Chapter 718: Taking Root

Beltira regarded Gawain with a calm, composed expression.

Though all the tender leaves had withered away, she maintained a serene and detached demeanor. This was the last shred of dignity she could cling to as the final High Priestess of the Cult of the End of All Things, standing before an “Outer Wanderer.”

The Ultimate Tome, which had served countless times over centuries to aid the Cult in completing numerous critical projects, was finally retiring after its long service. Perhaps… this was simply its fate.

The High Priest handed the book to her, along with the legacy of the Cult of the End of All Things. Now, it was time to bring this flawed inheritance to a close.

What came next might be the age of the gods, or an era of decline, or perhaps truly the dawn of the Outer Wanderer and the new order he forged. Regardless, since she had survived in this form, she had to prepare herself to face whatever fate awaited—no matter where it might lead.

A faint, delicate smile touched her lips—she tried to make it look human, but the plant-like mimicry of her face lent every expression a subtle stiffness. “So, does this mean we’ve reached some kind of… agreement?”

“I believe so,” Gawain nodded slightly. “Within the borders of the Cecile Empire, the Cult of the End of All Things is no longer a threat. And I don’t mind having a plant capable of healing the land growing on my territory—so long as it abides by the Empire’s basic laws. As for you… I hope you’ll cooperate with our ongoing investigations into the Cult.”

“Of course,” Beltira replied softly. The wooden structures around her began to stir, flexible vines and roots branching out once more, weaving countless fine tendrils that slowly intertwined, sketching out a shape.

At last, the tendrils coalesced into a three-dimensional structure that covered nearly a third of the hall’s floor. Within it, corridors, rooms, broken walls, and partitions were all clearly visible.

“This is…”

“The layout of the underground complex as perceived by my roots,” Beltira said with a faint smile. “I know you found the ‘Guide,’ but Bard doesn’t know the full structure of this place. It has suffered collapses and deformations; about half the rooms and corridors are no longer where they should be, or pose structural risks. I hope this map will help you. The reddish-brown rooms are our laboratories; the gray-white ones are archives. All our data—both the most advanced and the most gruesome—are stored there. Feel free to use them as you see fit. How you choose to proceed… that’s up to you.”

The most extreme and advanced biochemical laboratories in the human world had finally opened their doors to Gawain.

“I will make good use of it,” he said with a smile.

Outside the hall, Amber and the others, who had been waiting for a long time, finally received Gawain’s orders. Upon returning, their eyes immediately fell on the massive wooden map occupying a third of the hall. Yet Beltira, who should have been standing nearby, was nowhere to be seen.

Amber took a few quick steps to Gawain’s side, scanning the surroundings warily before asking curiously, “Where’s that… plant person?”

“Plant person?!” Gawain echoed.

“Yeah, you know, the person growing out of a plant…”

Gawain was speechless. He had thought Amber had somehow picked up a word he never taught her, but it turned out she’d just made it up.

“She’s still here,” Gawain shook his head. “That giant tree is her—an abnormal result of her forcibly resisting the power of the False God’s body. If you mean the human form she mimicked… she’s gone deeper, into the collapsed layers we can’t enter.”

“Sounds pretty intense…” Amber scratched her head. “Collapsed layers, huh? Doesn’t sound like a good place. What’s she doing down there?”

Gawain looked toward the secret chamber that had once been behind Beltira. It had been filled with human remains—bodies Beltira had gathered from all over the underground complex in a daze. But now… it was empty.

“She’s holding a funeral—with my permission. After all, even cultists who were burned deserve a proper burial.”

Amber blinked, then noticed the large black leather-bound tome in Gawain’s hand—something she hadn’t seen before. “What’s that?”

“An ancient artifact that might hold great secrets. It’s damaged now, but I think it’s still worth studying,” Gawain said casually. Then he gestured toward the map in the hall. “This is the current layout of the underground complex. It should be accurate. Future explorations will use this as a reference. Priority is to move the contents of the gray-white rooms to the surface. For now, let’s return to the surface—there’s much to arrange.”

After waiting on the surface for some time, Lady Knight Margarita and Pittman finally saw Gawain and his team emerge from the dark tunnel.

Though they had maintained contact with the team below via the magical network terminal, Gawain had spent a long time in private conversation with the strange “High Priestess,” making everyone tense. Thankfully, all was well, and Margarita let out a sigh of relief.

“Your Majesty,” the knight approached, “what’s next…”

“The situation is complicated. We’ll discuss it in detail back at camp,” Gawain said, glancing around in surprise. Beautifully patterned fallen leaves were scattered across the lush grass and bushes—clearly from the giant tree overhead. He looked at Margarita. “What’s going on? Why are there suddenly so many leaves falling?”

When he spoke with Beltira below, she seemed fine, so Gawain was curious about the sudden leaf fall.

“I’m not sure,” Margarita shook her head. “It started about an hour ago, but nothing else unusual has happened.”

Gawain blinked and rubbed his chin. “…Maybe it’s just the cold. After all, it’s a plant.”

It couldn’t be that the leaves were falling because they were heartbroken… Beltira had said she didn’t care.

Suddenly, an invisible breeze stirred the grass and trees, rustling softly. Just as Gawain was about to leave, he paused, sensing something. He looked toward the giant tree’s trunk and saw numerous flowering vines rapidly sprouting, twisting and stretching. From among them, Beltira’s figure emerged.

If not for the many vines behind her and roots connecting her to the earth beneath, Beltira would have looked almost human.

The soldiers nearby immediately raised their weapons, and Margarita’s hand went to the hilt of her molten-cutting sword. But Gawain waved them off.

He looked at Beltira. “Are you done with your business?”

“It’s all finished,” Beltira said calmly, glancing at the wary gazes around her. Though she didn’t need to move her mimicry eyes to see everything within the tree’s canopy, she still made the human gesture and sighed softly. “Not very welcome, huh… Is this really okay?”

“Nothing wrong with it,” Gawain said evenly. “The Empire needs rest and recovery. This land needs healing. You should take root here and heal it—you have the power. Let those displaced by the disasters you caused return home and fill their bellies. Let your flesh and blood nourish this earth. That’s the perfect arrangement—far better than creating another pile of ashes on the plains.”

“I don’t have the power to heal the entire Holy Spirit Plain. My reach is limited to the Solin region…”

“Then heal Solin. Our reconstruction needs a foothold,” Gawain nodded, then paused. “I’ll withdraw half the troops here but keep the garrison at Solin Fort and the southern outposts. You understand what I mean.”

Beltira slowly smiled. “Necessary caution, and necessary goodwill, Brother Gawain.”

…

The weather grew colder; winter’s footsteps approached. In this northern land of the continent, cold air always arrived earlier than elsewhere. Yet in the relatively warm southern territories, the great sun still cast a lingering warmth over the earth.

Just past noon, the perfect sunlight bathed the open fields on the eastern outskirts of Cecile City, chasing away the chill brought by the north wind. Maggie sat on a wooden crate beside the testing ground, tilting her head to glance at the brilliant solar disk, squinting slightly.

In the Principality of the Holy Dragon, there was no such warm sunlight. It was always ice and snow, with howling cold winds reigning over mountains and wild forests. Maggie’s memories of home were built on ice, snow, mountains, and ancient stone structures that felt like tombs.

For many years afterward, her memories were tied to the mountains of Ansu’s northern lands.

Winterhold had warm hearths, but beyond its walls lay mountains, snow, and endless cold air… Yet she still loved that place, deeply.

Here, in the Empire’s southern lands…

The warmth was different. The vibrant life here was a stark contrast to the rugged, passionate lives of the northern mountain folk.

This new and strange place felt… quite nice.

She smiled and looked toward the center of the testing ground.

Magitek engineers bustled around a massive, oddly shaped machine. Its main body resembled a short, thick spindle or gyroscope. Below it floated a large metal ring etched with runes. On either side were broad, crescent-shaped wing panels. Atop the “gyroscope” sat a crude cockpit made of metal and crystal glass, flanked by another pair of wing panels that spread out like dragon wings, supported by mechanical structures and steel frames. Its bizarre design was so unlike anything a seasoned archmage or naturalist might recognize or guess its purpose.

Yet this strange contraption was a treasure to everyone here. The respected magitek engineers worked up a sweat around it, while Rebecca, the chief designer and commander, controlled the operation. Maggie even spotted the sea witch named “Tyr” nearby. Usually lazy and unmotivated, Tyr had come to the testing ground, scribbling sonnets on the ground with the tip of her tail to fight off the drowsiness brought by the sunlight, all while glaring intently at the Cecilian “mechanical new toy.”

As a visitor from a high civilization, Tyr was more than just an observer—she was a semi-official consultant. Though the two races’ technological trees differed greatly, and Tyr couldn’t comment on magical runes, she could offer some advice on shared technical fields like mechanical structure and mechanics.

The technicians seemed to have completed the final adjustments.

Rebecca clapped her hands enthusiastically, then the imperial princess turned around to look at where Maggie was sitting.

“Maggie! That’s enough! We’re flying again today! This time, it’s definitely going to work!”

A faint smile appeared on Maggie’s lips as she jumped down from the crate and walked over to the strange-looking machine.

Rebecca’s excited chatter came from beside her: “Last time it crashed because of vibrations in the rudder wing panel. We’ve adjusted how it’s connected this time, so it’s definitely fixed…

“Just stay relaxed and operate it normally. We haven’t changed any of the controls—the joysticks are perfect.

“This time, we’re really going to get it off the ground. This time, it will fly!”

Rebecca clenched her fists and pumped them twice, then beamed brightly as she added:

“And it’ll land smoothly… at least right side up.”

(Recommendation time! The book is Player of Ultimate Justice by Bu Qi Shi Xian—seems like a newcomer but actually a returning veteran. It’s about someone who gets transported to another world and becomes an NPC, then goes on a wild spree. The chaos is fantastic.)

(End of chapter)