Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1115: Chapter 1114: Revisiting the Age of Mythology

As Gawain’s voice fell, the Defied Court fell into silence once more.

Amon suddenly felt that there seemed to be a lot of awkward silences in his little courtyard today.

But this time, the silence did not last long. Amon soon realized the deeper meaning in Gawain’s words, gradually coming to an understanding. The holy glow covering him flowed like water, with a light sigh in his tone, "Ah, yes, it’s right that she doesn’t believe in me..."

The former God of Nature murmured softly to himself, then suddenly asked, "When was the original Upper Druid Sect reorganized?"

"About a thousand years ago — or perhaps even earlier," Gawain nodded, speaking of the history he had heard from Belsetia, "It was a gradual process. In the Silver Empire, the Upper Druid Sect first revoked a series of privileges held by fringe dioceses, then gradually aligned more with secular royal power, finding new support in the Elven Royal Court and the Upper Elf Council. About a thousand years ago, the symbolic significance of the ’Druid Grand Priest’ title had already surpassed its practical meaning, but before that, the Upper Druid Sect had essentially become a mere formality."

Amon contemplated in brief silence; no one knew what the God of Nature was thinking at that moment. In the end, he only expressed it in a sigh, "I was born in the hearts of mortals, and I should perish in the hearts of mortals."

"But not all mortals have chosen an ’age without gods,’" Gawain looked into Amon’s eyes, which were like molten crystals, "You should know, three thousand years... isn’t enough for elves to complete a full cycle of life and death. A few who once believed in you still live in this world, especially those who were blessed by you and gained longer life—the priestly community. They are still alive now."

Amon quietly observed Gawain, then softly spoke after a moment: "That Silver Empress, she’s here to resolve this issue, isn’t she?"

Gawain didn’t answer, only affirmed with his silence—although he hadn’t mentioned Belsetia’s purpose, this former god had already guessed the answer, so there was no need for Gawain to elaborate.

"I see," the glow around Amon gradually calmed down, his tone imbued with a sudden sense of relaxation, "It’s a good thing. Let that Silver Empress come. I’m ready to see her. By the way, where is she now?"

"She’s in Cecil Castle," Gawain said with a smile, "waiting with apprehension and nervousness for me to arrange her meeting with you."

"It seems you already assumed I would agree," Amon’s tone also carried a hint of amusement, speaking half-jokingly, "How are you so confident? Did you never consider the possibility that I might refuse?"

"Of course, you would agree," Gawain said with calm assurance, his smile indeed as confident as suggested, "You didn’t ram the Voyager’s space station three thousand years ago just to lie here for three thousand years, did you?"

Amon squinted his eyes and said nothing more, while Gawain glanced at the two gods present with a smile and then stepped back, saying, "Allow me to take my leave first—I have arrangements to make."

After Gawain left, Mylmina looked at Amon, the Giant Stag, who remained silent, lying on the ground. After a long pause, she suddenly broke the silence, "What are you thinking about?"

"I just suddenly remembered the Silver Empress from three thousand years ago... She should be the grandmother of that ’Belsetia,’" Amon said softly, "She often spoke to me beside the altar in the sanctuary—although most of the time, I couldn’t directly respond to her voice. She frequently offered fruits she picked from her garden on the altar... until the day I suddenly left. Now that I think about it, I didn’t even say goodbye to her back then."

Mylmina lowered her eyelids, "Do you feel regret?"

"Just sorry," Amon closed his eyes, "My sudden departure changed the destinies of too many mortals. I only hope that when she left this world... she had no lingering attachments."

Mylmina did not speak for a moment, contemplating her own matters in silence. After an indeterminable length of time, she suddenly said, "You had many devout followers who left a vivid impression on you, those pious ones whispering to you day and night... I had none."

"Envious? But that’s not necessarily a good thing."

"Of course, it’s not a good thing, so I don’t feel envious at all," Mylmina said casually, glancing sidelong at the nearby Magic Web Terminal that was on standby, "By the way, do you mind if I observe from the sidelines when the time comes?"

"Do as you please—I couldn’t drive you away anyway."

...

In the early morning of the next day, Belsetia awoke early, arriving at the salon beside her chamber to see the first ray of sunlight of the day slanting through the crystal glass window, spilling obliquely onto the opposite wall.

A high-ranking elf maid stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, walking out of the sunlight, carrying a silver cup with an exceedingly solemn demeanor. This high-ranking maid offered the cup in her hands to the Silver Empress—within the exquisite silver vessel swirled a thin, golden liquid, whose fragrant aroma slowly drifted through the air. With a solemn expression, Belsetia took it and drank it all.

According to ancient ceremonial customs, those performing sacred duties should awaken with the sun on holy days and drink the honey wine symbolizing "pure blood of nature" under the sunlight to cleanse their soul.

The handmaid Yilian approached from the side, assisting the Silver Empress in changing into a classical and exquisite priestess’s ceremonial robe. The structure of the robe was complex and intricate, with a pure white base—said to represent the God of Nature who was entirely white—and adorned with exquisite green patterns symbolizing the lush forest and the "life" in the cycle of nature. The edges of the hem and neckline bore black motifs, representing the "death" in the natural cycle.

After changing into the ceremonial robe, there followed a series of rites such as incense, grooming, and the application of Holy Oil, all bearing ancient symbolic meanings and strict regulations. The high-ranking maidservants, who also served as Druid acolytes, assisted the Silver Empress with utmost skill in performing these sacred preparations. As the centerpiece of the ritual, Belsetia quietly stood among these busy maidservants, waiting for the process to conclude.

How did the priests from three thousand years ago feel when they performed these sacred rituals? Sincerely devout? Deeply moved? Or perhaps a mix of both? Belsetia, living in an age without gods, pondered privately but could not from her heart experience the emotions of her ancestors from back then... because to her, all of this was merely a duty she had to fulfill as the Silver Empress, her work, an indispensable "decoration" to maintain royal dignity, something she had grown accustomed to since childhood.

However, today she felt a different sensation within her heart, a feeling arising from what she was about to do today—for three thousand years, she would become the first silver elf to reengage in dialogue with the gods. These sacred acts suddenly seemed to have some significance, but before she could fully grasp these meanings, the strongest feeling in her heart was still trepidation and unease.

When all the preparations were completed, Queen Belsetia gently exhaled. She raised her hand to rub her somewhat tense cheeks, a not-so-dignified gesture that broke the heavy oppressive feeling brought about by her priestly robes. Shortly after, the door not far away opened, and an elf handmaiden appeared before her: "Your Majesty, His Majesty Gawain Cecil is already waiting outside."

"I understand," Belsetia nodded, then glanced at Yilian, who was almost always by her side, "Yilian, I need to go alone—wait for me here to return."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

In the corridor, the elegantly dressed Silver Empress appeared before Gawain. Her attire, rich in elven style, made Gawain blink in slight surprise: "It’s my first time seeing the most orthodox religious attire of the ancient Druid sect—it looks better than I imagined."

"The highest-ranking priest robes are only allowed during the grandest and most special ’holy ceremonies’, and such affairs are rarely open to outsiders, so it’s normal for you not to have seen them," Belsetia revealed a faint smile. Upon seeing Gawain, her accumulated tension seemed to ease a bit, but she also showed a somewhat worried look, "Should I not have done these ceremonial preparations? According to you, we should avoid establishing a connection with the gods, especially today..."

"Rest assured, since I agreed to this, I have prepared—The Anti-Divine Barrier is already in operation; everything you’re doing today is also part of the experimental project," Gawain said, his expression becoming slightly solemn, "Moreover, from another perspective, the role of these rituals isn’t as significant as you might think. Without the ’direction’ of intention, even the most solemn ceremony is merely a ritual. It’s said that in the ancestral forest, the smartest monkeys can mimic the actions of priests in the sacrificial ritual and even baptize themselves with Holy Water like humans—but have you heard of any monkey receiving divine grace, gaining Divine Power?"

Belsetia thought for a moment and suddenly laughed: "...That’s true. But Uncle Gawain, your example isn’t very fitting."

...

In the depths of the defied Fortress, footsteps echoed in the corridor leading to the inner court. Quiet streams of light flowed through the Magic Web runes and prefabricated rune triggers. Modern magic crystal lamps embedded in the walls constructed by ancient Gondor technology emitted brilliance that dispelled the darkness that should have enveloped the place for long, allowing visitors to proceed in light with peace of mind.

With a heart filled with thirty percent trepidation and seventy percent curiosity, Belsetia followed Gawain, occasionally glancing at the rooms they passed by—this ancient facility had been renovated and repaired to a certain extent with modern techniques, but most of its areas still retained an ancient appearance. To her, the texts from the Gondor Era and the remnants of magical devices gave a sense of temporal dissonance.

Another point of interest for her was the occasional sight of "staff" along the way.

Within the defied Fortress located in the mortal world, she had already seen many humans bustling back and forth in the corridors and rooms. The entire mountain citadel was a busy large-scale base, with the frequency of personnel movement comparable to that in factories and research institutes in the city. But she hadn’t expected to also see stationed staff within the shadow realm’s defied Fortress—though their numbers were much fewer, throughout her journey, she still noticed some rooms illuminated and researchers dressed in white uniforms busy inside. People were briskly walking in the outer corridors, holding file folders or crystal boards storing image data.

The Silver Empress’s face was full of surprise.

Her change in expression did not go unnoticed by Gawain. He turned his head slightly to the side, looking at the golden-haired woman beside him, already not so dignified and curiously looking around. A smile appeared on his face: "Seems like you’re a bit surprised by the ’activity’ here?"

"I thought this place would be more... lifeless," Belsetia thought and frankly expressed her thoughts. "After all, I heard that not long ago, this place was still a ’restricted zone,’ and even most areas of the defied Fortress outside were under lockdown... But now, it seems, you’ve developed it into a formal research facility?"

"It’s actually something recent," Gawain nodded and said, "We’ve restarted many research projects from the defied Plan of the Gondor Era, and the defied Fortress and defied base are the most suitable research facilities. They have the unique ’geographical advantage’ and some protective devices still operational till this day, so we brought personnel and equipment here."

"Is this what’s known as ’dissecting godhood’?" Belsetia couldn’t help but whisper, "Such broad participation, such a matter-of-fact operation... It’s entirely different from what I previously imagined."

Gawain couldn’t resist asking with curiosity: "What was your original guess?"

"...Just like what my father once did, in an extremely secretive location, where a very few people conduct extremely confidential research, all findings are never disclosed, and all processes are ultimately destroyed, with only unexplained orders and ambiguous answers being sent out."

"What’s the point of doing that?" Gawain stopped his steps, looking at Belsetia with a wry smile, "That’s even less meaningful than the defied Plan of the Gondor Era."

He shook his head, retracting his gaze, looking towards the end of the corridor, and as if talking to himself, continued: "No meaning... but many people are doing similar things as you all, like those in the dark sect, like the Typhon Royal Family... Being cautious is not wrong, but it is far from enough.

"You should not maintain reverence for the gods while unraveling their mysteries. On this daring path, only by not treating gods as deities can we get closer to their true nature.

"Belsetia, we’ve arrived—this is the last gate, beyond it lies the God of Yore’s ’courtyard’."

Only then did Belsetia realize they had reached the corridor’s end. A metal gate inscribed with numerous ancient runes stood in her way. There were no longer any technical staff in sight, and the walls on both sides had conspicuous, illuminated warning signs, reminding visitors in bold letters:

Gods ahead, please do not approach.

As Gawain’s words fell, the metal gate opened with a series of mechanical sounds. However, the corridor was not directly exposed to the outer space: a semi-transparent energy barrier appeared there, acting as the final safety separator between the "mortal world" and the "gods." Through this barrier, Belsetia saw in the distant darkness, a glow rising like a mountain.

That was the Mythic Era the elves lost for three thousand years.