Chapter 1266: The Phantom
They ventured deeper into the divine realm, treading upon this land blessed by the gods. Mortals had spent ten thousand years weaving illusions to build this magnificent city, but now it lay in splendid, solemn ruins.
The legendary cheerers and mighty guardians of the godly kingdom had long since vanished with the end of the myths. Kamail and his team of explorers encountered no obstacles here—indeed, no other living presence besides themselves.
Except for the ancient, drifting remnants of ruins that endlessly orbited above the divine realm.
The group passed beneath a towering archway that abruptly stood in the middle of the street, seeming more ornamental than structural. Mirmirna reached out and lightly brushed the pillar supporting the arch. The pillar, seemingly indestructible—rock-like yet shimmering with an iron-gray metallic sheen—shed a layer of weathered, crumbling dust. The fragments dissolved midair, but the scratch that had appeared on the pillar instantly healed, restoring it to pristine condition.
“It’s frozen at the moment of destruction… frozen at the instant mortal thoughts severed their connection,” the former goddess of magic murmured thoughtfully. “So this is what the myth, ended by humanity, ultimately looks like… I expected something more absurd and broken, but it turns out to be nothing more than a faded, yellowed illusion.”
Kamail couldn’t help but glance at the tall woman beside him, curiosity bubbling up. “What about your realm… what is it like?”
“As a former mortal mage, don’t you already know?” Mirmirna smiled faintly, her gaze fixed on the ancient arcane master floating nearby. “That realm was created by you.”
“…There’s an endless starry sky, each ‘star’ symbolizing a magical truth of the world. At the center stands an immense tower, its peak and base swallowed by darkness and unseen. Within that tower gather all mysteries, guarded by the supreme source of all magic. Only those explorers blessed are worthy to glimpse the knowledge contained within.”
As Kamail’s voice lowered in reverence, Mirmirna’s smile grew more pronounced, yet tinged with resignation. “Yes, a tower and stars… But when I tried to reach that starry sky, it was just a shell cloaking the edge of the divine realm. I tried to pluck those stars—they were merely glowing stones embedded in the shell, etched with meaningless runes. Peering beyond that shell, I saw ancient gods who refused to rest, drifting along the borders of the divine realm. Broken bones and indescribable fragments surged endlessly beyond that crude starry graffiti…”
The former goddess shook her head. “So I locked myself inside the tower for thousands of years, deliberately ignoring any prayers from mortals, turning a blind eye to changes in the mortal world. Only then did a crack appear in that shell. I escaped the divine realm, passing through layers upon layers of shattered ruins and corpses, through endless whispers and echoes of thoughts that could drive mortals mad in an instant. It took a century, maybe two, before I finally reached the rift between the deep sea and the shadow realm… there, I found some peace.”
“You’ve had a hard time too,” Kamail said after a brief silence.
He never imagined he’d one day stand calmly before a god, even discussing such matters with one.
Fate is unpredictable.
Mirmirna paid no mind to his remark. Instead, she suddenly looked ahead. A grand curved wall loomed before the group, with a massive gate large enough for giants to pass through. Around the wall hung many ornate banners, their ends weighted with heavy shields to keep them hanging straight. Atop the wall, countless gleaming spears and swords were arranged like a disciplined army standing at attention.
“Looks like we’ve reached another place described in the War God’s scriptures,” Kamail said solemnly, eyes fixed ahead. “This must be the ‘arena’ mentioned in their religious tales.”
The team advanced. Mirmirna’s gaze swept over the grand gate and the enormous shields flanking it as she spoke slowly: “The War God Kael’s arena stands at the end of the Cheerers’ Walkway, directly opposite the Palace of Eternal Feasting. This is where the gods themselves appear. Kael often comes here in person to watch brave warriors spar and hone their skills. Sometimes, he even manifests in avatar form within the arena to guide favored warriors, granting them greater power… But more often, he sits atop the tallest throne at the arena’s end, reviewing everyone like a general inspecting his troops.”
The arena’s gate was tightly shut. Mirmirna placed her hand on the seemingly immovable door and gently pushed. A narrow opening just wide enough for a person appeared. Kamail floated forward but paused before entering, glancing at Mirmirna. “How do you know so much about the War God? Didn’t you say gods can’t communicate or spy on each other’s realms?”
Mirmirna lowered her head, a faint smile beneath her black veil. “I looked it up online.”
Kamail blinked, then thought, well, that makes sense—this lady of the tower is a seasoned netizen, spending twenty-three out of twenty-four hours immersed in the neural network. Still, the answer was not quite what he expected.
But after all the strange things and unusual people he’d encountered alongside His Majesty Gawain Cecil, he didn’t dwell on it. Adjusting his mindset, he hoisted his heavy mobile energy station and led the way through the gate, the rest of the team following in single file.
Mirmirna entered as well, looking up toward the far end of the arena.
There, a towering, burly figure sat silently on a throne built for giants. Clad in impenetrable iron-gray heavy armor, the hollow helmet bowed slightly, its dark void of an opening fixed on the arena’s gate, watching the uninvited guests who had entered.
Heart-stopping!
Kamail glanced up and felt his magical energy freeze, as if time itself had momentarily halted. Behind him, the clanging of metal rang out—White Knights gasped at the sight, instinctively gripping their warhammers and heavy holy light cannons. Everyone instantly readied for battle, and two glowing orbs of arcane energy appeared in Kamail’s hands.
But just as tension peaked, Mirmirna’s voice cut through, halting their nearly triggered attack: “Calm down—this seems to be just a phantom.”
“A phantom?” Kamail’s heart skipped. He noticed the figure on the throne remained utterly still, unmoving, unreactive to their presence.
A dry wind swept over the arena, banners atop spears flapping fiercely. The mortal intruders and the War God’s phantom faced each other across the vast arena in silence. Kamail finally lowered his glowing energy orbs and led the alert team toward the giant figure.
The hollow armored giant remained motionless. Only then did Kamail and the White Knights relax.
Kamail took a moment to study the surroundings. Raising his arm, he observed how the arcane glow on his skin was suppressed by the environment. Thoughtfully, he said, “We’re far enough from the teleportation gate’s interference… I might be able to set up my magical laboratory here in the arena.”
“Conditions do seem favorable,” Mirmirna agreed. As a former sovereign of the magical domain, she knew Kamail had long sought to probe the essence of magic. She herself was deeply interested in the project. “Once the equipment arrives, you can start setting up the experimental environment. If you need help, just ask me.”
Kamail stopped, looking oddly at the smiling former goddess beside him. After a long pause, he quietly said, “If necessary, I will.”
The explorers approached the giant throne. The iron-gray armored figure sat silently, gazing down over the arena. As Mirmirna had guessed, it was merely a phantom.
Kamail looked up closely. At this proximity, he finally noticed a faint, translucent quality to the armor’s surface. Curiosity stirred. “Why is there a War God’s phantom here? Do all gods leave behind such illusions in their realms after they fall?”
“I don’t know,” Mirmirna shook her head slowly. “The War God’s fall was unusual. My experience might not apply here…”
She reached out and gently touched the hollow, ethereal armor. The sensation was cold and mist-like. Almost simultaneously, a voice echoed suddenly in the minds of all the explorers, including Kamail. Deep, authoritative, forged of steel, it conjured visions of battlefields, weapons, walls, and legions. The voice spoke only one sentence:
“Good luck…”
The voice faded, and the visions vanished like smoke. From within the helmet of White Knight Quinn came a muffled voice: “Master Kamail, I just heard—”
“I heard it too—everyone, check for mental contamination!”
“Readings zero.” “No contamination detected.” “Protective gear shows no alarms.”
When dealing with divine power, any sensory anomaly must be treated as potential mental contamination. The team immediately checked themselves and confirmed they were unaffected before Kamail could focus on the brief “phantom” message.
He looked at Mirmirna. “That was… the War God’s voice?”
“Seems so,” Mirmirna’s expression grew serious. “It must be the last ‘thought imprint’ the War God left before departing…”
“Imprint of thought…” a White Knight muttered instinctively. “Could it be that he knew we were coming all along and left this message behind?”
“No…” Kamail had already pieced it together. He shook his head. “That message wasn’t meant for us.”
He tilted his head back, his gaze lingering long on the iron-gray giant seated on the throne. After a few seconds, he spoke in a low voice, “It was meant for the mortal army about to face him on the Winter Fortress battlefield.”
Myrmina fell silent for a long moment. Then, she reached out and lightly tapped the cold, solemn throne. “A brainless brute…”
The exploration team quieted down. Kamail pondered for half a minute before suddenly looking up at Myrmina. “But wasn’t the war god supposed to have completely lost his mind by then? How could he have left such a message?”
Before anyone could answer, a voice suddenly came from between the rows of seats in the nearby arena stands. “At that time, my lord was indeed utterly mad… but even in ultimate madness, a flicker of reason can remain.”
The voice was as chilling as the phantom of the war god they had just seen. A surge of magical energy flared from Kamail’s body as he whipped his head toward the source. “Who’s there?!”
Under the explorers’ tense watch, a figure cloaked in robes slowly emerged from behind the seats.
In this dead, crumbling divine realm of the war god, a mortal had appeared.
He wore the vestments of a war god’s priest, a translucent, ethereal crown resting on his head. His features were blurred beneath the chaotic sky, but one could still make out the face of an old man. The figure stepped down the stairs from the stands, moving slowly and silently, as if a ghost—no footsteps, no breath—just like the war god’s phantom beside him.
“You’ve finally come out,” Myrmina said, unfazed by the apparition’s arrival. She seemed to have sensed him all along. “I felt you just now.”
“You are another deity,” the ghostly figure said respectfully, turning to Myrmina.
“I once was.”
“I cannot worship you—I only serve my lord.”
“You never needed to worship me—I’m retired.”
Kamail stared intently at the ghostly old man before him. Though suspicions had already formed in his mind, he still asked seriously, “Who are you?”
“Malm Dunith—that’s a name I once used. You may call me that,” the elderly priest said slowly. “As for now… I am but a humble servant here.”
“Malm Dunith, High Priest of the Typhon War God Church… so it is,” Kamail said, his voice low as he fixed his gaze on the other. “You should be at rest… why do you still linger here?”
The former war god’s high priest did not answer immediately. Instead, he turned to look at the figure on the throne. After a long pause, he whispered, “I’ve come to keep my lord company.”
(End of chapter)