Pillar of Yita

”The snow has stopped.”

The snow has indeed stopped, leaving only a vast expanse of pure white Baihua upon Ash Square.

The man’s heterochromatic eyes silently watched the last few snowflakes falling in the night sky, drifting down and finally landing on the fur of his Armor, silently melting away into a few drops of water. A solitary lamp post stood erect at the edge of the Vision—

In the distance, a woman’s corpse hung from the lamp post, gently swaying in the cold wind.

The city was gradually immersing into the night, but even the darkness couldn’t conceal everything. In the distance, only a few points of firelight reflected against the dark, overcast sky, appearing somewhat Solitude.

Yet, nearby, the Charlotte Leaf Building was brilliantly lit. The four-story marble structure was aglow with golden light behind every window, crisscrossing silhouettes, as if hosting a grand party.

But no feast is flawless, and the Duke’s Mansion, opposite the city hall, was pitch black and silent. A tall man stood on the terrace of the manor’s second floor, his eyes reflecting the firelight as if to burn away the last glow of an era.

The little maid stood behind him, stamping her feet to keep warm. She rubbed her hands together endearingly, breathed out a cloud of white air, and sincerely wished: ”Yes, hopefully, tomorrow will be a good weather.”

”Where could there be good weather in the harsh winter of the Northern Territory?” The man chuckled softly, turning to look at this adorable young woman—her eyes clear as a brook; to him, she was just a little girl.

In full military attire, it was unknown how long he had stood there. On his Silver Armor which was the covering of ’Dego’s Box’, a thin layer of ice formed, and the old gray cowl also bore traces of wind and frost. Yet, he seemed unaware, merely smiling—a golden mane under the brim, not due to a different nationality from home, but because of the exotic blood of the Divine-Demon Lineage.

The man had a scar on his chin, merely an inch long. The Invoker, upon rebirth, could choose to spend some experience to remove physical imperfections, but he retained this mark as it was a testament for a man.

Whenever people asked about it, he answered jokingly: because he’s somewhat dumb, unlike those talented geniuses, every bit of experience is precious to him, hard-earned.

In fact, the scar witnessed a boy’s transformation, from a clumsy bird to an eagle in that very moment. It happened nine years ago when he, face covered in blood, held up the trophy as tears burst forth—a moment the people also remembered his name.

As he said, those who once looked down on him, those who supported him, witnessed that step-by-step ascent to the peak, just like the god in Northern European Myth who challenged Destiny, Odin.

And the unyielding, it was precisely his Ten Kings title.

Ragnarok, a guild ranked only fifth domestically, but this man was one of the only three Warriors to reach the pinnacle in the China Competition Region of this generation—King of Warriors.

”Mr. Odin, when are we going back...” The little maid was so cold she could hardly speak.

Odin didn’t mind: ”You can go back first, Miss Feyos, let me stay here alone.”

The little maid pouted, she didn’t dare.

Odin suddenly raised his head: ”Your master has arrived.”

She was startled, turning around to see a young man emerging from the darkness. ”Young Master Enan,” the little maid hesitated, frowning immediately in anger: ”You’re sneaking out again, if Mr. Firiel finds out...”

The young man glanced at Odin and replied: ”Don’t worry, Mr. Odin won’t expose me. Feyos, you won’t either, right?”

”Young Master Enan...”

The little maid’s voice was full of helplessness.

Odin knew the identity of this young man.

Enan Modkaisar, the youngest heir of the Phoenix Family, but also the least favored youngest son by Lord Earl. People say he is reclusive like a lone wolf, naturally detested.

But Odin found him alright, because compared to the Native, his attitude was more like their Invokers. Perhaps, this was precisely what made the young man unlikable.

”Good evening, Mr. Odin.”

”Good evening, Enan.”

The two exchanged greetings like old friends.

But in fact, he was his Watcher and he, his prisoner, at least in name.

Nevertheless, Ragnarok was merely a Summoners’ Guild, with no actual connection to Phoenix Family in Dulun City, only because of a task from the Prime Minister and Super Competitive League, they appeared here.

But task is task, identity is identity; Odin was very clear on this.

”How goes it, Mr. Odin.”

The young man glanced silently at the distant corpse.

Odin saw his gaze pass through the terrace and square, looking toward the city hall opposite the Duke’s Mansion.

Behind every golden window, there seemed to be a story. But Odin knew not every story was perfect, it represented many people’s choices.

Even which would change everything afterwards.

As for whether the result was good or bad, even he couldn’t fathom.

”You’re waiting for the outcome of the Southern Region decision?” he asked.

The young man shook his head.

Odin always felt as if he sighed lightly, but it might have been an illusion.

”That is the pillar of Southern Region stability,” Enan turned back, looking at him: ”I’m just here to see how an era comes to an end...”