Online In Another World
Chapter 412 World Of Prophecies

Part of him was tempted to create light using a spell, though fortunately, he did have some common sense and realized how disrespectful such an act would be when meeting a figure of high importance in their own territory.

What was intriguing to him at first was something he hadn't considered–the "Oracle" spoken about by Bastian also seemed to be the ruler of Atlan itself.

The man wearing the tattered, beige cloak stepped forward, closer to the throne that was veiled by the dim lighting of the regal chamber.

"I have returned, and with me, I have brought Emilio Dragonheart," Bastian announced.

With the claim of their arrival, the slumbering torches were brought to life by the sound of a snap of one's fingers, at last bringing the appearance of the one who sat upon the Atlan throne. What he saw wasn't anything he expected, not from the "Oracle" he had heard about.

The figure sat in a throne of light, cerulean marble, embroidered with gemstones from the deep blue and infused with sea shells; they were humanoid in shape, though possessed four arms that sat on the rests of the regal seat.

'He's huge,' he thought.

Of course, he didn't know much of what he expected from the figure's appearance, though he was caught off-guard by just how tall the Atlan King seemed to truly be, sitting in the massive throne with a height that dwarfed him a few times over.

There were barnacles stuck to the skin of the unique being with lengthy, prominent hair that cascaded down his shoulders like seagrass. Perhaps most jarring of all were the countless eyes that existed all along the Atlan King's body, each now looking towards the two humans.

Silence; there was no verbal response that came from the enigmatic figure, only a slow raise of one of its arms as it pointed a single finger towards the Dragonheart himself.

"Me?" Emilio quietly muttered.

Bastian glanced at him, whispering, "He's calling you up. He wants to see the future attached to you. Don't be afraid–just remember, he's on our side."

It was difficult to stay true to those words of assurance as he slowly approached through the marble throne room of the underwater temple, looking towards the colossal, sat king of the fallen kingdom.

'It's weird. I'm nervous. Even the fingertips of my right arm are tingling; it feels like there are goosebumps over that arm, too. I wonder if this is the "phantom limb" stuff I've read about before. I've just got to stay focused,' he thought.

Through his journeys, he had become wary of many things, and none more than beings that resembled monsters of Primordial descent like the Atlan King he now stood before. As he looked up, he saw its face clearly now.

It had dark-blue skin, with the fair face of a man with narrow cheekbones and eyes that were black, etched with golden, ringed pupils that held a unique essence within them.

Glancing back, he looked towards Bastian who waited at the other end of the quiet chamber, who made a gesture pointing down as if signaling him to kneel.

He nodded subtly before kneeling to one knee before the Atlan throne, replaceing the scent of salty sea water and fish to be quite potent as he sat there, unknowing of what was about to happen.

"--"

Waiting on a knee, he looked at the silent, many-eyed giant of a king before looking down, breathing in-and-out as he welcomed whatever was coming. The large hand of the Atlan King, sizable enough to easily encompass the Dragonheart's head in his palm, extended slowly.

Just as the Atlan King's hand lightly laid upon Emilio's head, everything seemed to shift around him.

The simple contact made between the two invoked something otherworldly; an experience that surpassed normal perception.

It felt like an out of body experience, weightless and away from his corporeal form as he was brought into an unorganized sea of images; an abyss filled with passing memories, some of the past, and some yet to come.

'What…is this?' He questioned.

In this sea of memories, past and future, he found himself suspended in darkness, unable to move as he watched these foreign experiences play before his eyes. Like shooting stars through the cosmos, these threads of destiny flung by.

As each one touched his consciousness, he briefly experienced these future memories firsthand, living them through the eyes of the him that he had yet to become.

With one of these unreached futures touching him, he found himself standing on a surface of water, surrounded by a boundless stretch of sea that was accompanied only by mist and a sole figure standing across from him.

'This is…' He thought.

There was no control over "his" body, as if merely spectating through the eyes of a future self. Yet, he could feel the brisk wind that inhabited this peculiar region, looking down to replace he was walking on water, though as he looked back up, he was brought before a daunting sight: colossal waves, as high as mountains, loomed over him.

It was akin to the fear of god; a primal fright that originated from his gut at the sight of such a humongous wave, feeling powerless before such a natural force. Before the wave could crash down on him with a force capable of swallowing kingdoms–

"--!"

He found himself back in the plane of prophecies, though had little time to get his bearings before more memories of futures yet to come rushed into him.

It became relentless; the untold memories flooded him, flashing by as he had mere moments to experience each one.

Through a tundra, swallowed in a snowstorm he found himself marching, shivering as he seemed to be devoid of the heat from his draconic blood; backed into a corner, he was wounded, fighting alongside figures shrouded in black through the vagueness of these memories, swinging his sword through hordes of pale, feral humanoids; he found himself looking upon a ruined city, burned down as he sat on his knees in despair at this sight, though unknowing of his connection to it.

More and more, these untapped futures flung into him as he began hearing voices originating from these scenarios he had yet to live through:

["Emilio Dragonheart, through your tremendous accomplishments and valiant efforts, you have been recognized by the Council. Henceforth you shall be–"]

["How could you do this…? You're a monster. Get away from me. Get away! Now!"]

["There's nothing to forgive. It wasn't your fault. I'd be a failure as a parent if I let you think it was your fault."]

["It's been many years, my dear friend. Oh, how you've grown. How about a dance of steel for old time's sake? Winner gets all."]

["The crowd loves him! The young man with blonde-and-black hair will continue on to the next phase of the Colosseum!"]

["It's in the books. Just make sure not to take any outside of this room."]

["Die."]

["C'mon! That's seriously not all you've got is it? You've got a System too, so use it properly or you'll end up in the dirt!"]

["Sorry, but I'm not interested. I came here to live an easy life, not to save the world."]

["We found it, Emilio. We're really here…the Hollow."]

["It's up to you now to stop them, Emilio. This…is where my journey ends. I'm sure you can do it. Arcadius is in good hands, because you're–"]

["I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"]

["Wake up, Dragonheart. We've got a city to burn."]

["Haven't you come to realize it yet? The one, singular truth: the meaning of life is death."]

Endlessly, these voices overlapped, flooding his mind as he found it impossible to listen to them all clearly, though some stood out as voices deeply familiar to him.

Some of these words pointed in his direction were reassuring, spoken gently, though some were spiteful towards scenarios he was not yet familiar with.

'All of this…Just what is going to happen to me in my future? There's…so much,' he questioned.

Flooded by these voices from time yet to come endlessly for minutes that felt like an eternity, it finally went quiet. Again, the kaleidoscope of untold memories, across strands of time interconnected to his own destiny, altered its presentation to him.

This time, he found himself submerged in a deep, immersive foreboding future–quite abruptly, he dropped into the perspective of himself from a time yet to pass.

"--!"

It was jarring, though he found himself able to actually control his movements this time, though it was clearly a fleeting experience as most of his vision was blurry and hazed, at best. He looked around, replaceing himself in a basin valley atop a mountain, neighbored by high-floating clouds that swirled around the colossal peak.

'...Where is this?' He questioned.

There was something about the sight he found himself delved into; there was a part of him that knew this was a significant occurrence–it wasn't a future for himself that he glimpsed into, but a guiding peek into another.

That is, this scenery was one he knew he would have to replace–somehow or another. The heights of the basin valley left a cold air swirling up top, keeping the luscious grass that inhabited it coated in morning dew.

'Cold…Just what is this place? It's so high up. What am I looking for here?' He questioned.