CHAPTER 31: CHAPTER 31 - THE VOICE OF FORSETI

The Nightmares moved in, slow and sure, savoring the moment like wolves circling a broken animal.

He couldn’t lift his head anymore.

The air itself felt heavier like the sky was leaning in to smother him.

But then.

The shadows paused. The nightmare hesitated.

No... flinched.

A pulse.

A tear.

Like the world above had been sliced open.

And from that wound in the dark sky of the Zero Zone... She stepped through.

A silhouette against the void, cloaked in a glimmering storm of violet light. Hair like woven stars, eyes like ancient runes carved in gold. She drifted downward, not falling but descending as if gravity itself obeyed her.

Mikail couldn’t breathe.

Even the Nightmares froze, their distorted forms trembling, shrinking away from her as though the very concept of her burned them.

She raised her hand.

No words.

Just a gesture.

SWIFT.

From her palm, a blade of Mana unfolded, no, ignited. Like she had peeled it out of the sky itself. It didn’t shine. It didn’t glow.

It illuminated.

The Nightmares screamed. Not roars. Not howls.

Agony.

The light struck them like judgment incarnate, scouring them with pure will. The lead Nightmare tried to move, but too late.

She swept her blade once.

Once.

And the sky itself split.

A rift of brilliance cascaded downward. A divine cleave. The Nightmares below evaporated, erased, not slain, but unmade.

The ground shuddered from the impact.

When the light faded...

Nothing remained of them.

No smoke.

No ash.

Only silence.

She landed softly, her boots touching the earth like a whisper.

Then, she turned to Mikail.

Her voice, when it came, felt like truth written in thunder.

"You did well to stand"

"Rest. I will hold the dark now"

Mikail’s vision blurred.

The last thing he saw was her back turned to him, facing the abyss.

Unshaken.

Unyielding.

’Who...’ he thought, just before the dark took him, ’who is she...?’

--------

Long ago, when the golden age of the Aesir still echoed in song, long before Mana was stripped from Humans, there lived Forseti, son of Baldur the Beautiful, and Nanna, the fairest among the goddesses.

Forseti, god of justice and reconciliation, ruled in peace from his radiant hall, Glitnir, where silver pillars rose to meet a roof of gold. No lie dared pass its threshold; no blood feud remained unresolved once his judgment fell.

But as Ragnarök neared and chaos surged across the Nine Realms, even the gods foresaw their doom. Forseti, ever the peacemaker, sought to preserve what he could of order and justice before the final battle. In secret, he descended to Midgard.

There, he met Eira, a mortal seeress from a forgotten tribe of peacekeepers, said to dream in silver and speak the truth of men’s hearts. From their union was born a son, Frodan, half-divine and gifted with the sight of truth and the burden of justice. Forseti knew the boy could never return to Asgard, for his presence would mark the gods’ vulnerability. And so, the god left, entrusting Eira to raise their child in secrecy.

Frodan’s bloodline endured, passed through generations hidden among mortals. These descendants, known only to a secret few, were always drawn to roles of mediation, law, healing, and truth.

Some were judges who ruled with unnerving wisdom; others were activists who defused wars before they began. Every Forden descendant has the same physical characteristics, golden hair that symbolizes light and golden eyes that symbolize justice.

Legends say that in every era, one descendant awakens the Voice of Forseti, an echo of the god’s power that allows them to wield Baldur’s power, The light affinity. But such power comes at a cost. All of Harbinger of Light in every era comes from Forden descendants, these make them feared by The Shadows.

In modern times, the line still survives, obscured by myth and forgotten lineage, but those who carry it feel a silent pull toward justice.

Mikail’s grandmother was the last living descendant of Forden, the ancient line chosen to carry the legacy of light. Her son, Mikail’s father, was destined to become the Harbinger of Light for this era, a beacon in the encroaching darkness.

He was meant to inherit The Voice of Forseti, the divine resonance passed down through generations of Harbingers. But before he could awaken its full potential, before the world could witness his rise, he was struck down.

The Shadow came for him. Twisted, merciless, and ever-watchful, The Hollowed feared what the Harbinger could become. They struck swiftly, extinguishing the light before it could truly shine.

And so, the world moved on.

The lineage was thought lost. The Harbinger of Light is once again just another forgotten name swallowed by history and grief.

But then... Mikail.

A boy who should have been just a faint shadow of the Forden bloodline. No Light. No divine gift. No special power in his blood.

Just an ordinary kid.

Until the System arrived.

And with it came something else. Not just the System itself, but a hidden reward, a Title. The title was called "The Chosen One."

That’s what changed everything.

This Title didn’t just give him strength. It changed his fate. It turned him from a forgotten descendant into someone important. Someone chosen by something far beyond his understanding.

And when Mikail felt Mana for the first time, something inside him unlocked. The world around him felt different. The blood in his veins responded as if it had been waiting. And the Voice of Forseti, which should have gone to his father, answered Mikail instead.

That was the moment everything changed.

Mikail’s power is different from everyone else. Not because he trained for it. Not because he was born for it.

But because he wasn’t meant to have it.

That’s why the Nightmares come. They are drawn to him because his very existence doesn’t fit. Because he is something that should not be.

Mikail is an anomaly. A mistake that fate tried to ignore. The Harbinger that wasn’t meant to be, but somehow, still is.

And Mikail doesn’t know any of this. He doesn’t realize that what’s broken isn’t just his System.

What’s broken... Is him.

--------

"G-Grandma? Y-Your Grandma, right? H-How... how can you be here?"

Moona stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands trembled as she stared at the figure standing before them, elegant, timeless, terrible in her grace.

The woman did not respond immediately.

She stood beneath the broken sky, still facing the place where the Nightmares had been erased. Her Mana blade had vanished, folded back into the ether as though it had never existed.

The violet aura around her dimmed, but it did not disappear.

Only after a long silence did she turn. Her golden eyes met Moona’s, then Mikail’s unconscious form.

"I came," she said, her voice rippling through the stillness like the echo of an ancient song. "So... destiny has chosen my family once again. What a cursed fate." Her eyes once filled with warmth, now held the weight of lifetimes, loss, pain, and a quiet resolve forged in the fire of grief.

"I remain silent not because I’m afraid of the Shadows," she continued, her tone low but unyielding, "but because I’m afraid of losing my family again"

Her voice trembled just slightly, like the crack in a dam about to give way.

"Now, the Shadows know of his existence... and this time, I won’t just sit back and do nothing" Her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles white. "This time, I’ll fight back"

She moved with a grace born of sorrow and strength, kneeling beside Mikail, whose body lay still and fevered, drenched in sweat. Her trembling hand reached out, gently brushing aside a damp lock of hair from his brow. A soft, silvery light bloomed beneath her fingertips, calm and warm, pulsing like a heartbeat.

The shadows that clung to him receded ever so slightly, and his ragged breathing began to steady.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Moona’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She knelt silently, watching the glow soothe wounds that were deeper than skin, wounds no one else could see.

"I told you," She whispered, her voice caught between awe and sorrow, "you were never normal"

Grandma looked up at Moona, her eyes soft but distant, as if trying to reconcile the girl standing before her with a memory from long ago. For a moment, she said nothing, just studied Moona’s face, as though searching for something lost.

Then, her gaze shifted to the unconscious Melisa lying nearby. Her eyes lingered there, darkening slightly. There was no rage, no sorrow, just a deep, hollow stillness that spoke of old wounds and heavier burdens. Her expression was unreadable, but the weight in her stare was unmistakable.

A silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken, thick with memory and mourning. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of their breathing and the distant hum of the Zone’s unstable energy.

Finally, Grandma let out a long breath, not one of weariness or frustration, but the kind of sigh one releases before stepping back into a past they thought was buried.

"...Let’s get out of this Zone first," She said quietly, her voice steady but low. "Then we’ll talk. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, right, Moona?"

Her words hung in the air like a promise... And a warning.

....

...

..

.

#A/N - "Forseti is a Norse God, God of Justice, Reconciliation, Peace, and Law. He is known for his wisdom in settling disputes fairly, ensuring all parties leave satisfied. Forseti is the son of Baldur, god of light, beauty, innocence, and peace, and his mother is Nanna, a goddess, often associated with purity and joy"