Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 136: Girl

The gods were dead.

The names of the gods were indeed mentioned in those messy and broken communication records, and the contents of those records allowed one to piece together a shocking battle of hunting the gods. According to the records, the gods were almost at an overwhelming disadvantage in the battle. Instead of calling it a battle, it was more like the gods were being exterminated one by one in a planned manner. And all the various gods of the respective big sects known to Gawain were amongst them.

Thus, the gods were dead — then what exactly was it that the millions of mortal believers in this world were worshiping every day?!

What was it that had responded to the mortals’ prayers? What was it that was controlling the flow of divine power? What was it that was bestowing all kinds of miracles? What was it — that sent concealed and indescribable whispers when the believers were meditating and sent ‘divine messages’ one after another through the murmurs?!

When those pious priests prayed sincerely, they would hear murmurs from the Divine Realm in the depths of their hearts. If those murmurs weren’t from the gods at all, their source gave one the shivers.

Following that, Gawain was reminded of the ‘White Starfall incident’ that caused the druid sect to divide and descend into the druid factions.

An incident that happened 3,000 years ago. Even to the Gondor Empire that flourished for a period, it was also an ‘ancient incident’ that exceeded the precision of history. It was very difficult for humankind, who were fickle and had a short lifespan, to record such ancient incidents very clearly, but the main lineage of the druid sect came from the elves. The long-lived elves were able to record such incidents from thousands of years ago crystal clear.

In the historical books of the elves, ‘White Starfall’ was a ‘dark miracle’ that only the druids had observed and sensed. Back then, an identical illusion had appeared to all druids. They saw the sky divide into two; the dark starlit sky seemed to descend to a height where it seemed within reach, while the dazzling white stars shook violently in the starry sky and fell to the ground. —— But other than the druids, all the laymen then had not seen anything land on the ground.

As such, the White Starfall was treated as a gigantic-scale, collective illusion. However, as it was on a really tremendous scale and the incident itself involved the gods, the scholars didn’t dare to carelessly use ‘illusion’ to brush it aside. In turn, they explained it as a meteorite shower happening at an even higher level that was parallel to the current era. They believed that something had fallen from the Divine Realm and landed in the narrow zone between the mortal world and the Divine Realm, and laymen who did not possess spiritual gifts were naturally unable to sense it. This was the ‘White Starfall’.

But regardless of the truth of White Starfall, the druid theurgies had become invalid after that incident.

Gawain initially believed that White Starfall was the fall of the God of Nature, but the information in the Eternal Stone Slate fragment was making him doubt this now: the history of the Eternal Stone Slate was far more aged than the White Starfall event!

These faint gold metal plates first appeared in the first pioneering era, an ancient era tens of thousands of years ago, and the true shaping or birth time of the Eternal Stone Slate could only be even older than that. In other words, before mortals built civilization on this vast land, the gods recorded in the Eternal Stone Slate were already completely annihilated!

So what were the white stars that fell from the sky during the druid’s collective illusion 3,000 years ago? The God of Nature whose corpse was already cold got up and died again?

Gawain sunk into deep thought while facing the Eternal Stone Slate fragment.

……

Meanwhile, in a forest far from the Dark Range and the Leslie territory, big masses of vines suddenly crawled out from underground and tangled and swelled to form a huge sack. Moments later, the sack burst open, and a stumbling figure wormed out of it.

This figure was draped in a long black robe that was now in tattered strips. Short brown hair stuck messily to his scalp. He was emaciated and pale, with a depressed gaze. His entire right arm had been blown off at the root. That horrifying wound was currently being covered in a ball of squirming flesh and blood, proceeding with an arduous regeneration.

This was the Oblivion Association heretic cult believer who narrowly escaped from Tanzan Town.

The severe trauma on his body, mental exhaustion, together with an endless escape distance, all these made the middle-aged man who could originally be called a powerhouse extremely weak. He stumbled through the forest on unsteady steps, and following his steps, those bushes and weeds that brushed past his body all withered and decayed, dying in the blink of an eye as if their vitality had been drawn away out of thin air.

After absorbing the life of these vegetation, some color finally returned to the middle-aged man’s face. He stopped before a piece of big rock and looked down at the symbol carved on it using a sharp weapon: a mass of withered curling brambles.

Seeing the symbol of the Oblivion Association, the middle-aged heretic used his remaining left hand to take out a wooden whistle, but before he could blow it, he heard the rustle of leaves from his surroundings. Lots of fallen leaves were swept up by a fierce wind and condensed into a hazy figure on the big rock. Only as the fallen leaves fell away did that figure gradually become clearer — a tall and slender woman with long dark-green hair. Her skin was pale with pretty features. She was dressed in clothes that resembled the long robes of a priest, but all sacred religious symbols on the robe had been erased. Under the hem of the long robes, what was revealed wasn’t a pair of human legs, but frightening ‘limbs’ that seemed like entangling tree roots.

“A disgraceful failure, Mr. Bard,” the tall and slim woman with long dark green locks spoke. The noise of dead leaves cracking seemed to be mixed in her voice. “As it turned out, your confidence is blind.”

“Gawain Cecil really successfully resurrected, and he acted to ruin my operation.” Though the middle-aged heretic called ‘Bard’ was respectful, he wasn’t cowardly or lowly. He explained while standing tall and upright, “Madam Beltira, his powers exceeded what was estimated. I even suspect that he hasn’t lost any combat experience!”

“If he was really as powerful as he was back then, you wouldn’t have even been able to exhale your second breath in time after you met him,” the tall and slender woman said unreservedly but changed the topic immediately. “But the fact that he could easily defeat you goes to say that he is indeed not as weak as I’d imagined at the very start…”

“How could this be?” Bard’s voice was filled with doubt. “Didn’t you say that his soul had been annihilated. Even if his body was left behind or he resurrected, he would become a disabled person or even an undead?”

“He has come into contact with those ‘revelation articles’ before and even once interacted with an ancient soul. No one knows what kind of knowledge and power he’d gained from this process,” Beltira said indifferently, yet an unusual emotion was revealed in her eyes. That was an expression of dread mingled with rue. “So no one knows whether his actions now stem from a certain ancient guidance… In short, you don’t need to go into the matters related to him.”

“I understand.” Bard nodded, his head finally bowing slightly. “Then what do we do next? Leave him alone?”

“Leaving him alone would do, including that Eternal Stone Slate fragment. Put it down too,” Beltira said in an aloof voice. “The war between Typhon and Anzu is nearing. We’ve prepared for hundreds of years for this day. We cannot let a disturbance result because of any issue.”

Bard nodded. “I understand.”

Beltira nodded lightly but then glanced at the squirming flesh and blood on Bard’s right shoulder. “When this arm of yours is done growing, go to Typhon, to the Quicksand Shore, to join the local congregation and head to the waters of the Sons of the Storm. The Archbishop arranged for you all to go help them as envoys of the Oblivion Association.”

“Sons of the Storm? Those believers of the God of Storms?” Bard frowned. “They rarely seek help from the outside world…”

“They’ve provoked the sea demons in the Eastern waters,” Beltira explained coolly.

Bard’s gaze turned serious. He did not say more, only lowered his head slightly to indicate his acceptance of the order.

Fierce winds rose once more. Withered fallen leaves spiraled and wrapped around Beltira’s figure. Her body gradually broke into bits and dissipated from bottom up in the whirlwind of fallen leaves. However, before her upper body disintegrated, her eyes landed on the broken sword at Bard’s waist. A slightly distorted voice came from the whirlwind. “Bard Wendell, your obsession with the past will block your path to the truth. If you wish to go further on the path of a withered priest, you’d best put down your sword…”

Beltira’s voice vanished with her figure. Only a gradually dissipating magical power was left behind. Bard stood before the falling leaves, only letting out a sneer after a long time; then he turned and slowly stepped into the depths of the forest.

Remnants of magical power wiped away the symbol of the Oblivion Association on the big rock. Finally, not a trace remained here.

……

New Cecil Territory.

Gawain ultimately decided to temporarily seal up the Eternal Stone Slate fragment and concentrate his attention on the construction of the territory.

The secret of the gods was indeed tempting; the truth that ‘the gods were dead’ was probably enough to rock the order of the entire world. However, Gawain had sobered up. This wasn’t a domain that he could engage and interfere with right now. Besides, this major truth was unable to bring any gains to him anytime soon.

The gods were dead; this truth was indeed appalling, yet it could only be appalling. So what if he was aware of this truth? In this world and era, before he had enough power, even if he’d grasped the laws of the universe, it would only be the mad claims of a mad person. He could not find anyone to tell this secret to, so much so that if he shared it, it would incur unnecessary attention and hostility. Thus, for the smooth and steady development of the territory, he chose to bury this matter at the bottom of his heart for now.

Putting the stone slate fragment away, Gawain brought out the rune logic materials that he had copied from Jenni Perot and prepared to continue with the learning and research that he had yet to complete previously.

However, not long after he settled down, the curtain of the tent was lifted by someone. — Sir Byron dashed in, and he was wearing an extremely odd expression.

There was nervousness but also surprise, but most of it was helplessness, embarrassment, and awkwardness.

Say, this wily old knight’s face was quite expressive.

“What has you in a flurry?” Gawain lifted his head and looked at the middle-aged knight. “Amber was beaten up by Rebecca? Or was Rebecca beaten up by Heidi?”

“Neither!” Sir Byron’s face was covered in bewilderment and discomfort. He rubbed his hands with force. “Lord, I… I’m afraid I can’t adopt that mute child anymore…”

“Can’t adopt?” Gawain paused his movement of flipping and reading the materials, fixing his gaze on Byron. “You can’t speak of that carelessly. You are a knight, and I was the one who witnessed it when you decided to adopt the child.”

“But… but that child…” The expression on Byron’s face was pure awkwardness. “She’s a girl!”

“Ha… Ah?”

[1] control group – the group in a study that does not receive treatment and is used as a benchmark against participants in the experimental group.