Last Egg: Reincarnated as a Dragon in a Game-Chapter 442 The Heavenly Oracle

POV Vesuvius:

The dark reaper, the emerald dragon shining with gems, and the dark dragon obscured by the smoke waited in the silence. Their piercing gazes locked onto one another, unyielding and unwavering, while their formidable auras clashed, contending for dominance in a battle of will, control, and raw power.

"Enough. There is no time for this." The apocalyptic aura of absolute frost and the heat of the sun, supported by the mixture of the chaotically interwoven elements, expanded out, suppressing the two other auras only into tiny bubbles like small islands within a vast ocean.

A surge of pride surged through Vesuvius, filling his being with an intoxicating sense of joy. He was not the weaker entity, forced to tread cautiously in the presence of his counterparts f. He ascended to the pinnacle, becoming the one feared and respected by those around him.

He relished in the knowledge that he now reigned supreme.

'This how dragons are supposed to be. I need to grow even stronger, so even the annoying gods will bow before me.'

His voice, boosted by his ego, reached the two other members of the four races, "I need you both to craft something for me. I will give you schematics."

A fire ignited in the air, slowly drawing shapes, lines, runes, and letters. The glowing lines intertwined and weaved together, creating a mesmerizing tapestry of mystic symbols and arcane sigils. Each stroke of the flames brought forth a new rune.

'This isn't something anyone can create. Just the enchantment needs so much mana it would dry even a dragonkin to a dry corpse.' Vesuvius had witnessed the reaper craft before, so he was sure they were skilled in it.

After a while, the reaper spoke, a weak emotion replacing their usual apathy, "This enchantment, in all the years I have existed, I have never seen anything like this."

The green dragon's eyes glowed with greed, the colorful heterochromatic pupils dilated with pure excitement, "I will do it, I can already see the out-of-the-world knowledge behind this. Each rune and each array fit perfectly into each other. This is a work of art!"

"Good, the resources of the empire are at your disposal. Finish it as soon as possible."

'This should take care of the soul-trapping part. A soul stealer dagger, trapping the soul of those it kills. Would it also work on the players?'

POV ???:

The man's peaceful slumber was abruptly shattered by a jarring sound of breaking glass, jolting him awake. Instantly, his senses snapped to attention, his mind sharpened, and his hand instinctively reached for the gleaming dagger, which lay within easy reach on the table beside him.

The flames in the fireplace were long dead, leaving only darkness behind. Even the light of the moon and stars that should pass through the windows was gone, making the night even darker.

'Bandits, perhaps? '

"Show yourself, you scum! I am a former adventurer. I am not scared of you." His words trailed off as a bolt of lightning illuminated the room fleetingly, exposing the ominous silhouettes hurtling toward him. Their masks shimmered eerily, reflecting the brilliant radiance.

"No, these intruders are no common thieves or bandits. These are assassins," he muttered under his breath, his grip on the dagger tightening with each passing second.

"Who are you? Have you been dispatched by Cedric?" his voice, laced with a mixture of apprehension and defiance, shattered the silence.

The room plunged into obscurity once more, and the only audible presence was the resounding echo of footsteps, leaving his inquiry unanswered.

The footsteps grew louder and older with each passing moment as they got closer. In the next instant, a dozen pairs of golden eyes erupted into luminosity, casting an ethereal glow in every direction. Each pair fixated on him, unwavering and predatory, as if assessing their prey.

A chill ran down his spine, and fear clawed at his mind, unraveling the threads of his composure. This was the day he had long dreaded, the day he had spent years anticipating.

'The golden statue from my nightmares. Those are the same eyes!'

Suddenly, a searing pain erupted at the base of his skull, shrouding his vision in a disorienting haze. Gradually, the world around him faded away, consumed by darkness.

The last sound was the thunder catching up to the lightning.

Somewhere far away:

POV The Pope:

The winged paladins stood on guard. Their lances, crafted from pure light, crackled with energy, emanating a mesmerizing glow that combined the ethereal brilliance of lightning and the fervent intensity of roaring flames.

Within the sacred chamber, every surface was perfectly smooth and white, causing the pristine altar, the lofty ceiling, the enclosing walls, and even the very floor to emit a subtle, celestial luminescence. The sheer purity of the surroundings enhanced the sanctity of the moment, casting an enchanting glow upon the entire scene.

Even with it, an old man in white clothes embroidered by the threads of glowing mithril kneeled before the altar and trembled, the sheer pressure radiating from the altar threatening to squash him like a bug. Each and every regret, sin, and nefarious thought of his life burned in his soul.

A woman covered in light lay on the altar, blood pouring out of her eyes and mouth,

"Y-your holiness. How have we deserved the honor of you descending between us, humble servants of the god." He was the pope, and the woman lying on the altar was nothing but an oracle, yet he still bowed his head as the angel speaking through her carried the will of their god.

The woman, obscured by the light, parted her lips and her voice resonated with an otherworldly quality, distant and distorted, "Pope Lichtus, you have committed sins." A shiver ran down his spine as he already braced himself to be burned alive, "However, the god is forgiving and merciful. Repent for your sins, and you will reach the heavens."

"I-I will!"

"I have brought the oracle of the end. The ancient evils have risen right under your watch. Prepare as the war will come. I, Gabriel, the messenger of the god will personally select the chosen mortal to lead the armies of light and to be blessed by the god to purge the evil forces once more."

The pope turned pale at the name, all his confidence gone. Even the paladins standing guard alongside the chamber's walls stirred and turned their gazes at the altar flooded by light.

'Gabriel..., the angel of highest of the highest order. One of the seven heavenly virtues, the messenger of the god and true Archangel.'

(AN: just to avoid any confusion, an archangel with the small a and Archangel with the big A are different things. The first one is caste in the first sphere, while the second one is more akin to a title.)