Chapter 24: Destruction and Rebirth
“Sage? Prison cage?”
Upon hearing these two seemingly unrelated words, the old Pope couldn’t help but sigh softly, his expression instantly turning grave. With an extremely serious and heavy tone, he said to the girl, “Though it may be abrupt, may I ask if you could tell me your name?”
“Me? My name is Shirya Farlani.”
Somewhat confused, the dragon-winged girl blinked and straightforwardly stated her name. “I take my mother’s surname, because my father is a Dragonborn; he has no surname, only a name.”
“Farlani, is it.”
The old Pope nodded slightly. He paused for a moment, seemingly pondering the history behind the surname Farlani, before Eagle slowly inquired, “May I ask… Miss Shirya Farlani, what exactly did you see within the Sage’s illusion?”
He spoke each word deliberately. “Please, do not conceal anything.”
“I saw…”
The old Pope’s voice seemed to penetrate the depths of the heart. Unable to refuse for some reason, Shirya began to recount, almost instinctively, everything she had witnessed earlier within the Sage’s illusion.
What she saw was vast, immense.
First, there was a world of scorched earth.
The sky was shrouded by smoke and dust swirling with sparks. Upon the land, the light emitted by searing-hot magma dimmed even the sun into a faint dot. Forests were burned to ash, streams evaporated by blazing flames; hills and plains were charred black, turning to drifting dust alongside the cities of all races.
Amidst the gray haze and dust storms, seven colossal teleportation gates could be seen standing in the distance. Crimson light radiated from within them, like seven dim suns.
But those suns, too, were extinguished one by one. Holy light pierced the gloom; greatswords forged from runes split mountains; giant axes and warhammers shattered hideous demon claws, crushing all who opposed into bloody pulp. Beyond the gates, the blood-red sky and crimson lakes of magma, along with unbroken black iron fortresses, shattered along with the entire land, becoming floating islands in the void. The heavens tore open a massive hole, as if the entire world had been breached by some immense force, like a cracked eggshell.
That was the end of the world, the ruin of all things. What the girl saw was the aftermath of war.
“That was a thousand years ago—the Sage’s war against countless evils across the multiverse… The Sage and the gods shattered several layers of the Abyss, ending everything.”
The girl murmured, “In that war, countless cities were destroyed, people displaced. Amidst blood and fire, there were heroes who persisted in resistance, never abandoning their honor even before endless foes… and there were also… traitors who betrayed us for the sake of survival.”
Those who knelt drove their swords into the backs of those still standing, striking from behind. Stunned faces fell to the earth with their blood, trampled into the dust by these groveling wretches.
They opened the city gates, broke the unity of the defenses, willingly welcomed the enemies who trampled their homeland, and greeted the destroyers of all prosperity and peace with fawning smiles.
“The ancestors of the Grandia World were these people.”
Shirya closed her eyes, softly speaking the truth she had seen. “Perhaps coerced, or perhaps a temporary compromise, these people abandoned the righteous path and embarked on a journey of no return. They aided the evildoers, even transforming into demons themselves… After ending all chaos, the Sage and the gods held a final judgment.”
It was indeed the final judgment.
The shattered sunset gradually faded. The rebukes of the remaining gods echoed across the sky, filled with harsh red clouds. The Sage, who loved all beings, also closed his eyes, responding with a cold face to those who cried out, begging for forgiveness. Faced with the demons and monsters that sought to destroy the entire world, they had not chosen to defend their homes and honor with their lives, but instead turned their swords against their former comrades. This was an unforgivable sin, an evil that must be paid for.
Traitors did not deserve forgiveness, nor redemption. Even the grass and trees scorned their filthy souls, refusing to bear their tears.
“The Sage said he would purify their souls with the purest holy light. Their souls were unworthy of entering the soul reincarnation of the Mycroft World, to dwell alongside the heroic spirits who fought bravely.”
The dragon-winged girl’s account did not end. She continued softly, “But my ancestor, unable to bear it, proposed another form of punishment.”
That was an elf who seemed the embodiment of a star. Her emerald hair fell like silk, trailing to the ground. This saint, wielding a falling-star longbow and fighting bloodily on the front lines of the evil god’s battlefield, begged her teacher for forgiveness. She said the sinful people indeed deserved punishment, but their descendants should have the chance to be born, to grow, and to atone for their ancestors’ sins.
This sixth-ranked Star Saint said that the birth of souls among all beings was not easy. Such rash destruction would only hasten the extinguishing of the already fragile flame of the Mycroft World.
She wished to use her own merits to exchange for an opportunity—a chance for the descendants of these traitors to atone, and for the countless souls yet to be born to have a chance to exist.
Faced with his follower kneeling and bowing her head in supplication, the Sage was silent for a long time. At that moment, he thought of the Mycroft Continent on the brink of destruction, and of a way to extend his homeland’s life. This method made him hesitate for a long time, but in the end, he made his decision and slowly nodded.
“The Sage agreed to her.”
Hearing this, the old Pope muttered to himself, “But why… send a group of sinful people to a brand-new world, only to imprison it as a cage—this is far too wasteful!”
The old man’s voice carried endless regret.
Precisely because he knew so much information, the old Pope understood just how dangerous the Mycroft Continent was now.
A thousand years ago, the Sage used the Plenty Evil God as fuel, burning the flame of order to sustain this already fractured world. Tens of millions of residents and dozens of races lived on this world that could shatter at any moment. Since the Sage had the power to find nascent primordial chaos in the void and shape it into a livable ordered world, why not relocate all races there? Instead, he placed a group of sinful people there and arranged for a saint holding a heirloom to guard them?
A thousand years of reproduction had brought the population of the Grandia World to over a billion. If not for the Undead Calamity, it could rival the Mycroft World. Even now, though most had died in the Undead Calamity, the remaining population numbered nearly a million.
This was far too wasteful, suggesting there must be an unknown hidden reason behind it.
The old Pope closed his eyes, thought for a moment, then opened them, gazing at the silent Shirya.
“I understand the cause of it all.”
He said calmly, “But there is still much you haven’t told.”
“What is the true nature of the Sage’s punishment?”
Eagle’s voice carried a peculiar rhythm, its layers of waves shaking the spirit, capable of forcing even the most stubborn criminal to speak the truth. The old Pope did not like using such methods to uncover the truth, as it showed disrespect to others’ self-awareness. But now, with the truth of two worlds at stake, he did not mind doing so, nor doing it multiple times.
He was the Pope of the Church of the Seven Gods, the protector of all innocents, the reliance of all good people. But this did not mean he was a completely pure, flawless embodiment of light.
He was Saint Eagle. He was the Pope of the Mycroft people, and only the Pope of the Mycroft people.
Thus, words that shook the soul were calmly spoken.
“Speak the whole truth.”
“I… this… —No! Sage… Aaaaah!”
Even with the Sage’s inheritance within her and being a Gold-rank expert herself, how could Shirya’s spirit compare to a deity walking among mortals? Eagle’s psychic fluctuations easily overpowered the dragon-winged girl’s will, forcing her, resisting with difficulty, to speak—almost gritting her teeth, bit by bit, revealing the final truth.
“The Sage’s punishment… is an entire world, and countless… already departed souls…”
Shirya struggled to spit out the truth she had desperately concealed. Tears flowed from her eyes, but it was useless. Under the cold oppression of a Legendary expert, all her persistence was meaningless. “The Grandia World is about to be destroyed. Only one hundred and three thousand souls—the same number as the sinful people who first came to the Grandia World—only these one hundred and three thousand souls can be redeemed. The rest must be destroyed, turning into nourishment along with this world… No!”
At this point, a flash of determination suddenly gleamed in the dragon-winged girl’s eyes. In an instant, she broke free from the old Pope’s psychic suppression and decisively sealed her own soul, causing her body to collapse to the ground, unconscious.
This seal was so resolute that it was almost equivalent to death. Caught off guard, the old Pope could not stop her near-suicidal act, and she succeeded.
“Alas.”
Eagle coldly stared at this extremely uncooperative fourth inheritor, then his gaze softened, and he let out a long sigh.
Even though Shirya had not spoken the final truth, he, already aware of many secrets, had guessed the gist.
It was indeed a very, very harsh punishment, befitting the crimes of those traitors.
“No wonder you tried so hard to conceal it, and were so resistant to us beings of the Mycroft World… Your parents’ souls are also among those being punished. No wonder…”
“So that’s it. That’s why it’s said that the four heirlooms are needed to learn the secret of the First Flame… Because only by finding the fourth—the inheritor in the Grandia World—can one know this truth.”
He said softly, then waved his hand, laying the girl’s body flat in a corner of the Star Temple. This Legendary Peak expert, who could converse as an equal with the gods, slowly walked before the still-unfinished temporal passage and muttered to himself, “Joshua, you say you want to reverse all this, but do you know what you will face?”
“It is the punishment set by the Sage… and the method to save the Mycroft Continent.”
He looked down at the Azure Orb in his hand and let out a bitter laugh. “The destruction of one world, and the rebirth of another.”
“What choice will you make?”
The warrior, of course, knew nothing of what happened behind his back.
At this moment, he walked across the wilderness.
Joshua stepped forward. With each step, the earth trembled. Step after step, the entire wilderness shook violently. And with this trembling, countless souls, their imprints deep in the void, were forced out by the power of the Soulflame King, drawn into his Glory Force, the Soul Abyss that gathered all soul fragments.
His existence was like an eraser, wiping away all traces painted on the Grandia World. With every step he took, he freed countless souls from the bonds of this world, then suppressed them within his own soul.
The warrior was not entirely ignorant of everything. Alman had repeatedly stated that this was their battle against the living, a matter unrelated to him, an outsider from another world. And the undead, who turned against the living yet delayed destroying everything, only acting when all was on the brink of collapse.
He could guess that there must be some hidden reason behind this. The beings of the Grandia World might not have been seeds sown by the Sage, but rather existed for another purpose.
And that purpose might not contain any goodwill, but instead endless cruelty and indifference.
But what did that matter?
Joshua’s gaze was firm. He held his weapon in hand.
A warrior, holding his weapon, possesses the power to fulfill all his resolve, and the conviction to bear all his actions.
Then no one could stop his steps, his will, and his advance.
And in the distance, the place where all death-shadows originated, the Imperial Capital Geltar.
An aged knight gazed at the churning dark clouds in the sky, as if receiving some revelation.
Then he lowered his head, looked around, and said in a calm tone, “The time has come.”
Four pairs of eyes, burning with soulfire, lit up atop the obelisk.
“It is time to begin.”
The old knight spoke thus.
And so, the melodious sound of war horns rose, carried by the storm that crossed the highlands and wilderness, sweeping across half the continent. Endless undead surged like a tide, advancing through the churning mist toward the last gathering place of the living—the four holy cities surrounding the Saint’s Tomb.
The final war began here.