Chapter 142: You Will Ascend to God in the Spotlight (Two-in-One)
Night falls, and in the dim sky, the brilliant stars gradually light up.
Inside the palace, silence reigns, and the flow of time seems to stagnate in the yellowish glow.
“So—”
“Was Queen Helen back then spending hundreds of years in such a frozen moment?”
Rast sat upright on the iron throne, gently extending his hand, feeling the glow of dusk flowing through his fingertips.
As the new vessel of the Grim Reaper’s Star Cup—
At this moment, Rast, like the former Helen, was the master of this underworld, the king of paradise.
And the frozen dusk before him represented the d*ath aura emanating from the remains of an ancient deity, a part of Rast’s power, which he could control effortlessly.
After spending three years, Rast had completed the initial fusion with the Star Cup carrying the powers of the God of d*ath, enabling him to wield the God of d*ath’s authority to a certain extent.
That was the “Edict of d*ath’s Supremacy.”
Such an edict could influence not only living beings.
Even rocks, buildings, sculptures—things deemed lifeless in the eyes of others—still existed within the concepts of “birth” and “end.”
The moment everything ends is its destined d*ath.
And the so-called edict of the God of d*ath… is the judgment of this destined end.
It can either directly strip away the life of all things, allowing them to instantaneously traverse the whole process from “birth, growth, aging, decay, decline” to reach their conclusion… turning new furniture into rotting wood and magnificent palaces into weathered dust.
Alternatively, it can freeze the flow of fate of all things, fixing their lives in place, just like specimens in a museum, eternally preserved in their most beautiful forms.
At this moment, the entire palace was enveloped in such a solidified dusk—
So no matter how much time passed in the outside world, the palace in the dusk maintained a fresh, beautiful appearance, unaffected by dust… it would not age, nor require repairs or maintenance, unchanged through the ages.
Rast slightly raised his gaze, peering through the glass dome above the throne, looking at the star-studded night sky above the palace.
Not long ago.
That queen with ice blue hair was sitting upon this cold throne, gazing at the same stars alongside him…
Watching the stars change, the sun and moon cross paths, the seasons cycle through… day after day, year after year.
So although she had lived for an unknown number of years, Helen’s temperament remained no different from a seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl.
Since her birth, she had been imprisoned within this cage—a canary that had never seen the scenery outside; how could she know the majesty of the snow peaks and the grandeur of the ocean…
Whether ten years or a hundred years… to her, they were merely numbers, without any distinction.
In contrast, the time spent with that attendant named Rast, the experience of traveling outside… was a world of dreams that this caged bird had never seen.
She regarded that experience as a lifelong treasure, always yearning for, longing for, and expecting a happy fairy tale ending.
This longing and hope were so unwavering that even after the bubble of the Night World burst… when Helen recalled the memories of Akshia and understood that the experiences of the caged bird and the boy were merely a false performance, she remained undeterred.
As she had said on the mountaintop shrouded in twilight—
“Fairy tales are false, but love is real.”
Knowing the unreality of fairy tales, the falseness of performances, and understanding the coldness and cruelty of reality… After comprehending all the truths, she still strove for her happiness and dreams.
Like a moth rushing to a flame, like a shooting star tearing through the night sky.
Knowing well the end would be a destruction, yet still charging forward relentlessly in pursuit of that ray of light.
……
Suddenly, emerald green light spots wafted through the air, interrupting Rast’s deep thoughts.
It was an ancient script, clearly formed from illusory light points, yet bearing an ineffable majesty… as if written by a deity overlooking the world.
Staring at the ancient text before him, the reverie in Rast’s dark eyes quickly vanished, restoring his usual appearance.
The emerald green letters retained a rich aura, briefly dispelling the surrounding glow of dusk.
It was a message from Noah.
Also, the legendary strongman from the Graveminders… for the first time in three years, proactively contacting him.
The line of text quickly dissipated along with the emerald light spots.
Rast stood up from the throne.
Facing the cold iron throne, he closed his eyes and slowly extended his hand.
Then, from his chest, he drew forth the power of the Star Cup, which pulsed along with his heartbeat.
On the iron throne, light and shadow slowly twisted.
Eventually, they transformed into a distorted whirlpool of emerald green, formed from illusory light.
Rast did not hesitate; he stepped forward and entered that emerald green illusory whirlpool.
……
The world spun chaotically.
Light twisted as if the celestial river hung upside down, stars fell.
In an instant, a torrent of brilliant starlight surged across the night sky.
In the flowing starlight, Rast saw one blurred, shattered image after another—
That was the initial era.
Ancient dragons, giants, high elves, bl**d kin, sky wings, demon wolves… countless powerful mythical races roamed the earth.
They were born strong; some races like high elves did not require runes or chants, being able to wield bl**d source magic from birth.
Some were born at the pinnacle of certain sequences, possessing the powers of mythology that could summon winds, rain, and call forth thunder and lightning.
Others, like ancient dragons… their bloodline power allowed them to ascend to legend upon reaching adulthood without experiencing life and d*ath trials.
These ancient mythical races ruled the earth, were the kings of the sky, and were the main theme of that era.
Amidst this, humans were merely insignificant supporting characters in the primordial era.
They had no sharp fangs, no claws, no bloodline-derived magical eyes, no supernatural abilities… Furthermore, they lacked the innate talents connected to the magical web. Casting spells, a simple task for those mythical races, was a lifelong endeavor for humans to study and master.
They also lacked the long, nearly infinite lifespans of those long-lived races.
The average human lifespan was only a few decades. For many races, that was merely the time spent transitioning out of childhood, equating to their entire lives.
The vast majority of humans would struggle throughout their lives and could hardly touch the extraordinary realm.
According to normal development patterns, humans would continue to weaken… only able to survive as subordinate races, relying on the protection of powerful races, never becoming the protagonists of the era.
However—
In those days, an anonymous, foolish human emerged.
He believed that every enemy, every danger, every problem in the world has corresponding knowledge, and skills and tools derived from knowledge to combat them.
Yet, the knowledge each person could remember, the skills they could master, and the tools they could accumulate were limited.
Thus, to oppose dragons, elves, bl**d kin, and other inherently powerful races with the clumsy physique of a human… he wove a capability that only foolish humans could wield.
While humans indeed lacked sharp fangs and claws, lacked powerful bloodline gifts and long lifespans.
The transfer of knowledge, the inheritance of civilization… are treasures that only weak humans can comprehend, allowing them to triumph over strong enemies.
Even if at first, the knowledge being transmitted was merely trivial summaries of experiences, such as hunting skills or fire-making techniques.
As long as it can be passed down through generations, over time, along the trajectory of civilized history… refined, completed, and filled throughout the hands of many generations.
Then, one day—
The once sprouting seedlings could grow into towering trees, encompassing all things in the world.
And the flickering spark would transform into a raging fire, igniting the entire world.
Thus—
Slowly.
After an unknown number of years, the era of myths came to an end.
Ancient dragons, high elves, demon wolves, giants, bl**d kin… these mythical races departed from the stage of history.
Humans became the sole protagonists of this era.
However—
At the same time, the nameless individual who ignited the spark also witnessed the end of civilization, the inevitable conclusion of the era.
That was a doomsday that could not be resisted or reversed by the foolishness of that time or the accumulated civilization.
Thus—
The original, foolish nameless one… founded an organization called the “Graveminders,” leaving the spark he ignited within them.
He was willing to believe in the power of the inherited sparks, entrusting hope to future generations.
Just as once humble as dust, humans could end the era of mythical beings and become the sole protagonists on the historical stage.
Even if foolish humans rely solely on the spark they left behind and the transmission of generations, accumulating the civilizations of one era after another… one day, they could weave the great power to contend with the deities.
Until they find a way to endure the end of the era and reverse the fate of “civilization must come to an end.”
This was the original intention behind the creation of the Graveminders—
To record the development and accumulation of every era’s civilization in the capacity of witnesses and recorders, allowing the spark of different eras and times to continue…
Until one day, transformed into a raging fire capable of igniting divine principles and rebelling against the fate of “civilization must inevitably face an end.”
Every Graveminder… upon joining the Graveminders, held such ideals.
This naturally included Noah.
The Noah who first joined the Graveminders.
Later—
After countless cycles of era changes and ups and downs…
An infamous thief stole that spark from the Graveminders.
Thus, from that moment on.
Just like in the ancient legend, the Fire Stealer named Prometheus.
The light that dispels darkness once again burned in the world.
……
“It seems this three years were not wasted on you.”
An aged voice rang out from afar.
Rast opened his eyes, greeted by a lush and vibrant courtyard adorned in emerald green, with a dim yellow ocean further out.
Rast knew he was currently deep within the remains of the ancient deity, the God of d*ath.
Not far from him, the gardener-like elder Noah was observing him with a calm gaze.
“Lord Noah?”
Rast revealed a hint of confusion at the appropriate moment: “Just now, I seemed to see some blurred images.”
“That is my domain.”
Noah slowly spoke, his tone very plain yet carrying an ineffable authority.
“The Night Blade, or rather the ‘anomalous abilities’ you possess in this era… is the embodiment of the heart’s landscape.”
“A transcendent’s heart reflects what kind of scenery exists within their heart’s world, and thus possesses what kind of anomalous abilities.”
“And the ‘domain’ is the product of the transcendents’ anomalous abilities being elevated, and it is also the manifestation of an individual’s heart’s landscape.”
“However, there is a world of difference between the functions of domains and anomalous abilities… using a domain means being able to encroach upon reality with your own heart’s world, replacing the surroundings of the real world with your heart’s landscape.”
“Under normal circumstances, only the heart’s image of legendary strongmen is sufficient to open their own domain… thus, domains are also a symbol of legend, and many who have just broken through may not possess one.”
“What you saw previously should be part of the heart’s image manifested in my domain.”
“Of course, this is still too distant from you at your current state—”
“Once this incident concludes, and you truly inherit the power of the God of d*ath’s remains and join the Graveminders… then I can guide you on the cultivation of domains after that.”
As he spoke, the gardener-like elder lowered his gaze, scrutinizing Rast.
After a moment, he nodded in satisfaction.
“The Grim Reaper’s Star Cup has now initial fusion with you.”
“It seems that bringing you into the Graveminders was a very correct decision.”
“Given your current level of integration with the Grim Reaper’s Star Cup and compatibility… you’ve qualified to inherit the remains of the God of d*ath.”
“Then—”
“We can proceed with the next phase of the plan.”
Noah’s gaze shifted from Rast to the distant dim yellow, undulating ocean.
That was the end of the Abyss, where Akshia lay sleeping.
In those aged eyes, a strange light flickered.
“In ten days, you will commence the ‘Holy Rite’ as the King of the Underworld.”
“With Helen, the offspring of the gods, the entire paradise, and all the departed as offerings… completely seize control of that divine remains.”
“In the eye of the public, become the new God of d*ath.”
(End of chapter)
