Herina had given Armin a place—a gift, really, though she never used the word.
It was perched atop one of the countless mountain peaks that stretched across her Realm. Actually, from what he'd seen so far, the entire domain she inhabited seemed to be an endless mountain range, bathed in eternal twilight and whispers of gold.
Some were filled with snow. Some kissed by the sun.
Some were filled with trees and some nestled rivers and lakes.
Most mountaintops were crowned with a structure—grand, serene, and made from polished white marble laced with glowing veins of gold. They shimmered like sacred monuments carved by time itself. There was something ancient and comforting about them, like they had been standing long before mortals even dreamed of gods.
This wasn't Heaven. Herina had been very clear about that.
Heaven and Hell were dimensions—realms layered within the vast Veil. They weren't above or below anything, just… deeper. They accessed something she called the Archive of Souls, a place that recorded every life, every death, and every choice made in between.
The beings who resided on Earth—both divine and demonic—were descended from the true residents of those higher realms. Even Herina herself was one of them, a being born from the uppermost layers of the Archive.
And yet here she was, giving him a home.
She told him this mountaintop would be his permanent room—every time he returned to her Realm, this would be where he would awaken.
Not that he had any complaints.
A house spanning the entire peak of a mountain? That was dream material. Ridiculous. Luxurious. Completely and utterly unfair to every other bed he'd ever slept on.
The place was massive.
The front area held a wide open space, clearly meant for training. Sleek marble tiles, golden inlays shaped like constellations, and targets that seemed to shift shape with the wind. A personal garden spread to the side, full of foreign flora that shimmered with a faint pulse—plants from beyond Earth, maybe even beyond the Veil itself. Crystal-clear ponds reflected the stars above, even though there was no sky. Only mist and light.
He could've spent hours exploring it all.
But instead—
Armin collapsed face-first onto the bed inside.
And immediately wanted to die from comfort.
"What in the hell…?" he muttered into the sheets. "This amount of softness is a crime."
It was like being swallowed by a cloud that loved him.
He sank deeper into the mattress, arms and legs splayed out like a man finally understanding what peace was. Every limb gave up resistance, and his thoughts melted with the warmth of the silken sheets.
There was no way this wasn't enchanted.
'Maybe it's made with her magic?' he wondered groggily, already half asleep.
As he blinked slowly, a thought surfaced.
Status.
He didn't speak it aloud, just thought it with intention.
And then the Golden Board appeared.
*Veil Art Unlocked: A.S.C.E.N.D**
**Type: Divine Blessing/Physical**
**Description: Ascend beyond and over the Veil. With this power, you can regenerate very quickly, and you can check on your physical condition and skillset. The limit of your soul's strength no longer exists, and you can grow stronger by gaining [EXP] from fallen foes. Additionally, by using [ASCENSION MODE], you can temporarily, depending on your soul integrity, massively boost your power.**
**Warning: Overuse of [ASCENSION MODE] may damage soul integrity.**
"[ASCENSION MODE], huh?" Armin mused.
He stared at the glowing blue words floating in his mind, then smirked faintly.
"Wonder when I'll actually get to use that."
Even that thought drifted off like a leaf on water.
His body relaxed further, sinking into the divine plushness beneath him. His eyes fluttered closed, heavy with exhaustion and the overwhelming serenity of this place.
Irina and Lupa were with Herina. He didn't need to worry about them.
Armin didn't know when he fell asleep—only that it was the deepest, most peaceful slumber he had ever experienced.
The bed had cradled him like he was weightless, like gravity no longer applied. He might've thought himself dead, if not for the soft hum of power lingering in the air. The kind of power that only Herina's realm seemed to exude.
But peace didn't last forever.
A gentle chime rang through his mind—mechanical, emotionless, and unfamiliar.
[The Body Of The Hero:Rebuilding Progression:56%]
[Welcome, Arminius. Supervision protocol online.]
His eyes snapped open. "What the hell?!"
The voice didn't respond to his panic. It repeated, calm and metallic.
[This automated supervision system has been deployed by Lady Herina to assist and manage foreign entities within Her Domain. You are under her protection. Refrain from acts of aggression.]
Armin sat up slowly, wiping his face.
"So… she installed a voice in my head to monitor me?" he muttered, still half-dazed. "Great…"
Despite the unease, curiosity tugged at him.
He got out of bed, the polished marble floor cold against his feet. Outside, the door led to a wide terrace that overlooked the heavens—or something like it.
And when he stepped out, the world unfolded before him.
Vast mountain ranges stretched endlessly in every direction. Peaks of white and gold spiraled toward the sky, some crowned with temples, others blanketed in lush, enchanted forests. Waterfalls cascaded down glowing cliffs into pools that shimmered like glass. The air was thin but not cold, and every breath he took felt alive.
It was a place untouched by time.
But then—
A shadow moved.
And then another.
And then dozens.
And then thousands.
He tilted his head toward the horizon—and his heart stopped.
His breath hitched and his heart rate pulsed.
The sky was filling.
Massive figures blotted out the light.
Wings. Claws. Tails. Scales. Horns. Eyes like burning stars.
Armin could not breathe.
"Dragons…?"
The word trembled in his chest.
No. This was not a handful. Not even a horde.
This was a sky-filling legion.
Thousands of dragons. Each unique. Each impossibly large.
The smallest was the size of a cathedral.
The largest dwarfed mountains.
And they weren't just flying—they were marching through the sky, as if responding to an unseen call. Patterns formed in their flight: spirals, circles, layered formations. Some shimmered with golden light. Others bled dark mist from between their wings. Some bore runes etched into bone and fang.
Armin felt like an ant before a divine tide.
He opened his mouth to scream—but no sound came out. Just awe. Just silence.
Then—
A warm light bloomed beside him.
Herina appeared in her more familiar form, robed in white and blue, her presence gentle but grounding.
She followed his gaze with calm eyes. "They are magnificent, aren't they?"
Armin could only nod.
She continued, her tone quieter, more reverent than before. "These creatures are among the oldest of this world and others. Some were born when the stars were still young. Some were made by gods now forgotten."
She folded her arms behind her back, the wind catching her hair. "Over time, they came to this place. Wounded. Cast aside. Hunted. I gave them a sanctuary. A peak to rest on. A place to heal. I did not expect them to stay."
"But they did."
"They grew. Multiplied. Evolved. Different races, different creeds. All living here now—within the folds of this sacred range. Eventually, the other creatures and spirits here began calling them something else."
She looked to the sky as the dragons roared in unison, the sound like a thousand thunders rolling across the veil.
"The Army of Heaven."
The name sent shivers down Armin's spine.
"They aren't an army by conquest or command," Herina said. "They do not answer to me. I simply gave them a home. But long ago, the creatures of this realm—dragons, giants and spirits—formed a pact among themselves."
She turned to him now, eyes alight with memory and warning.
"When the world is at its final breath… when evil rises beyond all balance… when even gods falter… then, and only then, shall the Army be commanded."
A long silence followed.
"And who commands them?" Armin asked, though part of him already knew.
Herina looked at him with something like sadness, and pride.
"You do," she whispered. "That is one of your duties. One of the burdens you must one day carry. The right to lead that army was granted only to the Hero."
Armin's legs almost gave out beneath him.
"Why… why me? I've never led anything. I've never even—"
"I know," she said. "None of the previous Heroes ever did either. Because none of them lived long enough. None of them reached the moment when the world needed that power."
She stepped forward, and her presence became more commanding.
"But you… might."
Herina looked back toward the dragons, their wings still casting shadows over the valley below.
"Until that day comes, they will remain as they are—wild, free, powerful. And waiting."
She turned and began walking away, leaving Armin alone beneath the fading shadows of a thousand ancient beasts.
As the last of the dragons disappeared beyond the horizon, he placed a hand over his chest.
The wind whispered, not with words, but with a promise.
A Hero's Duty Always Catches Up.
End of Chapter-8