Chapter 307: Trust Me And I’ll Bring You To Heights You’ve Never Reached Before

The crowd shivered. The dreams. They had all seen them—vivid, terrifying images of a figure ravaging them in their sleep.

When they had learned that the figure was the Hero, their distrust had solidified into something close to hatred and it was one of the main reasons they were so scared of him.

But in response to that, Luca scoffed and said with irritation,

"That has nothing to do with me. That crazy goddess up there is the one who showed you those stupid, absurd things!"

He pointed at the sky, "So, don’t associate that with me. I would never do such things to you."

He then smiled, his expression softening.

"Besides, I’m pretty sure another Goddess will come and clear up that misunderstanding soon.

He met the eyes of the gathered races directly and said,

"What I’m saying is that you don’t have to trust the elves. You don’t have to trust me. But you can most definitely trust the Goddess above."

The crowd considered this. If he was lying, it would be easy to catch him.

But if he was telling the truth—if the goddess herself was about to vouch for him—then that would be the highest possible seal of approval.

More heads nodded. More whispers of agreement.

Seeing this, Luca knew he had to capitalize.

He stepped forward, looking out at all of them—the leaders, the warriors, the young, the old and he began.

"Honestly. When I was planning this meeting, Nyx told me to give a grand speech. To be charismatic. To convince you with pretty words."

He glanced back at Nyx, who smiled.

"But I said no. Because no matter how good I am with words, I don’t think a simple speech would convince you."

The leaders nodded. They knew this was true.

"But even knowing that." Luca continued. "I still want to try. Not a speech, really. Just...sincerity. Speaking from the heart."

He paused, letting the words settle before going on to say,

"I understand why you don’t trust me. Of course you don’t. I’m a human."

He gave a helpless chuckle.

"The same humans who have oppressed you for centuries."

"The same humans who have tried to invade your lands, steal your resources, enslave your people."

The crowd’s faces grew grave.

"And it’s not just that—I’m also someone you have no connection to. No shared history, no common ground."

"I seem like a distant presence—someone sitting on top of the world, someone who doesn’t understand your struggles."

More nods. More agreement.

"But..." Luca smiled. "We’re actually much closer than you think."

He took a breath, looking out at them with emotion as he announced,

"Because...I was once just like you."

The crowd leaned in, curious despite themselves.

"I too was once oppressed. Surrounded by danger on all sides. Every step I took could have been my last. One wrong decision, and my life would have ended in a horrible, gruesome manner."

The crowd was baffled. They had just seen his power a moment, so they had clue how such a powerful entity could be oppressed.

"It wasn’t just me." He continued with a certain darkness in his eyes. "The people around me, too. The ones I loved were in the same situation."

"Because of that I...I felt helpless. I didn’t know who to trust. I felt cornered, just like all of you feel right now."

The silence was absolute.

The elves listened, their hearts aching.

They had never asked about Luca’s past. They had never thought to wonder what kind of life he had lived before coming to their world.

But now they heard it—the pain in his voice, the shadows in his eyes and they wanted to know more.

But Luca didn’t elaborate on the darkness. Instead, he smiled—a warm, open, human smile.

"That’s why I understand your struggles. I understand your fear. I understand your distrust."

He spread his arms.

"And I understand that trust isn’t something you can demand. It’s something you have to earn."

He looked at the vampire queen, the dragonkin queen, the goblin queen, the dark elf matriarch—all of them, one by one.

"I don’t expect you to trust me right now. I don’t expect you to believe everything I’ve said today."

"But I am asking you to give me a chance. To let me prove myself. To let me show you through my actions, not my words that I am not your enemy."

He bowed his head.

"That’s all I ask. A chance."

Luca’s words hung in the air like incense smoke, thick and fragrant, impossible to ignore.

And soon, hearts that had been hardened by centuries of betrayal and suspicion found themselves softening.

Emotions that had been locked away behind walls of duty and tradition began to stir.

The more he spoke, the less people found themselves opposed to him.

It was a strange thing, almost magical.

Not to mention, his voice was not loud, not commanding, not filled with the fire of a conqueror demanding obedience.

It was soft. Gentle. The voice of someone who had suffered, who had struggled, who had clawed his way out of darkness and now wanted nothing more than to help others do the same.

Every gaze that met his felt sincerity radiating from him like warmth from a hearth fire.

Because of that even the most stubborn among them—the ones who had arrived with their arms crossed, determined to hate him, to distrust him, to reject him on principle found their defenses crumbling.

They could not look away. They could not ignore the truth shining in his eyes.

He was not lying. He was not manipulating. He was not playing games.

He was speaking from the bottom of his heart.

Luca saw the shift. He felt the tide turning in his favor, the current of public opinion flowing toward him like a river finding its course.

And he knew with the instincts of a man who had walked through fire and come out the other side that this was the moment.

The final push.

The last stone needed to complete the bridge between him and the races he had sworn to protect.

He broke into a smile—a hopeful, almost childlike smile that seemed to light up his entire face.

His eyes gleamed with something that looked like starlight, like the first rays of dawn after a long, dark night.

"But let me tell you..." He said, and every single person in the valley held their breath.

"If you were to give me that chance, that once chance I’m begging for right now..."

He raised his hand high above his head, reaching toward the sky as if he could brush the stars with his fingertips.

"...I will bring you to places you have never even imagined reaching before."

The gesture was so earnest, so utterly without artifice, that several of the onlookers felt their throats tighten.

"All your hopes..."

"Your dreams..."

"Your aspirations..."

"Everything you’ve ever wanted for your race..."

His gaze swept across the crowd, touching each leader in turn, acknowledging each struggle, each burden, each secret wish.

"Everything you’ve ever wanted for your family..."

His eyes softened, his voice dropping to something almost intimate.

"Everything you’ve ever wanted for yourself—as a person, as an individual, as a being who deserves happiness, who deserves peace, who deserves to live without fear—I will help you achieve it all."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Shivers ran down spines.

It was such a massive promise, so audacious, so impossibly grand—and yet, the way he said it, it did not seem like a lie.

It did not seem like an exaggeration.

It seemed like a vow. A sacred oath. A promise carved into the very fabric of his soul.

He chuckled softly, lowering his hand. The gesture was self-deprecating, almost shy.

"Of course, I’m not a god. I can’t do everything. I can’t wave my hand and make all your problems disappear with a flick of my wrist."

He looked at them with a gentle, loving gaze—the kind of look that said, I understand. I’ve been where you are. I know what it’s like to feel alone.

"But I promise you this: I will do my very best. I will work as hard as I can. I will fight for you, bleed for you, and never give up on you."

"I will take you to places you have never reached before—not because I am powerful, but because I will never stop trying."

He placed his hand over his heart.

"That...is my promise to you as the Hero sent by the Goddess of Equivalent Exchange herself."

He bowed his head.

The silence stretched.

And then, slowly, something changed.

It was not a sudden transformation—nothing so dramatic, nothing so cinematic.

It was a gradual thaw, like ice melting under a spring sun.

The tension that had been coiled so tightly in the valley began to loosen.

The suspicion that had clouded so many faces began to clear.

The fear that had gripped so many hearts began to ease.

They thought about everything he had said.

Everything he had done.

The performance. The outfit. The songs. The dances.

The way he had humiliated himself, basically, just to make them laugh.

How he danced like a fool, sung cheesy love songs, and confessed his heart.

He had done all of this because he wanted them to trust him.

Because he wanted them to feel safe.

And the part that really hit them like a freight train through their hearts—

—was the fact that he didn’t even have to do this!

After all, he had already fulfilled his mission. He had already saved them from the human invasion.

After that, he could have simply issued orders, demanded obedience, ruled through fear.

He was the strongest being in the world after all!

No one could stop him. No one could even challenge him.

But he hadn’t.

Instead, he had chosen to beg. To plead. To perform. To humiliate himself in front of hundreds of people, all for the sake of winning their trust.

What more could anyone ask for?

"He did all of this...and he didn’t even mention our previous queens and elders."

A harpy whispered to her companion, her voice filled with wonder.

"He didn’t, did he?" Her companion’s eyes widened.

"Yes." The first harpy nodded before going on to say like it was obvious, "But he could have. He could have said, ’Your own elders trusted me. They summoned me. They believed in me. Therefore, you should too.’"

"He could have used their sacrifice as a weapon, a bargaining chip, a tool of manipulation."

"But he didn’t..." The other harpy gasped in realisation.

"No, he didn’t. He left them out of it entirely. He gave them their dignity. He gave us our dignity."

The two harpies exchanged glances.

The elder they adored was the one who had sacrificed herself to summon the Hero.

They had always wondered—had their elder made the right choice?

Had she trusted the right person?

Had she given their lives for a cause that was just, for a Hero who was worthy?

Now, looking at the man who had just promised to help them achieve their dreams.

...who had respected their elder’s memories by not using them as pawns...

...who had chosen humility over power, kindness over control...

...they thought, perhaps, they had.

The same realization was spreading through the other races like wildfire, leaping from heart to heart, mind to mind.