Throughout the conversation, Qudsiyah had been the one speaking while Zarathul, the Pegasus, remained silent.
However, at this moment, he made a strange sound that drew everyone's attention.
After a moment of staring, Qudsiyah began to spin her hand, and a light shot from it into Zarathul's body. His body absorbed it, and after a few moments, a voice echoed in everyone's mind.
The voice was dark and deep, like a beast trying to speak.
"I am Zarathul, and I have met Arthur Pendragon in the past. I have seen him fight, and I was there the last time he was ever seen," the voice said, clearly coming from Zarathul.
"Long ago, I was a pet to the gods, the gods of creation and death. My master was what most would call wicked, cruel, and ruthless. To top it off, he was one of the strongest gods, if not the strongest at that time.
You see, due to the rapid growth in population on Earth and the many creatures that have lived and passed away, my master was determined to conquer Earth and take over its beings simply because it had the potential to make him even stronger."
Because of the rise in population, there were more deaths on Earth, and where there was more death, my master grew stronger. He thrived on the energy released by the departed. After accumulating enough power, he could use his creation abilities to summon more beings, whose sole purpose would be to kill even more people for him. The cycle would continue, strengthening him further with each death.
"However," Zarathul said, his tone growing darker, "on his quest to achieve this dominance, my master encountered significant obstacles, and one of them was Arthur Pendragon."
The room grew still as everyone's attention locked on Zarathul. His voice, deep and deliberate, carried the weight of history.
"Arthur Pendragon fought my master... and won," Zarathul continued, his eyes narrowing. "But that victory came at a great cost. It was the last time Arthur was seen alive. After the battle, his body disintegrated on the battlefield, reduced to nothingness right there and then. It marked the end of Arthur Pendragon."
"Wait," Graham interjected, his frustration evident. "All of this just to tell us he's dead?" His voice carried a sharp edge, his annoyance bubbling to the surface.
"That's not all," Zarathul responded, his voice vibrating in Graham's mind. The intensity of the sound was unbearable, and soon blood trickled from Graham's nose.
"You—!" Graham shouted, fury flaring in his eyes. He stood abruptly, ready to retaliate, but before he could act, a deafening bang echoed through the room. The table shook violently, silencing everyone.
"Enough of this!" Elder Rooney commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative. "Let him finish."
The tension in the room eased slightly as everyone settled back into their seats. The unsettling noise in Graham's head abruptly stopped, and he touched his nose, noticing the bleeding had stopped. A calming sensation spread through his face, and as he glanced up, he saw Qudsiyah standing nearby, her hand extended towards him, a faint smile on her lips.
"I didn't ask for your help, bitch," Graham barked, his voice cutting through the silence. His anger had not subsided.
Qudsiyah's smile vanished, her expression darkening. Without saying a word, she flicked her wrist subtly, and immediately more blood began to flow from Graham's nose. He clutched at his face, but no one else intervened.
The room quieted once again as all eyes turned back to Zarathul. He let out a low, raspy sigh before speaking, his voice filling their minds once more.
"Due to the intensity of the battle between Arthur and my master, almost half of humanity on Earth perished from the aftermath. Entire cities were obliterated. The skies burned, the ground cracked, and the air itself became poison. No one survived to witness the final moments of the fight... except me. I was there, aiding my master, as was my duty."
The room was utterly silent, the weight of Zarathul's words pressing heavily on everyone.
"After Arthur defeated my master, his body was destroyed. But that day, I saw something extraordinary," Zarathul continued, his tone now tinged with a hint of awe. "All the energy released by Arthur during the fight was drawn into his sword. The very sword Arthur wielded against my master absorbed everything—his power, his essence, and possibly... his soul."
Zarathul's eyes scanned the room, gauging their reactions. "I believe," he said slowly, "that if you could find that sword, the one Arthur used in battle, you might stand a chance of locating him—or, at the very least, someone from his bloodline who could harness his power."
The room was heavy with thought. No one spoke for a long moment. Finally, Elder Rooney broke the silence.
"The sword," he murmured, his voice contemplative, "was said to be crafted from dragon bone and scales. A weapon of immense power, almost mythical."
"But where would we even begin to look for something like that?" another voice chimed in. It was a valid question. Elder Rooney leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
"On Earth today," he mused aloud, "there are countless swords. Many are displayed in museums or hidden in private collections, but most of our weapons are now firearms. The age of swords is long past. Finding that sword would be like searching for a single grain of sand in an endless desert."
"How about museums?" Caspian suggested, his voice breaking the silence. "Things of the past are usually kept there. Maybe someone found the sword, and it's now being kept in a museum."
"That's a likely place," Peter added thoughtfully. "Whoever found the sword wouldn't be able to use it anyway. Its power is not for ordinary hands."
Graham leaned forward in his seat, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the table. "I can have some men check every museum on Earth," he said confidently. "But we'll need an image of the sword to be sure we're looking for the right thing."
All eyes turned toward Zarathul, expecting guidance. However, Zarathul slowly shook his head, his expression solemn. "It's been so long since I saw the sword," he admitted, his deep voice carrying a hint of regret. "Even the story I told you just now… I'm only seventy percent sure of its accuracy."
A moment of silence hung over the room, broken only by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Qudsiyah rose from her seat, her imposing shadow stretching across the room. Her presence commanded attention as she walked toward Zarathul, her movements deliberate and graceful.
"Permit me to do it for you," Qudsiyah said, her voice calm but firm.
Zarathul met her gaze and gave a slight nod of approval. "Do it," he said simply.
Qudsiyah extended her hand and placed it lightly on Zarathul's shoulder. A quiet hum filled the room as her eyes closed in concentration. For a moment, nothing happened, and then, faint sparkles of light began to emerge from her fingertips. The shimmering particles danced in the air before converging to form a shape in front of them. The light twisted and coalesced, gradually taking the outline of an object.
Stan, sitting nearby, leaned forward, his curiosity evident. "How many things exactly can you do?" he asked, his tone laced with both awe and skepticism.
"A lot of things," Qudsiyah replied without hesitation. "When someone has a high level of control over peace energy, they can accomplish many things—as long as they have the knowledge to guide them."
As she spoke, the sparkling light solidified further, revealing the distinct shape of a sword. Its outlines and intricate designs glimmered in the air, every detail captured as though etched by an unseen hand. The room fell silent, the air thick with anticipation.
"There," Qudsiyah said softly, stepping back to let everyone get a clear view of the glowing image. "This is the sword we're searching for."
The group leaned closer to study the projection, each taking in the unique patterns etched into the sword's blade and hilt. Graham quickly snapped a picture of the glowing image with his communicator, ensuring they had an accurate reference.
"Hopefully, it won't take long for a report to arrive back," Peter said, breaking the silence. "If we manage to have someone as powerful as Arthur on our side, I'm sure the Nine Divine Realms won't stand a chance against us."
"That aside," Elder Rooney interjected, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "Now comes the important part of this meeting."
He turned to Qudsiyah, his expression unreadable. "You mentioned that with your mastery over peace energy, you could do anything you wanted—as long as you had the knowledge. Is that correct?"
Qudsiyah nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. "That's right."
"I believe that applies to healing as well," Elder Rooney said, his tone heavy with meaning.
Qudsiyah's smile widened, her confidence evident. "It does," she replied simply.
"Earlier, I mentioned that Arthur was hunting the unicorn."
"You see, unicorns in the past were used to create what is called the Peace Maker and the Pain Witch," Qudsiyah said, her voice steady and commanding everyone's attention.
"These two have the ability to make themselves and others incredibly happy or heal them quickly, no matter their state."
She paused briefly, her gaze sweeping the room before continuing. "The Peace Maker heals by bringing peace into the body of the injured. By doing this, the injuries become painless, and the body's cells start to heal automatically," she explained, her tone filled with certainty.
"Meanwhile, the Pain Witch heals people by absorbing their pain. It's like exchanging one body's state for another. The more pain the Pain Witch absorbs, the stronger they become and the more energy they gain to heal others," Qudsiyah said, her voice softening slightly as if recounting something ancient and sacred.
"Now," she said, her eyes glinting with a mysterious light, "imagine the ability of the creature that gave these two their powers." She let her words hang in the air for a moment before adding, "Some even believe that with these abilities, we can raise someone from the dead."
Her last statement sent ripples of unease through the room. A tense silence followed until Stan spoke up, his voice breaking through the heavy atmosphere.
"That means you can do it then," he said, leaning forward slightly. "You can heal and restore my qi core back to its original state?" There was a tinge of worry in his voice, his usual confidence replaced by uncertainty.
Qudsiyah turned her attention to Stan. Without saying a word, she stood up from her chair, her figure towering over him as the light in the room seemed to dim slightly. Stan looked up at her, confused by her sudden movement.
She began to walk toward him, her steps slow and deliberate, each one echoing in the silence. When she stopped in front of him, her height was even more imposing compared to him sitting down. Stan, feeling the tension, stood up as well, now eye to eye with her but still slightly dwarfed by her commanding presence.
"What are you doing?" Stan asked cautiously, his brows furrowed.
Qudsiyah didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stretched both of her hands out toward him, her palms facing upward. The room was so quiet that the faint rustle of her robes could be heard. Stan hesitated, looking at her outstretched hands. His fingers twitched nervously, unsure of what to do.
"Don't worry," Qudsiyah finally said, her voice soft but firm. "It will be a painless process for you, especially with someone like me."
Stan hesitated for a moment longer before slowly lifting his shaking hand and placing it in hers. Her hands were surprisingly warm, and the touch was gentle, almost comforting. Qudsiyah closed her eyes as soon as their hands connected.
A faint glow began to emanate from her horn, growing brighter with each passing second. The light turned a brilliant white, illuminating the entire room. It was so intense that it seemed like the glow could consume everything around them. Everyone in the room squinted or shielded their eyes from the brightness, unsure of what was happening.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, the glow stopped. The light disappeared completely, and the room returned to its dim state. Qudsiyah stood there, her hands still holding Stan's, but her expression had changed. She was staring at him with a look of surprise and concern.
"What's the problem?" Stan asked, his voice laced with confusion and worry. He glanced down at their joined hands and then back up at her face.
Qudsiyah let go of his hands and took a small step back. Her brows were furrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line before she spoke. "You… you have Fate Aura around you," she said, her voice almost a whisper.
Stan blinked, not understanding. "Fate Aura? What does that mean?" he asked, his voice rising slightly.