Chapter 284: Reaction

The golden pillar of light didn’t fade after the first surge. It stood firm and fierce, piercing through the clouds as if a divine spear had struck the sky itself.

The calm night that had enveloped the Evergreen Region moments before was shattered. Mana surged like an unstoppable wave, pressing against cities, forests, rivers, and mountains alike.

The ground trembled once more before settling into a low vibration that lingered beneath everything. Those attuned to mana felt it first; even those who weren’t sensitive couldn’t ignore its presence.

From a high vantage point, as if viewed by a silent bird soaring above, reactions unfolded almost simultaneously.

Inside the Stonehelm Estate, deep within Patriarch Belmont’s private office, heavy curtains were drawn over tall windows to block out the night air.

A single lamp illuminated a polished desk cluttered with documents and sealed correspondence. Belmont hadn’t retired for the evening yet; he sat behind his desk with one hand resting on his chin, eyes focused on a map spread before him.

Suddenly, the room shifted, the faint vibration reached the estate walls, causing the lamp’s flame to flicker sharply. Belmont’s gaze slowly lifted just as golden light seeped through the edges of the curtains. He rose from his chair and approached the window at a measured pace.

Pulling aside the curtain slightly, he didn’t need a clear view to grasp what was happening; even from afar, he could see how the glow painted the clouds in gold.

He stared toward the Evergreen Mountain Range with an expression that was calm yet intent.

“It has finally appeared,” he murmured quietly, his voice steady. “After ten years.” There was no excitement in his words, only confirmation.

Behind him, something shifted in the air.

A shadow detached itself from a dark corner of the room and took form, a tall figure dressed in black bowed slightly, their face obscured.

“Patriarch,” said the shadow calmly. “Preparations are ready.”

Belmont didn’t turn immediately; his gaze remained fixed on that distant light. After a brief pause, he instructed, “Mobilize the inner circle. Keep the outer branches unaware until we secure movement routes. We do not move loudly.”

“Yes, Patriarch,” came the reply.

Belmont finally let go of the curtain and returned to his desk, not revealing greed but calculation on his face. “Get ready to move out,” he instructed.

The shadow bowed once more and vanished as quietly as it had arrived.

Far from Stonehelm Estate, in a serene garden courtyard lit by soft lanterns, a different reaction unfolded. The garden was peaceful with trimmed hedges and flowering plants surrounding a fountain that reflected stars from above. A young man reclined on a low wooden chair with half-closed eyes while a maid knelt behind him gently massaging his shoulders.

He appeared relaxed, almost bored, as if the world beyond the walls held little significance for him. Then, a golden light flooded the courtyard. The fountain’s water sparkled, and the lantern flames flickered nervously. The young man opened his eyes wide and turned his gaze toward the mountains.

A small smile crept onto his lips.

The maid paused her movements. “Young master?” she asked softly.

He raised a hand to signal her to stop. Slowly rising from his chair, he stretched his arms casually, as if emerging from a nap rather than witnessing an impending upheaval.

“So it finally begins,” he remarked mildly. His voice carried a hint of amusement, but his eyes were sharp with focus. “My purpose in this remote place is about to be fulfilled.”

The maid bowed her head respectfully. “Shall I inform the others?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Tell them to prepare quietly. We move at dawn, no banners, no noise. This isn’t a parade.”

Stepping closer to the edge of the courtyard, he fixed his gaze on the golden beam of light slicing through the sky. There was no doubt in his expression; he had been anticipating this moment.

In Greyvale’s inner district, within the sacred grounds of the Holy Church, white stone buildings glowed under that same unnatural radiance now filling the sky. Bells began ringing in a measured rhythm, not in panic but as an announcement.

Clergy members emerged into open corridors, their robes flowing behind them as they gazed toward the mountain range.

At the center of the compound garden stood a young man with white hair clad in a black-and-white priest robe that shimmered faintly beneath the golden light. His expression was serene and almost warm, as if he had awaited this moment.

“Finally,” he murmured softly. “The Goddess answers our prayers.”

Behind him, several other robed figures echoed quiet agreements: “Praise be,” one whispered, “the sacred Vault reveals itself.”

The white-haired priest turned slightly to regard a tall man by the marble archway, dressed in immaculate white and silver armor polished to perfection with the Church’s crest engraved on his chest, his posture straight and unwavering.

“Commander,” said the priest calmly.

The armored man stepped forward and bowed slightly. “Your Grace.”

“Gather the Paladins,” instructed the priest without raising his voice. “Full formation, we must move before lesser factions can taint this site. This is divine providence; we will not arrive second.”

The commander nodded firmly. “It shall be done.”

Once more, the priest looked toward that distant golden beam, his smile unwavering despite any doubts others might harbor; he saw purpose, destiny.

In a grand mansion to the east, Lord Pellian was enjoying a late-night meal when a sudden tremor shook his dining hall. Goblets rattled, and servants stumbled slightly as the golden light from wide windows spilled across the walls in bright reflections.

For a brief moment, Lord Pellian froze, then slowly rose, his ample belly shifting beneath his luxurious silk robes. Surprisingly agile for a man of his size, he made his way to the balcony and gazed toward the mountains.

“Finally,” he muttered, wiping grease from his fingers with a cloth. “The damn Vault has finally appeared.”

His eyes sparkled, not with faith or duty but with an insatiable hunger. “Just one relic. Just one treasure. That’s all it takes,” he whispered to himself.

He turned to a servant who stood frozen near the doorway. “Send word to my captains. Assemble the private guard, no excuses. We leave before sunrise.”

The servant bowed deeply and hurried away.

Beyond Greyvale, past estates and churches, deep within a desolate stretch of forest in the Evergreen Region, a crooked hut leaned precariously among dying trees. The golden light reached even there, slicing through branches and casting long shadows across the broken ground.

Outside the hut crouched an old man with thinning hair and tattered robes beside a smoldering fire pit. His skin looked dry and cracked; his nails were long and dark. When the ground trembled and light tore through the sky, he slowly lifted his head.

His eyes gleamed.

With audible cracks echoing from his joints, he rose slowly and stared at the pillar of light in the distance. A wicked smile twisted across his face.

“Another blood to drink,” he whispered in a voice that sounded like metal scraping against metal.

The wind around him stirred unnaturally as faint shapes shifted within the shadows behind him.

Across the Evergreen Region, hidden forces that had long remained dormant began to awaken. In secluded towers, underground chambers, noble estates, eyes turned toward that same point in the mountains.

Some saw opportunity; others glimpsed fulfilled faith or looming danger; still others recognized a chance to rise.

The golden pillar stood unwavering.

Mana surged throughout the land, beasts howled in forests while rivers rippled under unseen pressure. Cultivators in isolated rooms opened their eyes in shock as they felt power thickening in the air.

The Vault had emerged.

With its arrival came an undeniable shift in the balance of power across the Evergreen Region.

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