The world announcement did not care whether a Lord was standing inside a magnificent palace, bleeding on a battlefield, sleeping inside a mud-brick hut, or arguing over the price of grain.
It appeared before all of them at once.
[WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT]
[A child possessing an SSS-Potential Bloodline has been naturally born.]
[Race: Angel.]
[Parents: Protected.]
[Territory Location: Protected.]
[Achievement recorded.]
For a brief moment, across thousands upon thousands of territories, the world seemed to stop.
In a tiny Red Core territory several hundred kilometers from Urelias Territory, a Goblin Lord named Orick was standing on an overturned barrel, shouting at twelve goblins who had somehow managed to lose an entire cart filled with iron ore.
"You lost the cart?"
A green-skinned goblin scratched behind one pointed ear.
"We did not lose cart, Lord."
Orick narrowed his eyes.
"Then where is it?"
"That is problem."
"Yes. I gathered that."
"We know where cart was."
"Was?"
"Before it disappeared."
Orick flatly stared at him as anger slowly started to take over his features.
Another goblin quickly raised his hand.
"Could have been wolves."
"Wolves stole an iron cart?"
"Big wolves?"
Orick was just beginning to question every decision that had led to him becoming Lord of a Goblin settlement when the world announcement appeared directly in front of his face.
He and every goblin around him stopped. One slowly looked toward another.
"SSS?"
"That’s...big."
Orick read the message again, then once more.
"A naturally born child?"
One of the goblins shrugged.
"Babies happen."
"Not like this one."
"It still baby."
Orick scratched his chin.
That was ultimately the thought that settled the matter for him. He dismissed the notification.
"Not our problem."
The goblins immediately nodded.
"Very much not our problem."
"If SSS baby comes here?"
"We surrender."
"Immediately."
"Good plan."
Orick pointed at them.
"Now find my cart."
Life resumed in the goblin territory.
Not every Lord cared.
For those ruling at the bottom of the world’s hierarchy, an SSS-ranked infant was almost too distant a concept to fear.
They were worrying about food, walls, wild monsters, diseases, and the neighboring Lord who had forty more soldiers than they did.
Whether some divine child might become powerful hundreds of kilometers away was an issue for people who actually had the luxury of thinking about the future.
In another Red Core territory, a Lord of a small Ape tribe sat beneath an enormous tree while dozens of broad-shouldered ape warriors gathered around him.
The Ape Lord, Mark Sorrow, read the announcement several times before rubbing his jaw.
"An Angel?"
A massive silver-backed ape sitting nearby grunted.
"Strong?"
"Eventually."
"Now?"
Mark considered it.
"Probably weighs less than a sack of grain."
The ape blinked before his eyes widened.
"Then why world shout?"
Mark laughed.
"That is an excellent question."
Another ape leaned forward.
"Kill?"
Mark immediately slapped the back of his head.
"No."
The ape looked offended.
"Why hit?"
"Because if your first thought after hearing that an SSS-bloodline infant exists is that we should go kill it, then you are exactly why I have headaches."
"We strong."
"We have a Red Core."
The ape frowned.
"So?"
Mark pointed toward the distant mountains.
"The people capable of producing an SSS child probably have guards who could destroy this entire forest before breakfast."
The Ape warrior slowly sat back down.
"Baby safe."
"Very safe."
"Good."
Mark dismissed the notification.
"Now go back to carrying the lumber."
From Goblin caves to Ratkin warrens, from small Human villages to Kobold mines, Lizardmen swamps, Orc settlements, Harefolk farms, and scattered Beastkin territories, similar conversations unfolded.
It was a mixture of shock, curiosity and a little fear; before, for most of them, reality returned.
An infant could not conquer their territory. An infant could not lead an army. An infant could not steal their resources.
So while the announcement was interesting, the weakest Lords continued living their lives.
The higher one climbed, however, the more seriously the message was taken.
Orange Core Lords immediately began paying attention. Yellow Core Lords began sending messages to their information networks. Green Core Lords ordered their scholars to search historical records.
By the time the announcement reached territories controlled by powerful races, the reaction was no longer simple curiosity, it became calculation. Because powerful Lords understood something weak Lords often did not.
An SSS individual was dangerous but an SSS bloodline was worse. An individual eventually died but a bloodline could reproduce.
And the message had included one particular word that caught the attention of every knowledgeable Lord.
Naturally.
The child had been naturally born.
That mattered.
Far to the east, a battlefield stretching across hundreds of kilometers suddenly became unnaturally quiet.
Black smoke rolled above shattered hills. Deep trenches had been carved across the land by magic powerful enough to split stone.
Thousands of bodies from two races covered parts of the battlefield while surviving soldiers remained locked behind defensive formations that painted the sky in alternating shades of gold, crimson, and black.
The war between the Nephilim Dominion and the Demonic Territory of Vharos had entered its third month.
Neither side had broken or retreated.
Neither Lord was willing to admit that perhaps several thousand dead soldiers had already made the disputed land more expensive than it was worth.
At the center of the Nephilim command position stood Silas Angante.
Thirty-two years old.
Ten years earlier, Silas had been a twenty-two-year-old university student from Earth. Now he stood over two meters tall and looked far removed from the human he had once been.
Nephilim were one of the rare races possessing both Angelic and Demonic ancestry.
Their blood carried holy mana and demonic energy simultaneously, two powers that should have rejected each other but instead existed in an unusually violent equilibrium.
Most Nephilim possessed large wings whose feathers gradually shifted from pale silver near the shoulders to black near the tips. Short curved horns emerged from their temples, though those horns were smoother and less pronounced than those of pure Demons.
Their bodies were naturally resistant to both light and darkness magic, while stronger members of their species could wield the two simultaneously.
They were powerful, aggressive, and exceptionally difficult to kill.
And almost universally considered one of the strongest S-ranked races of the known world.