Pillar of Yita

Rolin turned around, calmly watching the others lower Linen who was tied up. The latter did not struggle, just looked at him and asked, ”Why?”

Rolin shook his head slightly and said, ”There’s no why. Everyone chooses their own path. And I chose this one, Linen, that’s all.”

”So you deceived all of us, including Lord Earl who trusted you so much?” Linen asked.

Rolin remained silent.

Suddenly, he brought a fist to his mouth and violently coughed, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. Seeing him like this, Linen couldn’t help but ask, ”Are you okay?”

Rolin stopped coughing, raised his head, and weakly smiled, ”Come to think of it, someone asked me the same question before.”

Linen looked at him with a bit of surprise.

”In your eyes, I probably don’t look like a good person right now,” he glanced at the others, ”They’re Dragon Worshippers, you should have recognized them by now, right?”

”Rolin, why reveal our identities?” A cloaked figure said discontentedly. Rolin gave him a cold glance, ”You think others couldn’t guess? And what are you afraid of with that hide-and-seek look?”

The person snorted and backed off.

Linen frowned at him and replied, ”Because people have feelings, Rolin, it’s still not too late to turn back. We could join the Continental League together, with you and Mr. Ade, we’d have a chance to seize the championship from the Osh People—”

Rolin coughed again for a while, shook his head and said, ”Yes, Linen... But it is precisely because of that, I chose this path. I’m sorry for involving you; this should have been unrelated to you, but I must thank you for taking care of me these past days, at least you reminded me of some past things.”

He smiled, somewhat helplessly.

Just then, a Dragon Worshipper approached with a sharp blade, but Rolin stretched out his hand to stop the latter, saying, ”Don’t harm him, he’s just one person. Let him stay here, your accomplishments need witnesses; the great Dragon’s Witch will appreciate all of this.”

The Dragon Worshippers looked at each other, seemingly convinced by this last sentence, nodding in agreement.

Upon hearing those four words, Dragon’s Witch, Linen suddenly thought of something and struggled with all his might, but two worshippers held him firmly in place.

He shouted with all his strength, ”You can’t do that, Rolin.”

”You won’t be able to turn back.”

But Rolin did not heed, only turning away with the others.

The group passed through the platform exposed outside the spire, making their way toward the deepest hall. Display cases all around held relics of past eras—dust-covered crystals, golden handguns, a set of armor, and rolls of parchment documents.

These were the earliest marks established by Elfendo, growing ever grander with the passage of time.

Rolin suddenly stopped in front of one exhibit. He looked up at the tall figure behind the glass, not the gigantic dragon bone at the center of the hall, but an aged knight, head lowered, one hand holding his lance, and eyes dim, gazing at the ground.

It had remained there for many years, its markings blurred between age and battle, with its shell seeming to be covered in a layer of dull gray. Yet how many knew, beneath it lay incredibly precious fairy gold.

”The heroic Dragon Knight, Xiuma,” Rolin said softly, ”Pity the Dragon Slayer is long gone, while the giant dragons never perish. The Eternal chose to become the opponents of mortals, siding with their enemies.”

An eerie silence filled the surroundings.

After a while, a raspy voice said, ”We should hurry, the Elfendo Council is not just a decoration; they’re trying to connect a magical source to the elevator, and will soon reach this level. We’re running out of time.”

Distant rumbling sounds came.

Explosive firelight emerged from the direction of Fanric’s Lower City Area.

Rolin glanced towards it, as the light shone through the terrace, reflecting on his face. Everyone could hear a piercing shriek, even from such a distance it seemed like the floor beneath trembled slightly.

...

Fang Hong saw, amidst the flames, three golden flowers appeared to bloom, unfolding gently according to the sequence from the top down along Koras’s third head.

Then more firelight fell on this Fishmen deity, accompanied by sharp whistling sounds, like a storm descending upon the square. Some missed their mark, landing on the ground, stirring up a spray of slates and mud, falling like raindrops.

The memorial tower at the square’s center also collapsed, crashing down with a thunderous impact.

Under the barrage of artillery, Koras was instantly engulfed in rage, raising twelve heads with shrieks, avoiding the unseen, intangible attacks, trying to maneuver against the non-existent enemy, attempting to identify his opponent from the air.

And seeing this scene.

Fang Hong understood, his chance had come.

He immediately rushed out from the shadows of the alley, wading through water. But after only a few steps, he unexpectedly ran into a Fishmen coming straight at him. The Fishmen, adorned with feathers and unarmed, charged at him, screaming fiercely.