Chapter 1215: “The Decree of the Lord”

As Andar spoke, Helagor’s expression grew increasingly grave. A heavy silence settled over the room. In that stillness, the former Dragon Priest suddenly traced a complex, pale-golden rune in the air with his finger. As the rune slowly faded, an invisible force enveloped the entire chamber, severing all connection to the outside world.

“What’s your take on that creature?” Helagor asked in a low voice, turning to Andar on the communication screen.

“Since the Age of the Starfarers, we’ve observed every civilization that has risen and fallen on this planet,” Andar replied thoughtfully. “We have records of every god born during those eras—their true names, mythic traits, domains of power, even fragments left behind after their unexpected demise. But after reviewing all the data, I can’t find any deity matching Modir’s description. Not even when accounting for possible ‘distortions’ caused by long-term imprisonment or banishment…”

“Amorphous flesh, mindless howls, shifting forms, ever-changing runes—this isn’t the shape a normal god would take. Not even an evil god would be so profanely grotesque,” Helagor said grimly. “True gods are shaped by collective thought, and mortal minds are rooted in an ‘average rationality’ that wouldn’t allow such twisted madness to manifest—unless something went wrong during the god’s very birth…”

“The thing Modir described shows clear signs of uncontrollable madness, yet it’s been able to stand against an ancient deity like the Lady of Night for who knows how many years. That means its combat instincts are incredibly strong. It’s even possible that its ‘madness’ is its ‘normal’ state—that beneath the chaotic surface, it still retains reason, perhaps even… wisdom.”

Andar nodded slowly, pondering. “Gods weaken drastically when they lose their worshippers, but if a god has survived for over 1.8 million years, that’s a different matter. The Lady of Night is as ancient as our old gods; no one knows how much power and wisdom she’s accumulated over such an immense span of time. Any ‘evil god’ able to oppose her must be at least her equal…”

Helagor remained silent, lost in thought. After a long pause, he suddenly broke the silence. “Honestly, have you thought about it too…”

“That thing growing inside the tower,” Andar’s expression shifted noticeably, his tone heavy and serious. “There’s no concrete proof, but if we limit ourselves to ‘quasi-divine’ entities, that’s the only thing I can think of.”

“Exactly,” Helagor agreed. “A god born from the Starfarers’ legacy fits the ‘abnormal birth’ criteria perfectly. And with the rapid fall of the Inverse Tide Empire, it’s very likely their gods are in a state of uncontrollable madness. Some details Modir mentioned align with ‘runaway knowledge.’ But there’s one problem… shouldn’t that thing still be inside the tower?!”

Both Dragon leaders fell silent simultaneously. After several tense seconds, Andar spoke again, his voice unusually grave: “Perhaps it’s time we took a risk… We can’t just leave that tower be.”

…

Thick, shadowed city walls enclosed a bizarre, densely packed metropolis. Tower after tower rose between countless rooftops and spires, pointing skyward. Beneath the forest of towers, houses stacked impossibly atop one another defied spatial logic. Crooked walls and winding alleys spread across the surface like a labyrinthine nest. The Thousand-Tower City was so crowded that most passersby were hidden behind the piled-up buildings. Even the occasional mage in flowing robes who darted between houses moved swiftly and silently, like a ghost in the night.

At the city’s heart stood the towering Royal Spire, the “Dim Court,” as always looming beneath the ever-dark swirling sky. At its peak floated the “Eye of Night,” emitting a cold, dim light that silently watched over the city below with an almost divine detachment.

Descending from the spire’s interior through layers of floors, houses, and corridors, one reached the “Nightfall Cavern” at the base. The “Dreamless” guardians were gathered there beside a black, mirror-like pool, performing a crucial ritual. The staves in their hands glowed with an unusual pale flame—like faint light squeezed from the shadows themselves. The flames burned quietly, illuminating only a small area around them.

Under this faint glow, the guardians chanted in unison. Deep, obscure syllables flowed from their throats—ancient incantations in a language long lost to time. The overlapping voices sounded like delirious murmurs, echoing eerily throughout the cavern, omnipresent yet fleeting.

After an unknown length of time, the leader of the guardians suddenly ceased chanting. One by one, the others followed suit in a precise order. As the cavern’s echoes faded, all eyes turned to the black, mirror-like pool. At first, its surface was perfectly still, then ripples suddenly spread outward.

The guardians tensed, alert for any abnormality. But when a low, gentle whisper emerged from the pool, their nerves visibly eased.

The leader listened intently, as if discerning a clear command from the soft voice. He nodded respectfully and with a hint of joy. When the ripples faded and the pool’s surface calmed, he stepped back slightly. The pale flames atop his staff shifted back into normal magical orbs.

In the circular chamber at the top of the Dim Court, carpeted in dark red, Archprince Nash Nart sat at his desk reading a letter sent from afar. Suddenly, he sensed something and looked toward the edge of the desk—a crystal orb floating there brightened. Inside, the pale face of the Nightfall Cavern’s guardian leader appeared.

“Your Highness,” the guardian said respectfully, “the ritual has concluded.”

“Thank you, Rudolf. Was everything successful?” Nash set the letter aside and nodded slightly. “Has our Lord sent any new decrees?”

The guardian’s expression grew solemn and reverent. “The Lord instructed us to continue following the previous directives: to select wise and qualified individuals from the Loren continent, teach them the secrets of magic, assist the mortal races of Loren in building their knowledge systems, and safeguard this season’s progress of civilization. The time is near to begin preparations for the next round of apprentices.”

“Hm…” Nash nodded thoughtfully, as if this was expected. “No other instructions? Has the Lord mentioned whether He will return?”

“No mention,” Rudolf shook his head. “It seems the Lord requires more time to slumber.”

“I understand,” Nash sighed and nodded. “Rest now. The shift change is soon.”

The figure in the crystal bowed slightly and vanished. Only when the orb dimmed completely did the Archprince rise, pacing slowly around the room with a contemplative look. After several circuits, he stopped abruptly. Almost simultaneously, an ancient magical mirror hanging nearby glowed to life.

The mirror reflected the room—but not Nash’s image. Instead, a serene and beautiful woman stepped out from its depths, as if approaching a window. She moved deliberately to the mirror’s surface.

“Benadetto,” Nash said, frowning slightly. “Weren’t you supposed to be resting? I thought today was the day for core tower maintenance…”

“Ahaha—I was resting, but I couldn’t ignore you pacing back and forth,” the woman in the mirror said with a hint of exasperation. “Don’t forget your mind is linked closely to the Dim Court. So, what’s troubling our mighty Archprince? Have the northern dragons finally decided to come to the island and cause trouble? Or are those brainwashed deep-sea creatures stirring up chaos—over ten thousand sea witches lost their way to Violet and landed on Prandel?”

Before Benadetto finished, Nash was already sweating nervously. He shrank back and waved his hand. “Stop, stop! Since when did your imagination get so wild? That’s a terrifying scenario even you shouldn’t be able to dream up.”

“So what’s really going on?” Benadetto raised an eyebrow. “It’s rare to see you this worried.”

Nash hesitated, then decided there was no need to hide anything from the mirror’s occupant. He nodded slightly. “You know today is the day of the prayers. Rudolf led the Dreamless in the Nightfall Cavern…”

“Ah, yes, I know,” Benadetto nodded eagerly. “So? Has our Lord finally decided to awaken and return to the world?”

“No,” Nash shook his head. “The Lord remains asleep. He only sent a decree from His dreams, instructing us to continue the previous mission: selecting apprentices from Loren, teaching them the secrets of Violet magic…”

“What’s wrong with that?” Benadetto tilted her head, three glowing question marks appearing above her reflection. “We’ve been doing that for centuries. You never seemed so unsettled before.”

“I have no issue with recruiting apprentices,” Nash said carefully, choosing his words. Even before the mirror, he didn’t want to show any doubt or disrespect toward the Lord. “But I’m suddenly uncertain about assisting the mortal nations of Loren in building their magical systems. You’ve been watching Loren’s situation as closely as I have. Do you really think those nations still need our ‘help’ to construct their magic frameworks?”

Benadetto frowned, clearly puzzled by Nash’s sudden doubts. After a moment’s thought, she gave her honest opinion: “If you don’t send me off for re-forging after this—I think it’s pretty unnecessary.”

Prince Nash remained silent, merely signaling with his eyes for the lady in the mirror to continue.

“After the Deep Blue Well explosion, the Kingdom of Gondor and many of its neighboring states were indeed severely affected. The collapse of magical technology and the old knowledge systems was a harsh reality. Back then, they truly needed our help. But after all these years, the nations of Loren have proven they are far from helpless—they’ve either rebuilt new magical systems with our assistance or developed new technologies through their own efforts. Typhon constructed modern magic based on Gondor’s legacy; the Ogre Tribes have their unique witchcraft and fairy spells; Ansu—now called Cecil—has even created magitech machines built on traditional magic… You know all this better than I do.”

She paused briefly, then summarized, “It’s clear these nations have emerged from the shadow of that disaster, and they’re doing quite well now. Of course, traditional mages still yearn for the endless mysteries of Violet, the ‘Land of Mages.’ They crave our knowledge and dream of becoming apprentices in the City of a Thousand Towers. But on the level of nations, even civilizations… I think the Loren continent no longer really needs this kind of systemic help from us.”

At this, the lady in the mirror paused, then concluded, “In short, I think recruiting magic apprentices is fine, but when it comes to ‘helping’ the nations of Loren build their magical systems… I feel that’s a bit outdated.”

Prince Nash looked at Benadette in the mirror and sighed helplessly. “…If the high council of the Arcane Order heard you say that, they’d probably tear you apart and remold you.”

Benadette shot him a sharp glare. “Hey, you’re the one who told me to say all this!”

Nash waved his hand, signaling it was just a joke, then slowly spoke with a somewhat strange expression, “Actually… I feel the same way. I know I shouldn’t question the will of the Lord, and His original intent was clearly to help this mortal civilization of the current age. But with how things have changed on Loren over the past hundred years, I can’t help but wonder if what we’ve been doing is still necessary. To say something quite offensive… the Lord… seems unaware of the changes in the world.”

Hearing this, Benadette’s expression shifted subtly, and the next moment she fixed Nash with a serious gaze. “Choose your words carefully, Nash—the Lord is, of course, all-knowing and all-powerful.”

Nash was momentarily taken aback, immediately realizing his misstep. He quickly reined in the wandering thoughts in his mind, composed himself, and nodded slightly. “I understand. The Lord is indeed all-knowing and all-powerful.”

“Then, on the premise that the Lord is all-knowing and all-powerful, every arrangement He makes must have its reason,” Benadette said with a deliberately stern, expressionless face. “If He believes we should help the nations of Loren and freely teach the secrets of magic to humans, elves, dwarves, and other races, then that is what we must do.”

Prince Nash looked at the reflection with a hint of helplessness. “…You sound just like those old men in the Arcane Order now.”

Benadette dropped the forced seriousness and asked nervously, “So… they probably won’t tear me apart and remold me now, right?”

“They never would,” Nash sighed. “Do you know how valuable you are…”

(End of chapter)