Chapter 143: The Gathering Storm

Melita Bernia was a woman of grace. As a senior agent of the Mithril Treasury, she held a special status within the organization. She was accustomed to dealing only with those extraordinary and formidable figures—no matter how imposing, notorious, or eccentric they were, she always maintained her elegance, ensuring every transaction proceeded smoothly under her refined demeanor.

“How much for the Eternal Slate?”

Gasp—

See? That’s not very elegant, is it?

Melita nearly choked, almost blowing her veil off in surprise. But having weathered many storms, she quickly composed herself, her face calm though her mind was reeling as she looked at Gawain with a mixture of shock and disbelief. “You… just asked about the Eternal Slate?”

“Yes,” Gawain nodded. “Of course, I’m not talking about a whole piece—scraps and fragments will do.”

“Your tone… it’s like you’re bargaining for cabbages. You really startled me,” Melita coughed awkwardly, confirming that he indeed meant fragments of the Eternal Slate. “You must understand, no one in this world talks about these divine relics with such casualness.”

Only then did Gawain realize his approach might have been a bit off. But what could he do? Even though he inherited the memories of Gawain Cecil, his personality was still his own. Emotionally, he couldn’t fully adopt the reverence a native would have for the Eternal Slate. To him, those metal fragments were just research material—at worst, the information stored inside was a bit intimidating.

Besides, even the original Gawain Cecil probably wouldn’t have spoken of the Eternal Slate with much awe. He wasn’t a believer, and as a down-to-earth noble from the Second Expansion Era, he rarely felt reverence for anything.

“Cough, well, having died once, I tend to see things more clearly,” Gawain waved off the awkwardness and looked Melita in the eye. “But tell me—does an organization like the Mithril Treasury not have any fragments of the Eternal Slate in its collection?”

“The fragments of the Eternal Slate are all in the hands of the major sects. They’re their sacred relics and would never be entrusted to the Mithril Treasury,” Melita shook her head. “You should know that well.”

“But I know something else even better: the large fragments held by the sects are just that—large chunks. Many smaller fragments have scattered into the hands of kings, nobles, and collectors. And there’s no collector larger than your Mithril Treasury.”

Melita furrowed her elegant brows slightly. After a long pause, she spoke softly, “You’re right. The Mithril Treasury does hold some fragments of the Slate, but most of our collection is held in trust for others—like the crystals you once entrusted to us. For these, we strictly honor our agreements and never let them leak out. Unfortunately, all the original owners of the Eternal Slate fragments are still alive and have no intention of relinquishing ownership. So, I’m afraid I cannot sell them, nor can I show them to you without their permission.”

From Melita’s tone, Gawain knew the matter was settled—no negotiation.

The Mithril Treasury’s reputation was well known, and the power behind maintaining that reputation was equally notorious.

After a brief, slightly awkward silence, Melita continued, “Of course, if you’re willing to wait, there might be one or two fragments we could discuss…”

“Oh?”

“I can’t disclose the owner’s identity, but I can tell you this: one client made a grave mistake in fulfilling their contract and breached the agreement with the Mithril Treasury recklessly. We have reason to believe they won’t be able to compensate, so—soon, the items they hold in the Treasury will be up for sale.”

Though Melita smiled gently and spoke with elegant warmth, Amber, standing behind Gawain, shivered all over, a chill running from head to toe.

“Yikes—business people really are scary,” the half-elf muttered under her breath.

Gawain didn’t press for the identity of the mysterious defaulter, nor did he care much about the Treasury’s dealings. He simply nodded calmly. “Then I’ll wait. But I still need to confirm—how much does the Eternal Slate cost?”

It was necessary to get a clear price. Otherwise, if he bragged too much but couldn’t afford it, that would be even more embarrassing than Melita’s earlier ‘gasp.’ Though Gawain had a decent stash of money from the kingdom’s coffers, the value of the Eternal Slate was beyond mere gold. Who knew what price the Mithril Treasury would set?

By now, Melita had grown accustomed to Gawain’s straightforwardness and smiled faintly. “The value of the Eternal Slate cannot be measured in money. The Mithril Treasury doesn’t need to sell it for cash. Instead, we require other things—rare and collectible treasures, such as ancient relics from the Gondor era. I believe you have such items. If not, the crystals you entrusted to us before would also suffice. Of course, the best would be if you had another fragment of the Eternal Slate—that would be the easiest, as we could trade directly.”

Hearing this, a thought struck Gawain: the crystals he had once given the Treasury were considered as valuable as the Eternal Slate itself?

He trusted the Mithril Treasury wouldn’t speak lightly on such matters. Their expertise in appraising treasures was renowned, and they never made losing deals. So… did they know the origin of those crystals? Or at least their true worth?

Unsure if he could ask directly, Gawain decided to broach the subject casually. “It seems those crystals are quite valuable in your eyes?”

“According to the Mithril Treasury’s classification, treasures—excluding natural products—fall into three categories. The first are man-made and reproducible items, like most so-called jewels and curiosities. The second are man-made but no longer reproducible, such as ancient relics from the Gondor Empire or even older artifacts. The third category is extraordinary items—they are… not man-made.”

Melita’s eyes curved slightly as she smiled at Gawain. “Those crystals, and the fragments of the Eternal Slate—they are not of human origin.”

…

Boundless and unpredictable, sometimes calm, sometimes raging—capable of destroying the sturdiest ships and reefs in fury, yet as gentle as a cradle in peace. Beneath that cradle lies another dark and profound world.

This is the ocean.

Humanity has conquered the entire land, but not the sea. Beyond the continent of Loren lies the vast, ever-changing ocean. For the past seven centuries, humanity’s farthest ventures into the sea have never gone beyond the reach of the coastal lighthouses’ glow. Beyond that light, the ocean is far more violent than it appears. Fragile wooden ships cannot withstand the storms of the open sea, and the frequent mists and chaotic magical disturbances cause even the most experienced captains to lose their way.

Before the Stormlord’s Church turned to darkness, its priests were humanity’s only refuge and guides when sailing beyond the lighthouse’s reach. Blessed by the gods, these priests could find the correct path back to port through chaos and darkness. But after the Stormlord’s Church broke with all orthodox faiths and fell into darkness, all deep-sea routes were cut off. People, gripped by fear, turned away from the ocean. The captains and sailors who once dared to hunt riches in the open sea became cowards who only sailed along the coast. The priests and clerics of the Stormlord—now called the Children of the Storm—left the continent and human sight, stepping into the open sea.

They no longer worship the Stormlord but the storm itself, convinced that the tides will destroy the world—whether by rising or falling.

Deep in the Endless Eastern Sea, on a nameless large island reef, the Children of the Storm were busily repairing fortifications, mending totems, and setting up temporary barriers. The sky above was a swirling vortex of dark clouds, with howling winds and thunder brewing within. Torrential rain poured down, blurring the boundary between sea and sky, giving the eerie impression that the ocean itself might invert.

Even in the storm-prone Endless Sea, such a terrifying phenomenon was rare. It meant only one thing: the sea witches were coming again.

A high priest of the storm stood on the rain-soaked watchtower, his black robes whipping in the gale. The rain did not obscure his gaze as he fixed his eyes on the increasingly violent waves, as if staring into an abyss.

The Endless Sea enveloped the world in its capricious waters, hiding maddening truths deep beneath, leaving mortals with a gentle watery illusion. And those foolish mortals—their remaining reason and wisdom instinctively made them revere the ocean and keep away from its deepest reaches.

Perhaps this weakness was the Creator’s greatest gift to humanity. But sadly, the Children of the Storm, who once faced the truth head-on, had lost the luxury of such avoidance.

The vortex of clouds descended further, the terrifying roar of wind and thunder filling the ears. The high priest lifted his head and saw abnormal waves churning on the distant horizon. Faint shapes emerged from beneath the surface—monstrous deep-sea beasts dozens or even hundreds of times larger than normal creatures. Among them were small female figures.

An ordinary person might think these “witches” were controlling the beasts, but the high priest, having dealt with sea witches many times, knew better. Those giant creatures were not tamed monsters; they were sea witches themselves, just like the women among them.

They were the same race, manifesting in countless terrifying forms.

The horn of the sea spirit sounded. The Children of the Storm charged toward their battle positions, the high priest’s voice cutting through the storm, echoing across the reef:

“The sea witches have come!!!”

(End of chapter)