Chapter 1209 - 1208: Meeting Again

Chapter 1209: Chapter 1208: Meeting Again

In the last rays of the setting sun, the Giant Eagles from the Silver Empire flapped their enormous wings and descended onto Pioneer Square located near the center of the city. These proud and well-trained massive birds of prey solemnly and orderly bowed down on foreign land, allowing their riders to dismount as the last streak of sunset quietly faded away from the tops of the buildings surrounding the square, and night fell on the imperial capital.

Yet darkness did not arrive as expected—the Magic crystal lamps were already alight, casting a bright glow from the high iron poles, making the square and surrounding roads as bright as day. The welcoming party approached from both sides, and at the edge of the square, a gigantic holographic projection rose into the air. It shimmered with dazzling flowing lights and displayed welcoming messages in two languages, while cheerful melodies echoed above the square. It was a tune of human composition, yet infused with elven-style modulations.

Azmole dismounted from the Giant Eagle, and before he could carefully observe the Human Empire Capital, the light, shadows, and sounds before him left him momentarily stunned. Gradually, he adapted, his eyes sweeping over those humans dressed in "modern attire" vastly different from his memories, appearing full of vigor. He gazed at the bright, orderly street lamps and towering buildings at the edges of the square, beyond giant floating holographic projections, spotting distant luminous crystal towers, mechanical clock towers, and further away, flying machines patrolling the sky, and even night-flying dragons.

The God-given sight allowed him to see further in the night, revealing details that were hidden when viewing from the skies.

The oldest living Druid Sage widened his eyes in surprise—he recalled the splendor of the Gondor Empire and the nations pioneers forged after cutting through the chaotic wave. Yet everything... was starkly different from what he beheld today.

"Is this... that ’Cecil Empire’ reborn from the ashes?" he murmured in awe, "I thought..."

"You believed it should be more rugged, more like a militaristic empire of war and strife, didn’t you?" A smiling female voice came from behind, startling the old Druid awake, "Just like the rumors many have spread."

"...I harbor no such prejudice, Empress. I know an empire solely thriving on warlike pursuits could not unite an alliance across the entire continent," Azmole slowly shook his head, "But I indeed did not expect it to look like this... In my memory, humans, with lifespans briefer than elves, yet live more solemnly than elves, whereas in this city—everything is growing freely."

He used the term "growing freely" to describe the city he saw, for what he beheld was indeed different from others—in those God-given eyes, he could see the "vitality" and "energy" forming intricate patterns; he saw the power infusing the seemingly cold structures and the entire city enveloped in an immense, dynamic energy field. Simultaneously, he could see the "group resonance" formed by countless intellects, an encouraging, confident, and overwhelming spiritual resonance hovering over the city, a potent, vibrant, cohesive force he had not witnessed for centuries.

"This city gathers twelve different intelligent species, encompassing dozens of ethnicities from across the globe. Here, you find dragons from Talronde, elves from the Silver Empire, dwarves trading their goods, and gray elves studying abroad—in certain occasions, you might even encounter sea demons from the deep sea," Queen Belsetia said with a smile, "I comprehend what you mean by ’growing freely’... Although I lack the eyes you possess, I too can see the immense power amassed on this land."

"...As the current leader of the Druids’ ’orthodox’ sect, is it appropriate to admit you lack ’God-given eyes’?" Azmole spoke in a calm, indifferent tone without lifting his head, "For the entire past three thousand years, the Morning Star Family has never acknowledged this."

"It matters no longer," Queen Belsetia spoke softly, looking up at a distant figure appearing at the end of the carpet. The artificial lights of the square wove a curtain behind that figure, "Meet the ’resurrected’ human hero—he’s already here."

...

In the shadow realm shrouded by boundless chaos and darkness, the defied Court remained as serene as it had been for countless years, a Holy Giant Stag lay still amidst floating boulders and vast metallic structures, seemingly at rest with closed eyes. Countless tiny artificial devices compared to its form were arranged around it, with magic symbols flickering on their surfaces and the glow of magic flowing slowly.

A gigantic lady clad in a black somber gown, her lower half resembling a blend of cloud and mist, sat near a stone pillar not far from the stag, hugging her knees intently watching a Magic Web Terminal before her. Above the specially crafted giant terminal, an enormous holographic projection was displaying the tales of love and hate from the mortal world—the dramatic narratives compelling enough to captivate the gods themselves.

Time passed unbeknownst, and the Holy Giant Stag suddenly opened its eyes after resting, casually remarking after glancing at the Goddess of Magic, "You’ve watched it the third time, not tired yet?"

"A classic play is worth appreciating over ten times—I’ve only watched it three times," the Goddess of Magic asserted without hesitation, not even turning her head, "Besides, I think you should look at it too—I feel it’s the most interesting story I’ve ever seen, different from any play created by mortals throughout history..."

Amon had little interest in the "dramas" the Goddess of Magic paid attention to, yet couldn’t help but ask, "What’s it about?"

"It relates to the sacred legends of the Holy Light Church!" the Goddess of Magic eagerly declared, her eyes seemingly glimmering with light—indeed, her eyes truly shimmered with light, each beam potent enough to run a high-power Magic-Powered Engine for two days, "It narrates the tale of the first generation Holy Light apostle guiding the tribe in darkness to seek the ’Holy Land where grains ripen all year,’ encountering swindlers disguised as Divine Envoys and the soul-devouring abominations that fabricate false gospels, even the devouring, ever-growing fake holy lands posed as fertile ground, ultimately leading the pilgrims back to their starting point, discovering the holy land was home all along...

"Let me tell you, the scene jumps five hundred years into the future at the end was truly excellent, there was such an enormous city built at the very crossroads where the pilgrims commenced their journey..."

Amon listened silently to the Magic Goddess’s narration, suddenly speaking after a long pause, "A sacred legend with no god, a church tale with no church, they truly did it..."

"I think it’s a good thing," the Goddess of Magic revealed a slight smile, relaxing comfortably against the giant stone pillar behind her, "The writers are humans, the tellers are humans, and the listeners are humans, gods... gods exist within stories, in stories beyond their control, now they finally can extract gods from such uncontrollable narratives, it’s good for everyone.

"If one day they really produce a Magic Shadow Drama about the Goddess of Magic, revealing the original ’Source of Magic Miracle’ was concocted by a heavily drunken Mage, and the first divine pronouncement of the Magic Goddess came from an old mage’s severe tinnitus upon awakening... then I’d truly thank their entire family..."

Amon seemed surprised, "A divine pronouncement? You truly delivered divine pronouncements in your early days? Didn’t you say you never answered your followers’ prayers?"

"...I was young and imprudent," the Goddess of Magic sighed wistfully, "Numb and confused upon creation, you know what that state is like—mid-slumber suddenly hearing someone calling you, instinctively responding, little did I know it wouldn’t end once I responded..."

Amon seemed to suppress amusement, his eyes narrowing slightly, eventually speaking slowly, "Theocracy Authority Council’s ’reform plan’ will first target those churches either in decline or on a downturn, or those like the Holy Light Church completely under secular dominion—so, they might really craft a ’new story’ about the Goddess of Magic, something you can anticipate. But come to think of it, the stories they tell might not always follow a fixed pattern—can you accept that?"

"What’s unacceptable?" the Goddess of Magic carelessly commented, "I’ve even accepted a funeral..."

"I once discussed his plans with Gawain and reviewed some materials from the theocracy Authority Council," Amon said leisurely, "They not only aim for the secularization of theocracy but also the humanization, popularization of gods, given the current public’s acceptance level, they wouldn’t likely cast gods as villains anytime soon, but perhaps in their next ’new story,’ the Magic Goddess may be assigned a secular ’persona,’ don a role on stage..."

Before Amon could finish, the Goddess of Magic pondered seriously and after pondering, said earnestly, "If their protective equipment can withstand it, I think I might play the role myself..."

Amon: "..."

Goddess of Magic looked at him curiously: "Why are you silent?"

"Sometimes I feel like I can’t keep up with your thoughts..." Amon slowly said, "Especially this time."

"I think that’s normal," Goddess of Magic said indifferently, "compared to me, you’re not so good at thinking..."

Amon closed his eyes, seemingly too lazy to engage with this neighbor who refuses to leave. But suddenly, as if sensing something, he opened his eyes – the holy radiance was brighter than before.

"What happened to you?" Goddess of Magic sensed the restless aura around Amon. She had never felt such a reaction from this inherently peaceful divine being, "You..."

"I sense..." Amon murmured in a dream-like fashion, his gaze falling on the defied Court’s large door, "They have arrived..."

"They? Who are they?" Goddess of Magic hesitated for a moment, initially not understanding, but soon she recalled something, her expression slightly changing, and she looked at Amon with a somewhat complex gaze, "...do you need me to leave?"

"...Thank you for understanding," Amon said softly, "also, I’d like to ask for your help before you leave."

Goddess of Magic stood up, her gaze fell upon Amon’s large and scarred body, and before he could continue, she guessed what this God of Nature wanted to say, "I understand – to be more presentable?"

Amon slightly lowered his eyelids: "I just don’t want them to worry."

In the defied Court, a deep humming began to resonate from all around, high-power Magic Web Units and amplifying, projecting arrays started operating under the command of the remote control center. The crystals secured in bases detached from their grooves, slowly rotating around the two divine beings. As the Anti-Divine Barrier activated, Goddess of Magic lightly waved her arm towards Amon.

The metal and crystal shards crisscrossing the Giant Stag’s body quickly faded into oblivion amidst a twisted light mist, shielded by an invisible optical barrier, and those appalling wounds were likewise covered. Within just a few breaths, the Voyager’s weapons and ship fragments vanished, leaving only the Holy Giant Stag quietly lying amid floating rubble.

And the Goddess of Magic’s figure... was already gone by then.

...

A team passed through the shadow realm portal at the base of the defied Fortress, advancing towards the deepest part of the defied Fortress. Upon reaching the final corridor, Queen Belsetia halted, signaling the accompanying elves to remain behind.

"Your Majesty," an elven officer couldn’t help but step forward, "Shouldn’t we..."

"It’s enough for you to wait here," Queen Belsetia’s tone was gentle yet indisputable, "His Majesty Gawain Cecil and I are capable of ensuring our own safety — past this point, there’s no need for too many people."

The officer lowered his head, accepting the Empress’s order, then led the guard team towards the nearby rest area, while Queen Belsetia looked at Gawain, nodding slightly.

Gawain’s gaze fell not far off, where several elderly silver elves stood. They wore ancient long robes no longer belonging to this era, adorned with crowns and ritual beads now decreed abandoned by the current royal family, like ghosts stepped out of historical paintings — yet they stood here genuinely.

The Great Druid Azmole stood at the forefront of these ancient priests, his expression serene, devoid of sorrow or joy, as if quietly awaiting his fate, or perhaps an answer.

The gate leading to the defied Court lay ahead, with safety devices operating nearby. The magic symbols on the gate flickered, and the energy field of the Anti-Divine Barrier had linked with the barrier system of the defied Fortress itself.

Gawain gently exhaled, stepped forward to activate the gate, and amidst the creaking of machinery moving the heavy door, he nodded slightly to the ancient priest emerging from history: "Master Azmole, please."

Azmole took a deep breath, stepped across that gate, one step a stride over three thousand years of time.

He saw a space enveloped in murky chaos before him, starkly contrasting the legendary kingdom, yet a holy radiance rose in the distance, seemingly dispelling the surrounding darkness. He saw a mountainous figure lying quietly within that radiance, mere observation offering a sense of formidable power and warmth nurtured from the depths of one’s soul.

The old priest suddenly felt dazed, countless thoughts, conjectures, and plans budding throughout this journey all collapsed into reality at this instant. Every emotion accumulated over three years landed heavily in this moment, and almost instinctively, he stepped forward once more, suddenly sensing a long-lost strength emerging from within his soul.

His divine arts, depleted over three millennia, returned, the connection with the divine re-established. He became a priest once again, blessed with Divine Arts and capable of praying like three thousand years ago.

He took another step forward, the figure within the radiance growing clear, he felt familiar eyes falling upon him, tranquil warmth.

A deep and melodic voice resounded in every priest’s heart: "You have come..."

Thus, they wept uncontrollably.