Pillar of Yita

Mazak slowly walked until he was level with Fang Hong, facing the dragon together. He lifted the sword in his hand, and the black smoke dispersing from the giant dragon was suddenly blown back as if fearing the sword greatly.

Fang Hong watched the scene with some curiosity.

He certainly knew that Eteliria wasn’t created because of the Invoker’s arrival; this world had its own long history. Several continents floated above the Cloud Sea, there were nations and peoples as well as ancient legends, with countless age-old stories and myths passed down around the bright campfires.

The sword in the innkeeper’s hand, which made the black smoke so fearful, was clearly no ordinary object. It wasn’t even an Alchemy War Gear; the sword bore the bright marks of a thousand hammerings, shimmering under the moonlight as if bathed in fluorescent light.

It might have been forged in an ancient era, with hammers clanging on the anvil, sparks flying everywhere, born from flames, one of the many Dragon Slaying Swords crafted by the Fairies.

Fang Hong knew that story, the one about Fairies forming an alliance with humans to fight against the Giants and Giant Dragons. The fairies forged five of the most famous Dragon Slaying Swords, each held by ancient Oathkeeper Clans.

Was the sword before him one of them? He recalled those fantastical images in his mind—was it the Mo’ya Holy Sword, steeped in the Dragon King’s Blood? Or was it the Foe Slayer, which had killed seven Giant Dragons? Or perhaps the legendary blade later obtained by the hero Xiuyuede, the Fairy Kin, Galapea.

It must be the latter.

Because he heard the Giant Dragon’s angry, low roar.

Mazak pointed his sword at the huge creature and said in a deep voice, ”So you’re still alive, Nikopolas, but today is not the day to end all our old scores. Leave now, as long as I am here, you shall not hurt this child.”

The Giant Dragon let out an angry shriek.

It lunged forward, but a blinding light burst from the sword, forcing it to retract with a scream.

It looked at the sword tip with fear—it recognized the sword, having once been soaked in its own blood, leaving an unforgettable memory. The chill of the blade still caused a faint pain in its wounds, especially when the sword was pointed at it, feeling a tremor in its heart; signs of physical collapse appeared on its right horn and claw, and a piercing pain surged through its blinded eye.

With a mournful cry, it reluctantly folded its wings and took a step back, the spreading black fog also retreating. It looked at the two men with an expression both hateful and covetous, speaking, ”Oathkeeper, Oathkeeper, I will not let you go again, just wait, the flames of vengeance will burn us together—the Star of Calamity, has once again descended.”

With these words, it spread its wings and slowly rose from the water, the downwash stirring up waves on the surface, causing the Mangrove Forest to rustle loudly, yet only Mazak stood unmoving. The Giant Dragon gave them one last look before turning and flying into the vast night sky.

Fang Hong looked up, barely glimpsing it heading deep into the Traveler’s Swamp.

He was about to ask something, but the innkeeper was slowly sheathing his sword, while raising his right index finger to his lips, signaling Fang Hong to be quiet with a shushing gesture.

It was a while before a long, remote screech came from deep within the swamp. This screech was unlike any Fang Hong had heard before: so immense and powerful, its majesty swept over the swamp, making it shiver uncontrollably.

The water’s surface rippled slightly, the Mangrove Forest trees trembled and shook, their leaves drooping. In the distance, a flock of watery birds was startled, flying into the sky, their calling filling the heavens, passing overhead and moving beyond the swamp.

Fang Hong’s mouth hung open at the scene.

The towering man beside him remained impassive. Turning to Fang Hong, he asked, ”That was a real Dragon Roar, how do you feel about it?”

Fang Hong’s mind was still echoing with that previous long roar. He didn’t know how far the deep part of the swamp was from here, but it seemed not too close. After hesitating for a moment, he finally asked tentatively, ”...What exactly was that?”

”That was Nikopolas’s true form, though they usually call it the Dragon’s Witch. Rumor has it that it fell in this part of the swamp thirty years ago. What you saw earlier was merely the residual power from one of its severed horns,” Mazak replied, wading forward through the water, then added, ”If you want to hear the story, follow me—”

It was only then that Fang Hong noticed two lines of prompts emerging from left to right on his system window:

’Witnessing event concluded, cognizance experience recorded—33,000 points.’

’Stored in the event directory—Dragon’s Witch.’

’Senior event directory, the Third Star of Calamity’s Descent.’

He gasped in surprise, almost overwhelmed by this experience reward.

The system summarized and recorded cognitive experience based on the level of events behind it—awarding different levels of rewards to the inspirer, participant, and experiencer, based on event duration, scope of impact, number of participants, enemy strength, and most importantly, the extent of its profound influence on the entire world.

The longer the event duration, the wider the scope of impact, the more participants, the stronger the enemy, the deeper the influence on the world, the greater the reward given.

What did 33,000 experience points signify? Within the Artisan Association and Adventurer’s Hall, a task that would take a team of Level 5 or below a week or even longer to complete, when the reward was divided equally among each member, amounted to roughly one-tenth of this number.