Jeanne looked back and forth between the two men, momentarily at a loss for words. Are you two silently pressuring me to speak up? What could I possibly add?
Yet Pope Yvangelista had brought her here for a reason—he truly wanted to hear her thoughts. Knowing her unique background and the divine revelations granted to her, he wondered what vision or insight her faith might offer them now.
As the reality of their predicament sank in, Jeanne pondered the question deeply, listening carefully to the two elders as they spoke to gauge the full gravity of the situation.
"If it weren't absolutely necessary, Iberia would never seek aid from the rest of the continent," Saint Carmen said, his eyes darkening with quiet despair. A look of agonizing complexity crossed his face, and he let out a heavy sigh, mourning how far his once-mighty nation had fallen. "This is our own burden. If there were any other way, how could we ever bring ourselves to beg the world for help?"
He paused, his voice hardening. "But this time is different. The latest Seaborn surge... it carries a terrifying, unnatural purpose."
Carmen's eyes turned razor-sharp as he looked at Jeanne and the Pope. "Initially, the Seaborn were nothing more than mindless beasts. Dangerous, yes, but not enough to drive us to the brink of ruin. But this time, our Inquisitors discovered something far worse... those creatures have begun to evolve with deliberate intent!"
That was the true source of their dread. Beings that once lacked all higher reason were suddenly regaining a fraction of intellect, mutating into horrifying horrors driving relentlessly toward a singular objective.
"Can you tell what they are driving toward?" the Pope asked, his hand pausing mid-motion. A horde of rapidly evolving monsters acting with coordinated purpose—that was a nightmare on a terrifying scale.
"We don't know for certain," Carmen admitted, a rare tremor of unease in his tone. "It is as if they are searching for something... or perhaps running from something. They resemble ants sensing a coming deluge, abandoning their old hill to seek a new nesting ground they deem safe."
The old Saint could not hide the shadow of fear in his eyes. He knew this outbreak was merely a prelude; far worse horrors were lurking in the deep.
The coming tide would only grow more violent, and the disaster more catastrophic, until those mad monsters swept across all of Iberia—and eventually surged inland, drowning the entire world beneath an endless, dark ocean.
"This... truly is a desperate crisis," Jeanne murmured, resting her hand against her brow.
Through her divine revelation, a grim vision flashed in her mind: vast stretches of land overrun and consumed by the creeping tide. The vision proved that such a terrifying future was not just possible, but dangerously close to becoming reality.
Seeing the pale, solemn look on Jeanne's face, the Pope knew instantly that the fate of the entire world hung in the balance. When facing a threat of this magnitude, the only option was to crush the horror in its cradle before it spread.
Yet the old Pope was well aware of how daunting that would be. Trying to unite the fractured, squabbling nations of Terra to stand together against a single threat seemed almost absurdly naive.
How could anyone achieve such a feat? The sheer difficulty made the idea seem like a wild pipedream. Anyone foolish enough to suggest it would usually be told to get their head checked.
"A calamity capable of wiping out all life on Terra..." The Pope shook his head, a sense of heavy helplessness settling over him. "To summon every nation across the land to fight side-by-side in a war for survival... how could we possibly pull that off?"
Even if unity could save them, achieving that unity was the real impossibility. Expecting these hostile nations to stand as one was like asking the Sankta and the Sarkaz to shake hands and make peace—the odds were astronomically low.
"Yes, the chances are miniscule," Carmen agreed, fixing his eyes on the Pope to gauge his resolve. "Yet because of our long-standing bonds, and with this catastrophe looming over us all, we hoped Laterano might lend us a hand."
If Laterano turned them away here, Carmen knew he would have no choice but to return home and prepare to make their final stand alone.
"And you, Jeanne? What do you think?" The Pope turned to the young woman, seeking her counsel.
"Me?" Jeanne considered the question thoughtfully before offering a firm, resolute answer. "I think... no matter how slim the odds are, we have to try. This isn't something one or two nations can face alone. It's a disaster that demands the strength of everyone."
"I see..." The Pope fell silent for a moment, pondering her words. Slowly, his eyes lit up, as if a long-dormant spark had ignited within him.
"Then no matter how difficult it may be, we shall make the attempt," the Pope declared with absolute certainty. A grand concept he had harbored for years stirred once more in his mind, and he made up his mind to set it into motion immediately.
"I intend to convene a Summit of Nations. It was a vision I formulated many years ago, but I could never find the right moment to bring it to fruition. We shall use this crisis to make it happen!"
As he spoke, the Pope seemed to reclaim a touch of his youth, his eyes gleaming with a radiant brilliance. This grand summit was a dream he had cherished for decades, waiting patiently for the right spark to ignite it.
"A Summit of Nations?" Jeanne stared at the Pope in utter disbelief. Is this old man really planning to pull off something this massive? If the talks fail, it's going to be a devastating blow to his standing.
"Indeed. A grand conference involving every nation across Terra," the Pope explained, stroking his white beard. "Ever since the fall of Gaul all those years ago, I have contemplated calling such a gathering, but the timing was never right."
Saint Carmen nodded with genuine delight. A gathering of that scale, if successful, might just turn the tide for his dying homeland.
"In that case, I shall do everything in my power to attend when the time comes," Carmen said, his tone making it clear he intended to return to Iberia as soon as possible.
Jeanne wasn't surprised by his urgency. Whether to oversee the defense or prepare his people for the upcoming talks, his presence back home was essential. Neither she nor the Pope pressed him to stay.
For the remainder of the discussion, Jeanne remained quiet, simply listening as the two leaders refined the details. Her mind was racing, searching for any way to resolve the crisis faster and spare more lives.
Even if the grand summit succeeded, the upcoming war would claim countless souls. She desperately wanted to find a safer, more certain path—yet she knew how unrealistically difficult that was.
As she deliberated, Jeanne felt a sudden, subtle warmth against her chest. She leaned back slightly and drew out the small charm hanging from her neck—a delicate, golden miniature horn—and stared down at it in deep thought.
Can you... can you help us overcome this disaster? Jeanne asked silently in her heart, gazing at the small artifact.
Asking a tiny horn for help felt a bit silly, but Jeanne knew that certain objects in this world possessed mysterious, miraculous properties. What if it could somehow answer her?
Unsurprisingly, the golden horn remained completely still, offering no voice or sign in response. Yet deep within her soul, a strange, undeniable feeling began to take root.
Saint Carmen didn't pay much attention to Jeanne's distracted state, continuing his intense discussion with the Pope. He had noticed her staring blankly at the trinket in her hands, but assuming she was simply bored, he paid it no mind.
Even when the time came for him to take his leave, he still didn't understand what had drawn her focus, only noting that the young Saintess had seemed a bit distant in those final moments.
After seeing Saint Carmen off, Pope Yvangelista turned back toward Jeanne. Observing her staring so intently at the golden horn, the old man waited in quiet silence, patiently waiting for the young Saintess to return to the present.