BCloud
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IBHJ 1385
🕑 Added 2025-06-25 00:27:38 +0000 UTCThe village chief collapsed to the ground in a heap, coughing blood. But he didn’t cry out in pain.
Instead, trembling, he raised his head.
“It’s not true! I swear—it’s absolutely not true!”
The armored angel loomed above him, unimpressed.
“Not true?” he sneered. “You think I’m blind?”
He kicked again—hard, brutal, aimed for the gut.
The chief folded under the impact with a gasp.
“There’s more,” the angel said coldly. “You’ve harbored invaders. That starship crash—we detected it near this region.”
【Master…】
Tiamat’s voice whispered urgently in Shirou’s mind.
【Yeah, I know. We drew them here.】 Shirou’s brow furrowed.
Down below, the angel reached out and grabbed the village chief by the skull, lifting him off the ground with one hand like a ragdoll.
“You’re weak. And the weak must be purged.”
That was when the voice rang out.
“Grandpa!”
Shirou turned his head.
Ruka. The boy stood outside the cave entrance, fists clenched, eyes burning.
“Don’t you dare hurt Grandpa! Aaaaahhh—!”
A roar escaped Ruka’s throat as his body ignited with golden light. Symbols etched across his skin flickered into view—binding spells that had been dormant until now.
Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the spell formation burst apart.
A wave of raw energy surged out as his small frame warped, expanded, and transformed—bone and sinew twisting into something massive.
Within seconds, Ruka had become a thirty-meter-tall golden giant, radiant and furious.
…
【Tiamat! I thought you said Ruka was just an ordinary kid like me, back when I was powerless!】
【He was! The scan results were accurate… I swear! But—but the spell that just erupted… it’s not local. It looks almost like… like spell formations from our star system.】
Shirou’s eyes narrowed.
【Gaia spells? So the village is hiding more than we thought…】
…
Below, the transformed Ruka let out a furious roar and threw a colossal punch toward the angel.
“Stop, Ruka!” the village chief cried out hoarsely. “Don’t do it!”
Too late.
The punch never landed.
The angel moved with inhuman speed. In the blink of an eye, he had spun, lifted his leg, and brought it crashing into Ruka’s side.
The giant boy was launched backward like a broken puppet, crashing into the village wall with a thunderous crack.
Dust rained down from the ceiling. The earth groaned.
The angel turned to face him fully, eyes sharp, voice laced with contempt.
“I see now. This is the trick you used to conceal him. Genetic cloaking, embedded spell, structural inhibition... This is Gaia's garbage tech, isn't it?”
He raised his hand—and clenched it into a glowing fist.
The atmosphere twisted around his arm, gold light crackling like a thunderhead ready to strike.
“Lord Angel, please—!”
The village chief crawled forward, bloodied, broken. “Everything was my fault. He’s just a child. Please, forgive him!”
He bowed low, pressing his forehead to the dirt.
“Fine. I’ll give you one chance—hand over the invaders’ starship.”
The village chief collapsed to his knees.
“We… we don’t have it! I swear we’ve never harbored any invader’s starship!”
The angel’s eyes narrowed.
“Still protecting them?” His voice dropped to a hiss of contempt. “Then you weaklings can vanish together.”
His fist gleamed, golden light pulsing from within.
And then—he punched downward.
“Ruka—!” the village chief cried out, reaching forward as if he could throw himself between the angel and the boy. He clenched his eyes shut in despair.
But the blow never landed.
No scream.
No impact.
Just silence.
The old man opened his eyes hesitantly—
—and froze.
The angel stood motionless, his fist hovering mid-strike, a look of shocked disbelief on his face. He stared at his own hand as if it no longer belonged to him.
“How… how… how can something like this exist?” he whispered.
Then, like dust disturbed by wind, his body began to unravel—particles of golden light drifting upward like ash.
In seconds, the angel dissolved into nothing.
Gone.
The square fell into stunned silence.
Even the wind dared not move.
The villagers stared, frozen. Mouths open. Eyes wide. No one spoke.
Finally, the village chief stirred. He rushed to Ruka’s side, cradling the boy in his arms with shaking hands, checking his breathing, holding him tight.
Then he looked up, toward the cave entrance.
“It was you, wasn’t it, Lord Shirou?”
Shirou stepped into view.
“Why didn’t you report us?” he asked. “You knew. From your conversation with that angel—it was clear. You knew we were from the Gaia star system.”
He met the chief’s eyes. There was no malice—only cold curiosity. “Why didn’t you give us away?”
The village chief blinked. Then his expression slowly twisted into stunned confusion. “You… You’re from the Gaia star system?”
Shirou paused. “Wait. You didn’t know?”
He realized he might have guessed wrong.
“I… I assumed you were messengers of the god we worship.” The chief let out a slow, almost weary breath. “But now… now I understand. You truly are from Gaia. Then, please—please help us.”
His voice dropped to a whisper, desperate but composed.
“There is someone… someone sealed below. A lord. You must save him.”
Before Shirou could respond, the chief stood, still holding Ruka, and led them back into the cavern. Deeper this time.
They reached the heart of the cave, where a colossal stone slab sat embedded in the floor.
The chief knelt and heaved it aside with surprising strength, revealing a black void beneath—a hidden shaft descending into darkness.
An underground chamber.
Damn.
Shirou stared at the gaping shaft below.
A triple-layered cave.
First, the underground village.
Second, the chamber of myth—where stone tablets described ancient truths.
And now, this.
A third layer—hidden even deeper beneath the ruins.
Shirou dropped down into the cavern, boots touching ground with a soft echo. The space opened up before him, vast and hollow. Cold air curled up from the darkness, dry and untouched by time.
He swept his gaze across the chamber—and his eyes widened.
“No wonder you mentioned the Gaia star system earlier,” he muttered, raising a brow.
There was no doubt about it.
A starship.
Not just any ship—but one clearly bearing Gaia design patterns, its silver hull worn but intact, half-buried in sediment and mineral overgrowth.
Tiamat stepped past him, her violet eyes glowing faintly as she scanned the vessel.
“It’s a Pioneer-class,” she confirmed. “Old. Very old. Sent during the material age of the Gaia star system.”
Shirou nodded slowly. It made sense now.
Back when the Golden Universe had first launched its incursions, Gaia star system had still relied on physical reconnaissance. They’d deployed Pioneer ships to gather data—to understand the threat. According to Origin Gaia, most of those vessels had been lost—buried, dismantled, or erased outright.
And Gaia had eventually needed to use Mooncell just to get maps of this Universe.
But clearly, this one had survived.
Fallen.
And remained hidden ever since.
…
The village chief stepped forward, voice low with memory.
“Long ago, this lord fell from the sky. Shot down by the angels.”
He placed a hand gently on the battered hull.
“At the time, we had refused to surrender our evolved heroes. In return… this lord offered us protection. We helped him. And we went underground.”
He sighed. “But over the centuries, his power waned.”
Shirou’s mind flashed back to the chief’s fear when they’d first arrived—his wary glances, his guarded words.
No wonder.
He’d thought they were angels.
Shirou turned to him.
“Can I ask something? What exactly are these evolved heroes? And the angels?”
The old man looked up.
“You’ve seen the murals in the second chamber, haven’t you?”
Shirou nodded.
“They only tell part of the story,” the chief said. “The rest… has been lost to time. But some of it I still remember. Enough to know where we came from. Enough to remember the birth… of the Empire.”
He fell silent for a moment, as if waiting for ghosts to clear from his mind.
Then he spoke again, quietly.
“Once, this planet—this entire star system—was a pinnacle of civilization. Advanced. United.”
“But then came the plan of life… and the founding of the Empire.”
His voice turned bitter.
“And that… destroyed everything.”
