Chapter 1006: Act 177 – Greta and Alwahite
The dim candlelight spread along the drapery, illuminating a figure that resembled a beauty carved from ice. Her face, emerging from the darkness, was akin to a celestial snow fairy described in myths, yet her straight nose and chin seemed chiseled with precision; every line was distinct. She gazed at a young man before her, his eyes occasionally flickering with a ghostly blue light. The young man sat on a grayish wooden box, his expression serious and furrowed, one hand propping his chin, elbow resting on his thigh, unconsciously grinding the polished surface of his riding boots against the glass shards scattered in the dust.
The sharp fragments sparkled in the candlelight, resembling pearls amid the grit.
“Greta, you seem rather impatient?” The woman’s voice was like a chill wind cutting through the depths of a nightmare, freezing everything in its path, making even the bravest shiver in fear. But the young man, known as Greta, was no ordinary human; in fact, he was a dead man, and the dead do not feel cold, for they possess no body heat—upon hearing the question, Greta looked up, his soul’s fire a pulsating deep red, akin to flowing blood, as he regarded the Elf-lady queen.
He then revealed an elegant smile, one that surpassed that of the most refined gentleman among humans. Yet, it appeared oddly misplaced on a face devoid of color, cold and rigid; rather than feeling strange, it imparted a sense of refreshing warmth. “You know very well, Lady Alwahite, that from the very beginning, I never wanted to come to this desolate place. People often say that the undead lack style because they linger in those dreary locations, and this place is a hundred times more tasteless than the most lacking undead. May I ask, do you not feel bored staying in such a place?” The sword of the future Empire Madara, known as the strongest sword saint since Darus, asked with an outstretched hand.
“I feel neither bored nor unbored; such things hold no meaning for me. However, I know you are not worried about that, but rather about the person you are about to meet,” Alwahite replied coldly.
“Yes, for he is the master of this place. The only thing more terrifying than a place a hundred times more tasteless than the most lacking undead is its master. I hope he doesn’t take pride in his creation, for that would be even more sheer horror.”
“Actually, what is there for you to worry about? I have met that person. Before he died, we had a brief encounter; back then, he was merely a mortal, though of a more noble lineage—a Minren man, that is all.”
“How many years have you lived, madam?”
“I thought you should ask, how many years have you been dead—”
“Alright, forget I said anything.” The young man, helpless, quickly followed up with another question: “Have you truly met that person?”
Alwahite nodded: “About twelve hundred years ago, I saw him at Yas Bay, but at that time we were both in a rush. I knew who he was, but he did not know who I was.”
“What was he like back then? Was he as terrifying as the rumors say?”
“Are you afraid of him?” The Elf-lady queen countered.
“Does it not seem I am afraid?” Greta paused slightly, lowering his head to check his appearance, wondering what he might have expressed wrong.
“You seem afraid, but the undead cannot feel true fear—”
“A misstep.” The young man sighed, “He is a prophet. He witnessed the empire’s downfall with his own eyes. For a thousand years, he watched his kin decline, exiled, forgotten by Martha, seeing the once-glorious vanish into nothingness, the sands burying the relics of an era behind history, yet he remained unmoved. Does he lack power? No, it is said that he possesses the ability to destroy the heavens and the earth. In Mardos, his status is second only to the Dark Dragon—no, perhaps even higher, though it is unknown to others. If he intervened, the Four Sages would have no chance, yet he remains indifferent. What is he thinking?”
“What are you thinking?” Alwahite asked, surprised as she looked at Greta. “These matters have nothing to do with you.”
“I think a person like him must guard a secret, one that could answer everything. Our invitation here proves that point, does it not?” Greta said enthusiastically.
“I thought your curiosity would not be so strong.”
“How utterly boring, my lady. However, your silence impresses me greatly.”
The Elf-lady queen stared at the undead with her ghostly blue eyes until he withdrew.
“Alright, it does not matter if you do not speak; after all, I believe someone like you has lived for over a thousand years and surely knows something,” Greta said helplessly. “Nonetheless, I have been pondering a question. Shouldn’t the countries have seen some corresponding signs during that great war sixty years ago? How could they remain indifferent until now? Did something happen that we do not know?”
“What?”
“I mean,” Greta stood up suddenly, gesturing, “Do you not find this rather absurd?”
Alwahite looked at him in confusion.
Greta scratched his messy hay-like hair, explaining, “Why did they not resolve everything at once back then, leaving all the conflicts to erupt today? I am speaking of Her Majesty the Queen of Cruz. If I remember correctly, during the Second Holy War, both the Dragonkind and Budmen should have been present. They could have perfectly resolved this matter, yet they chose to remain indifferent and even exacerbated the situation. Without them, where would today’s queen come from?”
Alwahite slightly furrowed her brow, seemingly uninterested. “Perhaps they were pleased to see it unfold; perhaps they too were confused. You must understand that since a thousand years ago, the Four Holy Temples have stood on the side of justice, a justice that is not merely verbal or hypocritically pious. If they cannot stand firm on this point, they would lose their moral compass, much like today’s Temple of Fire—regardless of whether new or old priests and bishops, they can still wield divine powers and draw strength from the Path of Golden Flame, indicating their moral compass remains intact, albeit their stances differ.”
“You seem to know a lot about their doctrines?” Greta’s eyes lit up as though he had discovered a new continent.
But Alwahite impatiently shook her head, denying it: “If you had witnessed the history from the birth of these Four Temples to today, you would understand much more.”
Greta displayed a face more tragic than crying: “Madam, while I understand you are qualified to say this, could you refrain from making this point? It does undermine my confidence—experience and age could embolden wisdom, yet time has left no trace on you; rather, it has enhanced your glory and charm. I know this is enviable, but if you boast like this, I cannot take it.”
Alwahite said nothing in response to Greta’s flattery, clearly accustomed to this young man’s manner of speaking.
He received no reply from her but felt undeterred, continuing, “However, I agree with one of your viewpoints; perhaps they are also confused. But if Her Majesty the Queen is indeed that destined hero, what is there for them to be confused about?”
“Some things that have not happened leave no clear judgment of right and wrong—”
“So there is another possibility?”
The Elf-lady queen abruptly turned her head, coldly asking, “What exactly are you trying to imply?”
“Nothing,” Greta smiled slightly. “Just a hypothetical. By the way, you must have encountered those true heroes, right? Like the Four Sages, Lady Alwahite?”
“Basically; in that era, I had heard some tales about them but never met them in person.”
“What about the Flame King?”
“He is quite unique. That young man is filled with infinite possibilities. The bards use miracles to describe his life, which is quite fitting.”
“So, the Flame King is indeed a legend,” Greta asked again, “Lady Alwahite, do you think there is anyone in this world who can truly foresee the future?”
“There is one right where you are.”
“No,” Greta shook his head. “That person’s foresight is at best an inspiration; prophets can see fantastical images from their revelations. These images are chaotic and disordered, but they are merely fragments of the future. They can see these pieces yet are powerless to change them. I mean, if someone can see the future and alter its course—”
“Unless you are implying that person is a deity, for it is said that in ancient times, the divine could possess such abilities,” Alwahite replied coldly.
Upon hearing this, Greta fell silent, deep in thought. After a brief moment, a dusty massive door before the two suddenly creaked eerily, then slowly opened by itself, as if it possessed self-awareness, welcoming its distant guests.
Both Alwahite and Greta lifted their heads simultaneously, seeing an old man with a stooped figure slowly walk out from the darkness behind the door. The old man wore a long robe and held a very ordinary wooden staff, wobbling as he walked, resembling a candle flickering in the wind, as though he could extinguish at any moment. Yet, when Tarlig saw him, he could not help but stand solemnly; some people are sung of in legends, but some people themselves are legends, like this one before them. His stories were as numerous as the stars in the sky long ago, and his name, whether a thousand years ago or a thousand years later, was enough to move anyone.
Though it was merely an ordinary Minren’s name, it needed no spoken narrative and resonated powerfully in the darkness.
Even Greta could not help but lower his head and bow respectfully under the gaze like onyx.
But only Alwahite remained proudly standing.
…
The sun’s brilliance passed through the sky west of Meiz, not pausing in its established trajectory for anyone. It fell like a blazing meteor, hurtling towards the western sea and sky without reservation. Once a given moment passed, the silver forest was no longer sunny but dyed with a layer of pale red twilight, and dusk was clearly signaling in the western horizon. The stars sparkled like diamond dust against the backdrop of the pale purple evening glow.
The knights of the White Legion were escorting the Undead Army through the final stretch of the Golden Needle Valley. The knight commander, Marjorie, looked up at the sky; the timing was just right. Although this valley had long been deserted, the mountain folk had already migrated north, firmly attracting the attention of the nobles in the Fatan Port to the south of Valarch. Yet no one was willing to spend the night in this forest filled with odd tales, especially not among such a pile of skeletal remains.
They were indeed the bravest knights. Yet the legends of this forest primarily stemmed from the mountain folk’s chilling stories, the tales of an era long past, imbued with awe-inspiring mystery.
He raised his hand, signaling to the knights beside him—just ahead was the last stretch of the valley, and the gently undulating ridge formed a narrow gorge, the most complex area of the terrain and very suitable for an ambush. Although the place had long been uninhabited, out of caution, he felt it safer to send scouts to investigate, following Cruz’s military protocols.
Marjorie understood this deeply; the duke had chosen to send him for this important task precisely because of his cautious nature. Such characteristics might seem overly indecisive for a commander, but in the current situation, they were quite appropriate. After all, he had never thought of rising further. The knight commander held a rank in the empire’s military that he found quite satisfactory.
The knights, his own personal guards, quickly understood his meaning and set off on horseback. Marjorie noticed as they passed through the forest, not a single bird took flight. This was not a good omen, and it made him frown deeply.
Sure enough, only a moment later, he heard his guards let out a furious shout, followed by the sounds of panicking horses. Based on years of military experience, he could even discern the sound of arrows slicing through the air.
“There is an ambush!”
The knight’s voice and the voice in his mind rang out simultaneously.
