Chapter 140: Grey, the Opportunity You Have Been Waiting For (Two-in-One)
The faint and ethereal night around gradually dissipated.
Even the awareness of self was slowly reviving.
When Rast opened his eyes again, the first thing he felt was the cold sensation beneath him.
He was sitting on a metallic throne, surrounded by a palace enveloped in a dim yellow glow.
Through the palace’s thick walls, the magnificent scenery of the Royal City in the distance could be seen, with buildings arranged orderly, leading to the edge of the skyline, beyond the heavens.
This style of palace was very familiar to Rast; it was exactly like the chambers where Akshia resided when he executed the Lost Paradise plan.
However, this palace should have been destroyed by Noah during that battle, obliterated into the void’s dust under the pressure of legend…
“So, did this place get rebuilt afterward?”
Looking at the slowly flowing dusk light inside the palace, Rast whispered softly.
He reached out his hand, gently touching the left side of his chest.
Rast could clearly feel that the d*ath God’s Chalice, which had gradually faded away due to his departure from the Night World into the present world, had once again solidified into reality.
The chess piece-shaped chalice was now rooted deep within his heart, connecting his power with the remains of the God of d*ath and the entire region of Paradise…
But at the same time, that d*ath God’s Chalice was continually eroding his flesh and bl**d, transforming his soul, attempting to assimilate the body and mind of the person named Rast into the form of that ancient deity, trying to make him a suitable vessel.
“When I first came here, I was still serving as the Queen’s attendant.”
“But now, in the blink of an eye—”
“Have I already become the new king of Paradise?”
Rast looked at the steel throne beneath him and chuckled softly.
To control the entire Paradise, to become the new king of the Netherworld, deepening his affinity with the d*ath God’s Chalice based on the faith of the dead.
This was the instruction Noah left him before he withdrew from the Echoes of the Era.
Yet, unexpectedly, upon entering once more, all these goals had already been achieved.
So, how much time has passed in the Night World?
He initially thought the gap between leaving the Echoes of the Era and reentering should be close to his perception while in the present world.
But now it seemed—his month of rest in the present world equated to even longer in the Night World.
As he contemplated this, Rast’s thoughts slightly shifted.
As the master of the d*ath God’s Chalice, the new king of Paradise.
At this moment, Rast felt just like Akshia did back then; the entire Royal City of Paradise could be considered his home ground, part of his domain.
Before long, a servant stepped out from the side, respectfully bowing towards Rast on the throne.
“My King.”
“When was this palace rebuilt?”
Rast asked calmly.
For an actor who had worn countless masks and imitated many personalities, playing the ruler was as simple for Rast as the instinct to eat and drink.
His expression was not solemn, but rather gentle, yet his calm voice carried the tranquility of a ruler, full of majesty.
This made the servant not even question why the king he served would ask such a question and only responded with trepidation: “Your Majesty.”
“This palace was completed two years and three months ago.”
The servant’s expression revealed unmistakable reverence: “At that time, Her Majesty, the former queen of Paradise, Queen Helen, disappeared mysteriously, and even the palace in the center of the Royal City vanished, obliterated into the void overnight.”
“At that time, the entire Royal City, as well as the residents in Paradise, fell into extreme panic… without a leader, they didn’t know what had happened.”
“If it hadn’t been for your stepping forward and conquering the entire Royal City in less than half a year, ascending to the throne and rebuilding this palace…”
“Then perhaps the chaos in Paradise would have lasted much longer… or even led to the entire kingdom collapsing.”
Two years and three months…
Counting the time until he claimed the throne of Paradise and rebuilt the palace.
In other words, nearly three years had passed in the Night World of the Sixth Epoch?
Rast waved his hand, gesturing for the servant to retreat.
He gazed at the dim yellow sky in the distance, his eyes lost in thought.
The passage of time was longer than Rast had estimated.
However, it wasn’t incomprehensible.
After all, to a Gravekeeper spanning several epochs of history, three years was merely the blink of an eye.
Legends had lifespans of at least hundreds of years; thus, for those who had crossed the limits of humanity, allowing the essence of life to leap to a higher level… their perception of time was naturally different from that of ordinary people.
Three years for an ordinary person was an incredibly long time, especially in an era of chaos following cataclysm, where the lifespans of mortals had dramatically diminished… three years might represent a tenth of a person’s entire life, marking a complete lifespan journey.
But, for legendary strongmen, three years might just be a time to retreat, conduct research, and attempt things.
“Three years… I wonder how Akshia is doing now in the depths of the Abyss.”
“However, since there has not been any unusual movement in Paradise, it indicates that her condition should still be stable, and the plans from the Gravekeepers have not yet been initiated…”
“And Akshia herself should still be peacefully sleeping in the deepest part of the Abyss.”
Rast stared at the peaceful and calm cityscape beyond the yellow sky.
“And, it has been three whole years—”
“Little Grey.”
“How much have you grown now?”
“Become strong enough, resilient enough… even after leaving me and Leader Ciser, capable of facing all hardships without relying on anyone?”
“After all…”
His self-muttering was swept away by the rushing wind, unheard by anyone.
“The moment of our farewell is about to arrive.”
“Soon—”
“You will bear the weight of the entire Guardians and the fate of human civilization upon your fragile shoulders.”
…
At the midpoint of the Broken Coastline, the Watchtower.
This is the headquarters of the Guardian of the Shore Organization.
For a long time, no matter how turbulent the external world was, or how the flame of human civilization flickered in the storm… it had never truly affected the territory protected by the Watchtower.
Most Guardians viewed the Watchtower as a harbor to rest freely, a sanctuary for their souls.
No matter what traumas they endured during missions, or what hardships they experienced… as long as they returned to the Watchtower, they could completely relax and recuperate.
However—
In the past two or three years,
Even within the Watchtower, the atmosphere had noticeably become tense.
The Iron Cross faction, which had been well-behaved for a long time, had frequently erupted in plagues in various human settlements recently…
Cult organizations had been causing turmoil everywhere, and the frequency of bl**d sacrifices had clearly increased.
Moreover—the forbidden beasts that the Guardians had always guarded against were now stirring beyond the coastline and deep in the ocean…
The series of small upheavals erupting across the continent had kept the entire Guardian of the Shore Organization in a state of high alert, with nerves taut.
Although so far they had not completely exceeded their limits, causing any extremely severe and irreversible consequences…
Even the most junior Guardians had begun to sense a vague premonition…
Just as there are various signs in nature before a storm arrives.
At this moment, these consecutive small troubles erupting across the continent were actually a sort of omen and warning, heralding the prologue of a long-gestating war.
Could they truly survive that storm and continue the last flame of civilization?
And Leader Ciser—
Could he really lead everyone to victory in the impending war?
Objectively speaking, no one knew the answer to this question.
Yet, everyone maintained a certain indeterminate belief, an inexplicable trust.
They had no choice, no retreat, and did not wish for a retreat.
…
A petite figure clad in the Guardian’s standard cloak swiftly weaved through the bustling crowd in the Watchtower.
Although her form was delicate, with her face hidden beneath a hood, and aside from the occasional strands of grey hair drifting out, no facial expression could be seen.
However, as she passed through the dense crowd in the Watchtower, these proud members of the Guardians spontaneously made way for her.
“Is this… that Grey?”
“Has she returned from a mission?”
“Yes, the task she took this time was to suppress the Iron Cross Plague in the northwest border.”
“It is said that the main orchestrator of that Iron Cross Plague was a peak fifth-tier mutated Iron Cross… second only to that Iron Cross King among the whole continent’s Iron Cross faction, leading an entire Iron Cross tribe.”
“Unexpectedly, that mutated Iron Cross leader… was killed directly within their own Iron Cross faction, and with the source and orchestrator of the plague eliminated, the Iron Cross Plague naturally ceased to exist.”
“To assassinate a peak fifth-tier mutated Iron Cross leader alone within the Iron Cross’s base… even those sixth-tier high-ups couldn’t accomplish this, proving she is indeed the strongest newcomer.”
“No, the title of strongest newcomer is already in the past for Grey… though she has been a Guardian for less than five years, many believe she can already stand shoulder to shoulder with those high-ups.”
“There are even rumors that the successor chosen by Leader Ciser—”
“The next leader of the Guardians will be her.”
“However, Grey’s style during missions is indeed a bit too reckless… she never relies on her teammates, instead acting alone.”
“Moreover, her plans always flirt on the edge of a blade, leaving no room for retreat—just like this time, acting alone to assassinate the Iron Cross leader among thousands of Iron Cross factions; a slight misstep would mean total ruin.”
“If given a choice, I’d still prefer the next leader to be of a calm temperament like Leader Ciser… Grey is too young, and her style is too risky, which makes people feel rather uneasy; she might lead the entire organization into an irreparable abyss.”
“Shh, be careful… matters like successors and the next leader will naturally be considered by the high-ups and Leader Ciser; it is not our place to comment.”
…
Trivial chatter carried on the wind echoed in Grey’s ears but did not cause her footsteps to falter.
“Little Grey!”
Suddenly, a ponytailed girl burst forth from the surrounding crowd and grabbed Grey’s hand beneath her cloak.
The girl’s bright eyes shone with hardly concealed concern: “You’ve executed so many high-risk tasks this year, each time flirting with d*ath! And each time you finish a mission, you immediately take on another, with no time left to rest for yourself.”
“I know your sequence is special… but if you keep this tense, one day you will collapse!”
In the face of her friend’s concern, a flicker of light briefly shone in Grey’s eyes.
However, in the end, she gently pushed the other’s hand away: “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”
“And—”
Grey’s words paused for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Yannis—”
“I have my reasons for doing this.”
Having said this, Grey freed herself from Yannis’s grasp.
She directly walked through the outer sprawling buildings and square of the Watchtower, disappearing into the magnificent pure white tower.
Only Yannis remained, looking at the figure of Grey fading away, momentarily lost in thought.
They had clearly known each other as friends since the newcomer assessment—
But for some reason,
Since returning from Lost Paradise… Yannis felt that Grey had changed a bit.
…
Grey climbed the steps of the Watchtower level by level.
Soon, the long staircase of the high tower came to an end, revealing a simple wooden door.
Grey lightly knocked on the door, then pushed it open and bowed.
“Leader Ciser.”
Behind the door, an elderly man with graying hair seemed to have already known of Grey’s return and was waiting at a long table.
Noticing the sound of Grey entering, the old man smiled slightly.
“I won’t waste time with pleasantries.”
He paused.
“Grey, the opportunity you have been waiting for—”
“The chance for revenge has arrived.”
(The End of This Chapter)
