Nobody moved.
The villagers stood silently beneath the gray sky.
Thousands of eyes.
Thousands of faces.
All staring in the same direction.
The sight alone was enough to make Riven uncomfortable.
Because these weren't people from one village.
Or even one country.
They were from everywhere.
Different clothing.
Different languages.
Different appearances.
Some signs hanging from nearby buildings weren't even written in Vesperan.
One glance was enough to realize the impossible truth.
The Rift hadn't absorbed one village.
It had absorbed many.
Across multiple nations.
Across multiple borders.
Across multiple years.
And somehow—
They had all ended up here.
Waiting.
The team slowly approached.
Weapons ready.
Aether circulating.
Prepared for anything.
Yet the villagers never reacted.
Not a single one.
No fear.
No curiosity.
Nothing.
They simply continued staring ahead.
As though the team's existence didn't matter.
Then Riven finally saw what they were looking at.
A man.
Sitting calmly upon a wooden chair.
A book rested in his lap.
Simple black robes.
Ordinary appearance.
No weapon.
No guards.
Nothing remarkable.
And yet—
Every villager faced him.
Like worshippers before a shrine.
The man slowly closed his book.
Then looked toward the approaching Ascendants.
A gentle smile appeared on his face.
"Welcome."
His voice was warm.
Friendly.
Polite.
Which somehow made the situation even worse.
The team leader stepped forward.
"Who are you?"
The man thought for a moment.
Then answered.
"A caretaker."
Nobody believed him.
"What happened here?"
The leader's gaze swept across the crowd.
"What happened to these people?"
The man followed his gaze.
His smile never disappeared.
"They're waiting."
"For what?"
The man's eyes drifted toward the sky.
For a moment he looked almost nostalgic.
Then—
"Salvation."
Silence.
Riven immediately disliked him.
The leader's expression hardened.
"You're responsible for this Rift."
The man neither denied nor confirmed it.
Instead he sighed softly.
"As expected."
His eyes moved across the crowd.
Children.
Adults.
Elderly.
Thousands of people.
All standing silently.
Waiting.
Always waiting.
"Most people never understand."
His voice carried through the village.
"They only see sacrifice."
"They never see what comes after."
Riven frowned.
"What are you talking about?"
The man looked at him.
For a brief moment—
Something strange flickered within his eyes.
Then vanished.
"You are young."
"Perhaps too young to understand."
"Try me."
The man laughed quietly.
A genuine laugh.
Not mocking.
Not arrogant.
Simply amused.
"Very well."
He stood slowly.
Then raised one hand.
The villagers remained motionless.
"Our God sleeps beyond this world."
"Our God waits."
"Our God dreams."
Every word made the atmosphere heavier.
And heavier.
And heavier.
"For centuries we searched."
"For centuries we prepared."
"For centuries we gathered."
His smile widened slightly.
"And now..."
"We are finally close."
The team remained silent.
Nobody liked where this was going.
The man looked at the crowd.
Then calmly announced:
"We currently have nine thousand seven hundred souls."
Riven felt a chill run down his spine.
Nine thousand seven hundred.
Only three hundred more.
One more village.
That was all.
One more village.
Then whatever this lunatic was planning would become reality.
"You're insane."
The words escaped Riven before he could stop them.
The man blinked.
Actually blinked.
Like he genuinely hadn't expected that response.
Then he smiled sadly.
"No."
His gaze returned to the villagers.
"Merely patient."
The team leader finally stepped forward.
Enough was enough.
"You're under Association custody."
The atmosphere instantly changed.
The villagers remained still.
But the smiling man sighed.
A disappointed sigh.
"I hoped it wouldn't come to this."
Then he glanced behind the team.
And smiled.
"Unfortunately."
"My followers disagree."
BOOM.
A powerful pressure exploded across the village.
Everyone turned instantly.
One figure emerged from the crowd.
Then another.
Then another.
Then another.
The villagers silently moved aside.
Creating a path.
Allowing them through.
Riven's eyes narrowed.
Ascendants.
Every single one of them.
The first.
Five-Star Ascendant.
The second.
Six-Star.
Another Six-Star.
Then a Seven-Star.
An Eight-Star.
The pressure continued rising.
Each new arrival heavier than the last.
More dangerous than the last.
More terrifying than the last.
Darius cursed quietly.
Mira's face turned pale.
Even Lyra's expression became serious.
For the first time since entering the Rift.
Then the crowd parted one final time.
An old woman slowly stepped forward.
Silver hair.
Wooden cane.
Wrinkled skin.
An ordinary grandmother.
At least—
Until her aura appeared.
BOOOOM.
The ground shattered.
Nearby houses trembled violently.
Several team members instinctively stepped backward.
Nine-Star Ascendant.
The team's formation immediately tightened.
Weapons were drawn.
Aether surged.
Every instinct screamed danger.
The cult leader simply watched.
Calm.
Relaxed.
Almost bored.
As if none of this concerned him.
That was when the team leader's expression changed.
Not because of the followers.
Not because of the old woman.
Not because of the crowd.
Because of him.
The leader stared at the cult leader.
And suddenly realized something.
Something horribly wrong.
The followers radiated pressure.
The old woman radiated pressure.
Every powerful Ascendant present radiated pressure.
But the cult leader didn't.
Not even a little.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
The leader's eyes widened slightly.
His breathing slowed.
His grip tightened around his weapon.
"No..."
The words escaped unconsciously.
Something wasn't right.
Something was very, very wrong.
The cult leader noticed.
Then smiled.
A knowing smile.
The leader felt cold sweat form on his forehead.
For the first time since entering the Rift—
Fear appeared in his eyes.
"No..."
He whispered again.
The cult leader tilted his head slightly.
Almost curious.
And the leader finally understood.
Or at least—
He thought he did.
"Maybe..."
His voice barely escaped his throat.
"Maybe the cult leader is..."
The cult leader's smile widened.
End