Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 607 - 606: Revival Month

Winter has ended.

In the depths of Pinnacle Base, in a room with windows and doors tightly shut, a Magic Web Terminal was running.

The room was empty, with thick curtains blocking the already dim daylight, rendering the whole space mysteriously dark. The white noise projection from the running Magic Web Terminal cast flickering shadows on the furniture like a lamp of inadequate brightness.

On the only wooden table in the room, a printer connected to the Magic Web Terminal was producing a creaky operating sound. Sheets of white paper were fed into the machine, and information from afar was printed on them and sent to the output tray.

A small pile of printed materials had accumulated at the front of the machine.

Suddenly, the papers on the table floated up, as if lifted by invisible hands, and began to rustle and flip over.

Moments later, the papers were placed back on the table, and the automatically running Magic Web Terminal gradually quieted down. A faint breeze drifted through the empty room, slightly shaking the curtains not far away, and as the room gained a hint more brightness, everything returned to silence.

At the center of the base, Gawain was flipping through technical documents from Bannar, the Elven Mage. Due to a shortened timeline, the Sub-Tower and related facilities in the Cecil Principality were about to be completed ahead of schedule. Currently, the Sub-Tower was undergoing final installations and tuning of magical devices, and several purification nodes were more than halfway finished. To ensure the smooth completion of this crucial project, Gawain dared not relax for a moment.

An invisible breeze suddenly blew into the room. Gawain sensed a familiar presence at the window and casually tossed a paper ball in that direction. With a cry of "Ouch," the next second he saw Amber emerge from the air, clumsily falling off the windowsill.

—The windows of Pinnacle Base were specially made, with narrow and unevenly sealed windowsills, making it impossible to set mouse traps, much to Gawain’s regret.

"What’s happening?" Gawain lifted his eyelids to glance at the half-elf who was getting up from the ground, "It’s rare for you to come over at this hour."

Amber stood up, dusted off her clothes, and came to Gawain’s desk nonchalantly as if nothing had happened: "I just received a batch of intelligence from the north—several things seemed off to me."

"Northern intelligence..." Gawain put down the documents in his hand, "Let’s hear it."

"Since late Fog Month, large-scale evil cult follow cleanup operations have begun in the Eastern Control Zone. Initially, we guessed it might be Prince Edmund’s ’acting,’ speculating that it was meant to cover up other activities. But, according to the latest intel, the Eastern Region’s People have captured hundreds of Followers of Oblivion and destroyed dozens of secret altars where dark rites were held. Preliminary assessments by the intelligence personnel suggest those altars and heterodox evidence are genuine."

"...Seems like the cooperation between Edmund and the Oblivion Association isn’t as close as we thought..." Gawain frowned slightly, "But is such a large-scale reaction from the Eastern Region over just one warning letter from me justifiable? Considering that Edmund had at least some collaboration with the Oblivion Association, for him to act so vigorously on receiving a single warning letter from me is rather suspicious..."

"The more suspicious part is yet to come," Amber said with a strange expression, "Can you believe it—since last month until now, the number of followers of Oblivion captured and secret altars destroyed in the Plains of the Holy Spirits’ royal family control zone by the noble lord is even more than that of the Eastern Region!!"

Gawain blinked, unable to react for a moment, and when he did, his first thought was how could this be—

Northern old nobility suddenly not being incompetent anymore, is there anything more suspicious in this world?!

Did my previous warning letter indeed have such a massive impact? Did the Anzu Kingdom’s aristocracy suddenly come to the realization of the Oblivion Association’s threat and decided to unite against it? Did Victoria Wilder complete the ideological transformation of the old aristocracy overnight?

Gawain would rather believe those exposed Followers of Oblivion committed suicide!

"What exactly happened?" Gawain looked into Amber’s eyes, "I can’t believe those old aristocrats suddenly boosted their efficiency."

Amber, as expected, had more to say: "The reason behind the high efficiency in both the Eastern Region and the royal family nobility is because someone reported them."

"Reported?" Gawain frowned, "Wasn’t it reported by the Intelligence Agency operatives you dispatched?"

"Only the first few instances were reported by our operatives, but starting from the end of the Frost Month, reports surged suddenly. Almost every day, leads about evil cult followers were delivered to the local leaders. The operatives took a long time to uncover the identities of those reporting them—guess who?"

A bizarre thought crossed Gawain’s mind: "...Could it be the Oblivion Association themselves?"

"Exactly, it really is them—and the situation is extremely peculiar!! The reported cases involve sites where dark rites were already performed, and all the Followers of Oblivion who participated had committed suicide during the rituals. So, technically speaking, whether it’s the royal family or the Eastern Region, what they ’caught’ based on the leads were merely the already conducted rituals’ cultist corpses..."

Even before Amber finished speaking, Gawain’s eyebrows suddenly twitched.

So they really did commit suicide...

Then he quickly realized the deeply unsettling eeriness behind this absurd situation—

This closely resembled some kind of concealed, continuous, large-scale sacrifice ritual! Those evil cult followers were offering sacrifices on a massive scale!

Without doubt, Amber, accustomed to dealing with various types of intelligence, also thought of this. The half-elf’s face turned serious: "It seems like a massive scale of sacrifice—over the past two months in the Plains of the Holy Spirits, the cult followers have conducted at least hundreds of dark rites requiring participant suicides. Possibly, over a thousand Followers of Oblivion have completed their sacrifices!"

"Exactly, sacrifice, this is undoubtedly a sacrifice," Gawain’s brows furrowed unconsciously, and he couldn’t help but press down on the table with his hands, his voice low and grave, "But why would they report... to willingly expose those painstakingly built altars and bases after the sacrificial rituals... unless it’s a necessity for the rites... wait, it’s not necessarily the rites!"

It was like a sudden flash of insight illuminated Gawain’s mind. He abruptly lifted his head, staring into Amber’s eyes: "Were all those discovered corpses burned?"

"Only some were burned—the Eastern Region’s People burned about two-thirds, the Royal family nobility perhaps less than a third, with most of the rest thrown into Mass Grave Pit or even tossed outdoors. Although their respective high-ranking leaders had issued orders to burn all corpses and purify all altars with Holy Water, you know how inefficient those lower-level knights and aristocratic Soldiers can be," Amber said while already guessing Gawain’s thoughts, "Do you think those cult followers are using the executed sacrifice ritual corpses as pollution sources?"

"Dark Druids are adept at spreading pestilence through flesh remnants..." Gawain speedily replied, "But something’s still wrong...it doesn’t explain why they had to report after the sacrifices... this counteracts some corpses serving as pollution sources being burned and purified!"

Gawain had already risen from behind his desk, pacing slowly while thinking deeply, trying to unravel the cult followers’ intentions behind publicizing the sacrificed remains, altars, and bases. And in this contemplation, he suddenly thought of something: he considered that both Victoria Wilder and Charlie Moen were ’sensible people’ among the traditional nobility, and he thought of the orders they might give upon receiving reports of evil cultists—

"After discovering evil cultist intelligence, do the local leaders and their Escort Knights have to personally arrive on-site?!"

"Yes, this is an order from Duchess Victoria, and Edmund Moen has issued a similar command to ensure the lower aristocrats and knights don’t just go through the motions, forcing them to at least be present on site..." Amber’s speech slowed down, her words eventually merging into a gasp, "... Oh my God..."

Gawain slowly inhaled: "Something huge is about to happen—when cultists expose their long-established altars and strongholds, it means their ritual is already at the final step."

In his heart, he cursed silently: Damn it, everyone just fell right into the trap!!

Who would have thought that those maniacs, constantly chanting about the end of all things, would end their sacrificial ritual by self-reporting?!

"It’s too late now to warn the Duchess and the Prince; at least half of the noble leaders and knights in the Eastern Plains of the Holy Spirits conflict area may already be infected by something," Amber also realized the dire situation, her tone became urgent, "But do you think Duchess Victoria and Prince Edmund might have realized something was wrong? They’re not foolish..."

"They indeed aren’t stupid, but if the cultists started from grassroots towns, avoiding big cities, bypassing all the royal family lands and secondary fiefdoms, then within just one and a half to two months, information from all sides won’t reach Victoria and Edmund’s ears."

Amber widened her eyes: "Why?"

Gawain looked at her, pronouncing each word meticulously: "Because ’my vassal’s vassal is not my vassal’."

Then he returned to his desk, quickly pulling out a piece of stationery: "No matter if it’s too late or not, we must alert the north—send this letter directly to Rocky Ridges Fortress, have them use the gryphon messengers, the fastest gryphon messengers to deliver the letter to the Anzu Kingdom’s military and Eastern Legion. Also, recall all the Intelligence Agency operatives active in the conflict area back to Rocky Ridges Fortress, temporarily isolated, undergo full checks in divine arts, curses, and diseases before returning to the city. Arrange similar measures for the personnel from the Chamber of Commerce. From today, the Rocky Ridges Fortress and Gran Pass will be completely closed, and all magic sensing towers in the border area are to be set to maximum sensitivity."

He spoke swiftly while writing the emergency letter, then as he pressed his seal, continued: "I must return to Cecil Castle now—you will accompany me back."

Amber blinked: "What about the construction project here?"

"The project here is almost complete; Blues Panstone and Bannar the Magician will ensure its successful completion," Gawain said, "Currently, the most crucial task is to ensure the stability of the southern borders and devise a way to grasp the situation in the north. If the southern borders have issues... then there won’t be any project."

After speaking, Gawain pondered a bit to ensure nothing was overlooked before adding: "Send Sonia’s Messenger to the Western Camp. If the northern situation really deteriorates and Duke Baldwin Franklin has problems, we’ll take over the project at the Western Camp."

He was thinking of those cultists hidden in the wasteland, worried that the northern situation was merely the Oblivion Association’s smokescreen, fearing their true aim was to undermine the barrier.

...

At the same time, Eastern Holy Spirit Plain, royal control zone, small town.

Winter snow is gradually melting; this year’s Revival Month seems warmer than usual. Drizzling meltwater trickles down the roofs and tower tops, soaking nearly every street in the small town. Residents who’ve hidden away all winter step out, placing a stalk of wheat saved from last year at their door, symbolizing hope in Anzu’s tradition, a wish for abundant food in the year ahead.

A pair of elven sisters, almost identical in appearance, stroll through the small town.

Their graceful appearance and luxurious garments, both extraordinary looks and the identity of elves, seem unlikely to belong in such a remote town, yet they wander like familiar acquaintances in the damp street.

Passersby either ignore the noticeable elves or pause to smile and greet them.

"The season of revival is wonderful," the elven sisters said, speaking in unison as they walked, unsure if they were addressing each other or engaging in their unique monologue, "Once the cold days end, new buds will sprout quickly."

A man in soldier armor passed by them, paused subtly, and made a gentlemanly bow: "Indeed, the new buds will sprout soon."

"Your new armor is quite handsome."

The elven sisters laughed cheerfully as they walked briskly through the street.

Streetside, young women tidied the wheat stalks placed at doors; men repaired farm tools; craftsmen drank and chatted; apprentices yawned as they exited buildings, all wearing serene smiles as they greeted the elven sisters.

"Good morning, Ms. Lelena."

"Good morning, Ms. Fyrna."

"Good morning, Uncle Sam—your beard looks splendid."

"Good morning, Aunt Poppy; it’s such a fine day today."

The elven sisters’ smiles were bright and radiant. The farmer, referred to as Aunt Poppy, paused her task, slightly puzzled, but quickly followed with a smile: "Yes, it is indeed a fine day."

"Seeing the sun on the first day of Revival Month denotes a year of fulfilled stomachs," the elven sisters said brightly, "Doesn’t it?"

The farmer’s smile grew even brighter: "Yes, filled stomachs..."

Everyone started to smile radiantly.

Men, women, craftsmen, apprentices, soldiers, common folk—all on the street smiled one after another.

They grinned, revealing rows of crystalline formations gleaming under their lips.

(Hmmmm... begging for monthly votes!!!)