Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1089: Chapter 1088: Memories of the Age of Gods

As the brilliant sunlight crossed the ridgeline of the eastern mountains, the giant sun gradually rose to the sky’s zenith. The faintly textured gaseous coronet around it dispersed a misty halo. Under the shine of this glorious giant sun, even the barren wasteland border seemed to be infused with vigorous life; distant mountains and nearby vegetation looked vibrant under the sunlight—Queen Belsetia looked up at the sky, her platinum-colored pupils seemed to ripple with a fine layer of gold light, then she withdrew her gaze and nodded slightly to Gawain beside her: "The weather control team’s results are good, it seems this clear weather can last many days."

Gawain looked towards the distance, where a convoy coming from the direction of the town was gradually arriving at the edge of the venue. Some representatives had already left the vehicles and were heading to designated waiting areas arranged by reception personnel—most of them looked somewhat perplexed because this barren place was really unlike a venue for such a grand event. Beneath their feet were sparse wildflowers and grasses, distant areas featured uncultivated woodland and shrubs, further away one could only see rocks and barren mountains. For the distinguished individuals attending, this was perhaps drastically different from the upper echelon venues they had in mind.

No red carpets, no music, no ceremonial guards; certainly no luxurious domes or imposing tables and chairs—this was beyond a matter of simplicity.

Yet those able to come here were not ordinary people. For them, composure and patience were somewhat present, so even if they were puzzled or harbored some doubts inwardly, the arriving representatives didn’t show it for now. They patiently awaited further proceedings, and quite a few of their gazes already fell upon the open area where the elves were gathered; among them some caught sight of the Silver Empress, their eyes becoming more settled.

"These people who’ve been resting easy in secure areas should come see, with their own eyes, the border of the wasteland," Gawain’s gaze swept across the representatives in the distance, murmuring softly, "If they don’t witness the desolate appearance here themselves, they’re unlikely to ever realize an apocalypse-level disaster has been ’frozen’ right beside them."

"When I learned you were going to arrange the meeting location at Wasteland Monitoring Station 112, I guessed your intent," Belsetia smiled faintly and said softly, "Arranging the venue here is not merely to reflect neutrality and fairness in the negotiations between Cecil and Typhon—there are many neutral zones between the two countries, and not all the elf outposts in the north are at the wasteland border, yet you deliberately chose the place closest to the Great Walls."

She lifted her gaze, scanning over those who seemed calm but had furrowed brows as they looked towards the dirty clouds above the Gondor wasteland.

"But bringing these people accustomed to safe zones so close to the wasteland... isn’t the pressure on them a bit much? After all, even the soldiers at the outposts usually don’t venture casually into the open fields."

"I’m confident in the security measures of the venue, and moreover, we have particularly strong ’new members’ present," Gawain smiled slightly, "With security ensured, letting everyone breathe the air at the wasteland border is beneficial for everyone’s mental health."

"...You’re right," Belsetia nodded gently, "Ah, the time has come."

"Prepare the venue," Gawain nodded and spoke, and at the same time, the elven attendants standing beside him and Belsetia signaled to the Mage Technicians broadcasting nearby—all Magic Web Terminals instantly focused their crystal highlights on the Silver Empress and that massive rune stone. The next moment, Belsetia placed her hand on the surface of the enormous stone covered in runes.

An immense and overwhelming magic power was instantly injected into the stone, and spell moulds stored within the ancient rune arrays were constructed and filled with magic in an instant. The runes glittering with faint light on the stone’s surface seemed to explode like a constellation, lighting up in clusters, and under the pull of the immense magic power, an almost roaring sound came from high above—almost everyone instinctively looked upwards to see a massive sky blue cyclone forming out of thin air, rotating slowly around the giant stone on the surface. Thunder roared incessantly within the cyclone, and beneath the thunder and cyclone, countless obscure and elusive illusions began to take shape between heaven and earth, shrouded in a certain majesty seemingly from the Ancient Era that shocked the soul!

All were awestruck by this near-heavenly phenomenon, and those representatives who had still been focused on the wasteland just a moment ago now completely forgot what they had thought prior. They gazed at the ancient illusions emerging from the air, seeing moss-covered stone columns, austere and solemn stone platforms, vines cascading across stone column tops... and these illusions gradually descended from the sky, contacting the earth, resulting in a quake-like rumble and vibration; the illusions transformed into reality one by one, the original ground seemingly gaining life, writhing rapidly to merge with those ancient illusions from an unknown era.

A grand open-air assembly field descended, transcending all years remembered by elves throughout history, surpassing the boundaries of extinction and continuation, descending from a space long forgotten into the prime material world—dozens of towering stone columns surrounded the massive round stage, stone columns were covered in moss, vines intertwined the tops, below the stone columns were circular arrays of tables and chairs also carved from boulders; flags hung from the pillar tops behind these tables, bearing enormous national emblems—each participating member nation’s emblem prominently displayed among them.

Under the Oath Stone Circle, all flags stood regardless of rank or standing—at least formally.

Belsetia stood at the center of the stone circle, beside her the massive rectangular rune stone had already sunk into the earth, replaced by a small spring, with a reflection of a clear sky from unknown time and place within the spring.

All Magic Web Terminals captured this magnificent scene at this moment, and corresponding images quickly spread across the neural network...

...

In the courtyard of the defied Fortress, amidst the shattered realms of Dark Chaos, Amoen the Giant Stag lay quietly within jagged ruins and debris; sacred light flowed within his eyes. The former Goddess of Magic Milmina sat crouched beside him, together intently focused on the sizable Magic Web Terminal not far away.

The crystal above the terminal shone brightly, and the clear holographic projection displayed scenes from afar, accompanied by an excited voice explaining the situation off-screen: "...bringing you real-time imagery from the meeting venue now; Silver Empress Belsetia is summoning the ancient ’Oath Stone Circle’ into our world; the energy field has expanded..."

"This is truly impressive..." Milmina watched the images on the holographic projection, her tone carrying a hint of admiration, "They can actually accomplish these things using magic power... Although the principles are easy to grasp, their methodology indeed surprises me somewhat..."

"This illustrates your wise decision to step back timely—in the domain of magic’s authority, mortals have achieved things that even astonish you, the ’Goddess of Magic.’ This is a moderate risk; accumulated, such risks could turn into a genuine crisis," Amoen remarked calmly, "This is how the War God went mad."

Milmina immediately shook her head: "His mind doesn’t work; I’m not like him."

Amoen thought for a moment: "...Then are you going back?"

Milmina seemed momentarily stunned, then very awkwardly shifted the topic: "...Ah, watch the program, watch the program... The summoning spell of this empress is impressive, something I’ve never seen before; is this from your Druid sect..."

The giant stag deity alongside her gave no response; Milmina felt a hint of perplexity and turned her head to see Amoen staring fixedly at the holographic projection, crystal-forged eyes flickering uncertainly with glow.

"Amoen? What’s wrong?"

Not far away, above the Magic Web Terminal, the ancient and magnificent Oath Stone Circle has already entered the prime material world. The stone pillars are covered with the wear of green mosses and vines, and in the center of the circle, the rippling water in the pond reflects the clear sky that mirrored in Amon’s eyes—the voice of the Goddess of Magic echoed again twice before Amoen, the Giant Stag, gently broke the silence: "This place... I remember it, didn’t expect they still remember too..."

"You mean this ’Oath Stone Circle’?" Milmina reacted quickly, turning back to glance at the holographic projection suspended in mid-air, her gaze falling on Amoen again, "Is this related to you?"

"In the Ancient Era, when I first became self-aware, it was among those stone pillars..." Amoen’s voice sounded ethereal as if it traversed an eternal time, "That was the original sacrificial ritual site of the Druid sect."

"You remember things from so long ago?" Milmina was surprised, "I only remember everything being vague when I had just become self-conscious... no impression at all."

"We are each different; you don’t remember your own birth, but I remember mine quite clearly," Amoen spoke slowly, "I remember that they were unstable in their new homeland, many elves were without a place to stay, living primitively in the forest. I don’t know how they spent those first days, but when I awoke, they had already built such a sacrificial ritual site in the depths of the forest, celebrating the first harvest and praying for favorable weather the next year...

"I also remember they lit many bonfires and placed many offerings. A girl in bizarre, exaggerated attire stood by, repeatedly declaring that it was divine favor reversing catastrophic weather, bringing abundance and safety..."

"Ah, you remember a lot of details," Milmina couldn’t help but say, "you even remember the ceremony at that time."

"But I have no impression of what they said, I just felt puzzled," Amoen’s voice was deep and melodious, "I didn’t understand why those small creatures were so enthusiastic, why they suddenly faced my direction and began to kneel, but fortunately, soon many voices came, helping me understand the situation...

"I was their god, the protector of the forest, the guide of life and death, or at least that’s what they believed... they also thought that I brought the harvest—in those days, the bounds between the authority of harvest and nature weren’t so defined; this aspect of authority only transformed into the three goddesses of fertility after ten thousand years when humanity gradually developed."

"Yeah, back then many things changed slowly," Milmina sighed, "then things gradually sped up."

But Amoen didn’t respond to Milmina, he just looked rather lost at the stone circle in the holographic projection, gazing at the pool in its center, after a long time, he seemed to murmur to himself: "I used to rest by that pool back then... I was much smaller than I am now, without a kingdom, not having crossed the border of the material world, you know that state? Like a ’spirit’ between illusion and reality, lingering in a particular sacrificial ritual site fueled by belief."

Milmina listened, lightly shook her head: "I wouldn’t know, I was born directly in the realm of magic, as a pure spirit more inclined towards the ’spiritual world’, whereas you took form in the material world, so I don’t really understand this state of being between illusion and reality. As you say, we are each different."

"... True, sometimes I forget this point."

"And then?" Milmina curiously looked at Amoen, "You could only move around within the sacrificial ritual site back then? That doesn’t seem much better than now..."

"Indeed, looking back, it was quite boring then, but at the time I didn’t mind—there was someone to keep me company," Amoen recalled as he spoke, "that girl, called the ’Priestess’, took care of me there, she also lived in the sacrificial ritual site, by the pool. They had strange doctrines at that time, where the supreme Priestess had to live rough and exposed to the elements, to ’embrace nature more closely’, so regardless of wind or rain, she had to stay there..."

"Sounds tough—for mortals."

"Yes, it was indeed tough," Amoen spoke slowly, "so when it was windy or rainy, I’d let her take shelter under my belly, where the fur is soft and warm. Initially, she seemed very apprehensive, but once during a thunderstorm, she nervously crawled over—even though called a Priestess, she was just a young girl at that time, only with exceptionally strong spiritual gifts."

"And then?" Milmina couldn’t help but ask again.

"And then... many years later, she died," Amoen calmly stated, "death is also a part of the natural cycle, so although she lived for many, many years, she gradually grew weaker. Finally, she leaned by my neck and fell asleep, before sleeping she asked if there was an eternal realm awaiting her, where devout believers could forever accompany the god in his kingdom..."

"... Did you have one?" Milmina asked with curiosity.

"What eternal realm? Back then, I didn’t even know how to grant semi-permanent life to believers in the material world," Amoen said, "I wanted to give her a reassuring answer, but I couldn’t lie, I just kept looking at her, then she told me: ’If there isn’t, please don’t tell the others’—after that, she stopped speaking."

The God of Nature fell silent, not far away, above the Magic Web Terminal, the screen continually broadcasted scenes from distant lands, representatives began entering the conference hall within the Oath Stone Circle. There, the Silver Empress, the contemporary supreme Priestess of the Druids, stood by the pool, her figure seemed to overlap with some of Amoen’s memories—but in the end, those memories gradually faded away.

"And then?" Milmina suddenly spoke softly, as if intentionally interrupting Amoen’s thoughts.

"And then... there’s nothing much to say," Amoen sighed, "we ultimately must abide by the laws of nature, mustn’t we? Harmless spirits gradually evolve into powerful gods, and true gods cannot linger long in the mortal world, as the beliefs of followers grow stronger and more complex, the ’god’ they shape becomes increasingly detached from the power of reality, my thoughts began to be confined in my shell, and my words became very dangerous. I became an existence that, just by maintaining myself in the real world, would cause drastic environmental changes, driving mortals mad, and consequently, the rejection from the real world followed—I finally left the real world, reaching a place where I would not be repelled.

"Just like the followers imagined, there was a giant tree there, named ’Samsara,’ with a city on the tree, called ’Life,’ and its tangled roots underneath sheltered a large tomb, named Death.

"For many years thereafter, I didn’t leave that place."