Chapter 9: Incineration

Gawain stared toward the horizon for a long time. In those first few minutes, the overwhelming clash in his perception left him utterly unable to make sense of what he was seeing—whatever it was, it was far, far from the sun he knew.

A broad, majestic arc continued to rise, and at first, it ascended much faster than a normal sunrise. Soon, Gawain caught sight of a small segment of its glowing curve. The arc truly emitted light, its edges tinged with a hazy color and veiled in a misty, cloud-like structure. This must be the source of the world’s light and warmth. Yet, unlike the sun he was used to, its radiance wasn’t blinding—in fact, it was quite the opposite. Gawain could look directly at the arc and even discern subtle patterns on its surface.

Estimating its curvature, Gawain realized this was an object whose apparent diameter was dozens, even hundreds of times larger than the sun’s. Of course, its actual size was probably smaller than a typical star—it was simply much closer to the ground.

At this distance, if it rose fully, it might cover about a fifth of the sky… though this was just a rough guess, his intuition likely skewed by the shock of the sight.

The oppressive feeling of witnessing a colossal celestial body rise right before one’s eyes was indescribable.

Quickly searching through his memories, Gawain found countless similar spectacular “sunrises.” The object in the sky was no anomaly—it was the most ordinary sight in this world.

So how to explain it?

Gawain soon formulated several theories based on his knowledge. Perhaps the physical laws of this world differed drastically from those of his home universe, making stars far less efficient at producing light and heat. Maybe this planet orbited extremely close to its star, allowing such a massive sun to loom large in the sky without scorching the land. Or perhaps it wasn’t a sun at all, but a radiant hole emitting light and heat, or some other utterly unscientific yet magical phenomenon…

But the most likely explanation was that this planet didn’t orbit a sun at all. Instead, it revolved around a gas giant—or rather, it was a moon of that giant. The object rising in the sky was…

The parent planet of this moon.

At that moment, the sense of being a stranger in a foreign world hit Gawain harder than ever.

“Ancestor? Ancestor, sir?” Hetty’s voice came from beside him, finally pulling Gawain out of his daze and deep thought.

“Ah… huh?” Gawain snapped back to reality, looking at his great-great-granddaughter with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

The beautiful noblewoman had just left the dark, cramped, and perilous underground tunnel. Now, somewhat restored to her former grace, she gave a slight bow. “Ancestor, you were daydreaming just now, but we need to leave here.”

Gawain mumbled a few vague replies, then noticed the tunnel’s exit opened onto a small, exposed hillside. Standing there blindly in uncertain surroundings was hardly wise, so he nodded. “Let’s head up to higher ground and get a better view. The terrain I know is from seven hundred years ago—it might not be reliable today.”

Following his lead, the group moved toward the nearby hill. Along the way, Gawain couldn’t help but glance up at the enormous “sun” several times.

“Ancestor, you keep staring at the sun,” Rebecca, walking behind him, asked with concern. “Is something wrong?”

Amber chimed in casually, “Our old ancestor just woke up after seven hundred years underground. Of course he wants to look at the sun a little longer.”

Gawain ignored Amber and gave the great-great-great-granddaughter a sideways glance, shaking his head slightly. In his mind, he confirmed what the locals called that thing in the sky—indeed, they called it the sun.

Or rather, no matter how the word was pronounced, in this world’s collective mind, that word meant “sun” and nothing else.

Gawain searched the original owner’s memories again. After several attempts with keywords and vague clues, he finally felt a spark of understanding and looked up toward the still dimmer part of the sky.

Among the stars that lingered in the not-yet fully brightened sky, he spotted a tiny, grain-of-rice-sized “star” that shone brighter than all the others.

The people of this world called that special star “Ao,” imbuing it with deep religious and magical significance.

This discovery cast doubt on his earlier two guesses. Only the third theory held water.

“Ao” was the true star of this system, unimaginably distant. Its light bathed the land beneath Gawain’s feet, but like other starlight, it was cold and faint.

In the cool morning breeze, Gawain climbed to the top of the hill.

Before him stretched a land ravaged by war, grotesquely decayed and burned.

It was as if strong acid had been poured onto flesh—the earth was rotten and ruined. Vast swaths of rock and soil had turned gray-black, cracked veins spiderwebbed everywhere. The vegetation was long since corrupted; the remaining tree trunks twisted into shapes resembling demonic claws. Farther off, collapsed walls, charred houses, and the Cecil family’s ancestral castle shrouded in smoke and dust came into view.

Monstrous, giant-like aberrations roamed this wasteland.

Fields and crops had long been swallowed by the magical tide stirred up by these creatures, leaving nothing recognizable.

“The family’s domain…” Rebecca lay on the hillside, teeth clenched tightly, eyes reddening. Whether from anger or sorrow, tears welled and swirled in her gaze. The young woman, newly inheriting the family estate and still unaccustomed to her role as lady, seemed utterly broken.

“This is what land corrupted by the magical tide looks like,” Gawain sighed. “The old kingdom of Gondor was once corrupted from within to this very state. I suspect that corruption still festers in the ruins of the old empire. And now, a new corruption has appeared within the borders of civilization.”

Amber broke out in a cold sweat. “The Shadow God above… we’ve been surrounded by these things all along?”

Hetty pondered the possibility of restoring the family’s vitality. “Is there still hope?”

“No hope,” Gawain shook his head. “You failed to stop the aberrations’ advance. They’ve formed a collective resonance, and the magical tide they’ve unleashed has caused elemental contamination that’s irreversible. Even if you wiped out every monster, the pollution lingering on this land would last a very long time.”

“How long?” Hetty still clung to hope.

“Has human civilization returned to the lands of old Gondor?” Gawain asked, seemingly off-topic.

“That area remains a forbidden zone. No one dares set foot beyond the grand barrier.”

Gawain shrugged. “Then it looks like the corruption in the Cecil domain will last at least seven hundred years.”

Rebecca and Hetty exchanged surprised glances. They couldn’t understand how this great ancestor—the founder of the Cecil family—could remain so calm in the face of their last family domain being destroyed by monsters. No anger, no sorrow—he seemed to regard it as if it were someone else’s problem. Their unease even bordered on fear.

Noticing their looks, Gawain asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Ancestor, aren’t you… angry?” Rebecca asked cautiously. “This is the last piece of land the Cecil family owns…”

Gawain paused, suddenly realizing he hadn’t fully stepped into the role. His momentary lapse showed through, so he quickly put on a stern face and summoned all his acting skill. “Dwelling on this won’t help. Gawain Cecil is a pioneer. Every inch of this family’s land and wealth was built from nothing by me. If we lose this land, so be it—we’ll just find new places to settle. No need to get all sentimental.”

Hetty and Rebecca nodded vigorously, secretly admiring their ancestor’s legendary vision and breadth of mind. Truly a figure of mythic stature. Though they wondered where, in an age when all land was divided among the existing nobility and unclaimed territory was basically forbidden, their ancestor planned to go pioneer next…

“There’s nothing more to see here. We need to plan our next steps. First, find a town, then try to rendezvous with the group that broke out earlier,” Gawain said, riding the momentum of his bravado. “I remember a knight named Philip led the breakout, right? Did you arrange a meeting point?”

Rebecca quickly replied, “We agreed on Tansan in the north. If Tansan’s been attacked too, we’ll keep heading north along the Royal Road.”

Gawain nodded, about to move on, when a strange feeling stopped him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he and the nearby Knight Byron shouted almost simultaneously, “Get down! Hide!”

Though confused, Rebecca and Hetty immediately ducked behind a large boulder. Amber, at the first word, melted into the shadows and vanished into some corner. Gawain followed close behind Rebecca, but suddenly noticed the somewhat dazed and clueless little maid Betty still standing in the open, clutching a frying pan. He dashed out, grabbed her, and pulled her to safety—just as a chilling wave of pressure descended from above.

Amid the rising glow of the “giant sun,” a graceful yet massive creature slowly flew across the sky.

A dragon, tens of meters long.

In terror, Hetty instinctively cast a third-level spell, “Bend Light Field,” cloaking everyone’s forms. But she wasn’t sure if such a simple spell could fool a legendary beast’s eyes.

The dragon, however, did not notice the people below—or perhaps it simply didn’t care. It beat its wings slowly and majestically, its enormous eyes reflecting the ruined lands of the Cecil domain.

Then, with a breath of scorching flame…

It incinerated the place.

(End of chapter)