The Oracle Paths Chapter 1231: A Vision Shattered, A Vision Renewed

Kaelum stalked back and forth in confined loops, resembling a trapped beast, his mind pulverized by the utter ridiculousness unfolding before him, until he abruptly lost his temper:

"This makes no sense!"

His shout erupted harshly, devoid of his typical bravado. A mix of astonishment, anger, and worry collided within him with brutal honesty. Usually, he was the cause of such reactions in others.

Next to him, Shadrex remained immobile, his stare fixed somewhere amid the twisting roots underneath and the ripped skyline. For the first time in ages, the visionary avoided glimpsing ahead.

"This guy... he’s truly an Oracle Knight like us?"

The question emerged feebly, lacking assurance. An admission—uncommon, nearly blasphemous.

His eyes darted, as though a perilous idea had suddenly materialized.

"At this stage... perhaps we should verify if there’s a Rank 18 or an Oracle Baron. On our side."

Shadrex dismissed the notion immediately upon its birth. Even he couldn’t tolerate such lunacy—a Rank 18 concealed in their midst? Ridiculous. A desperate mental refuge. No more than that.

In the meantime, Weiss remained utterly motionless, her gaze vacant, paralyzed by the fact that her "gift" had reversed into complete catastrophe. Her scheme was meant to be foolproof.

She had marked everyone on the battlefield, friends and foes alike—everyone but Jake’s devoted forces. At any instant, she could have commandeered both armies and compelled them to destroy one another. Without Jake’s presence, she would have allowed the factions to annihilate themselves completely. And if Jake had been the focus, she could have cut him off right away by removing all his human allies.

A precise assault. Ruthless. Irresistible.

Yet Jake had eradicated the opposing army in an instant, nullifying part of her plot without a clue.

Confronting the troops who remained—the fighters aligned with Jake—she had no notion of what action was feasible now. Her network of control had no anchors left.

Her whole tactic relied on a foreseeable battleground, on consistent armies she could sway.

But within mere moments, it all unraveled.

Uprising. Calyx’s disloyalty. Anthace’s horrific incursion. And now, countless fighters bursting from the white blooms dotting the terrain—many of them emanating strength nearing that of a Saint.

In essence... nearing

Weiss emitted a harsh, choked laugh—a jaundiced burst stemming from surprise, unease, and total despair. All her preparations had been demolished like a fragile sand structure under a massive surge.

Kaelum, at last, addressed Shadrex’s prior proposal.

"What?!"

He almost exploded, his tone splintering between dread and rage.

"That’s impossible! If such a person existed, we’d be aware! And where’s the equivalent on the Lustra Plains?! Where’s the Game’s equilibrium?!"

His whole perspective was crumbling.

He’d always viewed himself as reliable—perhaps even elite. Yet now Shadrex urged him to entertain that another Player, lurking since the beginning, could surpass him and had stayed hidden?

No. Even he rejected that absurdity.

And the most alarming aspect? The cause of Kaelum’s profound fear?

Shadrex, far wiser than him, wouldn’t propose such nonsense normally. If the Bipolar Seer—the one spouting poetry and symbols mid-combat—was turning to these desperate rationalizations for comfort...

Then only one conclusion remained:

Even Shadrex was breaking down.

And that frightened him more than anything.

Shadrex, naturally, offered no reply. Gradually regaining his poise, he shifted to a detached, clinical evaluation.

"If an impossibility occurs... it indicates we erred in our fundamentals."

That insight unlocked something far graver.

Jake wasn’t a Rank 18. It was more dire.

He was a Rank 17 who could overpower an imagined Rank 18.

For any hope, however slim, they needed to probe Jake’s boundaries, adjust their approach—or concede that the sole viable aim was mere... endurance.

Before Shadrex could elaborate, the mental horror Weiss had sensed at the main battleground crashed into their thoughts—a flood of pure information and dread invading their perceptions.

The capital’s earth split apart—again—in every direction, fiercely, without notice.

White roots from Anthace erupted like animated columns, expanding, flowering, fracturing in wild proliferation.

For a moment, this ignited optimism among the survivors—particularly the ordinary folk who had always trusted their protective tree.

That optimism endured barely five seconds.

The beasts poured forth in multiplying surges, exploiting the fresh cracks as pathways to overrun the leftover barriers.

Then, from the blossoming pods, grand forms appeared—warriors in spotless white armor, exuding Saint-level might, or approaching it.

But their Lumyst wasn’t glowing. It wasn’t comforting. It wasn’t divine.

It was dark. Eating away. Ravaging all it encountered.

The Light Warriors of the Lustra Plains, who had briefly kindled hope, paled immediately. Their breathing faltered. Their spirits plummeted.

One of them, a seasoned, esteemed Radiant Lord across the capital, halted as his eyes bulged. He identified a shape rising from a pod.

"Rengen?... Rengen?!"

His cry shattered. A jolt so intense it resembled a thunderbolt strike.

"You’re alive? I believed you perished! You were meant to have died centuries ago!"

Rengen had fallen hundreds of years back. Like every deceased Light Warrior, his remains were interred in the Radiant Conclave’s sacred ceremony—close to Anthace’s roots.

A sacred ritual...or so all assumed.

Actually, it was an offering. A gift. Nourishment for the Titan Tree, which consumed their corpses, revived them... and took possession.

Overcome by feelings, the Radiant Lord dashed ahead impulsively and embraced his former comrade, tears welling up.

But his reward... was stillness. An utter emptiness.

Followed by—agony.

Intense, searing torment burst in his chest.

He glanced downward.

The "Rengen" entity had thrust its arm fully through his body, up to the shoulder. Its fist protruded from the back, gripping his pulsing heart.

"W-why...?" formed his last utterance.

He wasn’t alone.

Sentiment. Optimism. Remembrance.

Each turned to swift demise.

A female was skewered while rushing to her spouse’s embrace. A fighter lost his head before noticing his "brother" was off. Another sought to embrace his lost betrothed from two years prior—and got ripped apart by a effortless swipe.

After several such horrors, optimism deflated like a burst bubble. No one approached these "revived fighters" anymore.

*****

Regarding Cho Min-Ho, the Korean head of King’s Idol Alliance—having battled beasts endlessly while awaiting his chance, his spirits were buried deep.

Events veered far from expectations.

He and his group had pondered withdrawal. Clearly, no benefit would arise from this mess.

Yet the moment he considered evacuating the damned city, a terrifying sight caught his eye:

Anthace’s roots didn’t confine to Lustris.

They spanned everywhere.

Bursting from the soil like an infinite woodland extending to the limits of their vision—and psychic detection.

Peaks. Fields. Gorges. Everything fractured.

He urgently contacted their partners at other sites: the primary battleground with Jake, the Dusken hub, all their stations with troops. Each relayed identical terror.

Roots. Beasts. Saint-tier undead.

All manifesting with equal nauseating abundance over the whole landmass.

A single swift, harsh assessment revealed the truth:

They were doomed. Doomed irreparably.

The land wasn’t "collapsing." It had already submerged.

*****

Simultaneously, the trio of Oracle Knights on their perch displayed identical somber faces. The spectacle defied a mere failed foresight.

It scarcely matched Shadrex’s forecast.

Following a weighty hush laden with fear, the visionary at last voiced:

"If we delay further... it won’t merely be Lustris that crumbles. The full continent will follow. Anthace will devour it all. We cannot remain onlookers."

Weiss and Kaelum stayed silent, yet their quiet conveyed plenty. Intervening now required acknowledging that all their strategies had burned away. It could signify death on this spot.

However, inaction... Inaction ensured total loss.

Meanwhile, the Celestial—enormous, sturdy-built, with timeless silver eyes shaped by eons—remained stationary. His outline appeared denser now, burdened by a weariness predating realms.

Still engaged in wordless exchange with Jake, he eventually released a prolonged, fatigued breath.

A breath that echoed.

Across the atmosphere. Across the earth. Across the thoughts of all within vast distances.

"Ah... Anthace... How long have you schemed this treachery?"

His sight scanned the saints sprouting from the pods.

"All these Saints... These millions of fighters... No—these legions of Light Warriors. Valiant, devoted, bold... I don’t know them all, but many I do. Many over the millennia of my existence."

He breathed in profoundly, surveying the land via the winds.

"Based on the count of Saints our territory yielded in recent eras... and the quantity of presences I detect now—presences rivaling the present Conclave, or surpassing—I can gauge your preparation time. Tens of thousands of years... at minimum."

Then his visage toughened.

"And certain presences... align with mine. Others... surpass it. The Celestials preceding me. You even seized their corpses..."

His gaze sharpened threateningly.

"...despite them meant to rest under the sanctuary, in the vault crafted to block your roots."

In reply, the root forest quivered, emitting a psychic pulse keen enough to startle the Oracle Knights. A telepathic message—unreadable for most.

Anthace had responded.

Jake couldn’t perceive the dialogue, but the intent shone through vividly.

Scorn. Ridicule. Endless superiority.

The sort of haughtiness an eternal entity would display to a petulant child ignorant of his surroundings.

Anthace had never regarded them as threats. At most, as vermin clinging to his limbs—scroungers living off his waste.

As the strain crested, Jake shattered the quiet—his tone eerily serene amid the turmoil.

"Huh... I figured I’d braced for the direst outcomes. Even for twisted scenarios beyond imagination. But this? No. This one I didn’t anticipate.

"Doesn’t change a thing. A foe remains a foe. Triumph arrives when all adversaries lie dead or erased.

"Circumstances shift. The goal stays. Advance, then. I’ll cut you down regardless."

Those straightforward phrases ignited a sharp, charged spark in Weiss’s gaze.

"Yes... Yes! Exactly!"

She turned to Shadrex, panting:

"Your foresight, Shadrex! You may not have erred. It could still unfold!"

The visionary snapped his head upward. Then enlightenment dawned on his features.

His foresight hadn’t failed. It had arrived too soon. Lacking phases. Unforeseen catalysts.

He had miscalculated the progression. Misjudged Jake.

And now he grasped... he might still be doing so.

For as nightmarish as this was— the creatures, Anthace’s deception, the revived Saints, the primordial presences— it could be the very support required to realize the foretelling.

The three Oracle Knights shared one glance. Only one.

Then, in a hushed, near-ceremonial murmur:

"Very well, Jake. In that case... reveal the extent of our misjudgment of you."