CHAPTER 77: THE CHOSEN ONE

But luckily, after the Eternal Queen had been slain by Yelena and the others, the world finally knew peace.

No more cursed beings were created; all that remained were the remnants from before her death.

It was a relief to both worlds, for even the sentient races of the other realm had feared and despised the Eternal Queen. She had ruled over them with an iron grip, forcing them into a war they never wanted against another world.

Her demise brought a wave of relief on both sides.

And right now, seeing that the only ones present were simple villagers gazing up at him from below as though he were some divine figure descending from the heavens, Mika felt a deep sense of ease wash over him.

At least this time, he wouldn’t have to fight some horrific creation. Slowly, he began his descent, still dressed in nothing more than a plain shirt and sweatpants, looking as though he hadn’t even bothered to change before coming here.

As his feet touched the ground, the reaction was immediate, just as he had expected.

The crowd erupted in awe, calling out titles one after another.

"The Chosen One! The Chosen Mind! The Chosen One!"

Hands pressed together in reverence; some villagers fell to their knees, others bowed so low their foreheads touched the earth, and a few even wept openly.

"The Chosen One is finally here! He will save us!"

"Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m seeing him with my own eyes!"

"Lady Elna has brought the Chosen One to us!"

Everywhere he looked, the villagers were in total prostration, trembling in joy at his presence and in response, Mika let out a long sigh.

This happened every single time he encountered another sentient race while on a mission from the Will. Whatever the Will was telling these people, it clearly painted him as some divine savior, god, saint, king.

It varied, but the result was always the same: endless reverence and suffocating respect. It was flattering to some, maybe, but for him, it was nothing but a pain in the ass.

Still, just as he always did, he tried to put a stop to it. Speaking in a calm, soothing tone, he raised his hands slightly.

"There’s no need for this. Everyone, please quiet down." He stepped forward slowly, trying to look approachable. "There’s no need to treat me like that."

But the villagers only stared at him in confusion as if they couldn’t understand what he was saying and was speaking a foreign language.

That was when it hit him, he was speaking in his own language. Every realm had its own tongue, and though some shared similarities, most were entirely different.

There was, however, one universal language, Draventheir.

An ancient tongue, said to be the first language, it was spoken across realms whenever races needed to communicate.

Switching to Draventheir, Mika repeated himself, telling them to calm down, that there was no need to treat him like some saint, and that he hadn’t come to save them, only to speak and understand them.

"Druven khal’sor venith, aaruk vel’shan"

Thal’vren saar’ethil morath, illun kaer"

"Veythar sil’kaan draveth, ennaar volthir"

But the moment the words left his lips, the reaction was the exact opposite of what he intended.

Gasps, shouts, and cries of joy burst from the crowd.

"He knows our language!"

"He’s blessed our ears with his words!"

"To hear our tongue from the Chosen One himself, it’s a miracle!"

They jumped, clapped, and cheered as if he had just performed some divine miracle, completely ignoring his actual message, while Mika exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck.

They weren’t listening to him at all, just running with their own excitement.

Then, cutting through the chaos, came an aged, commanding voice.

"Enough! Show respect before the Chosen One!"

The villagers instantly fell silent. The crowd parted like a tide, and an elderly man emerged, leaning heavily on a wooden crutch. He stepped forward with surprising steadiness, bowed deeply to Mika, and said in a measured tone,

"Chosen One, I greet you. My name is Meldor and the head of this humble village named Thorken."

He introduced himself, then turned to address the villagers, reminding them to behave properly. Facing Mika again, he bowed once more.

"Forgive us for the inconvenience. We have never before seen one chosen by our god, Lady Elna in the flesh. Our excitement overcame us, and for that, we apologize."

Mika already knew exactly which "god" they were talking about.

It was the Will of the World.

Every civilization in this realm, and many others, treated her as a divine being, though each gave her a different name like how they were calling her "Lady Elna" and built entire religions in her honor.

Some saw her as a benevolent mother, others as an eternal queen of light, others still as a sacred ancestor spirit.

But in the end, they were all worshipping the same entity.

"Tell me, Meldor..." Mika said after a pause, his tone neutral but curious. "How exactly did your god contact you about me as it was obvious that you knew about my arrival beforehand?"

Meldor straightened his back slightly, speaking with a quiet reverence.

"She came to us in our dreams, Chosen One. We could not see her face...nor could we hear a distinct voice. Yet the message was clear. We felt it, not in our ears or our minds, but in our very bodies."

"A truth woven into our souls. She told us someone would come. The Chosen One. And that when he arrived, we must treat him with the utmost respect and obey without hesitation."

Mika’s brow twitched slightly. This was exactly like his previous encounters.

The Will always had some way of weaving herself into the lives of whatever people he was sent to, through dreams, visions, mysterious events, softening them up to receive him as though he were some foretold savior. It was always the same game, and it was happening again now.

"I see." He murmured, scanning the faces of the villagers before focusing on Meldor once more. "Then let me ask you the real question. Did your god tell you what exactly she wanted you to do? Any specific instructions?"

Meldor nodded without hesitation. "Of course. The preparations have already been made."

At his words, the crowd shifted, and from between the villagers stepped a small figure, a little girl, perhaps 12 or 13 years old, with light blue skin and fluffy white hair that framed her face neatly and black horns on her head.

She carried a small cushion in her hands, and resting atop it was a gleaming silver piece of jewelry adorned with beautiful, multi-colored gems. It looked like something meant to be worn around a woman’s waist, a delicate belt, though the style was unlike anything Mika had ever seen.

Yet it wasn’t the artifact itself that caught Mika’s attention...It was the girl’s expression.

While the rest of the villagers looked at him with awe, reverence, and even tears of joy, this little one was glaring at him as though he’d just ruined her day.

There was clear irritation in her eyes, her lips pressed into a stubborn frown, and her whole demeanor screamed that she’d been forced into this task against her will.

She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to give him this thing. And for some reason, Mika found that far more amusing than he should have.

Meldor gestured toward the jewelry.

"This is the ancient relic of our village. It has been in our keeping for over a thousand years, passed down through countless generations, always from the hands of one lineage to the next."

"We do not know its true purpose, nor have we been able to awaken whatever powers lie within it...But we know it is an artifact of great strength. Lady Elna herself commanded that it be given to you."

Mika raised an eyebrow. So, the Will was playing her ’benevolent’ side today. Bestowing ancient treasures, priceless relics, this was far from unusual.

In fact, it had happened to him more times than he could count.

The blessed of his world would probably foam at the mouth if they knew she was handing something like this over so casually, when they had to fight with their lives on the line for the same.

But Mika was not like them.

He didn’t want anything to do with her gifts. Even knowing this artifact might have rare and powerful effects, he had no interest in accepting it. If anything, he wanted to sever ties with the Will completely.

Rejecting it outright might be difficult, but he was still going to try.

"I appreciate your intentions, Meldor, and I understand that your god has spoken." He smiled politely. "But I do not need such a thing. It has been in your village for so many generations, it belongs here. It wouldn’t be right for me to take it away from you."

The reaction was immediate.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Several villagers covered their mouths in shock, their eyes wide as though he had just committed some great offense. Meldor’s jaw dropped.

"No...that cannot be." Meldor said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Lady Elna herself commanded that we give this to you. To refuse would be to defy her will. Such disobedience would bring famine and destruction to our home. We cannot go against the divine decree."

Mika raised a hand calmly. "Truly, there’s no need. Keep it. I mean no disrespect to your god, but I—"

"There is no choice in this matter!" Meldor’s voice was urgent now, almost pleading. "You must take it. If you do not, our people will suffer. We would be cursed. The harvest would rot in the fields, the rains would not come, and disease would spread among our children!"

"That’s not what I’m saying." Mika replied evenly. "I’m saying—"

But before he could finish, Meldor suddenly dropped to his knees with surprising speed for his age, bowing so low his forehead almost touched the ground.

"Please, Chosen One." He begged. "Please take it. Spare our people from disaster. Lady Elna’s command is absolute. If we go against it, our village will be doomed."

As if on cue, the rest of the villagers followed his lead, falling to their knees in unison. The little girl still looked irritated, but even she lowered herself to the ground, though it was obvious she was doing it grudgingly.

Meldor’s voice was thick with desperation.

"I beg you. Accept this gift. Fulfill the will of the god. Do not let our village be punished for failing to obey."

Mika stood there in utter disbelief.

He had known, knew, this was where the conversation would end up.

Every time the will of the world got involved, the pattern was always the same: reverence, an offering, insistence.

But a small part of him had hoped maybe, just maybe, reason could win this time. He had thought there was a chance they might nod, smile politely, and keep their so-called relic.

But now, staring at an entire crowd kneeling before him as if they wouldn’t so much as breathe until he took the damn thing, he couldn’t help the sigh that slipped from his lips.

Once again...dragged into her game.

He knew exactly how this would go if he refused.

The paranoia would spread like wildfire, whispers that their god’s chosen had spurned them, rumors that disaster was looming over their heads. The entire village might unravel just from that fear alone.

And while there’d never been an actual case of the will punishing anyone just because he didn’t follow through with her whims, he also knew better than to take chances with her.

So, with reluctant resignation, he was about to speak, to tell them he’d accept, that there was no need to bow anymore, when a sharp, almost trembling voice of protest cut through the air...