Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1267: Chapter 1266: Phantom

They walked toward the deeper reaches of the kingdom, treading upon this land blessed by God; mortals had used ten thousand years of visions to raise this magnificent city, and now it had become a splendid, solemn ruin.

The Cheering Ones of myth and the mighty Divine Kingdom Guardians had already departed along with the end of the legend; here, Kamel and the explorers he led met with no obstruction... not even any moving target other than themselves.

Save for those ancient, broken remnants that ceaselessly revolved above the kingdom.

The party passed beneath a tall arch gate, which stood abruptly in the middle of the street, as though it were a mere ornament. Goddess of Magic extended a hand, lightly brushing the pillar that supported the arch; upon that pillar, which appeared indestructible—like rock, yet glimmering with an iron‑gray metallic sheen—a layer of weathered, rotten dust peeled away and drifted down, disintegrating in midair. But the scar that had appeared upon the pillar restored itself to pristine wholeness in the very next second.

"It is frozen at the instant of destruction... frozen at the very moment when the tide of mortal thought severed its connection," the once‑Goddess of Magic lifted her head, speaking pensively, "So this is what a myth, once ended by human beings, finally looks like... I had thought it would manifest in a far more absurd and decayed form, yet in the end it is but a yellowed, faded vision."

Kamel could not help lifting his gaze to the tall lady beside him; unable to restrain his curiosity, he asked, "Your realm... what did it look like?"

"As one who was once a mortal Mage, do you truly not know?" Goddess of Magic let a faint smile touch her face, quietly watching the ancient Arcane Master floating at her side. "That realm was created by you."

"...There was an endless starry sky, each ’star’ symbolizing a single magic truth in the world, and in the center of that sky stood a Magic Tower of unimaginable height. Its summit and its foundations were both lost in darkness, unseen; within the high tower all mysteries were gathered, and the supreme Source of All Magic watched over every level of the tower. Only explorers who had received blessing were worthy to behold the knowledge contained within that tower..."

As he listened to Kamel’s low, steady description, the smile on Goddess of Magic’s face grew more distinct, yet within that smile there was even more helplessness. "Yes, there was a tower, and stars and such... Yet when I tried to touch that starry firmament, I found it to be merely a shell draped around the edge of the kingdom. When I tried to pluck those stars, they were simply luminous stones set into the shell, carved over with magic symbols that bore no meaning at all—my gaze pierced that shell and looked outward, and there I saw the ancient Goddess of Nature who would not rest in death, pressed against the border of the kingdom, and broken bones and unnamable fragments surging layer upon layer from beyond that clumsy starry graffiti..."

The former Goddess of Magic shook her head. "And then I locked myself away within the high tower for thousands of years, deliberately refusing to respond to any prayer from mortals, refusing to heed any change in the mortal world, until at last a crack appeared in that outer shell. I fled the kingdom, passed through those piled‑up remnants, ruins and corpses, passed through the endless whispers and after‑echoes of thought that would drive a mortal mad in an instant. It took me a century—perhaps two—before I finally reached the rift between the deep‑sea and the shadow realm... There, I at last gained a little peace."

"...You’ve had it rough as well." Kamel fell silent for several seconds before finally squeezing out that one line.

He had never imagined that one day he would stand so calmly before a God, and even discuss such matters with a God.

The affairs of the world are hard to foresee.

Goddess of Magic, however, paid no mind to Kamel’s brief sigh. She suddenly turned her gaze forward: a grand wall, arcing in a vast curve, stood before the party; a door large enough for giants to pass through was set in that wall. Around the wall hung many splendid banners, each weighty shield at their ends serving as a counterweight, holding them straight and taut as they fell. Atop the wall, countless gleaming spears and swords formed ornamentation, arranged in strict ranks, like an army drawn up in formation to receive review.

"It seems we’ve arrived at another place described in the War God Doctrine," Kamel said solemnly, raising his head to look ahead. "This should be the ’arena’ they speak of in their religious stories."

The party advanced, while Goddess of Magic let her gaze sweep over the magnificent gate and the enormous shields hanging to either side, speaking slowly: "The arena of God of War, Kehr stands at the end of the Pathway of Cheering, facing from afar the palace of eternal feast and drink. This is the place where God descends in person. Kehr often comes to this arena himself, to watch brave warriors spar and hone their skills. At times he even steps into the arena in the form of an avatar, to guide those favored champions and bestow upon them greater strength... Yet more often he sits upon the tallest throne at the far end of the arena, like a general reviewing all under him."

The arena’s gate was tightly shut. Goddess of Magic placed her hand upon the door, which looked uncommonly heavy; with but a gentle push, that seemingly immovable portal opened just wide enough for ordinary mortals to pass. Kamel drifted forward, yet before crossing the threshold he could not help but glance at Goddess of Magic. "How is it you know so much about the War God? Did you not say that different gods cannot communicate, and cannot peer into an Otherworldly God’s realm?"

Goddess of Magic lowered her head, a faint smile showing beneath the black veil that covered her face. "I checked it online just now."

Kamel was taken aback for a moment, then, on reflection, found it reasonable enough—this Lady of the High Tower was a seasoned netizen; of the twenty‑four hours in a day, twenty‑three were spent haunting the neural network... Reasonable it might be, but the answer was still quite different from what he had imagined...

Yet after following His Majesty Gawain Cecil for so long, he had seen plenty of strange happenings and not‑quite‑normal individuals. At this point he did not dwell on it for long—he merely adjusted his mindset a little, then once more hoisted his own ponderous mobile energy station and was the first to drift through the arena gate. The rest of the scouting teams filed in behind.

Goddess of Magic passed through the gate as well, lifting her gaze to the far end of the arena.

An exceptionally tall and burly figure sat in silence upon a throne made for giants, his entire form encased in seamless, iron‑gray heavy armor. The hollow helm drooped slightly, its dark, empty opening fixed upon the direction of the arena gate, upon the uninvited guests who had stepped into this place.

Cardiac arrest!!

Kamel lifted his head for a single glance and felt, in that instant, the flow of Magic Power throughout his body freeze, as though congealed. From behind him came a rapid clatter of metal upon metal—the White Knights, having seen that figure, were likewise shocked, and at once warrior instinct drove them to tighten their grip upon warhammers and heavy Holy Light Impact Cannons. All of them were ready for combat in the space of a heartbeat, and even in Kamel’s hands two clusters of radiant arcane energy flared into being!

Yet at that tense moment, Goddess of Magic’s voice suddenly sounded, cutting off the strike they were all but ready to unleash: "Calm down—this seems to be only a phantom."

"A phantom?" Kamel’s heart gave a jolt. Only then did he note that the figure seated upon the throne at the end of the arena still had not moved in the slightest. He was simply sitting there in silence, without any response to the uninvited guests who had entered.

A dry wind swept across the arena’s height; the banners flying from the spear‑tips billowed fiercely in the gust. Thus did the mortals who had stepped into the kingdom and the War God phantom that had appeared within it face one another in stillness across the breadth of the arena. At last Kamel dispelled the energy spheres floating before him, and led the wary party toward the distant giant figure.

The towering form sheathed in hollow armor remained motionless—and only then did Kamel and the White Knights finally relax.

Kamel now had the leisure to sense the environment around them more carefully. He raised one arm, watching how the arcane radiance coursing over its surface was being suppressed by the surroundings, and spoke in thoughtful tones: "We’re already far from the interference caused by the portal... I might be able to set up my Magic laboratory in this arena."

"It does look like the conditions are quite good," Goddess of Magic agreed from the side. As the former sovereign of magic, she naturally knew that Kamel had always been seeking an opportunity to verify the essence of Magic Power, and she herself held unprecedented interest in this project. "Once the subsequent equipment arrives, you can begin arranging the experimental environment—if you need help, you can come straight to me."

Kamel came to a halt. He looked somewhat strangely at the former Goddess beside him, who wore a faint smile, and only after a long moment did he speak in a low voice: "If necessary, I will."

The explorers arrived beside that colossal throne. The giant formed of iron-gray armor still sat here in silence, maintaining his posture of overlooking the arena, just as the Goddess of Magic had judged: he was nothing but a phantom.

Kamel raised his head to look. At such close range, he finally discerned a trace of unreal, translucent texture on the surface of that iron-gray armor, which made him curious despite himself: "Why is there a phantom of the War God here? Do all gods, after they fall, produce such an illusion in their own kingdom?"

"I do not know," the Goddess of Magic slowly shook her head. "The War God... the manner of his fall was very peculiar. My experience may not apply here..."

As she spoke, she reached out a hand and lightly touched that hollow, unreal iron-gray armor. A sensation like touching cold clouds and mist passed through her fingers, and almost at the same time, a voice abruptly surfaced in the minds of all members of the scouting teams, Kamel included. The voice was deep and solemn, with the texture of steel, and in the mind of everyone who heard it, images of battlefield, blades, city walls, and legions involuntarily rose up—yet the content of that voice was only a single sentence:

"I wish you good fortune..."

The voice in their minds vanished, and the many visions that had arisen together with it likewise dispersed like smoke. From within White Knight Quinn’s helm came a muffled sound: "Master Kamel, just now I heard..."

"I heard it too—everyone, check your mental contamination readings!"

"Readings at zero." "No contamination detected." "Protective devices have not triggered an alarm..."

When dealing with divine power, whatever one hears or sees, one must be prepared against mental contamination. Thus the scouting teams swiftly checked their own status at the first instant. Only after confirming that no one had been mentally contaminated did Kamel have the leisure to focus on the content of that brief "vision." He lifted his head to look at the Goddess of Magic: "Just now, that was... the War God’s voice left behind?!"

"It seems so." She too had heard that voice, and her gaze grew solemn. "That should be the final ’thought imprint’ the War God left here before departing..."

"A thought imprint..." one of the White Knights murmured instinctively. "Does that mean he knew long ago that we would come, and left such a sentence for us?"

"No..." Kamel had already reacted. He shook his head. "This sentence was not left for us."

He tipped his head back, letting his gaze rest for a long time upon the iron-gray giant on the throne. Only after several seconds did he speak in a low voice: "It was left for the mortal army that was about to face him on the Winterhold Fort Battlefield."

The Goddess of Magic was silent for a long time. At last she stretched out her hand and lightly rapped the cold, austere throne: "Brainless brute..."

Silence settled over the scouting teams. Kamel pondered for half a minute before abruptly lifting his head to look at the Goddess of Magic: "Wasn’t the War God supposed to have already gone completely mad and out of control at that time? How could he still leave such a sentence?"

His words had barely fallen when a voice suddenly rose from among the rows of seats on the distant arena stands: "At that time, my Lord had indeed gone completely mad... yet even within ultimate madness, a trace of reason may exist."

This voice, appearing out of nowhere, was as frightening as the moment when they had just seen the War God’s phantom. The Magic Power radiance around Kamel surged at once; he whirled toward the direction from which the voice had come: "Who goes there?!"

Under the wary, battle-ready gazes of the explorers, a robed figure slowly emerged from behind the nearby seats of the stands.

In this divine realm of the War God, already dead and slowly collapsing, a mortal figure had appeared!

He wore the vestments of the War God’s Clergy and a phantom, translucent coronet upon his head. His features, under the chaotic light of the heavens, appeared blurred, yet one could still vaguely discern that he was an old man. This figure stepped out from behind the stands and slowly descended the steps one by one, coming to stand before Kamel and the White Knights. Like a ghost, he stirred no sound of footsteps, nor did he give off any aura, just like... the War God’s phantom beside them.

"You have finally come out," the Goddess of Magic, however, seemed unsurprised by his appearance, as though she had sensed him long ago. "I already felt your presence just now."

"You are another Goddess," that ghostlike figure looked toward her and said respectfully.

"Once, I was."

"Forgive me that I cannot offer you worship—I revere only my Lord."

"You need not worship me anyway—I am retired."

Kamel fixed his gaze on the "ghostly" old man who had appeared before them. Though a guess had already surfaced in his mind, his tone was still grave as he asked: "Who are you?"

"Malm Dunite—that is a name I once used... you may call me by it," the old man in priestly robes said slowly. "As for now... I am merely a trivial servant here."

"Malm Dunite, Pope of the Typhon War God Church... so it is as expected." Kamel stared intently at him, his voice low. "You should have found rest long ago... why do you still linger here?"

Malm, this former War God Pope, did not answer at once. Instead he turned to gaze upon the figure on the throne, and after a long time said softly: "I have come to keep my Lord company."