CHAPTER 140: I MUST BE A SAINT?

The air inside the grand hall stopped flowing.

It was as if every breath, every faint current of wind, had frozen in place—suffocated beneath the crushing weight of words too dreadful to comprehend.

To say that an entire world had been destroyed and erased from existence... was not merely terrifying. It was inconceivable.

For thousands of years, humanity had proven its stubborn resilience, an indomitable will to live that defied reason. Civilizations rose and collapsed, yet always another took its place. People bled, suffered, and buried their dead—but they endured.

The chronicles of mankind were soaked in calamity. Great wars had shattered nations and rewritten borders. Viruses and plagues had ravaged continents, leaving corpses piled higher than the ruins of the cities they devoured. Nature itself had unleashed fury—earthquakes splitting the land, volcanoes blotting out the sky, floods swallowing entire towns whole.

Each era carried a scar deeper than the one before, yet humanity never went extinct.

No matter the losses, no matter how endless the funerals, they always clawed their way back from the brink. Always.

But what had happened after the end descended upon Sian’s world was different.

Yes, a handful of survivors endured. For years they clawed through famine, through scarcity so dire they chewed on bark, through nights stalked by beasts born from nightmare. They endured—but they never thrived. Each dawn was a borrowed gift, each breath a gamble against despair.

Still, for an entire world to vanish... for humanity itself to be scoured so thoroughly that not even a trace remained... That was something no rational mind could accept.

The thought alone scraped against sanity.

Sian exhaled slowly. The sigh was almost inaudible, yet it carried the weight of collapsed empires. Though sorrow pressed down on him like a millstone, it was not a grief he shared with the world. It was a private sorrow, reserved for the few he held truly dear.

From Kiera’s words, his people, his land, his home—everything tied to him—had already been annihilated long before this moment. His blood seethed with molten fury, yet beneath it all lay an icy acceptance. Fate, merciless and absolute.

What terrified others most about Sian was not his power. It was his mind.

Though stripped of everything time and time again, though his heart had been gouged open until it resembled a battlefield of scars, he had mastered the art of acceptance. He did not shatter. He did not unravel. He absorbed devastation, molded it, and controlled his reactions with iron discipline.

That strength of mind was more terrifying than any weapon.

The silence in the hall stretched taut, a bowstring pulled to breaking point.

It was Liang Wei, Kiera’s father, who first shattered it. His face was ashen, his hands quivering as though grasping for stability that no longer existed. His voice cracked as he raised it, loud yet trembling with dread:

"So... when you said our world was about to follow the path of yours... did you mean—it will vanish as well?"

His words fell heavy, dragging the entire room deeper into despair.

Kiera did not flinch. She felt no attachment to this world. Perhaps a faint affection for the couple who had sheltered her, nothing more. In the presence of her Leader, her calm, indifferent reply made her resemble him so closely that even her parents recoiled.

"Yes," she murmured, voice soft yet merciless. "The prophecy I told you is accurate. This world will be completely destroyed... in less than ten years."

A sharp gasp tore from Mei Lin’s throat. She clutched at her chest, staggering as though the floor itself had dropped away.

Even Lan Qisheng, the fool who had spent most of the evening pretending ignorance, could no longer hold back. His eyes widened, his voice trembled, but curiosity bled through:

"Truly? Your power lets you... See the future? Then does that mean the future is... fixed? Unchangeable?"

This time, Kiera did not answer.

Instead, Sian’s voice cut through the silence, calm yet carrying a weight that crushed the heart.

"You could say Kiera’s prophecies are fixed. But if one learns of them beforehand, if one dares to move against the current, then the course of fate... may shift."

A smile flickered across his lips—cold, sharp, and cruel, like a blade catching light before it falls.

"For example. When Kiera foresaw enemies and beasts arriving, we could not prevent their appearance. Yet, armed with foresight, we twisted the results. What should have been a massacre... became a victory with fewer losses."

The smile deepened into something feral.

"But mark my words—events can only be twisted. Never overturned. If Kiera says ten years, then ten years it shall be."

Mei Lin, her terror drowning her reason, clung to a sliver of hope.

"Kiera, didn’t you say your Leader could save us?" she blurted.

The air froze solid.

Kiera, seated stiffly on the sofa, felt her stomach plummet. She did not dare raise her head to meet her Leader’s gaze.

A voice, cold as winter steel, wrapped in unyielding ice, sliced the silence apart.

"Kiera. Look at me."

Her entire body shivered. Only then did she lift her pale, trembling face. If she had been standing, her knees would have buckled beneath her.

(Gods above, the Leader is still so terrifying... still so scary, scary...)

Her mind flashed with images she had buried—horrors she had witnessed in the wasteland of their old world. Rivers of blood, burning skies, the echo of screams that never ended. Her pulse hammered, her lips bloodless.

"Kiera," Sian’s sharp gaze bore into her, pinning her like prey. "I will ask you a question. Answer me truthfully, and in the loudest voice you can. Do you understand?"

Her teeth rattled as she nodded. "Y-yes, Leader!"

"Good. Then the first question—am I a kind person?"

The question struck like thunder.

One might expect that she would soothe his pride with a quick lie after all they had endured together. But no.

With lungs forced to their limit, she shouted like a soldier drilled on the battlefield:

"No, Leader, you are not!"

The hall shook with her declaration.

Sian tilted his head, oddly satisfied, a predator amused by its prey’s honesty.

The others—the parents, the deputy minister with his carefully groomed dignity, even Wang Xian, the ever-smiling official—stood frozen in shock, expressions screaming disbelief.

But Sian ignored them. His gaze remained fixed on Kiera.

"Second question. Am I a hero of justice? Or anything of the sort?"

"No, Leader!"

"Hmm. Then surely, I must be a saint?"

Kiera nearly choked on her own spit. (A demon, yes. A saint? Absolutely not!)

But still she forced the words out, crisp and unwavering:

"No, Leader. That is impossible."

Sian’s smile cut deeper, razor-edged and glinting.

"Exactly. Since you know what I am—not a saint, not a hero, not some benevolent savior—then tell me. Where did you find the courage to speak a prophecy in which I become humanity’s salvation? Or... did you perhaps think I had changed? That I’ve become some tool? An easy weapon for others to wield?"

Her heart plunged into ice.

"Leader, I-I’m truly sorry..."

She shot to her feet and bowed low, trembling in surrender.

The truth gnawed inside her. Two years ago, her visions had shown this world in flames, its people annihilated. But six months ago—after Sian arrived—the vision had changed. She had seen him save this world. In her eyes, he had become salvation itself.

But how could she explain without sounding as though she dared to bind him with prophecy?

(I’m innocent, truly innocent! QAQ)

Liang Wei, perhaps reckless in his desperation, stepped forward. His voice quavered but carried a desperate righteousness.

"Young man, perhaps I don’t know you, nor understand the world you came from. But if this land truly faces destruction, won’t you also be in danger? Why not fight—for humanity, for this land we share?"

Kiera wanted to slap her forehead, light incense, and mourn the man’s soul in advance.

As expected, the temperature in the hall plummeted. Killing intent thickened the air until each breath scalded like knives.

Sian’s voice dropped, laced with venom.

"Mister. I am not of this world. So how dare you speak to me of defending your nation?" His lip curled into a snarl. "Hah. Let me enlighten you. The last time my comrades and I fought to save humanity, the only reward we received was betrayal. Treachery. Poison in the cup we raised for victory. From this day forth, I, Qing Xia, care only for my own people. The rest of humanity?"

He leaned forward, his words heavy as a guillotine blade.

"Leave them to your rulers."

The name fell like thunder. For the first time since stepping into this world, Sian revealed his true name.

The hall reeled with the weight of it.

And then—

"...Sian."

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, yet it pierced straight through the storm raging inside him. His lover’s call, fragile and warm.

Hearing her, he dragged in a long breath, caging the tempest within.

"Enough." His eyes narrowed on Liang Wei. "Let’s move to the point. Kiera—will you stay, or will you go?"

It was short. Simple. Yet clear.

Kiera was no one’s pawn, no minister’s daughter bound to duty. She was his comrade. Though he wished for her to remain, he would never force her hand.

The silence stretched. Kiera’s gaze swept over the faces around her—the worried mother, the pleading father, the officials whose smiles masked sharpened knives.

And then she thought of the wasteland. Of humanity’s cruelty, its selfishness, the wounds ordinary people had carved into one another.

Her answer was born without hesitation.

"I will go with the Leader."

Her voice was steady. Her eyes were clear.

Mei Lin opened her mouth, desperation trembling on her lips—but the deputy minister, who had always maintained a smiling mask, suddenly cut in. His expression hardened into grim severity.

"Kiera is a crucial part of the nation’s superhuman division. Her residence cannot be changed—"

"Oh?"

Sian’s voice sliced through him. Cold, sharp, final.

"Then allow me to make something clear. None of my comrades will ever serve under anyone else. Least of all the state."

Gasps echoed across the hall.

Superhumans were meant to be secrets of the highest order. Assets controlled and monitored by the authorities. For one to openly declare refusal was unthinkable.

Kiera only scratched her head, wearing a sheepish smile.

Honestly, she hadn’t suffered much these past two years. She hadn’t even worked that hard, and the state had treated her fairly well. But her loyalty was not something negotiable. She belonged to her Leader. Always.

"Yes, Leader. I’ll resign immediately."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Everyone stared, stunned, jaws slack, expressions twisted as though they had been collectively slapped.

Did these two seriously believe resignation was that simple?

The storm had only just begun.