Chapter 363: Decisions (Part 1)

  Ainfast Royal City, Magic Academy.

  In the great mausoleum behind the academy, a person stood there, looking at the stone coffin containing the ashes of Bishop Ronis. This person was very young and handsome, with a face as beautiful as a woman's, but the gaze he fixed on the stone coffin was filled with the vicissitudes and fatigue unique to an old man who had experienced all of life's ups and downs, successes and failures.

  "Hey, Ronis, it's me, Magnus. You didn't think I would come to see you, did you? And you definitely didn't think I'd be in this state now, right?" The young man reached out and vigorously rubbed the face that didn't originally belong to him, laughing self-deprecatingly. "To be honest, I didn't expect it either. I didn't expect that I would actually have the mood and the opportunity to pay my respects to you. I didn't expect that the Reincarnation Resurrection that Dracon had prepared for Vedenina would end up being used by me... But I don't know how long this body will last..."

  "You know? Eschol is dead. He died at the hands of that student you worked so hard to cultivate. I was originally counting on him to help me in Diya Valley... Nighon is severely weakened. I even sent someone to almost kill Moriel. I have obtained the Ring of Kings, and the hilt of The Black Star, and that boy who gathered the Sunwell and Leaves of the World Tree... Perhaps, with just one more step, the goal that even Dracon couldn't achieve could have been completed in my hands... But now, all of this is meaningless, because something you would least expect has happened: the hilt of The Black Star has finally been drawn, right here in The Radiant Citadel, in the Grand Hall of Light."

  "Unexpected... so unexpected... There are truly too many unexpected things in life. When we were young, we thought we could hold the world in our hands..." He let out a long sigh, sat down cross-legged on the ground, and looked at the stone coffin with a bitter smile. It was the gaze unique to a hundred-year-old man lying in bed, quietly waiting for death, without joy or sorrow, only the helplessness of watching life reach its end without the power to do anything. Love and hate, passion and resentment. Ambitious schemes of hegemony, ups and downs, gains and losses—all of these were now but passing clouds in his eyes. Their only purpose was to be slowly chewed upon, savoring the aftertaste of this lifetime.

  "For so many years, His Majesty Dracon, you, and I—the three of us—chose different paths, diverging from each other. On our respective paths, we each walked far enough, but in the end, the result was what we least wanted to see. Our actions, unknowingly, all became the causes that led to this result... Could it be that what that girl Vedenina said was true, that no matter what we do, we are ultimately just a speck of dust under the wheel of history... So many years of scheming and strife, of exhausting our minds and strength—truly, it was all meaningless..."

  "Living, in itself, probably has no meaning... Only a petty woman like Vedenina would go chasing some inexplicable meaning... How many years has it been since I talked to you like this? Thirty or forty years..."

  His voice and gaze slowly grew hazy and blurred, completely immersed in memories, until finally he sat silently before the stone coffin without a word. Though he had a young body and appearance, he was like a stone statue that had been placed in this mausoleum for a hundred years. Aged and desolate.

  "Your Majesty... everyone has basically arrived. We can go now." Lancelot and High Priest Ryan appeared at the entrance of the mausoleum.

  "I'm leaving..." The Pope stood up, brushed the dust from his clothes, and said softly, "After all, as long as one is alive, there are things to do, even if the meaning is just to fight to survive as long as possible."

  Celeste has already become a land of the dead, and Erathia has also mysteriously sealed its teleportation magic arrays. At this time, the most powerful ally left is Ainfast. The Eastern Continent was completely unaffected by the previous battles. Its strength remains intact, and only the powerful individuals here seem to retain a glimmer of hope to stand against that Lich King. With no other choice, the Pope and Lancelot could only come here.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  This is not a request for aid, but a joint effort to survive under a far greater crisis.

  Led by High Priest Ryan, Lancelot and the Pope arrived at the cathedral. Along the way, people only bowed to High Priest Ryan. The appearances of a Paladin and a Cardinal were not familiar to most people here, and the two were also dressed plainly, not attracting attention.

  On the square of the Magic Academy, things seemed no different from usual. The magic apprentices and priests still prayed, attended classes, and conducted research as they always did; everything that was supposed to go on was still going on. It was only the swordsmen of the Paladin Order standing guard around the cathedral that made some passersby take notice. Some rather sensitive people were whispering; every time the cathedral was under lockdown, it was accompanied by a storm of trouble. But they didn't pay it too much mind, after all, it seemed every storm eventually subsided.

  Everything that happened in Celeste's The Radiant Citadel had not yet reached Ainfast; at least, ordinary people were completely unaware. Between the Eastern and Western Continents, the fastest channel for information is through teleportation magic arrays. If one is willing, deliberately suppressing this news is not difficult.

  Ordinary people cannot understand this kind of matter; even if they knew, it would only add to the chaos.

  "People who know nothing are truly happy... If possible, I wish I knew nothing now, just like these fellows, wandering around, going to the library to read, attending classes, and in my free time, asking a cute girl to go see a play or have a meal... Only now do I realize how fulfilling and happy such a life is. At least for the second before the world ends, I would be happy, not like now, like an ant on a hot pan." Lord Bolgan, the temporary leader of Oufu, stood on a table, peering through a gap in the window, looking at the oblivious people outside with envious eyes. "If I could choose again, I would truly be willing to not touch those earth-shattering, history-making great deeds... Fuck, I can hardly believe it myself that I would actually one day stand at a conference table discussing how to save this continent."

  Lord Bolgan's short, stout body nimbly jumped onto another table closer to the central statue of the Lord God. Looking up at the sacred statue dozens of times taller than himself, he said loudly: "Hey. Lord God, you know this continent is about to be finished, right? You accept the worship of so many happy idiots here every day. Can't you think about these people and show some of those miracles from the wishful-fulfillment knight novels, send down a savior for us to see? Do you still want the few of us mortals to rack our brains here? If you knew this would happen, what are you still standing there for? You might as well use our statues instead."

  "Hey, you few, why do so many people still come to serve and worship such a useless god? O great messengers who serve God, can you give me an explanation? Why did The Radiant Citadel, which is claimed to be your Lord God's holy sanctuary on earth, give birth to some monster that is fucking going to destroy the world? Where did your pious faith and great justice go?" Lord Bolgan turned his head, glaring with ox-like eyes and baring his teeth at the Pope and Lancelot who had just entered.

  The Pope and Lancelot didn't even spare a glance at this disrespectful dwarf, sitting down silently at the round table temporarily set up in the church hall.

  "I'm sorry, but at a time like this, no one is in a good mood. Please, everyone, don't mind him too much." The female Chancellor sighed softly and said to the Pope and Lancelot. A woman's patience and calmness were on full display at this moment; her complexion was relatively normal. She then turned to Lord Bolgan and said, "My lord, please calm down. I understand your feelings, but please understand that lashing out angrily at this time serves no purpose. You should also be clear that no one here is in a better mood than you are..."

  "Ah, I understand, I understand, of course I do. It's just that I don't have the deep scheming and patience of everyone here. Please forgive my youth and impulsiveness..." Lord Bolgan muttered and grumbled as he jumped down, returning to his original seat.

  Besides Lord Bolgan, who represented Oufu; the Pope and Lancelot, who represented the Church; and Chancellor Mrak, there were also the two Tower Masters of the Tower of Fangs, as well as the Elven Elder, Lloyd.

  The doors of the church opened, and Commander Roland walked in quickly. He also had a gloomy expression on his face and sat down at the table without a word.

  "Has everything been settled with His Majesty?" the Chancellor asked flatly.

  Commander Roland nodded. "Yes, both the Paladin Order and the Magic Academy can be mobilized by me at any time. Although a few ministers on the military side have some questions, with our joint request, there shouldn't be a problem. There's no need for them to know about these things; it would only cause unnecessary panic."

  After a moment of contemplation, the Chancellor sighed softly, "There's no other way then. We can only rely on ourselves."

  On the round table was a huge magic map, on which the magically manifested miniature landscape was visible in every detail. This was a magic map left behind by the Ancient Elven Empire, stored in the War Ancient Tree. It was a treasure that humans should normally never have been able to see. In the center of the map, a not-so-large cloud of black mist was slowly moving.

  "To be honest, I find it hard to believe there is any undead army that we cannot handle by gathering all the strength here." Tower Master Graden stroked his large beard, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on this magic map. Tower Master Adelaide next to him was the same; since arriving here, their gazes had not moved from this magical work of the ancient elves.

  The two Tower Masters of the Tower of Fangs could be considered the most relaxed people here; they even had a trace of vigilance towards the Pope and Lancelot. If it weren't for the confirmed fall of Celeste, the strong invitation from Commander Roland, and the intense reaction from the Whispering Woods, they would not be here.