Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 632 - 631: Divine Calamity

The Artificial God opened its eyes for the first time.

They were eyes indescribable with mere words, translucent like crystals, yet within them, countless radiant lights gathered, encapsulating an ultimate beauty and purity in their massive gaze. However, these eyes held no emotion—they simply observed, observing the mortals floating boldly ahead, issuing provocations. There was neither hostility nor friendliness in their sight, not even a whisper of curiosity or care.

Beltira felt a faint sting in her eyes and brain. She hadn’t even met the gaze of the deity, yet just seeing those eyes from afar already gave her a sense of mental shock. However, she did not avert her gaze; instead, she consciously confronted the unfolding events—all those standing on the floating island, black-robed priests included, did not look away.

The Archbishop calmly faced the eyes of the deity, then stepped forward, gradually enveloped by a layer of fantasized light, as if already merging with the sacred glows surrounding the Artificial God.

The final defiance, the ultimate negation and resistance against the deity, its final step was to inject humanity into the deity, thereby erasing divinity...

Humans will break free from the shackles created by divinity, gaining the power for free development, and a deity standing in the human camp will be born from the ritual, becoming the first weapon for mortals to resist the gods.

The Archbishop’s body slowly dissolved into the light, a dim glow steadily penetrating the forehead of the Artificial God. Beltira felt blood seeping from the corner of her eyes, yet she still fixed her gaze unblinkingly at everything, at the ceremony reaching its final step.

The Dark Hierarchs bowed their heads, chanting ancient prayers in unison. Those prayers once praised the supreme power of Amon, the God of Nature, but now, they contained an infinite lowly repression as if a funeral ballad, announcing that one of the divine seats would be completely ended today.

Oblivion, even for gods—In a world where none can escape annihilation, the fallen druid priests no longer seek any eternal or supreme power. They have forsaken reverence for the gods, naturally no longer yearning for that divine seat. They don’t intend to create a god, nor to become a god themselves; their real aim is—to turn a god into a human.

Beltira gently brushed her hand over the rough covering of the Ultimate Tome, softly saying, "The divine seat of the God of Nature will become history. Regardless of where Amoen, the Giant Stag, ultimately fell, regardless of the means by which the gods resurrected themselves in every Samsara, from now on, at least this divine seat will exist no more..."

The infinite brilliance in mid-air finally completely merged into the body of the Artificial God. A deep breath broke the silence of the ceremony site. Beltira awakened from contemplation. She lifted her head, filled with delight and expectation, as she saw the Artificial God slowly closing its eyes.

After a moment of quiet, those eyes finally slowly opened.

Within only endless chaos and madness.

...

A grand magical barrier surrounded the former Empire’s borders, the wasteland within remained unchanged.

The dark, profound cloud layers sank heavily like they were filled with lead; chaotic gusts howled freely from every angle, dust danced, obscuring the sky. Streams of energy lightning surged through the clouds and dust storms, emitting constant deep rumbles and bright flashes.

In this frequent "energy storm" on the wasteland, the wandering trees moved their intricate roots, the entire forest squirmed, creeping onto a hill covered by black crystalline boulders.

A more massive energy arc flashed, its intense light nearly spanning the entire sky. In the ensuing deep rumble, innumerable gigantic aberrations lingering around the forest became agitated, roaring towards the sky while swiftly seeking refuge within the forest.

In the forest’s center, an old tree swayed its boughs, wrinkles spread across its bark revealing a shriveled, horrifying face. This face looked north, toward the Anzu Kingdom.

Yet another energy arc cut across the sky, amidst the pale glow, this leader of the Wanderers issued a low, raspy laugh.

"Inject humanity...

"Poor Archbishop, do you think when you reach the divine kingdom and witness the deity’s knowledge, you can still hold onto your humanity?"

Rustling came from beside, another giant tree moved its roots, passing by, similarly low and husky voice emerged in the air: "Oh God... gods lack no humanity..."

"It matters not to us," the leader of the Wanderers slowly said, "The shackles forced upon us have been lifted. We can finally end this endless wandering and self-exile—time to begin our own plan, set course for the old imperial capital, in the Well of Deep Blue there’s the energy we need, there we’ll complete the last step in embracing the new world."

"Yes, Archbishop."

...

The monsters attacking from the southeast of the plains went insane.

It seemed as if some unknown force simultaneously influenced the minds of all the Crystal Cluster monsters, or perhaps the Crystal Cluster Commanders fell into madness at the same time. What was once an orderly, disciplined monster army transformed overnight into a chaotic beast wave.

Seemingly endless numbers of monsters surged continuously from the direction of the plains, driven by instinct to assault the defenses of St. Soniel city. Seen from above, one could only see black tides churning, the shaking earth, countless crystals shimmering under the daylight in frenzied insanity; arcane lightning leaped among these monsters, continuously gathering into powerful spears of concentrated energy, like battering rams, bombarding St. Soniel’s barrier and outer walls repeatedly, filling the outer city and even the inner city with blood-curdling roars and explosions!

Knights defending the city rushed along the high walls, repelling those attempting to climb. Soldiers, tense and fearful, gathered near catapults and large crossbows. Under their commanders’ yells, they continuously launched burning stones and bolts at the enemy tide.

The sky was ominously dark, with howling winds carrying sporadic raindrops and an unusual chill for this season. The dark sky seemed to reflect even heavier human hearts. In this dim twilight, even the most valiant and battle-hardened legion was swiftly losing morale, though the knights continually urged their inspiring powers with little effect.

Yet whenever the soldiers’ stamina and morale dropped to a certain extent, a grand curtain of light would illuminate on the walls, mingling with a sacred ethereal echo. This curtain seemed to momentarily disperse the gloom of the sky, and in that fleeting, dreamlike illusion of light and warmth, the knights and soldiers regained their strength and charged up the walls once more...

The fierce wind blew across the upper levels of the castle, suddenly flinging open the windows that had not been tightly shut. Cold raindrops and chilling winds rushed inside, prompting the frightened maid to dash to close the windows, fearing that even a second’s delay would result in punishment—even though the room’s master was currently not present.

The windows had just been closed for two seconds when the door suddenly swung open, and two figures strode inside. These figures were fully armed, still wrapped in the cold aura of the outside, having spent too long in the wind and rain, bringing it with them into the room. As the door swung open, the maid even suspected that the windows she had just closed had been blown open again.

"Your Highness, the Duke."

"Hmm, you may leave now."

"Yes."

The maid departed the room respectfully yet swiftly, while the two figures approached the desk and high-backed chair. One of them, clad in silver armor with gold-trimmed patterns, came to rest in the largest velvet chair, removing his helmet and casually tossing it onto the nearby table, revealing the face of Wales Moen underneath.

"The barrier has stabilized for now. With additional energy supplied from the magic focal point in West City District, the Great Shield of St. Soniel should persist for a while," Wales Moen glanced at the Duke of the West who had entered with him, "The priest clergy of the cathedral have also gone promptly to the walls; the morale and recuperation issues of the soldiers are being alleviated."

"But those monsters are becoming increasingly dreadful," said Baldwin Franklin, the Duke of the West, who wore a dark blue robe embroidered with star-like patterns; beneath the robe, glimpses of chain mail could be seen, adding a touch of martial spirit to the somewhat scholarly duchess, "They’ve lost their organization, yet have become more ferocious and unafraid. On the plains battlefield, this is a weakness, but at this very moment, they wield a massive numerical advantage, creating a siege situation that becomes perilous."

Wales pondered in silence for a moment before suddenly asking, "When can the West Frontier Corps arrive?"

"Within two days—they are already near Flatwater Lake," Baldwin Franklin shared, "Rest assured, Your Highness, they will ease the situation."

"I know... But my greatest concern isn’t St. Soniel," Wales hurriedly continued, "Please inform your army to allocate half their forces to establishing a defense along the west bank of the Gorgon River, laying it from north to south..."

Baldwin instantly understood, "You’re worried those monsters might cross the river?"

"As you said," Wales slowly nodded, "Those monsters are insane now, their actions no longer follow logic... When they were still an army, they focused on attacking target strongholds and acted with clear commands and discipline. But now they’re mad... If vast numbers of roaming monsters cross the river, enter the western Plains of the Holy Spirits, the consequences will be dire."

"I will arrange it immediately," Baldwin Franklin nodded. He then mentioned something else, "Your Highness, I’ve received news that about a month ago, the southern army departed rocky ridges Fortress, and they are operating in the southern plains, seemingly also opposing those monsters—due to disrupted messages, the intelligence has only just arrived, and the specific circumstances are unclear."

"... Cecil..." Wales murmured this name faintly, then shook his head, "Too far away, we’ll have to rely on ourselves first."

Baldwin Franklin quietly observed Wales for several seconds before speaking, "Not everyone can remain steadfast—the inner-city aristocracy is now severely shaken, and the aristocrats in the royal capital have already split into two factions, advocating either holding steady or abandoning the city and fleeing almost evenly. Their disputes have even begun to impact the stability of the pioneering knights—many knights not only swear loyalty to the royal family but are also members of various noble families who are now planning their escape."

"Abandon the city, abandon the city... abandon it and flee to where?" Wales clenched his fist bitterly, "St. Soniel is currently the last fortress on the central axis of the Plains of the Holy Spirits. Once it’s broken, those monsters can sweep in to pollute the entire Western Plains! The Western Plains is the breadbasket, vast and defenseless, no fortress here is as sturdy as even one of St. Soniel’s towers—abandoning this place is tantamount to abandoning the entire Anzu, escaping would only mean a slow death. Do they intend to seek refuge in the tribal country of Augari?!"

"... I’m afraid so, my dear prince," Baldwin Franklin slowly replied, "The tribal country of Augari, Violet Kingdom, perhaps even the northern barbarian lands... Those advocating fleeing may have already packed at home, finding a landing spot in these countries."

"..."

For a long period afterward, Wales Moen said nothing.

Baldwin Franklin merely quietly regarded him, watching the crown prince who had been away from the Silver Castle for many years, also remaining silent.

Minutes later, Wales stood up, reaching for the helmet on the adjacent table and slowly wearing it.

Baldwin’s gaze followed Wales’ action, "Where are you going?"

"Back to the walls again."

"The presence of the crown prince on the frontlines indeed inspires the soldiers, but under the current circumstances, your frequent appearances may not sufficiently offset the danger you face."

With his back to the Duke of the West, Wales paused his steps for half a second, but in the end, he said nothing and still walked out of the study.

Baldwin Franklin quietly watched the direction of Wales’ departure and only after a long pause did he whisper:

"Of course, if you’re not just inspecting the walls... then that’s another matter entirely."