Royal City of Einfast, Magic Academy
In the grand mausoleum at the back of the academy, a lonely figure stood before a stone coffin containing the ashes of Archbishop Ronis.
He was young and strikingly handsome—his delicate features could almost be mistaken for a woman's. Yet, the way he gazed at the coffin was filled with exhaustion and the weight of countless trials and tribulations, a look that only those who had endured the highest peaks and deepest falls of life could possess.
"Hey, Ronis, it's me—Magnus. Bet you never expected I'd come to see you, huh? Even less so in this form." The young man reached up and rubbed the face that didn't truly belong to him, a self-deprecating smile appearing on his lips. "Honestly, I never expected this either. Never thought I'd have the time or the mood to pay respects to you. Never thought Decken's reincarnation ritual, originally prepared for Vadenina, would end up being used on me instead… though I have no idea how long this body will even last."
"Did you know? Aescher is dead—killed by that student of yours, the one you worked so hard to cultivate. I had hoped to use him to my advantage in Dehya Valley… Nigen has already suffered heavy losses, and I nearly had Moriel assassinated. The Ring of Kings is in my hands, as is the hilt of the Black Star. And then comes that kid, the one who carries the power of the Sunwell and the World Tree Leaf… Maybe I was only one step away from accomplishing what even Decken never could…"
"But none of that matters anymore. Because something happened—something you would never have imagined. The hilt of the Black Star… has finally been pulled from its resting place. Right inside the Glory Hall, at the heart of the Glory Fortress."
"Unbelievable… truly unbelievable… There are just too many unexpected turns in life. When we were young, we thought the world was under our control…"
With a long sigh, he sat cross-legged on the ground, gazing at the stone coffin with a bitter smile. His eyes held the same look as a centenarian lying in bed, waiting quietly for death—no joy, no sorrow, only the helpless resignation of someone watching their life draw to an inevitable close. Love and hate, power and ambition, victories and losses—all of it was nothing more than fleeting clouds now. The only thing left was to reminisce, to savor the lingering echoes of a life lived.
"So many years have passed… Emperor Decken, you, and I—we each chose different paths. We diverged, we walked far along our separate roads. But in the end, the outcome was exactly what we feared most. The funny thing is, it was our own actions, unknowingly, that led to this end… Vadenina might be right all along, no matter what we do, we are nothing more than dust beneath the wheels of history…After all these years of scheming, of exhausting our minds and spirits, was it all truly meaningless?"
"Perhaps life itself is meaningless… Only someone as petty as Vadenina would go searching for some grand, inexplicable purpose… How many years has it been since we last spoke like this? Thirty? Forty?"
His voice and gaze grew hazy, slowly sinking into the depths of memory. At last, he fell completely silent, sitting motionless before the stone coffin. His body was young, his face unaged—but he looked no different from an ancient statue placed in this tomb for a hundred years, weathered by time, shrouded in loneliness.
"Your Majesty… most of the people have arrived. We can proceed now." Lancelote and High Priest Ryan appeared at the entrance of the tomb.
"I'm leaving now…" The Pope stood up, dusted off his robes, and spoke softly. "After all, as long as one is alive, there are things that he must do—even if the only meaning is to keep living for as long as possible."
Celeste had already turned into a wasteland, and Alrasia had suddenly, inexplicably, sealed off its teleportation arrays. At this point, the only powerful ally left was Einfast. The eastern continent had remained untouched by the previous battles, its strength still intact. Here, at least, there were still warriors who might stand a chance against the King of the Undead. With no other choice, the Pope and Lancelote had come here.
This was not a plea for aid, but a desperate attempt to join forces for survival in the face of an overwhelming crisis.
Led by High Priest Ryan, Lancelote and the Pope made their way to the great cathedral. Along the way, people bowed only to Ryan. The figures of a Paladin and a bishop were not well-known in these lands, and their current plain attire did not attract much attention.
The plaza of the Magic Academy seemed no different from usual. Magic apprentices and priests continued their prayers, lessons, and research as always. Life carried on as if untouched by the looming catastrophe. However, the presence of the heavily armed Holy Knights standing guard around the cathedral did not go unnoticed. More observant individuals exchanged hushed whispers—every time the cathedral was placed under martial law, it heralded a coming storm. However, they didn't seem too concerned, as it appeared that every wave of turmoil eventually settled down in the end.
Everything that had transpired in Celeste's Glory Fortress had yet to reach Einfast—at least, the common people remained blissfully unaware. The fastest way to transmit news between the eastern and western continents was through teleportation arrays, and if someone wished to suppress certain information, it was not a difficult task. Ordinary people wouldn't understand such matters anyway, and even if they did, it would only cause unnecessary panic.
"People who know nothing are truly fortunate... If I could, I'd rather be just as ignorant right now. Wandering around like those folks outside, reading books in the library, attending classes, spending free time inviting a lovely girl to a play and a nice dinner… Only now do I realize how wonderful and blissful such a life would be. At least, up until the very last second before the world's destruction, I could still be happy—instead of being like this, running around like an ant on a hot pan."
Lord Borugan, the temporary leader of Orford, stood on the table, peering through the gap in the window with envious eyes at the clueless people outside. "If I had the choice again, I swear I wouldn't get involved in any of those so-called earth-shattering, history-making affairs… Damn it, I can't even believe it myself—I've actually ended up at a conference table discussing how to save this entire continent."
With a nimble leap, the short and stout Lord Borugan jumped onto another table, the one closest to the massive statue of the Almighty. Tilting his head back, he gazed up at the divine figure, dozens of times taller than himself, and bellowed, "Hey! Almighty One! Do you even realize this continent is about to be doomed? You stand here every day, receiving the worship of these blissful idiots—can't you at least spare a thought for them? Show us some of those miracles that the fantasizing knights in novels always rave about! Send us a savior or something! Why are we, a bunch of ordinary mortals, the ones racking our brains over this mess? If this is how it's going to be, what's the point of your statue standing here? We might as well put up one of our own instead!"
"Hey, you guys! Why so many people are still serving and worshiping this useless god? Great servants of the divine, can someone explain this to me? Why the so-called holy land of your Almighty, the Glory Fortress, ended up producing a monster that's going to destroy the world? What happened to your sacred beliefs in justice?" Lord Borugan snarled, glaring with eyes like those of an angry bull, showing his teeth as he directed his fury at the Pope and Lancelote, who had just entered.
The Pope and Lancelote didn't even glance at the disrespectful dwarf. They remained silent as they took their seats at the round table that had been hastily placed in the church hall.
"Apologies, everyone. No one here is in a particularly good mood right now, so please don't take it too personally," the female prime minister sighed softly. Her patience and calm were evident at that moment, and her face remained relatively composed. She then turned to Lord Borugan, speaking with a touch of empathy. "Sir, please try to calm down. I understand your frustration, but please also understand that shouting like this won't help anyone. I'm sure you can see that no one here is feeling better than you."
"Oh, of course, of course, I understand," Lord Borugan muttered as he hopped down from his position and returned to his original seat, adding, "I just don't have the experience or composure of everyone here, so please excuse my youth and impulsiveness…"
The room was filled with representatives from various factions: Lord Borugan representing Orford, the Pope and Lancelote from the Church, Prime minister Murak, two leaders from the Tooth Tower, and the Elven Elder, Lloyd.
Just then, the church doors swung open, and Captain Roland entered briskly. His face was filled with a grim expression, and he sat down at the table without a word.
"Is His Majesty okay with it?" The prime minister asked calmly.
Captain Roland nodded. "Yes. The Paladin Order and the Magic Academy can now be fully mobilized under my command. Some of the ministers in the military are still doubtful, but with our joint request, it shouldn't be a major issue. There's no need for them to know about it; it would only add more panic."
After a brief pause, the prime minister sighed lightly. "All right. It's up to us now."
On the round table, a massive magical map was displayed, a miniature version of the world rendered in intricate detail. This map, once a treasure from the ancient Elven Empire, was a piece of magic so precious it had never before been shown to humans. In the center of the map, a small black mist was slowly moving.
"To be honest, I find it hard to believe that there's an undead army so powerful that we can't defeat it with all the strength we've gathered here," Granden, the Tower Master, stroked his thick beard, his eyes never leaving the magical map. Beside him, the Tower Master Edwina, also seemed transfixed, her gaze locked on the ancient Elven magic artifact.
The two Tower Masters of Tooth Tower seemed to be the most at ease in the room. They were still wary of the Pope and Lancelote, and if it weren't for the destruction of Celeste, Captain Roland's urgent invitation, and the strong reactions from the Whispering Forest, they might not have even appeared here.