Chapter 955: Act 126 – The Truth
Somir Crystal, also known in the game as Somir Ore, was initially regarded as a crystal ore rich in magical power when it was first discovered. However, people gradually came to recognize another characteristic of this crystal – its ability to crystallize. Somir Crystal has the ability to gradually crystallize organic life forms nearby, but the crystallized creatures do not lose their life; instead, they transform into life forms composed of crystals – that is, semi-crystallized beings. Because this ability is effective not only on animals but also on plants, large crystal forests are often found surrounding Somir Crystals, in fact contributing significantly to the formation of these crystal forests.
However, the assimilation effect of Somir Crystal on living beings is a slow and gradual process; it typically takes several years or even longer to complete. According to Turiman’s description, soldiers from the three great empires entering the final battlefield experienced the effects of crystallization disease within just two or three days. While this crystal sounds very much like the Somir Crystal that Brendel had heard about, the effects are obviously much stronger, perhaps a variant of greater magical power or possibly something entirely different.
In either case, the crystallization process should be irreversible. This is why he found himself in such a dilemma when facing the crystallization disease of the Centaur Lamia Senior Sister, Yilian. In fact, records from the game indicate that there are very few cases of curing crystallization disease, most of which are thanks to the Fountain of Life or miracle arts that verge on miracles themselves. In the final battle’s battlefield, it was clearly impossible for so many miracles to exist at the same time. With countless soldiers on the battlefield, each country involved in the holy war not only sent base-level soldiers but also a significant number of nobles, including many from the upper classes. If these individuals were to perish on the battlefield, it would be something that no country at that time could cover up. From Turiman’s tone, it is evident that the affected individuals were the overwhelming majority.
At this point, it is necessary to mention the attitude of the Vaunte nobility towards war during that era. Prior to the Second Holy War, nobles generally viewed participation in war as a form of glory, not because they still possessed the bravery and valor of their ancestors carving their paths through the wilderness, but rather the opposite. In the heart of civilization, after the first generation of Pioneer Knights gradually faded from public memory, their descendants became increasingly absorbed in pleasure and trivial pursuits, having long lost their forebears’ grandeur. During the Holy Wars, human nobles were often willing to sacrifice their lives for a word or a promise, but a thousand years later, such actions are considered foolish.
Nobles are not afraid of war because it is not a matter of life and death for them, especially in empires like Cruz, where there are rarely records of upper nobles perishing in war—unless they are unfortunate enough to be struck by stray arrows or die from disease due to unsuitable living conditions. Even if captured, they are treated with dignity—after all, to their enemies, hostages represent substantial ransom money. To this day, a vast majority of nobles still long for that era, believing that wars of that time embodied both chivalric spirit and noble virtues; it was an era of classical romanticism in warfare.
However, this privilege applies only to nobles. For soldiers from the lower ranks, the essence of war has not changed in a thousand years; it is still mixed with the cold metal and the stench of death.
Thus, it can be seen that if hundreds or thousands of nobles died in a single war, it would be monumental news for any country of that era. Even the royal family could be ripped apart by enraged relatives of the fallen. After all, the fates of those deceased often symbolize immense power. For example, Brendel remembers clearly that during the conflict involving the Temple of Fire, there were three dukes from the Cruz Empire on the battlefield, along with numerous lords, each having complex networks of relationships that could be said to encompass the entire noble lineage of the empire.
If these individuals were to die on the battlefield, it would likely trigger the collapse of an imperial princess’s marriage, and the situation for Saint Ausoor and Fanzan would likely be similar. Such events, if they were to happen, could never be covered up, nor could they be hidden. At this point, Brendel suddenly had a flash of insight, realizing whom his grandfather bore the blame for, but that thought was fleeting as he immediately shook his head.
This blame was something his grandfather could not possibly bear; even if he were the commander of the coalition from the Temple of Fire, it was still the case. Moreover, he also knew that while many nobles did perish in the battle at Alkarsh, it hadn’t reached an unacceptable level—at least the princess, three dukes, and several important figures had returned home unharmed.
Could it be that crystallization disease can distinguish between high and low status, and that noble status offers some form of immunity? Such nonsense clearly is not worth discussing. There is only one possibility, and that is that someone turned the tide at the last moment and saved the coalition of the three great empires. This also explains why the three great temples fell silent afterward, and the Second Holy War thus came to an end.
Regarding that individual, Brendel had a strong premonition in his heart. The image of that tall back flashed through his mind more than once: under the bloody sunset of Bruglas, the Deer Forest appeared bathed in a layer of bronze-like warmth, with the river flowing like fragments of gold soaking the shallows. The silent elder stood quietly, deep in thought, watching his grandson practice swordsmanship—Brendel now recalls that a hidden secret had always been guarded beneath his grandfather’s broad shoulders and tightly pressed lips, a secret that whispered in a low tone throughout the elder’s life, becoming dust intertwined with the final moment, buried in the grave.
At this moment, the time for that secret to be revealed has finally come.
Meeting his questioning gaze, Turiman did not hold back, recounting everything that had occurred at that time:
The crystallization disease seemed to have spread throughout the three allied forces overnight, with countless individuals infected. Initially, the crystallization was not so severe, but under the influence of the Somir Crystal’s magic, all the infected started to become restless, gathering together to attack each other or normal people attempting to separate them. As more individuals joined them, the situation in the Alkar region gradually spiraled out of control. Some individuals fled in fear, including nobles commanding the army, while the remaining normal individuals dwindled to a level where it was almost impossible to ensure their own safety.
Under that circumstance, discussing a solution became a joke, and the only options left were to wait for death or gamble it all in a desperate attempt. The arriving Bud people’s wizard suggested that perhaps they could shatter the Somir Crystal in the temple or use magic to cast it into a space-time anomaly; while that might not change what had already occurred, at least it could prevent further deterioration of the situation.
After discussion, this proposal received overwhelming support from the remaining majority. However, the problem was, who would do it?
On the remnants of the last battlefield, countless crystallized soldiers roamed, making it an exceedingly difficult task just to reach the temple, let alone predict what dangers lay within that mysterious temple. Undertaking this mission could be considered a death sentence, and not everyone was able to offer themselves up for such a task. Completing this impossible mission would clearly require more than just a few people’s strength; they would need an army, and an army requires a commander. Ironically, in order to compete for the so-called inheritance of the ‘Minren’, no one from the three great empires was willing to fall behind. At the moment the news spread, virtually all nobles, including the commanders of the imperial coalition, plunged into the fog, fearing being left behind. At that moment, none of these noble commanders returned from the fog.
Among the few remaining capable of commanding the army in the coalition, either they had fled, or they stubbornly refused to enter the fog, leaving only the Bud people discovering one person who perfectly matched their expectations—that was Darus, who was under house arrest by the Queen of Dragons. By qualifications, he was initially the commander of the coalition on the side of the Temple of Fire, with sufficient prestige. On the other hand, due to disagreements with Constance, he had initially escaped calamity and had not been infected by the crystallization disease.
What remained now was only his own willingness.
But, just as Brendel had suspected, after learning about the entire situation, his grandfather said not a single word but took up the command. This seemed incredulous to outsiders, but at that moment Brendel understood something about his grandfather; it was not just a sense of honor as a soldier but also because within that fog lay the woman he loved.
The elderly man, who had to yield to time and fate as he grew older, with his tall frame gradually bending, harbored within his typically silent soul an unusual bravado and fervor. Unfortunately, Brendel had never seen his grandfather from that era. In his memories, the distinctive recollections of that elder seem to have been gradually yellowing and fading, merging with another image.
In that image, Brendel saw flags waving like clouds, knights cheering like tidal waves, and the man standing before the tide of the grand army—The Lord Marshal of the Temple of Fire, and the indomitable ambition burning in his heart.
That was an era belonging to Erluin, as well as Ansun and his two ministers, one in front of him and the other eternally preserved in his memory.
The Erluin of that time shone far brighter than it does now.
Slowly, Brendel fell silent, just like his grandfather. He listened to Turiman narrate his grandfather’s triumph—it was akin to the heroes in classical myths, who often, against all odds, turned the tide and saved the world. The Cruz, Fanzan, and Wind Elves finally put aside their grievances and united at the most critical moment, accepting the command of a human; they cut through the fog-laden final battlefield, carving a bloody path out from the encirclement of semi-crystallized beings, overcoming layers of illusions, like the ancestors striking a path through blood and thorn in the dark ages, simply guided by their indomitable will, they reached that sacred temple.
“Your grandfather shattered that crystal; the huge crystal pillar split in two and, once it collapsed, lost its magic. Not only did the crystallization disease cease to spread, but even those originally crystallized human and elven soldiers gradually returned to normal,” Turiman slowly said, “That crystal still resides in a museum in Fran, where Anlam erected an unwritten stone tablet to commemorate those heroes from the time. Few know of its origins.”
“Why is it an unwritten stone tablet?” Brendel quietly asked.
The Sword Saint Darus, his grandfather saved the three great empires, and countless nobles from Cruz, Fanzan, and even the Wind Elves owe him a favor, yet he received an unjust trial. A cold killing intent surged in Brendel’s heart; if he were to find out who orchestrated all this from behind the scenes, he would ensure they regretted everything they had done in the past.
Because the Cadillos family still has descendants, and Darus’s grandson is named Brendel.
Unexpectedly, Turiman shook his head and said heavily, “I know what you’re thinking, young one, but it wasn’t as you imagine; your grandfather voluntarily accepted the trial.”
Brendel was stunned.
“Why?” he couldn’t help but blurt out.
“Because if he did not accept the trial, the princess of silver would die.”
……
The Garden of White Roses—
Tap, tap, a pair of deep red boots adorned with golden rose tips stepped onto the carriage step in succession, followed by a wave of deep black skirt; the Empire Empress Constance gracefully descended from the carriage with the careful assistance of her maid. Two women stepped forward to lift her long skirt, while Her Majesty scanned the surroundings coldly, her tightly furrowed brow indicating that the ruler of vast territories was not at peace within.
“Your Majesty.”
Two rows of maids bowed low.
Constance, however, ignored them, quickly walking past them and through the corridor, her cold face seemingly carrying the promise of an impending storm. Bang! The golden walnut door of the chamber pushed open in response, and the hand of the attendant froze mid-air, startled by this temperamental queen, but she already coldly stated:
“Leave.”
The attendants dared not defy her command, and several noblewomen exchanged uncertain glances before bowing and retreating. Inside the room, it quickly fell silent.
“She refused again?” After a while, a soft voice from the Dragon Queen emerged from the sofa, as if this lady were calmly asking there. But Constance didn’t need to turn around; she knew that the luxurious sofa made from expensive golden camel velvet from Sedaris was now completely empty.
“She will agree; that mountain girl has little time left,” Constance replied coldly. “By then, I’ll make her understand that I am not merely gentle in speech.”
“Of course, the wrath of a ruler brings bloodshed to the oars. So, are you preparing to strike at the mountain folk?”
“No, quite the opposite,” the Queen of Silver smirked coldly. “I plan to marry her off to that self-important fellow, the ‘Mountain Prince.’ After all, he has implored me more than once to betroth an imperial princess to him; since they are of the same kin, I think she will be satisfied.”
When she spoke the title of Mountain Prince, Constance’s tone concealed a thinly veiled contempt; in fact, it was originally an insulting title, considering that person from the mountains was always so self-important, and it is indeed true that no legitimate imperial noble would associate with them. Ridiculously, he took this identity seriously, thus giving rise to the title of Mountain Prince.
Generally speaking, as the Empire’s model, the exalted ruler on the throne, Constance rarely used such flippant language, yet clearly, she was currently engulfed in extreme fury.
The Dragon Queen looked at her in surprise from the void: “This is that kid’s woman; he is that person’s grandson, isn’t he? You truly show no kindness whatsoever.”
“That is the woman’s grandson,” Constance coldly corrected her.
“So this is the jealousy among human women?” The tone of the Dragon Queen turned a bit curious.
On this question, the Queen of Silver typically refrained from answering; she stood silently in place, her gaze calm and unruffled, lingering on the ebony desk.
“What are you thinking, my Majesty?”
“I’m thinking that if I hadn’t been so naïve back then, perhaps things would be different now, Gwenethlyn.”
“But you once had a choice, Your Majesty.”
“I…” Constance’s voice hesitated, “Because I didn’t want to deceive myself.”
……
The fleet was ready to set sail—
Brendel slowly stepped onto the deck and looked back: on the gangway, the People of Silver were entering the portal in a steady stream, and Turiman walked at the end; feeling something, he also turned around and slightly raised his head, the silver pattern on his silver hood creating a shadow beneath it where two silver-gray eyes sparkled, and between his thin lips lay a mysterious and unfathomable smile.
He took a deep breath and unconsciously pressed his hand against the rail carved with a Leviathan relief.
The conversation from earlier seemed to flash back into his mind all at once—
“I don’t understand.” Brendel stared intently at the old man before him, his cold gaze seeming to penetrate him thoroughly.
“It’s simple, just as I mentioned before. In the battlefield of the final battle, that temple, the peculiar crystal was initially sealed. But the one who sealed it wasn’t the Four Sages but the Dark Dragon Odin; the one who first touched that seal was the Queen you know.”
“When the seal was broken, the truth was unveiled, and the secret regarding that last war of the Holy Wars was laid bare before everyone. At that time, I was with your grandfather, so I don’t know what exactly they saw, but I do know one thing.”
“That is, this riddle is related to the agreement between the Four Sages and the Dark Dragon Odin…”
“So, we can infer that a certain rumor that has circulated for a thousand years might actually be true.” The old man’s voice became a little hoarse, “You know that the order of the mortal world, the legitimacy of the four great empires, is based on the righteousness of the Holy Wars, yet for the past thousand years, a particular saying has been circulating, implying that the actions of the Four Sages during the Holy Wars might not have been so sacred and justifiable.”
“…In other words, in this story, the Dark Dragon is a tyrant, but the Four Sages are merely usurpers.”
Turiman lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at Brendel: “Do you know what this means?”
Brendel did not answer; he had indeed heard of such a legend, but there were countless variations of tales in “The Amber Sword.” It was said that with each bard came a new version of a story, so few bothered to investigate deeply. Nevertheless, he understood that if this were true, it would imply something significant.
In the history of human dynasties, competition for thrones and usurpation was not uncommon.
However, the sacred Holy Wars were built on the covenant between the People of Silver and various races of the continent, and the cornerstone of this covenant was to end the dark rule of the Minren, to fulfill that prophecy—commonly referred to as the Era of Mortals. This covenant is described in “The Azure Poem” as the Sacred Covenant, also known as the Sacred Oath; if it is sacred, it must first be based upon justice.
And this is the foundation of the legitimacy of the Era of Mortals.
If all of this is merely a lie.
Then not only would the status of the Four Sages come into question, but more importantly, it would violently impact the current world order, the legitimacy of the four great temples would also collapse. Once the prophecy comes to pass, this world will surely plunge into endless strife and warfare, as no one remains to interpret morality and justice, leaving only a stage for ambitious lords.
Brendel shivered.
