" she asked quietly.
Reed smiled. "Seric believes in the system. And the system says he must kill me."
He glanced at his shaman.
They had faked the system's message, carved the prophecy with ancient magic—convincing enough that a fool like Seric would swallow it raw.
Velka sighed. "So… now what?"
Reed stood.
"We welcome him," he said calmly. "And we make the invincible hero feel fear for the first time."