Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 631 - 630: Mysterious Voyage, Final Defiance

The talisman in Victoria’s hand glimmered with a faint golden hue, its uniquely textured surface lying somewhere between metal and some kind of crystal. As dim light brushed over it, a thin, shifting halo emerged on its surface—no natural or man-made material known to humans exhibited such a peculiar texture, and Gawain was intimately familiar with them.

This was the material of the Eternal Stone Slate, the same as the remains and fragments surrounding the body of Amoen the Giant Stag, suspected to be left behind by high civilization fleets—an ancient alloy!!

However, the talisman in Victoria’s hand was distinctly different from those primordial "fragments": it bore clear marks of human processing, featuring magic symbols utilized by humans, alongside the emblem of the Wilder Clan!

As far as Gawain knew, humanity hadn’t found any means to process the "Eternal Stone Slate" over these centuries, let alone melt and reforge it—breaking off a fragment was beyond their reach—even during the starfire era of the Gondor Empire, Kamel and his colleagues could barely cut the remnants near Amoen the Giant Stag using advanced Gondor equipment!!

So how was the talisman in Victoria’s hand crafted?!

"...This talisman was forged six hundred years ago by Duke Modir Wilder," Victoria, surprised by Gawain’s intense curiosity about her family talisman, nonetheless answered honestly, "Its name is ’Cold Disaster.’ As you said, its material is much like the Eternal Stone Slate, but it wasn’t made from it... Where precisely Duke Modir Wilder obtained these materials, and where he completed the forging of the talisman, remain a mystery to this day... I only know it was related to a sea expedition."

Upon hearing the phrase "sea expedition," Gawain’s heart stirred, prompting him to ask, "A sea expedition?"

"Yes," Victoria nodded, "The family archives record that Duke Modir Wilder was an avid explorer and a powerful Legendary Mage. In his early years, he traveled across the entire Northern Continent, and in his later years, after passing the duke title to his heir, he even challenged the Endless Sea—no one knows where he went. The family records just mention that when he returned, he carried the ’Cold Disaster’ talisman, and the talisman was supposedly forged in a place far from the continent..."

A mysterious voyage, an adventure unknown to all, challenging the Endless Sea without the Church of Storms, without a marine guide...

While lacking concrete evidence, Gawain was immediately reminded of that missing segment of memory that had been absent since he inherited the body, of Gawain Cecil’s own mysterious voyage.

Seven hundred years ago, Gawain Cecil, as the founding king of Anzu, similarly embarked on an inexplicable sea voyage. No one knew what he encountered; Gawain only knew that he had entered the realm of the sea demons and brought back mysterious crystals from a place called the "Sea of Eternal Darkness." These crystals helped Gawain re-establish contact with a satellite in orbit;

Six hundred years ago, Duke Modir Wilder experienced something similar, bringing back the Cold Disaster talisman—a talisman theoretically impossible for contemporary human technology to craft, made of some ancient alloy.

Gawain had always been concerned about the gaps in the memories he inherited, instinctively feeling they concealed a significant secret, but he had never found any clues, which had pushed the matter to the back of his mind. Today, however, he felt he had discovered a thread—despite the hundred years between Modir Wilder and Gawain Cecil, the similar seafaring experiences and mysterious "findings" clearly had a connection, prompting him to continue probing further, "Is there really no additional record on this within the Wilder family?"

Victoria coughed lightly, seemingly not yet recovered from the weakness caused by the Cold Disaster, and after a brief contemplation, shook her head, "There isn’t. Modir was one of the Wilder ancestors who left relatively fewer records. He was enthusiastic about traveling, yet during his tenure as a duke, there weren’t many noteworthy events, and the family records, which focus more on formal accounts, rarely mentioned his adventurous experiences. It is said that there was a journal written by Modir Wilder himself that recorded many of his adventurous experiences, which was also considered his diary, but that journal was lost long ago..."

"I see..." Gawain sighed, quite disappointed by this but had to accept it as the truth.

Victoria hesitated momentarily before proactively saying, "If you’re sincerely interested in this matter, I can search the library in Bitter Winter Castle for some collateral records once we return."

"Sure," Gawain nodded, then turned his gaze to the busy soldiers, "But first, we need to resolve this disaster..."

In Red Maple City, the command node of the Crystal Cluster Legion had been destroyed, rendering the entire Red Maple District and areas such as The White City, Fertile Woods, and Slanting Forest Valley paralyzed. This catastrophe conjured up by the Oblivion Association encountered unprecedented devastation. However, the end of the Red Maple battle didn’t mean Gawain could breathe a sigh of relief.

This Crystal Cluster Army was immense. The monster crafted by the Oblivion Association did not have just one command center. The forces attacking St. Soniel, those situated in the eastern area of the Gigantic Tree Path Entrance, and those dispersed in the vast Plains of the Holy Spirits each had different command nodes. Losing one at the Red Maple meant that other giants would still persist in their actions.

The main forces stationed far within Red Maple had already established positions and begun clearing out the Crystal Cluster Infectors, currently in a confused, weakened state, surging from various directions. Owing to the collapse of the Red Maple node, the infectors throughout the region were driven by their last mental command to plunge themselves into the fire network woven by the Burners and Rail Cannons — based on experience, this process would persist for at least a day or so.

The Inland River Fleet, having completed its artillery support task, had finally docked for repair — they needed to fix the damaged Magic Energy Wingboards.

"We encountered a genuinely threatening attack," Byron on the Magic Web Communication Terminal was explaining the brief interruption of artillery fire and the damage to the Magic Energy Wingboards, "A group of Crystal Cluster Monsters submerged themselves at the riverbed, suddenly surfacing after the fleet fired, attempting to breach our hulls."

Gawain hadn’t known that those powerful battleships nearly ran into trouble, and upon hearing Byron’s report, he was visibly startled, urgently asking, "Then what?"

"Fortunately, there were steel plates at the bottom of the ships, along with watertight compartments, so that monsters’ initial assault wasn’t successful. I then ordered the ships to disengage half of the mechanical structures of the Magic Energy Wingboards, submerging the Waste Energy Release Grids into the water, creating a wide-ranging Arcane Explosion underwater. This effectively eliminated those monsters. However, the cost was losing half of the Magic Energy Wingboards, and each small ship suffered varying degrees of damage in the Arcane Explosion. One modified gunboat was severely damaged and has lost all power... The blame for this loss lies with me."

Even such a seasoned Knight, when faced with the responsibility of the fleet being attacked and damaged, showed no inclination to shirk it. However, Gawain abruptly interrupted him: "You bear no responsibility for this incident. Your response was adequate, circumventing greater losses—besides, we’ve gleaned invaluable experience from this. Compile a detailed account of the battle process and the operational status of each ship system at that time and transmit it to the Magic Technology Research Institute and the shipyard. Let them utilize it for reference in subsequent renovation plans."

"Understood."

The communication ended, and Gawain couldn’t help but let out a long breath.

One must not become blinded by the smooth progress of the battlefield—even in a military operation as seamlessly executed as this, there lay buried significant lessons to be learned. Should these lessons remain unheeded, the next time they manifest, it might just be a lethal situation!

The Crystal Cluster Giants, even as they were being systematically crushed, managed to devise an effective counter-method, while Gawain had been primarily focusing on combating those on land and above sea, overlooking the threat of enemy assaults from underwater!

It wasn’t that he lacked the concept of underwater combat, but rather he hadn’t considered it. He hadn’t expected, in the backdrop of this era, while facing a group of infected monsters, to encounter the challenges of underwater combat!

It’s akin to a fully armed modern soldier fighting a primitive man wielding a wooden stick— the soldier wouldn’t deem it necessary to seek extra cover and insulate himself, but that primitive man swung his stick, and conjured a spherical lightning...

If it weren’t for the fact that those Crystal Cluster Giants had only flesh and blood, if the enemy also possessed weapons and equipment similar to Cecil’s, or even just half a generation behind, then those enemies lurking underwater to ambush the battleships might truly be able to sink the Inland River Fleet’s warships.

At this moment, Victoria’s voice suddenly came from beside, interrupting Gawain’s thoughts: "Has something happened?"

The Duke of the North had just had a simple meal, followed by a brief rest and meditation, and was now considerably refreshed. Seeing Gawain’s serious expression, she thought that something might have gone wrong at the front lines.

Meanwhile, she also noticed the small Magic Web Terminal in front of Gawain—she had seen larger machines fixed to the ground in Cecil Castle, and now she was seeing a portable smaller machine, her gaze couldn’t help but carry a hint of admiration and yearning.

If the Anzu Kingdom’s military had such devices back then, perhaps the situation wouldn’t have worsened so severely... At the very least, she could quickly gather the yet-uninfected troops, preventing most of the troops far from The White City from fighting isolated battles and becoming transformed into Crystal Cluster Giants...

But she was just thinking—she knew that Gawain never minded spreading these advanced things, as long as the price was right, yet the aristocrats of the kingdoms might not accept these things that could potentially shake their authority, especially the mage families that controlled the communication Towers and the plains aristocrats who bred gryphons might try to block this technology with all their might.

"Nothing much, just a minor issue," Gawain noticed Victoria’s gaze and could somewhat guess what she was thinking, but did not reveal it, "We’ll rest here for a day and then continue pushing north—the Crystal Cluster Legion might have already started attacking the royal capital, hopefully St. Soniel can hold on until we arrive."

"It’s crucial that they know reinforcements are coming," Victoria immediately said, "I... am very familiar with the aristocrats of the royal capital, without news of reinforcements, they probably can’t hold out for even three days—even if they have the most fortified stronghold in all of Anzu."

"... My view of the aristocrats of the royal capital is highly aligned with yours."

...

In the dark and deep abyss underground, crimson lava surged and rolled at the base of the cliffs, while priests of the Oblivion Association, clad in black or dark green priestly robes, gathered beside the gigantic body of the fake god, watching from afar every breath of this Artificial God.

The massive stag-like body was now almost fully matured, shrouded in a layer of vast and sacred radiance covering its enormous and graceful body surface, its pure white fur unmarred by any dirt, constantly floating with various mysterious magic symbols and sacred marks. It seemed ready for its arrival into the mortal world, yet a final layer of chains still bound this Artificial God’s body—

The chains entangled its neck, linked between its antlers, with the magic symbols shimmering on the chains. Powerful seals and suppressive forces restrained the awakening impulses of the Artificial God.

Facing the body of the fake god, on an elevated platform floating in mid-air, two figures were gazing at the stag’s body from afar.

One figure was a female priest, half human, half tree, while the other was a man cloaked in a simple black robe, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood.

"Archbishop, Xidon is dead." Beltira Augustus slightly turned her head and spoke to the man beside her.

The Archbishop nodded slightly, a hoarse and suppressed voice coming from under his hood: "I felt it..."

"We’ve lost an important pillar on the Plains of the Holy Spirits," Beltira continued, "The Cecil Clan will certainly continue to push north. Their aggression, destructiveness, and military power are shocking."

After a brief silence, the Archbishop sighed lightly: "Perhaps it is better this way... Cecil is even stronger than I expected. If this path doesn’t work for us, they might be another path... One more path means mortals have one more card to play."

"... If your words were to spread, they would undoubtedly cause unease."

"Perhaps, but before leaving this world, I hope to speak as a ’human’ rather than as the half-divine, half-human Archbishop," the Archbishop said hoarsely. Then he slightly turned his head, his face still hidden under the hood, yet a pale hand extended out from the robe, holding up a hefty tome, "Keep this book safe."

"The Ultimate Tome..." Beltira looked at the book with a complex expression, "All answers are hidden within its pages..."

"But perhaps there are answers outside of the pages too, such as the Wanderers from Outer Realm," the Archbishop said softly, watching Beltira as she took the book, "Prepare the ritual; Red Maple has already been destroyed, our time is limited."

The floating platform slowly descended towards the magma lake below, connecting with the large floating island where the priests of the Oblivion Association were located. Upon seeing the Archbishop stepping off the platform, the priests present fell silent in unison.

Hundreds of years of planning have finally reached this point. At this indescribable moment, all thrilling slogans and words seemed powerless and frail. No one cheered, nor did anyone applaud. These priests who had fallen into darkness merely retreated respectfully, bowing slightly, watching that plain black-robed Archbishop step by step into the air, step by step towards the body of the Artificial God.

The Final Defiance ritual.

The greatest defiance, the greatest denial, and confrontation mortals have made against God.

Beltira looked up, watching as the Archbishop approached the forehead of the Holy Giant Stag, that black-robed figure opened his arms, his hoarse voice echoing throughout the Flesh Abyss.

"God, open your eyes, be prepared to embrace your humanity!!"

Then, the Holy Giant Stag opened its eyes.