The Flame of the Order (5)
“Indeed.”
A simple reply. Edgar Reinhardt let out a soft sigh.
The silvery light streaming gently from the walls and ceiling of the hall cast deep shadows on the bowed face of the knight commander.
His face bore many more wrinkles than it had a few years ago, signs of aging unbecoming of a transcendent being.
”…I see.”
“Have you managed to get any sleep?”
“I must stay awake to maintain the sacred barrier. With the dragon’s breath nearly upon us, I can’t afford to let my fatigue compromise the barrier.”
In other words, he hadn’t slept at all.
It had been half a year since the dragon legion began their assault on the order, meaning Edgar had been awake for that entire time.
It was no wonder his face was etched with exhaustion, dark shadows underlining his eyes.
Even as a sixth-tier transcendent, he was still fundamentally human. Despite his ability to manifest the realm of fantasy on this earth, he couldn’t entirely ignore the physical limits of his vessel.
Dalen, too, needed rest after intense battles. Edgar was no different.
“That was a needless question. I apologize. The divine showed me a vision of you and your companions descending into the rift. Sir Lucia informed me your goal is the Stone of Wishes.”
Edgar tilted his head back.
His unfocused eyes seemed to gaze beyond the ceiling, into the sky above.
“Though I lead the order with my meager skills, I am, in the end, just a man. Perhaps that’s why I needed to know.”
“Know what?”
“Whether our chances are so slim that we must stake the continent’s fate on a relic whose existence is uncertain.”
“Commander, how could you say such a thing… Ah.”
Dalen placed a silent hand on Lucia’s shoulder.
The commander wasn’t wrong. Their chances were indeed slim.
It was an apocalypse they had failed to overcome hundreds of times. Resisting the impending end was no easy task, even for Dalen, who had grown accustomed to witnessing grim conclusions through countless lives.
If it was difficult for him, how must Edgar feel, having protected a single world for two centuries?
”…”
Thoughts he had always kept to himself must have slipped out through his weakened body.
It was beyond Dalen’s understanding, and the only way he could show respect was through silence.
”…But, Lucia.”
His gaze slowly descended from the sky beyond the walls.
“All it takes is a single ray of light to pierce a closed future. No matter how absurdly slim the odds, the fact that you can see it means you are the true protagonist of this prophecy.”
“Your faith is remarkable.”
“The divine must have shown me your path for a reason. I simply trust, as I always have.”
Edgar smiled, a serene smile.
“At noon, two days from now, I will lift the sacred barrier.”
”…What?”
“We’ll use the order as bait to draw the dragon’s attention. In that time, you must descend into the rift.”
Name: Dalen
Level: 50
[Strength: 80] [Dexterity: 72] [Stamina: 70]
[Perception: 72] [Intelligence: 70] [Magic: 75]
Skills: Dehama’s Armored Combat (D), Night Vision (E), Leap (E), Flame Arrow (D), Lapantella’s Crushing Sword (C), Hegaleus’s Rain of Fire (C), Lightning Strike (D), Curse Ward Seal (D), Leredonara’s Secret Blade (B), Sacred Flame’s Ember (C), Crimson Dragon’s Blood (A), Key to the Gates of Hell (C), Ackerman’s Drafting Technique (C), Filz’s Wind Barrier (C), Fire Spear Technique (D), Living Roots (D), Rapid Germination (D), Rulia’s Spring Water (C), Soul Extraction (B), Prayer of Healing (D), Skadi’s Tidal Wave (B), Kasmar’s Red Wind (B), Sandstorm Dynasty’s Bullet (B), Dragon Bone Crafting (B), King of the Dead (S)
Unique Skills (30)
“Level 50, huh.”
Dalen muttered as he dismissed the status window.
This game had no true level cap, but there was a general growth target.
Level 50 was essentially the peak. Beyond that, leveling up became exceedingly difficult, and increasing stats through leveling was highly inefficient.
‘It’s probably best to half-abandon leveling up from here.’
Reaching level 50 after defeating the Vampire Count, and even after recovering the corpses near the count’s border and felling two true dragons, his level hadn’t changed.
In all his hundreds of playthroughs, Dalen had only surpassed level 50 a handful of times.
Among those, only three had reached the level of his current body.
‘The Electromancer. The Dark Sorcerer. And the final playthrough.’
Characters who had either destroyed the true form of an evil god or faced a coalition of evil gods who felt threatened.
Daltalion was an Electromancer who touched the edge of the sixth tier, while the other two had ascended to the seventh tier, known as divinity.
All had reached the end of the world. Each had faced their own conclusion in their own way.
He couldn’t yet claim to be overwhelmingly stronger than them. How far could he stray from the conclusions they had faced?
His thoughts dissipated into the cold air as white breath. Winter was approaching once more.
“The sky is turning red.”
“Could you make some noise when you approach, old man? You’ll scare people.”
“Doesn’t concern you, does it?”
Felber chuckled. Dalen shook his head. The older he got, the more mischievous he seemed.
“With each passing day, the sky grows redder. It’s as if it’s not the sky of this world.”
The wizard murmured. Dalen followed his gaze.
The old man’s brown eyes were fixed on the sky beyond the Barrier Mountains. Though it was just past noon, the sky was as red as if it were sunset.
“It’s not of this world.”
“Hmm?”
“The sky of the Great Dragon Realm, the hell ruled by the dragon god, looks like that.”
In most playthroughs, he had little to do with the dragon god, but there was one time he had invaded the hell ruled by the dragon god.
It was during the playthrough where he developed the blacksmith character, Dallukahim.
He had managed to severely wound the dragon god, who had just awakened, but failed to destroy it and was killed by the dragon god’s gauntlet while fleeing.
“Dragons are mysterious beings. Their breath distorts the form of magic. When there are only a few, it’s manageable, but when dozens or hundreds of true dragons gather, even the nature of the atmosphere changes.”
The result was the red sky.
The sight, like red paint smeared over a blue canvas, had been slowly spreading from beyond the Barrier Mountains for days.
“The continent is becoming a hell. It’s as if hell is devouring the world like a living creature.”
“As the end approaches, this will become a common sight.”
As the end neared, the movements of the evil gods became more overt.
While the dragon god assaulted the holy order, the other evil gods were not idle.
Temomron launched a conquest with the empire in the form of a blood spirit, and Lapilem had effectively planted its flag across the sea in the land of the elves.
Even Suum had descended in an avatar form in the north, nearly driving the Tsarist nation to the brink of destruction.
‘Come to think of it, Enaxagus has been oddly quiet.’
It was strange. Enaxagus was usually the most aggressive in invading the continent.
While other evil gods were busy expanding their forces in hell, Enaxagus had spent centuries planting his schemes across the continent.
Countless dark sorcerers, the continent’s top assassination group, the Shadow Moon, and even the pantheon lurking behind the empire were all his doing.
Enaxagus was the first and most frequent of the five evil gods to clash with Dalen.
The Apostles of Regression, the Witch of Ashes, the Undying Demon Arbor, and the Chain Throne’s Kalkas—there were more incidents he hadn’t interfered with than those he had.
‘By this time, the Shadow Moon should be roaming the continent, assassinating key figures, and the demon army led by Enaxagus should be crossing the western great desert.’
Though he had instigated a conquest with Temomron and the empire, it was merely one of his pre-planned schemes.
Compared to the other evil gods, who were beginning to move directly, his inactivity seemed excessively passive.
When they clashed constantly, he was such an infuriating foe, but now, after nearly a year of silence, it was even more unsettling.
A vague, unpleasant feeling. Such instincts were rarely wrong.
‘Come to think of it, Suum has also been quiet since the northern war.’
Though it hadn’t fully recovered its power, it still had plenty of demons under its command.
With the entire continent embroiled in war, how could it remain so still? That war-crazed evil god?
‘Could it be like the playthrough with the dark sorcerer Dallum Jive…’
Seemingly unrelated events were strangely interconnected. The endpoint was a conjecture that could be called a leap of logic.
Even though evil gods often snarled at each other, full-scale wars between them were rare.
Let alone one evil god annihilating another and consuming its hell. That was something Dalen had only witnessed once in hundreds of playthroughs.
This was a story that only unfolded when Dalen’s character took the lead. Without the massive variable of player intervention, such a situation would be nearly impossible to create.
“But the attack on the Barrier Tower was one of those cases. If, by any chance, something like that really happened…”
A character whose strength was unmatched across hundreds of iterations. Even the protagonist of the final cycle might find themselves powerless.
“I need to get the Stone of Wishes as soon as possible.”
Dalen stood up, quickly checking his gear.
Just then, Lucia approached them, clad in her new armor.
“Dalen, we’re ready to leave.”
“Let’s head down right away.”
After a final check of his axe, he moved towards a small building tucked away in a corner of the main compound.
It was the entrance to an ancient underground ruin, usually kept locked and unused.
It was time to meet an old acquaintance, a royal from an ancient kingdom who had once offered him aid.
Even dust has a smell. The older the dust, the stronger its scent.
If one were to compare it, it might resemble the musty smell of mold, with a hint of something that tickles the nose.
“Ahem. Ahem.”
Dalen wrinkled his nose at the tickling scent of dust as he and his party descended into the underground ruins.
Beneath the vast plains where the headquarters of the Holy Knights was located lay the ancient ruins of the Sandstorm Dynasty.
A place riddled with traps, where the labyrinth itself, through soul-binding sorcery, sought to annihilate intruders.
“Right now, it’s the only strategic path we can use.”
Creak—Clank.
As soon as they stepped into the corridor, a faint noise echoed along the walls.
The sound of gears turning and ancient machinery coming to life. The entire labyrinth seemed to awaken with a clatter.
[Intru—der—]
His senses, far more honed than during his last visit, vividly detected the labyrinth’s murderous intent towards the intruder.
A monotonous will seemed to resonate, as if transmitted through the walls. Just as the walls and ceiling began to close in, Dalen raised his hand.
Vmmm…
A faint wave emanated from his fingertips.
Years ago, he had been a mere intruder, but now the situation was different.
The will that animated this ruin was granted by the soul-binding sorcery of the ancient Sandstorm Dynasty.
A sophisticated magic, distinct from necromancy, that cut and reattached souls, once known only to the royalty and high officials during the dynasty’s peak.
“Exi.”
With a low incantation, a spell compressed to its extreme flowed out.
As the faint resonance spread from the incantation, the oppressive killing intent that had been pressing from all sides suddenly subsided.
[…]
A brief silence followed. Then, a low voice echoed through the corridor.
[…Guardian Atepmydur greets the new master.]
“Yes. Nice to meet you.”
[Your command…]
“Nothing much, just bring your 14th king here.”
[…]
“Use whatever ritual medium you have to bring him. Can you do that?”
[It can be done. Please wait a moment.]
The presence of the voice gradually faded. Dalen nodded, resting his hand on his waist.
Proper conversations are best left to those in charge.