Chapter 22: The Approaching
"Mission?"
Hilja was confused. She had never heard of any mission tied to her, let alone one she had forgotten. But without a doubt, the serious white-haired middle-aged man before the girl would not lie. Instinct made her more willing to doubt herself than to doubt him.
"Yes."
Standing before the blazing sacrificial altar, the man said calmly: "It is not just you. This is the mission belonging to all life in your world."
If Joshua were here, he would surely notice that, compared to the illusion of the young sage within the Azure Orb, the illusion of the sage appearing in Hilja's mind was far more majestic and cold.
Although growth does bring changes in personality, it seemed less like the adult sage was colder than the youth, and more like he was filled with weariness and impatience.
And at this dawn.
Just as Arman Fernandez completely perished, dissolving into countless specks of light.
Just as Hilja, with reverence, listened to the mission of herself and all living beings within the illusion of the Sage's Robe.
In the Grandia World, deep within the four massive and vastly different cities surrounding the Tomb of the Saint in the western center of the continent, four beings of varying forms, yet all immensely powerful, raised their heads in unison. Their gazes seemed to pierce through layers of rock and steel, staring directly into the heights of the sky.
"The Dragon-Slayer Arman has been defeated. His soul imprint has completely dissipated."
Within a colossal fortress composed of countless steel and machines, steam and gears, an old man whose entire body was replaced by various special constructs stood atop a towering observatory. He adjusted his two fully mechanized artificial eyes, his face stern and rigid. The old man stared at the empty center of the sky, then muttered to himself in a synthesized voice: "With the dissipation of a former Saint-realm soul, the 'balance' provided to us has grown significantly."
Turning his head, the old man's artificial eye pupils, made of crystal and magical arrays, adjusted their focus. Standing on this observatory, which could adjust its height and tilt angle at any time with the rotation of gears, he looked down at the bustling crowd working within the fortress.
Countless workers, wearing heavy protective suits, used magical tools that could spew fierce flames to inscribe spell runes onto the steel gear fortress. Numerous mages continuously solidified intangible energy channels in mid-air, connecting many seemingly unconnected runes together, finally forming a whole.
"But this means we must accelerate the pace." He thought to himself: "With the addition of a Saint-realm soul's filling... the final impact is likely imminent."
"I need to preserve as many embers as possible."
And this construct old man, who seemed to know some inside information, turned away from observing the busy workers and mages. He and the entire massive observatory gradually dissolved into scattered gears and parts, finally merging into the entire steel city.
Inside the fortress, pipes circulating magical energy and steam erupted, releasing piercing screeches and bursts of white smoke, which coalesced into clouds above the fortress.
It was as if a giant lifeform was breathing, was sighing.
"He is dead."
At the very bottom of a city almost completely assimilated with plants, built between vines and giant trees, at the center of countless converging roots, an aged elven woman awakened within a golden primal crystal resembling amber. Her surroundings were filled with 'Azure Stones', second only to Holy Stone Seeds and equivalent to 'Cloud Diamonds' and 'Star Crystals'. These primal crystals, containing the most intense life force, capable of regenerating flesh even for the dead, nourished this elf who had lived for who knows how long, and witnessed her grieving for a person's passing, shedding tears.
"He once experienced the most despicable assassination, meeting the most dishonorable death..."
The old woman, who had witnessed the end of several eras and the fall of an empire, spoke in a tone that was either comforting or sorrowful: "I wonder, did he achieve the ending he desired this time?"
Soon after, on the city's streets, green vines running through countless buildings sprouted flower buds of various sizes. The buds grew and opened, emitting spiritual waves, causing the people busy working and cultivating various plants on the streets to pause their activities and quietly listen to the protector's voice.
"The final impact is approaching."
The old woman's gentle voice echoed in everyone's hearts: "Children, finish your work."
"That is the only ember that can allow you to survive the annihilation."
This world was younger than everyone imagined.
Atop a mountain peak so high it pierced the clouds and bathed in moonlight, at the very top of a rock city built by hollowing out the entire mountain, a short but incredibly sturdy dwarf warrior leaned on his giant hammer. Sitting on the mountain's summit, he gazed at the dim moonlight and stars, and the approaching dawn, his steady gaze unwavering.
A thousand years? Or perhaps fifteen hundred years? In any case, it absolutely could not exceed two thousand years.
This was the conclusion the dwarf warrior had reached the first time he sensed the earth, rock, and the core fusion at the planet's center.
Swimming in lava, exploring within the planet's core, on the first day he broke through to the Heavenly Realm over a hundred years ago, he had delved into the world's mantle through the lava channels of the volcanic archipelago in the southern continent. He searched for the oldest rock layers, touched the most ancient magma. The dwarf warrior even attempted to approach the planet's core several times, the legendary world hub that carried the entire earth and world through the void.
Although he failed, he understood one thing.
That this world had only a thousand years of past.
And an impending end.
This world was shorter-lived than anyone imagined.
In ancient times, the world was still gestating, but saints broke through the boundaries, bringing the ancestors to shape the world. The mighty ones who created everything forcefully ended the world's fetal movement, making it a 'premature birth', bearing the ancestors and their descendants.
And now, the destined end was approaching. The final war before the end was about to begin.
"Our ancestors' debts, let us repay them. How unfair."
The dwarf warrior cursed crudely, then muttered to himself: "The Dragon-Slayer is dead. Who killed him... If another Saint-realm soul dissipates, then the final impact will truly be near..."
"Time is running out for us."
On the plains, within massive walls at least a hundred meters high, made of a mixture of rock and tree roots, countless humans cultivated farmland, inscribed runes on stone bricks, and built sturdy towers and fortresses one after another.
And at the city center, within a palace, on a colossal throne at least ten times the height of an ordinary person, a giant nearly twenty meters tall sat, letting out a sigh.
This throne was ancient, its base made of somewhat decayed gray rock, with deep traces of time left upon it. The giant's body and the throne cast shadows on the ground, covering the many human subjects listening to his words around him. He spoke in a voice as soft as possible, yet still capable of shaking the atmosphere: "Arman Fernandez was killed by an otherworldly being. The Death Shadows will not let this rest. They may not necessarily go after that person, but they will certainly attack the Holy City and the Tomb of the Saint."
"Prepare everything." The giant said: "This is the final impact that will determine the fate of you and me."
And on the northwestern plateau of the continent, at the other end of the Four Holy Cities, within the former imperial capital of Geltar, the fourth-ranked tall obelisk lost all its light. It gradually decayed, then turned into a vast expanse of black dust, merging into the surrounding mist.
On the dark obelisk, several pairs of eyes watched this scene. Scornful sneers came, along with slightly regretful sighs.
"I told you long ago, he only sought death. Don't give him the chance to die in battle."
"A pity. We don't have many companions to begin with. The Dragon-Slayer army's frontal strength is what we lack. To break through the Holy City's defensive line this time, we can only rely on low-ranked Death Shadows, all scattered and disorganized."
"I have matters to attend to. I'll be gone for a while."
Suddenly, on the third-ranked obelisk, the swordsman who had been silent all along spoke. This cold Death Shadow High Commander looked south. His subordinates had already informed him of all information regarding that otherworldly expert. Whether it was his rescue of many survivors or the many strange legacies he left behind, the Shifting Shadow had explored most of the secrets unknown to many, and asked his master whether to act and eliminate those survivors.
The swordsman naturally refused.
He was ruthless, cold, bloodthirsty, and warlike. It could be said he had no emotion related to kindness or mercy. Even the teacher who named him and taught him swordsmanship was killed by him under the pretext of 'testing the blade'. His senior brother, who treated him like a younger brother, was also severely wounded by him. However, even after being resurrected as a Death Shadow, the swordsman would never stoop to the level of striking out at a group of children.
That would be an insult to the sword in his hand.
"Swordsman, where are you going?"
Someone asked curiously: "Although Arman is dead, we are about to launch the general attack. You're not thinking of avenging him, are you?"
The swordsman shook his head and said no more.
But at the other end of the continent, in the eastern part of the world, deep within the sacrificial hall of a hidden town in a deep mountain, the old Heroic Spirit thoughtfully opened his eyes, looking towards the northwest.
Their gazes met in the void, like two swords clashing, producing a deafening hum in the spiritual world.
At this moment, dawn had arrived. The stars and moon had faded.
Inside a rapidly moving carriage, a kind middle-aged woman cautiously reached out, wanting to touch the shoulder of the dragon-winged girl who seemed to be in a daze, to snap her out of her thoughts.
But before she could pat her firmly, Hilja suddenly came to her senses. She blinked, still seemingly in shock, looking around blankly and at a loss.
"Wha...t..."
The dragon-winged girl's mind was still in the illusion left by the Sage's Robe from not long ago. She muttered, as if lost her soul: "How could it be... How could it be like this... This is impossible..."
Repeating these few words, under the slightly uneasy gaze of the middle-aged woman, Hilja looked at her with dull, lifeless eyes, then tightly grasped her hands, speaking in an almost pleading tone: "No... This isn't true..."
"We aren't traitors, are we?!"
At the same time, a red light flashed across the sky. The not-so-dazzling light overpowered the dawn's glow, causing the stars and moon to pale.
The girl instinctively raised her head.
She saw it. A colossal existence, carrying boundless pressure, accompanied by a streak of cyan light, rapidly flew over from afar.
It was the figure of a 'kindred spirit' she had once longed for, but now utterly rejected.