From the moment I was chosen by the holy relic

He pushed open Eileen's door, and the first thing he saw was a quietly burning oil lamp, its soft light casting a gentle glow on the tapestry on the wall. Eileen was sitting in a wooden chair by the window, holding a heavy book in her hands, her expression focused, as if nothing else in the world was urgent. Her luggage was still in the corner, not even dusted off.

"Why haven't you packed your bags yet?" Eric couldn't help but ask, his tone a mixture of anxiety and disbelief.

Eileen looked up, her gaze calm and slow, as if addressing an overly impulsive child: "Are you in such a hurry?"

"You know how important the pendant is!" Eric stepped forward, his voice low but taut like a bowstring in the wind.

Eileen closed the book, her fingers lingering on the cover, her gaze remaining calm. "Of course I know how important it is. But there's no use in rushing it." She paused, glancing at the sky outside the window, which was gradually turning a deep gold. "It hasn't even been five days yet."

Eric's breath hitched in his chest. He knew she was telling the truth; according to the agreement, the five days wouldn't end until sunset. But his heart had been burning with anticipation since yesterday, and now he felt like he was being forced to stand by a fire, without being allowed to reach out for warmth.

He could only let out a heavy sigh, a long sigh that seemed to release the pent-up frustration in his heart, yet embers still burned faintly. As he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of Eileen reopening her book, the pages gleaming gently in the lamplight, as if time were still flowing slowly in her world, unlike his, which was gripped tightly by an invisible hand.

The sun slowly slanted along the ridgeline of the distant mountains, its golden light spilling down from the horizon like overflowing wine, gradually swallowed by the night. That last ray of light was being chased and pushed away by the darkness, as if a silent judgment was about to be pronounced.

Just as the light completely disappeared, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, and someone announced loudly, "Lia's back!"

Eric jolted up as if struck by lightning, all his hesitation, anxiety, and waiting transforming into a surging impulse. He practically slammed the door open, his steps filled with uncontrollable urgency, his breathing so rapid it felt as if his chest was about to burst. The air in the corridor carried the chill accumulated from the stone walls, but he felt his entire body burning hot.

He rushed downstairs, through the main hall, and pushed open the heavy wooden door. A gust of night wind rushed in, carrying the dry scent of dust and a slightly salty smell of sweat—a common odor at the city gate. Looking up, torches flickered in the twilight outside the wide city gate, illuminating the figures of several spear-wielding soldiers. And in the interplay of firelight and shadow, Eric saw a familiar silhouette, seated high on horseback, back straight, gait leisurely.

Eileen stood quietly in the open space beside the city gate, as if she had known he would come. She did not raise her hand to signal him, but simply turned her head slightly, her eyes reflecting the moon's image in the firelight like a still pond.

"Leah!" Eric called out, his feet barely stopping as he galloped straight toward the approaching chestnut horse. The horse's hooves clattered steadily on the stone slabs, accompanied by the slight clinking of its metal armor plates.

Before he could even ask a question, Leah raised her hand and casually but accurately tossed a small object to him.

Eric instinctively reached out and caught it, feeling a cool yet familiar touch in his palm—a chill that seemed to seep through his skin and into his heart. He looked down and saw that it was indeed the pendant, its silver edges shimmering gently in the firelight.

In that instant, the huge weight that had been hanging over his heart for days finally lifted, taking away his anxiety and unease, leaving only a lingering sense of relief. He almost dared not grip it tightly, for fear that this precious thing would turn to dust in his hands, so he carefully put it into his bosom.

"This..." He began, his voice still carrying lingering urgency and doubt.

"Let's talk in the room." Leah's voice was like the wind blowing through the night, clear and unyielding, with a meaningful light in her eyes.

Eric paused, glancing around. The soldiers were putting away their weapons, and several men's gazes lingered on them with curiosity. This was indeed not the place for further conversation.

He took a deep breath, suppressing all his questions, and a smile appeared on his lips, no longer the anxious tension, but the comforting warmth of a fireplace at the beginning of a long night: "It's good that you're back."

The heavy oak door closed slowly behind them, instantly shutting out the noise outside, leaving only the soft crackling of the fireplace inside. The firelight reflected on the stone wall, casting leaping shadows like silent witnesses, awaiting the revelation of the secret. None of the three sat down immediately; a tense silence hung in the air, as if even the firewood was holding its breath.

Leah walked to the table, her fingers gently tracing the outline of the pendant, her gaze focused and deep. Her voice broke the silence: "Eric, do you know who made this pendant?"

Eric straightened his back instinctively: "Of course I know. It's the sealed demon king, personally crafted by Valon Sirius II."

Leah raised her eyes, her lips twitching slightly, her expression a mixture of approval and anticipation for his next words. She slowly shook her head, her voice carrying a calm strength: "You're only half right."

Eric frowned, as if a corner of his certainty had been lifted by a gentle breeze, revealing a hint of unease.

“This pendant,” Leah continued, gently holding it up so the firelight danced on its surface, “was crafted by the Demon King and my family’s ancestors.” Her gaze pierced through the firelight, as if she could see that long-forgotten era. “Nowadays, people think that the dwarves’ manufacturing industry is unparalleled, but they don’t know that it was humans who first mastered this technology.”

Eileen stirred slightly, her expression as if she had just heard the opening of a forgotten epic.

"My ancestors, the Chemai clan, created the model for this pendant. And the Demon King imbued it with magic." Lia's voice was like a low murmur of an ancient ballad. "I returned home this time to confirm this with the elders of my clan, and I found the story of how my ancestors made it, as well as its true function, in the family's archives."

The firelight reflected in her eyes, a light that made it impossible to tell whether it was the fire in the hearth or the emotions burning within her.

"It can increase the holder's magical power several times over. The gem in the center will change color depending on the magic the mage casts." She paused, lowered her head, and her tone suddenly softened. "I was afraid you wouldn't agree to me taking it, so I secretly took it. I'm very sorry for making you worry."

In that instant, the anxiety and unease that had been building up in Eric's heart were washed away by cold water upon hearing her apology. It didn't completely subside, but it brought a sense of relief. He looked up at Eileen, a hint of probing in his eyes: "When you wore this pendant, did you feel your magic power increase?"

Before Eileen could speak, Lia interjected, "This is magic bestowed by the Demon King, so it can only enhance dark magic. Of course, it won't enhance Eileen's magic."

Eric paused for a moment, scratched his head, and gave a helpless yet bitter smile: "So, this thing is completely useless to us, but we still have to take good care of it. It's really annoying."

Eileen's gaze fell on the pendant, and she said softly, "No matter what, the pendant is back, and we can prove it to the King. Tomorrow, we'll go to see the King together."

The morning sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting its light onto the sea-like red carpet of the palace corridors. The light and shadow danced among the exquisitely carved stone pillars, like silent messengers paving a solemn path for today's meeting.

Eric, Eileen, and Lia walked side by side down the corridor leading to the throne room, their footsteps echoing beneath the empty dome. Each step seemed to strike a chord in their hearts—not out of fear, but out of the tension and heaviness of facing their impending fate.

The high doors of the throne room slowly opened, pushed open by the guards, the heavy hinges seeming to announce their arrival. The marble floor reflected the silhouettes of the three, and at the far end, on the high platform, the king sat on his throne, his long silver hair like frost, his gaze deep and sharp, as if he could see through all falsehood and truth.

Eric stepped forward, knelt on one knee, and held the pendant in his hands, saying softly, "Your Majesty, we have found the pendant."

The king slowly reached out and took the pendant. The moment his fingertips touched the gem, a chill and a burning sensation rushed in simultaneously, a feeling that was both oppressive like the deep sea and explosive like a volcano erupting. The air in the throne room seemed to freeze instantly, and even the guards' breathing slowed down.

He gazed at the pendant, his brow furrowed slightly. His gaze was no longer a mere scrutiny, but rather a glimpse through the veil of time, revealing the very night it was forged. After a moment, the king slowly raised his head, his voice deep and powerful: "Its power is beyond my control."

Eric's heart skipped a beat. He knew that the king's magic was enough to stir up the clouds and change the course of rivers. If even he couldn't control it, then the power contained in this pendant must be far beyond the realm of reason.

The king returned the pendant to Eric, his tone firm: "I believe in you." His gaze lingered between the three, as if trying to memorize their faces. "The royal history books make no mention of the Five Towers; there must be a secret behind them. The forces of darkness have awakened in the shadows, and their remnants are stirring. If we do not gather allies now, an even greater calamity awaits us."

Eileen nodded slightly, her expression showing both agreement and a hint of worry: "Does His Majesty mean to unite with the other four great powers?"

"Yes." The king's voice echoed in the vast hall, carrying an undeniable authority. "We must fight alongside them and wipe out the remaining forces of darkness completely."

Leah frowned and slowly asked, "What about the prophecy of shattering?"

A cold glint flashed in the king's eyes, as if he had long held a prejudice against the rumor: "To predict the future is like trying to grasp flowing water. Most so-called prophets are nothing but frauds, and even the most gifted true prophets have an accuracy rate of less than one in eight." His voice was steady and firm. "We cannot entrust the fate of our kingdom to a vague and unfounded prophecy."

Then the king rose, his long robe trailing slightly on the steps like flowing night. He stepped down from his throne and stood before the three men, as if they were comrades on the battlefield, not merely subjects: "Later, I will extend invitations to the other four great nations, as well as some smaller neighboring countries, inviting them here to discuss how to deal with the rise of the dark forces."

At that moment, the bells outside the palace rang out, their deep sound waves spreading throughout the entire royal city, as if foreshadowing an even greater storm that was slowly approaching.