Chapter 15: Chapter 15 - The Prophet Beneath the Rain

Chapter 15 — The Prophet Beneath the Rain

Rain poured heavily across Erald.

Cold wind swept through the village streets while thunder rolled across distant mountains like the growl of some ancient beast sleeping beneath the sky.

The atmosphere outside the shrine felt wrong.

Not dangerous exactly.

But heavy.

Like the entire village was holding its breath.

I followed Elena, Dorian, and Chief Rowan through the narrow stone corridors toward the main entrance while trying to understand one important thing.

"What exactly is a prophet?" I asked quietly.

Nobody answered immediately.

That alone worried me.

Finally, Dorian spoke.

"A prophet is someone chosen temporarily by divine revelation."

"Chosen how?"

The merchant frowned slightly.

"Nobody fully understands."

Helpful.

Very helpful.

Elena walked beside me silently for several seconds before finally speaking.

"Most prophets appear during periods of change."

Her blue eyes remained fixed ahead.

"Wars. Divine awakenings. Kingdom collapses."

Ah.

So definitely not good news.

The rain intensified as we stepped outside.

Villagers crowded near the central shrine nervously while whispering among themselves.

Lantern light flickered across frightened faces.

And at the center of it all—

stood a single figure.

An old woman.

Thin.

Barefoot.

Dressed in completely soaked gray robes despite the freezing rain.

Her long white hair hung messily over her shoulders while strange symbols glowed faintly across her skin.

But the truly unsettling part?

Her eyes.

Pure silver.

No pupils.

No emotion.

Just silver light.

The moment I saw her—

the blue divine core inside my chest pulsed sharply.

The woman slowly turned toward me.

Then smiled.

Not warmly.

Not cruelly either.

Just... knowingly.

Every villager immediately lowered their heads when she looked around.

Fear.

Real fear.

Interesting.

Prophets clearly carried enormous religious importance here.

Chief Rowan swallowed nervously.

"She appeared beside the shrine without warning."

Yeah.

That sounded supernatural enough.

The old woman suddenly spoke.

"The sky has changed."

Her voice sounded strange.

Not weak despite her age.

Almost layered.

Like multiple voices whispered beneath her words.

Honestly?

Creepy.

Very creepy.

Nobody interrupted her.

Even Dorian remained silent now.

The prophet slowly raised one hand toward the rain-filled sky.

"The sleeping pathways awaken once more."

The villagers looked confused.

Same honestly.

But Elena’s expression tightened slightly.

Interesting.

She understood something.

The old woman’s silver gaze suddenly landed directly on me.

And for the first time since arriving here—

I felt genuinely exposed.

Like she could see straight through every lie.

Every fake smile.

Every carefully chosen half-truth.

The prophet tilted her head slightly.

"A child from the abandoned world."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

My heartbeat nearly stopped.

Dorian’s eyes widened immediately.

Elena looked toward me sharply.

Chief Rowan appeared completely lost.

The prophet took one slow step closer.

Rain continued pouring around her, yet strangely...

none of it seemed to touch her body anymore.

The water bent away slightly before reaching her skin.

Divine influence.

Powerful divine influence.

"You carry the echo of the starving god," she whispered.

The blue core inside my chest pulsed violently.

Starving god?

The God of Technology?

No.

Wait.

Was she talking about Earth itself?

My mind raced instantly.

The prophet continued softly—

"The world that consumed its own spirit..."

Her silver eyes narrowed slightly.

"...yet continued moving forward."

My chest tightened unexpectedly.

Because honestly?

That described Earth perfectly.

A spiritually dead civilization surviving entirely through progress.

No gods.

No miracles.

Just endless advancement.

Machines replacing faith.

Technology replacing mystery.

The old woman looked almost fascinated.

"How strange."

Dorian quietly stepped closer to Elena.

"You said he came from another realm?"

Elena didn’t answer immediately.

The prophet answered for her.

"He crossed the silent bridge between dying worlds."

Again with mysterious prophet language.

Honestly these people would dominate social media cryptic-post culture back on Earth.

Still...

one thing mattered.

She knew.

Not everything.

But enough.

The old woman suddenly laughed softly.

A dry, unsettling sound.

"The ancient ones will panic."

Dorian frowned deeply.

"That is not reassuring."

"No," the prophet agreed immediately.

"It is not."

Fantastic.

Wonderful.

Exactly the emotional support I needed tonight.

The villagers whispered nervously among themselves now.

Most clearly didn’t understand the conversation.

Good.

Because I barely understood it myself.

The prophet slowly walked toward the shrine.

Silver light flickered faintly beneath her feet with every step.

Then she placed one wrinkled hand against Lady Seraphine’s statue.

Immediately—

the shrine glowed brighter.

The entire village gasped.

Elena’s eyes widened.

"That much resonance..."

Even Dorian looked stunned now.

Interesting.

Apparently prophets usually weren’t this powerful.

The old woman closed her glowing eyes.

Then softly spoke again—

"The threads of divinity tighten."

Her voice deepened unnaturally.

"The dead world births a new path."

The blue energy beneath my chest reacted violently again.

Warmth spread through my body uncontrollably.

And suddenly—

my phone vibrated inside my pocket.

Everyone froze.

Ah.

Right.

Phones did that.

Wrong world though.

Very wrong timing.

I quickly pulled it out.

The screen flickered strangely.

Static covered the display.

Then—

for one brief second—

an image appeared.

A city skyline.

Earth.

Modern buildings illuminated beneath endless electric lights.

Cars moving through wet streets.

Neon signs glowing in darkness.

My breath caught instantly.

Home.

Then the image vanished.

The screen returned to static before shutting off completely.

Battery: 24%.

Silence surrounded me.

The prophet stared directly at the phone.

Not confused.

Recognizing.

That terrified me more than anything else tonight.

"...The divine machine," she whispered softly.

Dorian blinked.

"The what?"

The old woman ignored him completely.

Her silver eyes remained locked onto the phone.

"The starving god truly left fragments behind..."

My heartbeat accelerated.

Fragments?

What fragments?

The prophet slowly looked back toward me.

And for the first time—

real emotion appeared on her face.

Pity.

"You inherited a lonely throne."

The rain suddenly felt much colder.

Because somehow...

that sentence hurt.

More than it should have.

The prophet stepped closer carefully now.

Not threatening.

Almost gentle.

"The old god failed."

Silence.

Complete silence.

My mind instantly focused.

The old God of Technology.

Finally.

Information.

I swallowed slowly.

"What happened to him?"

The prophet became quiet.

The silver light in her eyes dimmed slightly.

Then softly answered—

"He consumed too much faith."

My entire body stiffened.

What?

The villagers looked confused again.

But Dorian and Elena both understood the importance immediately.

The prophet continued quietly—

"The authority of technology evolves endlessly."

Her gaze sharpened slightly.

"Growth became addiction."

The blue core inside my chest pulsed again.

Hard.

"He no longer wished to guide civilization."

The old woman’s expression darkened.

"He wished to control it."

A cold feeling spread through me.

Because honestly?

That sounded terrifyingly possible.

Technology already controlled huge parts of Earth naturally.

Communication.

Transportation.

Medicine.

Information.

Modern humanity depended on systems constantly.

What would happen if an actual god governed those systems directly?

The prophet looked toward the dark sky above Erald.

"The starving god drained his world seeking supremacy."

Earth.

The original Technology God consumed Earth’s spiritual energy intentionally.

Not accidentally.

Holy crap.

No wonder the gods abandoned it afterward.

The old woman suddenly looked back toward me sharply.

"You must never repeat his mistake."

The atmosphere became heavy instantly.

My chest tightened.

Because the terrifying part?

I could already understand the temptation.

Faith felt intoxicating.

Useful.

Addictive even.

And technology naturally encouraged dependence.

The combination was dangerous beyond imagination.

Elena quietly stepped beside me.

Almost protective again.

The prophet noticed immediately.

Interesting smile.

Very knowing smile.

Dangerous old woman.

The rain softened slightly around us while villagers remained completely silent.

Nobody dared interrupt now.

Finally, Dorian spoke carefully—

"If the old Technology God vanished..."

His eyes narrowed.

"...why has no one heard of this authority before?"

Excellent question.

The prophet laughed softly again.

"Because the ancient gods erased him."

Silence.

Even thunder seemed quieter afterward.

The old woman’s silver eyes glowed brighter.

"They feared a divine authority that could endlessly evolve."

Honestly?

Fair concern.

Very fair concern.

The prophet slowly pointed toward my chest.

"But now..."

The blue core pulsed beneath my skin again.

"...the forgotten path awakens once more."

The villagers looked terrified now.

Some even stepped backward.

Great.

Probably not ideal public relations.

Elena frowned slightly.

"Why reveal this openly?"

The prophet’s expression softened strangely.

"Because hiding fate changes nothing."

Cryptic old people really loved saying sentences that sounded deep while explaining absolutely nothing.

Still...

something else bothered me.

"You said the old gods erased him," I said carefully.

"Then why do you remember?"

The prophet became silent.

For several long seconds, only rain echoed across the village.

Then finally—

the old woman smiled sadly.

"Because prophets remember what history fears."

That sentence sent chills through the entire village.

Including me.

The prophet suddenly turned toward the eastern mountains beyond Erald.

Her silver eyes narrowed sharply.

Then her expression changed completely.

Fear.

Real fear.

The atmosphere instantly became tense again.

Dorian noticed first.

"What is it?"

The old woman whispered softly—

"They’re coming."

Cold wind swept through the village immediately.

The shrine light flickered violently.

Elena stepped forward sharply.

"Who?"

The prophet’s silver eyes remained fixed on the mountains.

And then—

for the first time tonight—

her voice trembled.

"The hunters of dead gods."