# Chapter 5: Surging Shadows
"Please, have a seat."
Within a shrine built entirely of rock and white glowstone crystals at the center of a small town named Aryan, the heroic spirit swordsman returned to his seat—a sword tomb at the shrine's center, embedded with a stone longsword—leaving only a voice tinged with ethereal resonance echoing through the hall.
Accompanying the spirit's words, a wooden chair placed in the corner was moved by an invisible force, positioning itself behind the warrior.
Joshua sat down without ceremony, then looked around the shrine with curiosity.
From the town's name, the names of other villagers, and the name of this Ultimate Peak-level heroic spirit, the warrior could roughly deduce the situation—this entire mountain village consisted of descendants of this Aryan Astorea. His name had become the town's name, and he relied on his descendants' worship to become a heroic spirit, guarding his bloodline in this undead apocalypse.
This was easy to deduce, and neither the swordsman nor the villagers made any attempt to hide it. It seemed this situation was normal for the Grandia World.
The deep mountain night always carried a hint of chill, but within the shrine, crystals flickered, releasing magically warm light. Torches on both sides of the sword tomb burned with everlasting flames, radiating waves of heat. From within the trapezoidal altar-like sword tomb, the old swordsman's calm voice emerged: "To reduce consumption, I won't manifest physically. I hope you can understand, guest."
"I naturally have no objection."
Sitting in the chair, the warrior shrugged. With the system's help, his proficiency in the Grandia World common tongue was increasing rapidly: "But to be honest, Mr. Aryan, I can tell you don't welcome me, so I won't stand on ceremony. Don't worry—as long as you can answer some of my questions, I'll naturally leave and not disturb your peaceful life."
An Ultimate-level warrior's observational skills were incredibly sharp. The old swordsman's faint distance and indifference in his expression weren't hidden; anyone could see it.
"Unwelcoming? Not quite. But facing a 'Heavenly Realm' expert who suddenly appeared and claimed to be from another world, a mere mountain town would naturally feel extremely fearful. Even if that expert harbored no ill intentions, it's like a rabbit fearing an elephant passing by its nest."
From the sword tomb, Aryan's calm voice sounded. His reply was simple and direct, which was precisely a display of sincerity: "Warrior Joshua, you saved my descendant's life. So as long as you ask, I will do my utmost to answer, guarantee no omissions, and attempt no concealment. I swear by my spiritual essence—these words are not false."
The old swordsman used ancient Grandia common tongue, whose grammar and sentence structures differed considerably from the modern version. Even locals sometimes struggled to understand, but for Joshua with his system dictionary, there was no difference. Hearing Aryan's words, the warrior didn't hesitate, asking directly: "What is the geographical situation of this world like? Where is this town located? Why are there so many shadow monsters appearing in the wilderness?"
"This world is called Grandia, named after the first explorer to travel the continent. I'll have someone bring you a continental map later. This town is located at the southeastern edge of the continent. A bit further east or south, you'll reach the Green Tide Sea."
Aryan's words were calm and clear. He seemed afraid the warrior wouldn't understand, occasionally pausing to explain specialized terms. But when speaking of those shadow monsters Joshua mentioned, the old man's tone finally carried a trace of anger: "As for those 'Death Shadows,' as the name implies, they are naturally shadows produced by the resurrected dead."
Under the other's detailed narration, the warrior finally gained a rough understanding of this world's situation.
About thirty years ago, the entire Grandia Continent was divided and ruled by two powerful empires. The smaller nations caught between them had long lost their autonomy, becoming mere vassals.
One empire occupied the southeast of the continent, the other the northwest. They governed divided by mountains, rivers, and natural fortresses. Because both sides' internal development and contradictions had reached their limits, urgently needing external expansion to divert conflicts, bloody clashes occasionally erupted at the borders, and proxy wars between smaller nations frequently occurred. Over time, the contradictions between the two empires became irreconcilable. Everyone believed a full-scale world war would break out within a year or two.
"And the 'Great Cataclysm' happened then." The old man's emotions returned to stability as he narrated those events in a detached tone.
The Wulan Empire in the northwest had always been renowned for its powerful psionic capabilities. Psionic cultivation had even become universal among its citizens. The vast majority of the populace possessed at least basic-level psionic power, able to freely drive numerous magical instruments. If not for the southeastern Gelu Empire occupying natural fortresses and having three times the population..."
At this point, Aryan had completely lost the peace he showed when conversing with the warrior. He was now like a sword about to be drawn from its sheath—contained but unleased, most dangerous. The flames at the old swordsman's eyes burned fiercely, the light they produced sweeping inch by inch across every void, streaks of cyan light traces extending along his gaze.
And the next moment, a formless, mud-like black shadow emerged from the atmosphere, then condensed into a roughly humanoid dark shape.
"Earth-Splitting Sword Saint Aryan Astorea."
This still-twisting, writhing humanoid black shadow laughed sharply at the old swordsman in a grating, greasy tone: "I am Shifting Shadow Loz, under the Third Commander. By the Lord's order, I come to inquire about some information."
"Third Commander? Seems your ranking has risen again."
Facing this obviously Death Shadow-type monster, Aryan did not attack. He merely closed his eyes with slight disgust and said coldly: "But he promised me—as long as I don't act, he wouldn't disturb my life."
"Hehehehe, how could that be."
The formless shadow named Loz sneered in a piercing voice: "You yourself were born from the 'Ritual'—how could you stand aloof? I'll tell you frankly: the Commander Lords' plans are nearly complete. But at this moment, an incredibly powerful force tore through spacetime, causing an otherworldly being to descend into this world—he is a variable outside the plan, the most dangerous unknown. The Commander is determined to track his whereabouts."
Saying this, the shadow turned to look at the busy but peaceful mountain town. It said sinisterly: "If you still want your descendants to live..."
*Pfft.*
In an instant imperceptible even to thought, the shadow was cleaved in two from the middle.
Aryan still had his eyes closed. His hand hadn't even touched his sword hilt. But even so, another instant later, the so-called Shifting Shadow was struck by countless sword slashes, beaten into mist flying everywhere.
"Even your Grand Commander wouldn't dare threaten me."
He said indifferently: "Get lost."
A dozen seconds later, the flying black mist began sluggishly to coalesce. After this large patch of weapon-thin, nearly non-existent mist reformed, only a fist-sized portion remained. An extremely weak yet venomous voice emerged from it: "No, you won't kill me."
As it spoke, the shadow gradually grew larger: "My true body is a thousand miles away. To kill me through this clone, you'd have to draw your sword."
"But as a heroic spirit, how many times can you go all out? The legendary 'Earth-Splitting Divine Sword' that made mountains tilt northwest and earth split into abysses, causing the Wulan Empire to dare not invade for a century—how many times can you use that 'Saint Domain' power that can break heaven and earth?"
"As long as you don't kill me, I will constantly threaten your descendants. But if you're willing to waste this one sword on a small fry like me—"
Loz laughed viciously in a voice like glass grinding against steel: "I, Loz, would die without regret!"
Taking a deep breath, the old swordsman did not continue attacking.
But he remained silent, firmly locking onto the powerful Death Shadow with his spirit.
"If you won't tell, I have plenty of ways to find him!"
Though his words showed no weakness, Loz was undoubtedly unable to withstand Aryan's oppressive aura. After barely holding on for a dozen seconds, it immediately fled in panic.
Before leaving, this intelligent high-rank Death Shadow still didn't forget to issue a venomous curse: "Just wait, Sword Saint Aryan. One day, you will lose everything you cherish and join our ranks."
"At that time, the Third Commander Lord will still choose to assist you, just as in your lifetime."
A dozen seconds later, Loz completely disappeared beyond the horizon.
And the old swordsman slowly opened his eyes.
Aryan pressed his hand on the hilt of his ancient, lightning-wreathed longsword, falling into prolonged silence.
"What sword was it that made mountains tilt northwest and earth split into abysses?"
After a long time, he whispered to himself, but then the old man shook his head with self-mockery: "There is no more."
The heroic spirit turned, walking slowly toward the small village he had sworn to protect for life. For this, he was willing to go against his own heart, willing to seal his own sword, willing to sit idly by as countless conspiracies unfolded before his eyes.
An artificial river flowed slowly along the village's edge.
Aryan Town was built on a flat mountaintop.
As if something had cut this mountain peak off at the waist.
And the warrior, flying several thousand meters high, paused somewhat puzzledly, scanning his surroundings.
"Strange, I sensed hostility."
He muttered to himself in confusion: "Who's so bold?"