Chapter 973: Act 145 – The Kingdom of Stars Falling to the Ground
“In this era, the world presents its fragmented fate to the people; lies, hopes, truths, beliefs, and deliberately concealed histories intertwine and complicate, making it difficult for mortals to choose. Thus, the correct and the wrong become especially important—precious.”
This night sky is completely different from that of Vaunte. The horizon appears as a dark, empty sphere, with the vast, boundless night sky inverted above it. Twelve moons run parallel in the sky, each tracing their own paths, forming twelve star domains. In these domains, the stars shine; however, among them, some appear brighter while others seem dimmer. They continuously extinguish and ignite, reminiscent of the lights of the mortal world.
Kundear gazes up at this starry sky, her face glowing, the starlight outlining her facial curves. Her ivory skin ultimately sinks into her light silver eyes. She looks at the starry sky with a hint of intoxication; despite traveling over the years, her appearance has not changed significantly, remaining fixed in her thirties. She even has to use magic to make herself seem a bit more mature. Her long hair flows like a silver waterfall, with a pair of amethyst earrings shimmering next to her earlobes, beneath which hang some delicate golden tassels.
“Teacher.” A girl of about fifteen or sixteen appears behind her, bowing deeply. The girl seems unremarkable, her looks neither outstanding nor dull, but she possesses a unique aura that feels elusive. She is quiet—not exactly cold, with her emerald-colored eyes devoid of indifference or arrogance, only a tranquil clarity, as if forever awake and rational. To her, this magnificent starry sky is no different from a stone.
“I’ve told you, you don’t have to call me teacher, Sophia. I haven’t taught you anything; your heritage does not come from me. You were born inheriting this name, passed down through generations. Without me, you would still become the witch of the thirteenth moon,” Kundear turns to look at the girl, revealing a gaze of a senior. Although she says this, a smile of satisfaction still forms on her lips.
Sophia doesn’t respond; she straightens up and asks, “Teacher, what did you call me here for?”
“Are you adjusting well there?”
“I’m quite accustomed to it. The climate of Toniger and Tosankade isn’t much different, under the same order’s influence. The Sainya people there have not been greatly affected by the outside world; I haven’t encountered any difficulties—”
“I’m not asking about that,” Kundear shakes her head discontentedly, “I’m asking, in this new environment, does my Sophia have anyone in mind?”
“…”
The girl wisely closes her mouth, pretending not to hear the question.
“Alright, alright, don’t be angry,” Kundear, knowing her student’s temperament, smirks slyly, “I called you because tonight is particularly important. Look at this starry sky; this is probably the last time you’ll see such a sky, Sophia. Pay attention. Tonight may be the most bustling day for the witches since the Battle of the Saints. Many interests and schemes will unfold here, stars extinguishing and reigniting, an old era passes away while a new one will rise from its ruins.”
“The tide of magic… begins.” Sophia’s eyes reflect billions of starlight and stars, burning brightly, telling an ancient tale.
The light of Canis Major begins to dim, corresponding to the faltering light of the star of narration.
On the Lone High Hill—
Mephistopheles sits at the edge of his bed, reaching out to grasp his sword, holding the sheath suspended for a moment, and then silently putting it down. As a sword saint who has undergone rigorous training, he does not pursue luxurious living. His required room is always small, simple, without any unnecessary decorations. Although he has a dedicated meditation chamber, he typically does not stay there. His room contains only a bed, a desk, and a chair, and as he sits at the edge of the bed, its shadow infinitely extends in one direction, casting an endless space, as if the walls of the room have long vanished. He feels as if he is sitting in an infinite, dark space.
This is the Kingdom of Shadows, the Lone High Hill, the realm of Jin Hai.
Two figures appear not far from the Gray Sword Saint, resembling two clumps of constantly writhing ink that drip down from the air, transforming into human shapes as they fall, revealing their faces and features, gradually bringing forth color, forming two people, one in front, one behind. Mephistopheles looks at the person in front, his expression as cold as water; in a sense, she is his mortal enemy—the Emperor of the Empire, Queen Constance.
But he does not strike, for another woman stands behind Constance. This woman looks like a noble lady commonly found within the Empire, clad in a low-cut gown, her hair elegantly styled, exposing her neck and chest that gleam white and radiant. A string of sparkling crystal necklaces adorns her swan-like slender neck, complementing her beauty perfectly, devoid of any vulgarity, as if such luxurious adornments were always meant to embellish her pride and allure. She is exceptionally tall, so much so that she towers over Constance by nearly two heads, in contrast appearing like a female giant.
The giant woman holds a black object in her hand, from which black mist continuously flows like liquid; wisps of vapor cascade like a waterfall from her white palm, merging into the ground, forming this vast sea of shadows.
That is the most famous artifact among the witches—the Heart of Darkness, the heart of the Lone Wolf, Jin Hai. During the War of Dusk, the thirteenth generation of the Despairing Witch killed the Lone Wolf, Jin Hai, and crafted this artifact using her heart. Relying on the power of this artifact, for countless years, the eternal dark moon lineage of witches was almost always the strongest in the witch’s kingdom, with only two exceptions in history.
In this era.
There are three supreme powers within the realm of witches, and the current Despairing Witch only ranks second.
“Constance,” Mephistopheles shows no inclination to attack, “do you wish to die by your own hand?”
“Before me, you will not harm a hair of my king,” the towering woman behind the silver queen speaks. Surprisingly, her voice is quite pleasant, though filled with deep disdain. Seeing Mephistopheles glance at her, she introduces herself: “Agathlys, the witch of the eternal dark moon, a believer of the Lone Wolf, Jin Hai.”
Mephistopheles has no prior connection with the witches but has learned about them from Brendel. He frowns: “The power of the extreme has vaguely begun to emanate a saint-like aura?”
The giant woman wishes to say something further, but Constance raises a hand to interrupt her. The supreme ruler of the Empire carefully observes Mephistopheles, smiling gently, “Duke, I have long heard of your great name, but this is the first time I have seen you in person. I am already aware of the grievances between you and the Empire, but had it not been for the message from Anwei, I would not have known that you are right beside Darus’s grandson. No wonder he has reached this level.”
She extends her hand again, blocking Mephistopheles from speaking: “Rest assured, this is the Lone High Hill, within the witch’s kingdom, this is the world of dreams. You cannot kill me, nor do I believe Agathlys can kill you. I did not come here to settle the grievances of the Empire; the Empire has its interests, and you have your justice. Right and wrong cannot be clearly defined through words.”
“Well then, what have you come here for?” Mephistopheles calmly replies, “Is the queen too lonely seeking someone to chat with, or are you looking for a new lover?”
Even with Queen Constance’s demeanor, upon hearing these words, a hint of anger emerges. This rogue has undoubtedly been wandering too long, probably forgetting the manners of the nobility. She takes a breath and coldly replies: “Of course, it is to stop you.”
“To stop me?” The Gray Sword Saint raises an eyebrow: “I see, you wish to take action against my student?”
“The legendary Gray Sword Saint is not as quick-witted as imagined,” Agathlys taunted harshly.
Mephistopheles pretends to pat his cheek, letting out a sigh: “However, I still don’t understand, Constance. You are a sovereign of an Empire; there seems to be no need for you to personally act against a child. He is merely a count of a little insignificant nation; I truly cannot fathom why you would go to such lengths.”
“You need not fish for my words, Mephistopheles; regarding Darus’s grandson, it is indeed unnecessary for me to put so much emphasis on, even the legacy of the Dark Dragon isn’t something I am eager to acquire, for I am the Dark Dragon; the Dark Dragon is me. Those legacies are nothing more than external things to me at this moment.”
“Our king descends upon the world, ruling and enlightening the world—” the witch of Jin Hai bows her head deeply, full of reverence.
“However, today, all of this is arranged by another,” the silver queen continues: “She is the master of this kingdom, and I have no choice but to carefully consider her opinion.”
“Witch King, why?”
“Because she wants the stars to fall, to establish a new kingdom on the ground.”
“A madwoman’s ideal.” Mephistopheles shakes his head dismissively.
Constance suppresses her anger, tilting her head back to gaze at the starry sky, which has unknowingly filled the heavens: “This spectacle is rare; if you’re not in a hurry, Mephistopheles, why don’t we sit together and see how it unfolds?”
Mephistopheles lightly shakes his head, standing up from the edge of the bed. As soon as he stands, the darkened world around the bed is naturally dispersed, a lifeless gray slowly spreads outward from his standing point. He extends his hand, and the sword on the bed automatically flies into his palm. “Since that’s the case, I cannot ignore my student; it seems I must fight with all my might.”
Agathlys, seemingly having anticipated this response, steps forward to stand before the silver queen: “Gray Sword Saint, I’ve long wanted to see if you are truly deserving of your reputation.”
Mephistopheles does not respond but wears a strange expression.
…
In the Kingdom of the Dead, south of Burnoson, a lifeless forest—
An old and a young witch stand before a small wooden house in the woods, looking up at the night sky where the stars burn at an accelerated rate, emitting light a thousand times greater than usual. These rays intertwine, resembling a fierce battle and war. The faint Canis Major dims; the Sword Moon is concealed under a massive shadow, the light of the narrating star teeters on the brink, and a meteor streaks by from her star domain—it is her companion star, already vanishing into the endless darkness.
In the starry sky where stars flicker, small patches of blankness begin to appear, as if after the universe has burned out, only the ash remains.
…
“Kurul, you seek death!” Anwei lets out a howl like a dying mother wolf, her face stained with blood. A scar winds down her face, claiming one of her eyes, while another wound on her chest leaves it a bloody mess, almost reduced to a deep hole. Several young witches’ cold corpses lie scattered around the tent. The traces of the fierce battle have deeply altered this area, with magical power dispersing in the air, plowing intersecting ravines into the ground.
Anwei suddenly bursts into crazed laughter: “Hahaha,” she points at Charles, at Babasha and JarSugar, at Kurul, screaming: “You want to imprison me; that is impossible! You do not understand, do not understand the significance of this day for us. We shall wash away the shadows of the past, and uphold a true king. A new witch queen is born, just like the descending of a king; this is the establishment of a new kingdom, and everything of the old shall be cleansed.”
She gasps, then a sacred expression appears on her face as she gazes at the empty night sky: “Death is not to be feared; come, for death is but rebirth. Your compassionate yet foolish lord will never comprehend this.”
Charles looks at this scene with a complicated expression and sighs: “But you have still failed; why seek death so desperately?”
“I failed…” Anwei gasps, her gaze fixed with extreme hatred and complexity on the figure of Kurul behind the crowd—the witch of the Sword Moon, though uninjured, pales like a sheet of paper, signifying that the mysterious power of the witches is ebbing away from her like a tide. She quickly grows old and weak, becoming a true ordinary person. Yet, even so, Kurul still appears indifferent, not giving a glance this way, as if what is happening has nothing to do with her.
It is precisely this attitude that ignites Anwei’s fury: “… It is because of betrayal; I don’t understand what has clouded your judgment. To sabotage my king’s plan, you are willing to use such forbidden techniques. Have you forsaken your identity as a witch, Kurul? Are you content with this?”
Kurul finally turns her head.
She looks at her former companion as if gazing at a dead dog: “This is destiny, Anwei.”
Anwei’s eyes widen.
As if unable to die with their eyes closed.
The middle-aged witch silently turns away; her back is to Charles as she weakly states: “I am no longer a witch, Mr. Charles. From today on, the legacy of the witches of the Sword Moon will shift; we no longer hold the predetermined trajectory of her fate, for the Kingdom of Witches has been completely rebuilt. Such battles will not only unfold here but will also take place in many other places. After today, Burnoson will no longer be the same Burnoson.”
She pauses for a moment: “The tide of magic… is descending. I can feel its overwhelming pressure.”
“Are you leaving, Lady Kurul?” Charles, taken aback, asks.
“I am no longer a witch, no longer suited to remain by the king’s side. I will choose my own resting place, alone.”
Charles extends his hand to stop her: “Lady Kurul, since you are no longer a witch, then you also need not adhere to the fate of a witch. You are now an ordinary person, a citizen of Erluin; I doubt our lord would abandon her citizens simply because they are too old and frail to fend for themselves, especially given your great achievements for us.”
Kurul is momentarily taken aback.
She raises her head; the dark gaze from her deep-set eyes rests on this young man.
“Anwei is not entirely wrong; your lord has a soft heart that tends to be excessive.”
She says.
In the night sky over Burnoson, Canis Major has burned out completely, the star of narration shatters, two stars transform into countless lights that scatter across the pitch-black sky. However, where the two stars fell, slender new stars are rising slowly.
…
That night, in Anlek’s Eagle City, a girl named Mi Kaya dreams of picking up a golden scepter from a pitch-black forest.
The name of the scepter is Qaath—ancient symbols, the supreme.
…
