Chapter 1569: A Century Beneath the Nightfall
Gawain studied the silver-haired girl before him with curiosity. Though he had read the reports describing her, only now, seeing her in person, did he truly grasp the eerie “otherness” she exuded—something almost inhuman. She was composed of the purest black and white, with no hint of color anywhere. This stark monochrome blurred the contours of her face, and those colorless eyes staring at him would send chills down the spine of most people.
That unsettling aura was so strong it almost made one overlook the fact that she was actually quite pretty, with a gentle, friendly smile playing at her lips.
But Gawain was a seasoned man. After the initial surprise and curiosity, his demeanor quickly settled. He understood that her appearance was shaped by the Lady of Shadows—the Mistress of Light and Darkness—and her identity was obvious.
“Hello,” he said with a smile, stepping forward and extending his hand. “You must be the ‘Morning Star’ mentioned in the report?”
The silver-haired girl seemed startled by his outstretched hand. She probably hadn’t expected the legendary Emperor Gawain Cecil to be so approachable. After a brief hesitation, she cautiously reached out. The touch of her icy skin sent a cold shiver through Gawain’s fingertips. “Greetings.”
At that moment, Amber finally caught on. She stared at the girl in surprise, then memories flooded her mind. “It’s you! I remember now! When I was wandering around this city before, I kept running into you—and others like you!”
“Yes, that was us,” Morning Star smiled gently. “But at that time, you were only interacting with a projection caught between reality and illusion. The ‘anchor’ hadn’t fully taken effect yet, and you had already reached the border of the Divine Realm, teetering on the edge of dissolving from the real world. So the Lady intervened, temporarily shielding parts of your self-awareness and memory, allowing you to live here for a while. I apologize for keeping the truth from you during the anchoring process.”
“No worries at all,” Amber waved her hand dismissively, a happy smile spreading across her face. “That experience was actually pretty interesting. And you all took good care of me—food, shelter, everything…”
As she spoke, her gaze drifted to the black cloak draped over Morning Star’s chest, lingering on the silver-white insignia pinned there. After a moment of silence, she whispered, “The Intelligence Bureau’s emblem… I can guess what happened, but I want to hear it from you—Silver-Eyed Korod, who is he to you?”
“He was my great-grandfather,” Morning Star said with a faint smile. “He founded the Intelligence Bureau’s Shadow Affairs Division and passed away over a decade ago. My father and grandfather inherited his legacy. Today, most agents in the Intelligence Bureau here in Nightfall City are ‘fourth generation’ or earlier ‘third generation’ descendants like me. You might find my appearance strange—that’s because it’s proof of the complete ‘shadow affinity’ achieved by the third and fourth generations.”
Amber opened her mouth, scratching her head awkwardly. “Well, it’s not that strange… though I was definitely surprised the first time I saw it.”
Morning Star just smiled indifferently, then stepped back slightly and pointed toward the city’s entrance. “Please, follow me. I will guide you through this city on the border between the Divine Realm and the mortal world. Director Amber, from now on, you are the true mistress of this city. Along the way, I’ll introduce you to the place. The Lost and their descendants have lived here for a hundred years—there’s much worth seeing.”
…
Nightfall City lived up to its name. Above it hung a perpetual shroud of dim, chaotic twilight—a strange state where it felt like night had fallen, yet faint light still illuminated the streets.
This was a stark contrast to the desert around the Lady of Shadows’ throne, which was always bathed in pale daylight.
Despite the ever-present gloom, and the city’s silhouette appearing as a strange, eerie shadow from afar, Nightfall City’s streets were far more bustling and lively than Gawain had imagined.
Because this city had residents—countless residents.
Through the mist, rows of houses lined the streets, stacked in ways that defied geometry. Their inverted, chaotic facades made it hard to tell where doors and windows even were. Along the roads stood antique, elegant street lamps, their crystal shades flickering with pale, muted light—not so much to illuminate as to decorate.
And within this dreamlike, slightly surreal cityscape lived the residents of Nightfall City. They were the shadows flickering across walls, the drifting mists bustling through the streets, the shadow-dwellers wrapped in rune-inscribed cloths moving stealthily, and many who had no visible form at all—only whispers in the air, conversations heard but bodies unseen. Only by sensing their presence in the atmosphere could one tell they were there.
This was a city crafted by the Mistress of Light and Darkness, the gateway on the border of night. From its style and atmosphere to its architecture and inhabitants, everything here existed in a strange liminal space between dream and reality. It could be called a “lucid dream.” Even someone as experienced as Gawain felt a chill walking these streets, reminded of certain horror stories:
You open your eyes and see no one around. You rub your eyes hard—and suddenly, everywhere is filled with shadows of people. But only their shadows…
“This place finally matches the impression the Lady of Shadows left on the world,” Amber said uneasily. She was walking past a low wall, on which a flat, paper-thin “shadow” was printed. As her words fell, the shadow suddenly lifted off the wall, greeted Gawain and the others, then dissolved into a drifting mist. “When I wandered here before, I didn’t feel this… off.”
“Your self-awareness was incomplete then, so you wouldn’t have noticed anything strange,” Morning Star smiled. “But don’t worry. The residents here are all the Lady’s children—shadow-dwellers who have completed their journey back, regained their sanity from aimless wandering. Their forms may be odd, but they’re friendly, and they will treat you as honored guests.”
“All shadow-dwellers?” Gawain’s eyes widened. “Including that shadow that just emerged from the wall, and those… voices I can only hear?”
“Yes, all shadow-dwellers. There are only two kinds of residents here: descendants of the Lost like me, and shadow-dwellers,” Morning Star nodded. “Descendants of the Lost are a small minority in the city.”
“I thought all shadow-dwellers looked like those wrapped in rune cloths with clouds of mist inside,” Gawain said, surprised. “So they have other forms too?”
“Shadow-dwellers have emotions and aesthetics too. When they wandered aimlessly, they all looked the same. But now that they’ve regained their minds, they like to… dress up,” Morning Star said, her tone and expression oddly amused. “Though their fashion sense might not match ‘outside’ standards. For example, in the past two years, many shadow-dwellers seem to favor ‘32% opacity matte black with horizontal gray-white gradients’ as a popular style… Honestly, I don’t really get it.”
Gawain sighed deeply. “What was the Lady thinking when she created this race…”
“The Lady… often acts on a whim,” Morning Star’s lips curved into a slight smile. “When I was little, my great-grandfather told me about his youth. The Lost were uncomfortable at first, living next to such an unpredictable ancient god. It was stressful for everyone. But later, they realized the Lady’s ‘unfathomable quirks’ were just whims. Ignoring her… didn’t really cause any problems.”
Gawain glanced at Amber, then quickly looked away before the shadowy scout noticed.
Morning Star continued leading them forward, stopping suddenly at an intersection. She raised her hand and pointed ahead.
Gawain followed her finger and froze.
There, fluttering atop a spire in Nightfall City, was a flag bearing the image of a sword and a plow. Though faded to black and white like the surrounding buildings, the emblem stood out all the more clearly.
Morning Star’s voice came beside him: “Most of the residents in this district are descendants of the Cecil family. The Shadow Affairs Division uses this area as its base. We uphold imperial law here, manage relations with other districts, and represent the Lost’s descendants in dealings with the shadow-dwellers.
“Over the past century, we’ve built good ‘neighborly relations’ with the natives and learned much about the Shadow Realm, ancient civilizations, and even the history of the Lady of Shadows and the Rebellion from the shadow-dwellers. Though they wandered blindly for hundreds of thousands of years, most still remember what happened during that time. Some were even originally residents of the Violet Kingdom and hold many untold histories.”
She paused, then pointed in another direction. “At the next intersection, turn left. After two more blocks, you’ll reach the district where the descendants of the Typhon live.”
“Typhon?!” Gawain stopped in surprise, then quickly realized—of course there would be Typhon descendants here!
When the Violet Kingdom’s dream suddenly vanished, swallowed by the mist, the “foreigners” stranded weren’t just agents sent by Cecil or international merchants. At the same time, many Typhon traders and their intelligence operatives were stuck on Violet Island. Not only Typhon—there were also gray elf merchants from the Timberwood, apprentices sent by the Northern City-States Union to study, and travelers crossing the strait on their own!
The city’s tapestry was far richer than he had imagined.
Back then, the Violet Kingdom was indeed a secluded realm, but its strict lockdown policies applied only to its core regions. The border cities remained open to the Loren Continent. Within this limited openness, a large number of people ended up stranded in the Violet Mist!
To Lady Night, there was no distinction between the Cecilian, Tiphonian, or Ogurean people. Since She intervened to spare Silver-Eyed Korod and his group, She would naturally treat all the other “lost souls” who entered the Shadow Divine Realm equally.
“That makes sense… of course there would be Tiphoans,” Gawain exhaled softly, a curious expression crossing his face. “So, what’s their situation now?”
“Their leader is Viscount Helborna Raven, a very capable figure,” Morningstar nodded. “From what I know, his grandfather was Dante Raven, a military man. Our knowledge of the ‘outside world’ is limited; all our information comes from the generations before us. But considering the outside world hasn’t undergone a century of change like the City of Nightfall, our intelligence should still be fairly accurate.”
Gawain glanced thoughtfully at Amber beside him, who paused briefly before nodding. “Dante Raven, a Tiphonian soldier. He had a cousin named Marianne Raven. Miss Marianne was among the first group of Tiphoan students to study in Cecil.”
“Marianne Raven…” Gawain thought for a moment, then recalled, “Oh yes, I personally signed the graduation certificates for that special group of Tiphoan students. I remember that name.”
“Looks like Miss Marianne’s cousin was also one of those who disappeared during the Violet Mist incident,” Gawain said with a sigh. “And now his descendants have become the leaders of the Tiphoan community here in the City of Nightfall. For those outside, the disappearance of loved ones is a recent tragedy, but here, it’s a century-old history.”
“Seems like we’ll have to handle some handover work soon,” Amber mused. “This city isn’t just home to our people, but also descendants of lost souls from many nations. For those who lost contact with their families during the Violet Mist incident, the news we bring out will be invaluable.”
Gawain nodded in agreement.
Compared to the looming magical cataclysm and the Twilight of the Gods, this was a minor matter. But for those personally involved, it was something that had to be cared for.
Morningstar then turned her gaze to the other side of the district.
“That side is a neighborhood jointly established by descendants of the Ogurean tribes and northern city-states. Most of the skilled craftsmen and brewers gather there. They have extensive networks and enjoy good relations among the shadow dwellers…
“Four blocks beyond here lies a large residential area called the ‘Grant Market.’ Most residents there are descendants of adventurers and independent merchants, as well as scholars and freelance mercenaries from previous generations. The Grant Market has a relaxed atmosphere with many entertainment venues, and even the shadow dwellers often come there to unwind.
“Between these districts are scattered smaller settlements that have gradually appeared over the past century… After such a long time, the descendants of the original lost souls have changed a great deal. Some no longer care much about the ‘heritage’ and ‘teachings’ passed down by their ancestors. But overall, everyone gets along quite well nowadays…”
Listening to Morningstar’s account, Gawain let out a soft sigh. “A hundred years of change and upheaval…”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Morningstar said, pausing for a moment before smiling gently. “A hundred years of change and upheaval.”
(End of chapter)