Chapter 686: Wild Star, Awakening

The Sanctuary.

The milky-white energy source rippled faintly as Reinhardt slowly rose from within it, crystalline droplets sliding down his shoulders and back, falling back into the pool.

The moment his consciousness returned, the swordsman opened his eyes.

Sacred white radiance poured down from the center of the dome, transforming into countless drifting motes of light mid-air, drifting gently down to land on the white stone floor beside the pool.

He found himself suspended in the very center of the energy source, his limbs and body immersed in light.

Every inch of skin, every muscle fiber was greedily absorbing the healing energy, and his body, which had nearly collapsed from overdriving the Terminus Force, was being gently wrapped and repaired by layer upon layer of milky-white threads of light.

Reinhardt was dazed for a moment, then memories flooded back like a tidal wave.

The blood-red sphere, the Terminus sword... the near-mutual destruction in the depths of the universe.

Fortunately, he was still alive.

Reinhardt's taut nerves slowly relaxed.

"You're awake."

Suddenly, a gentle voice came through.

Reinhardt followed the sound.

At the edge of the Sanctuary's energy source stood a Heroic Spirit.

On the white stone steps by the pool, a golden-haired Heroic Spirit was leaning against a pillar.

He was tall and slender, with a handsome face. His brilliant golden hair was neatly tied behind his head, with a few loose strands falling across his forehead. His posture was relaxed and at ease.

Seeing Reinhardt look over, the golden-haired Heroic Spirit smiled slightly.

He stepped down from the stairs and said:

"Reinhardt, the first swordsman of Sacred Aola... I am one of the commanders of the Sanctuary's Heroic Spirits, primarily responsible for spatial transmission affairs. When you were unconscious in the vacuum of space, I used the Star Network to teleport you back to the Sanctuary."

Reinhardt sat up in the pool and nodded solemnly to the Heroic Spirit.

"Thank you for your assistance."

"If I hadn't been teleported back to the Sanctuary in time, I would likely have died in the vacuum of space. By that point, I had already lost consciousness and could hardly save myself."

"It was my duty."

The golden-haired Heroic Spirit waved his hand, utterly nonchalant: "You wielded your sword for the Empire in the deep void. If a swordsman like you were left to die alone in the darkness, that would be the Sanctuary's failure."

Reinhardt studied him.

This face... was faintly familiar in his memory.

"May I ask," the swordsman inquired, "your name, sir?"

"Shire."

The golden-haired Heroic Spirit smiled and added: "I was once a human as well, hailing from the Romania nations. Of course, that was a very, very long time ago. The Empire's territory has changed hands several times since."

Reinhardt stiffened for a moment, then realization dawned.

"I've heard of you."

His expression turned more solemn as he said: "The Flower Knight, Shire Hynes. One of the first humans to follow the Red Emperor, serving at His Majesty's side even before Aola was established. You fell in battle before the kingdom's founding."

"His Majesty, cherishing your loyalty and valor, transformed you into a Heroic Spirit... Now, several hundred years later, you still serve the Empire in your Heroic Spirit form."

The Hynes family was a first-rate human family within Sacred Aola.

More than one human Legend had been born from this family.

And the source of all these Hynes Legends was the golden-haired Heroic Spirit standing before Reinhardt, a true veteran, a witness to the Empire's history.

"Oh my."

Shire raised an eyebrow and blinked, saying: "The Empire's first swordsman actually knows of me? I'm truly honored. It seems my humble reputation hasn't been completely forgotten after all these centuries."

Reinhardt shook his head.

"I don't deserve such praise."

"It is precisely because of predecessors like you, who gave everything without regard for life or death, that Sacred Aola has stood tall to this day. You are the true cornerstone and pillar of the Empire, the real heroes. I merely wield a slightly sharper blade."

He said this with utmost sincerity.

Hearing this, Shire laughed heartily, though the mirth quickly faded. His gaze grew calm, and his tone shifted slightly.

"Alright, Reinhardt, let's not flatter each other for now."

"Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy hearing you praise me, but this isn't the time for idle chatter. The Empire has more pressing matters awaiting you."

Reinhardt's expression immediately turned serious as well.

He stood fully from the energy source, revealing a body that had essentially fully recovered. The swordsman flexed his wrists, feeling the rekindled power within him, then raised his eyes to Shire.

"The spherical lifeforms that appeared in space."

"I suspect they share the same origin as the meteor shower that once fell toward Arotala, and they are far more dangerous than those meteors. They are not like inanimate objects; they seem alive, and even I had to exert every ounce of strength to destroy them."

All three were of small asteroid magnitude.

In comparison, the previous meteors were truly insignificant.

"It's not a suspicion."

"They share the same origin as the meteors, both coming from the same ancient will. This has already been confirmed."

The Heroic Spirit commander looked at him and continued: "Your injuries are no longer a concern. Since you're awake, you should first speak with the Regent King. Lord Sorog has been waiting for you."

Reinhardt changed into fresh clothes and stepped out of the healing hall.

The moment he formally entered the Sanctuary's space, even a seasoned veteran like him couldn't help but pause briefly.

What met his eyes was an extraordinarily vast expanse of heaven and earth.

Towering temple complexes stretched across the sacred radiance, long bridges arched like rainbows across surging clouds; countless Heroic Spirits marched in formation, sparred with swords, or practiced martial arts, their bodies flowing with faint light, condensed to near-solidity.

Were it not for the faint glow surrounding them, those Heroic Spirits would look almost indistinguishable from the living.

"The Sanctuary... this is your first time here as well."

"The heart of the Star Network, the resting and watching place of the Empire's loyal souls."

Reinhardt walked slowly across a long bridge, thinking to himself.

When he reached the middle of the bridge, the sacred radiance ahead suddenly converged and condensed, the light twisting and stretching to outline the image of a great dragon.

The projection of the iron dragon Sorog landed before him, wings draping like iron curtains, calmly watching the approaching swordsman.

"Reinhardt, you did exceptionally well. Atlan was spared a catastrophic disaster because of your blade."

"This achievement, the Empire will remember."

He said slowly.

Reinhardt stopped and looked up at the iron dragon's projection.

"Without the Star Network's full support, without the coordinated interception by the Sanctuary's Heroic Spirits and warriors, I alone with just my sword could never have accomplished this."

"This honor belongs to all who fought for the Empire. It is not my achievement alone."

The iron dragon nodded, a glimmer of approval passing through his gaze.

Then his expression grew heavier as he spoke:

"The Empire has named the previous spherical lifeforms 'Wild Stars.' It can now be essentially confirmed that they originate from an ancient Primordial Waste."

Primordial Wastes?

This was the first time Reinhardt had heard this term.

Though he had stepped into the Immortal realm, he had spent years focusing solely on sword training and combat, leaving his knowledge somewhat narrow in scope.

Many secrets concerning the foundations of the world were things he had never paid serious attention to.

But Reinhardt was no fool. From the iron dragon's tone and expression, he could gauge the weight of those words.

"The Primordial Wastes were born together with the multiverse, existences more ancient than gods. Before all things had taken form, they already existed within the chaos."

Sorog spoke slowly, roughly recounting the origins of the Primordial Wastes.

Reinhardt listened intently, not missing a single word.

After hearing it all, his expression grew even more grave.

"Your Majesty the Regent King, do you mean..."

His gaze sharpened as he said: "The three Wild Stars before were just the beginning? The real threat is still coming?"

"Yes."

Sorog confirmed: "This is only the beginning."

Reinhardt was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked:

"What about Nausil?"

The swordsman's gaze turned piercing as he said: "While I was fighting in the stars, I didn't see a single one of their immortals. Yet given the size and speed of the Wild Stars, no matter which part of Bernardo they fell upon, they would unleash a catastrophe spanning the entire world."

"They couldn't possibly stay out of it."

The iron dragon's face was expressionless as he said: "Aola has the Star Network. We detected the danger immediately and intercepted it immediately. Our response was fast enough."

"As for Nausil..."

He let out a cold laugh: "According to the subsequent report from the Nausil envoys, when the Wild Stars approached Bernardo, unprecedented chaos erupted within their Empire."

"Countless elves lost their minds, falling into madness and frenzy, even slaughtering each other. Even Legend-tier experts were affected."

"Their entire governing system was paralyzed for a time, they could barely manage themselves."

"By the time their high command barely restored order, the Wild Stars had already been dealt with by us."

Reinhardt was taken aback.

"How could something like this happen?"

He blurted out, puzzled: "Didn't Nausil already eradicate the curse? As I recall, they were developing well, heading toward prosperity just like Sacred Aola."

You really don't know anything.

But then again, this kind of purity is actually better. The Empire's sword only needs to be sharp enough; there's no need to think too deeply...

Sorog's faceplate betrayed no emotion as he said:

"His Majesty warned them long ago that there was something wrong with their magical medicine. It was like drinking poison to quench thirst. But they went their own way, wallowing in false peace, turning a deaf ear to the warnings."

"Now, the backlash has come."

Back then, Garoth had sensed something was off with the magical medicine, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what the problem was.

But looking at it now... the so-called Purification merely suppressed the curse deeper. Once exposed to the breath of the Primordial Wastes, it would ignite like a spark in a pan of oil, erupting instantly, and far more violently than before.

Upon the long bridge, the sea of clouds churned, and silence reigned for a time.

The iron dragon did not linger on this topic.

His gaze turned solemn once more, his voice dropping lower as he said: "Set aside the matter of Nausil for now. The previous attack was only the first wave."

Reinhardt's heart tightened.

The iron dragon's voice continued: "The stargazing sorcerers have observed that more Wild Stars are approaching Bernardo."

"They are crossing the deep void, moving at tremendous speed."

"The latest estimate... they will arrive within three years."

Within three years?

Reinhardt stood on the bridge, his posture straight as a sword.

He raised his head, looking at the iron dragon, with no trace of fear or hesitation in his eyes.

"Lord Sorog."

The swordsman spoke word by word, his voice resolute as iron: "Unless my life fades and my blade snaps."

"Otherwise."

"These Wild Stars will never have the chance to fall."

The iron dragon lowered his gaze, the image of the swordsman reflected in his vertical pupils.

Plain robes, long hair, a figure tall and straight as a sword, slender to the point of appearing almost frail. Yet this was the person who, not long ago, had stood alone in the stars and shattered three Wild Stars.

"The Empire believes in you."

The iron dragon nodded slowly, his voice deep and solemn.

Time flowed on, and two years passed in the blink of an eye.

New Calendar year 1009.

The Wild Stars arrived, right on schedule.

And not just three.

Bernardo, low orbit.

Six Wild Stars tore through the veil of deep space, hurtling toward the blue planet, double the number from before.

Reinhardt stood suspended in the void, the gathered radiance of the Star Network flowing over his body.

His gaze swept across those six blood-red spheres, and his heart sank.

Last time, just three Wild Stars had forced him into the Terminus State, squeezing his life force to the absolute limit just to barely win, eventually leaving him unconscious in the void, nearly costing him his life.

And this time... six.

Though he had gained something from the last battle, improving his control over the Terminus Force and able to endure longer, six arriving simultaneously meant that even going all out might not be enough to hold them all back.

Reinhardt's heart grew heavy.

He took a deep breath, driving away all distracting thoughts.

Just then.

Two streaks of light pierced through from the other side of the planet, coming to a steady halt on the opposite flank, forming a pincer position with him.

The light faded.

Two figures emerged.

A man and a woman, both elves.

The male elf held a bow, its body forged from some kind of transparent crystal, with moonlight-like radiance flowing along the bowstring; the female elf held a sword, its slender blade displaying a jade-like emerald hue, with faint runes flickering along the edge.

Nausil's immortals.

Spring Dawn's String, Verdant Leaf Rendering Wind.

Though he had never seen them in person before, Reinhardt had heard of their reputations and recognized them by their distinctive appearances.

Reinhardt's gaze met theirs.

No words were exchanged.

But none were needed.

In this pitch-black deep void, facing six Wild Stars charging straight at them, any pleasantries would have been superfluous.

The three immortals exchanged glances for a brief moment, each understanding the other's intent.

The next instant, all three figures moved simultaneously.

Spring Dawn's String drew back his bow, a verdant arrow of light condensing upon the string, compressing within it a special energy brimming with vitality, so potent that flowers bloomed even in the surrounding vacuum.

The moment the bowstring released, the arrow of light pierced through the deep void, striking directly into the foremost Wild Star.

The Wild Star shuddered violently, blasting open a crater several kilometers in diameter.

Flowers bloomed in abundance, green vitality spread everywhere, countless blossoms and vines spawned and expanded, continuously spreading across the Wild Star's surface.

The sword-wielding elven woman followed close behind.

Her figure transformed into a streak of emerald light, sweeping to the side of another Wild Star. Her blade slashed horizontally, unleashing countless jade-colored sword auras that formed a blade storm like swirling leaves, completely enveloping an entire small-asteroid-class behemoth, riddling it with countless wounds.

Reinhardt took a deep breath.

The Terminus Force awakened once more. Twin swords merged as one, the Twilight Sword took form again, and he transformed into a blade of light spanning the deep void, crashing into the Wild Star.

Three figures of light interwove across the deep void.

Under their combined assault, the six Wild Stars shattered, reformed, and shattered again.

A furious will surged forth from the Wild Stars, crashing against the minds of the three immortals like a tsunami. Reinhardt gritted his teeth, radiance and void flickering alternately around him, firmly keeping the fury outside his consciousness.

As for the two elven immortals, dark red bloodshot veins were spreading across their eyes at a visible rate.

But no one stepped back.

In the end, the final Wild Star was destroyed under the immortals' attacks, and the remaining fragments were completely obliterated by the interwoven radiance of the elves' moon and the Aolan Star Network, annihilated in the vacuum, ceasing to exist entirely.

Silence returned to space.

Reinhardt steadied himself in the void, fresh crack-like wounds appearing on his cheeks.

But he paid them no mind, turning to look at the two elven immortals.

He wanted to ask about Nausil's current situation.

But the moment he approached a few steps, Verdant Leaf Rendering Wind raised her hand, making a stopping gesture.

"Please do not come any closer."

Her voice transmitted into Reinhardt's consciousness, carrying a sigh: "We sought to harness the power of the Primordial Wastes, believing we could control it, but it has turned against us..."

"That battle just now was already extremely strained."

"At this moment, we must focus all our concentration on suppressing the fury and chaos within us. With the slightest lapse, we might lose control."

Reinhardt stopped in his tracks.

He studied the faces of the two elven immortals carefully.

He could see that their complexions were pale as paper, veins faintly bulging on their foreheads, dark red light churning in the depths of their eyes, with numerous bloodshot vessels visible. Their condition was clearly off.

"What did they do to let the curse erode them to this extent?"

Reinhardt frowned slightly, thinking to himself.

As terrifying as the Fury Curse was, it shouldn't be easy to affect an immortal.

Unless the elven immortals before him had proactively made contact... and from what they'd just said, that was likely exactly why they had been so deeply affected.

Still, the fact that they could recognize this themselves meant they weren't beyond saving.

Reinhardt gave the two elven immortals a slight nod and did not approach further.

The two elven immortals said no more, tearing through space as they rapidly returned toward Arotala.

At the same time, a beam of starlight shot out from the Sanctuary, crossing the deep void to envelop the weary swordsman, teleporting him back into the Sanctuary for recuperation and recovery.

Afterward, time continued to flow.

Following the two waves of attacks, all sentient beings across Atlan had come to understand that what bloomed in the sky was no fireworks.

Atlan had indeed experienced a brief period of panic.

People took to the streets, gazing up at the crimson Star Network crisscrossing the night sky, imagining what it would look like if those small-asteroid-sized behemoths were to strike the surface, and their hearts trembled at the thought.

But that panic lasted only a very short time.

Because soon, everyone saw the truth clearly.

These behemoths striking from the deep void didn't even have the qualification to make their Emperor lift a finger!

These Wild Stars were all annihilated beyond low orbit, not a single one touching the ground, not even leaving behind wreckage.

The creatures of Atlan had weathered their fair share of storms.

They quickly adapted to all of this.

In fact, when the Wild Stars came again, quite a few people happily carried chairs out to their courtyards, pointing at the night sky, tilting their heads up to enjoy a meteor shower destined to end in victory.

But they didn't know that behind these Wild Stars lay an ancient will as old as the multiverse itself.

Some weights are meant to rest only on the shoulders of the few.

This is the Empire's mercy.

Time continued to flow, and more than a decade passed in the blink of an eye.

New Calendar year 1019.

Just recently, the Wild Star attacks had descended once more, fierce and menacing, but they were again intercepted by the combined forces of Sacred Aola and Nausil's immortals, reduced to ash in the deep void beyond the planet.

But when the deep void fell silent once more, when news of victory spread across the continent, and the people cheered for yet another triumph...

There was not a trace of joy among Sacred Aola's high command.

Within the grand hall, the atmosphere was heavy.

A massive star chart floated at the center of the hall, stargazing sorcerers standing in formation with heads bowed, no one speaking.

On the star chart, the azure light point representing Bernardo revolved steadily, while far ahead in the distant depths of the void, a colossal shadow was slowly approaching, so vast it occupied nearly half of the chart.

The Egg of Catastrophe.

Its true body had appeared within the observation range of Aola's sorcerers, drawing ever closer.

All the Wild Stars that had struck over the years, those small-asteroid-class blood-red behemoths, those terrifying lifeforms that required immortals to exert every ounce of strength to destroy, every single one of them, were merely small fragments peeled from its body.

Once it arrived, Bernardo would face not a catastrophe.

It would be an ending.

And yet.

Even news like this did not plunge the hall into panic.

Sorog's face was as hard as iron, his expression unchanged.

Aside from him, the Aolan dragons standing like mountains, the Heroic Spirit commanders of the Sanctuary, the Empire's Legendary war generals... all stood in solemn formation, not a single face changing color.

They had been preparing for a long time.

The Star Network grew vaster by the day, satellites layered denser ring upon ring, the war banners in the Hall of Heroic Spirits never furled, Reinhardt's sword never sheathed.

The entire Empire had long since made all preparations to welcome the end, beneath a calm exterior.

This was not their first time.

They were utterly unafraid.

But if one were to speak of the deepest source of their confidence...

A ripple suddenly crossed the iron dragon Sorog's cold, hard face.

Without warning, a tremor arose from the depths of his bloodline.

An consciousness that had lain dormant for years in the distant depths of space was gradually awakening.

The iron dragon's breath stopped for a single instant.

Then, upon his faceplate, cold and hard as it had been for years, a smile slowly bloomed.

He raised his head, his gaze passing beyond the star chart and the hall, looking toward a certain direction.

Every high-ranking official in the hall froze simultaneously, then, as if realizing something, their breaths tightened at the same moment.

"Lord Sorog?"

Someone asked.

The iron dragon whispered: "You're finally awake..."

With that, Sorog withdrew his gaze, his dragon pupils blazing with a fervent light unseen in over two hundred years, and spoke word by word, like a declaration, like thunder:

"Sacred Aola, our Emperor, is coming back!"

At the same time.

In a distant corner of the stars, deep within a white dwarf, at its core beyond the limits of matter, after more than two hundred years of undisturbed slumber, a great dragon slowly opened its eyes, twin pupils shining like stars amid absolute darkness and crushing pressure.