Pillar of Yita

An empty sound travels through the darkness, deep and weighty, rumbling loudly.

Outside, it seems to be undergoing that war from the myth of ancient times, a war between Dragons and Dragons, Giants, and Deities. A radiant comet trails a long green flame, piercing through layers of dark clouds, the flames lighting up the sky, breaking through the clouds.

There, at the very center of the firmament, hangs a massive and looming satellite, emitting a chilling glow.

It is like a heavy pupil, watching over everything on the earth.

When Delan once again awoke from this dream, he was still covered in a cold sweat.

It seems that this scene, which exists only in imagination, has not made him accustomed or numb over the past ten years. His mind remained immersed in a cold, frightful feeling, and the roaring in his ears lingered—not an echo of that ancient war, but the sound of the wind. The sandstorm outside seemed to have grown larger—in the distance, blocks of stone stacked to form walls appeared to shiver, sliding sand trickling down from the gaps, piling up at the corners.

In the dungeon, a dim light is maintained, the shadows of iron-based lampposts shifting in length, flickering unsteadily. To him, they seemed like the cunning shadow of a devil, closing in on him.

The wine barrel overturned, red wine flowing out in a stream from the opening, like rose-colored blood seeping into the tiles, forming a dark stain. The air was filled with a sweet and intoxicating scent, but his rigid mind seemed deluded, telling him that there was a faint smell of blood hidden within the wine’s aroma.

Perhaps that’s the reason for its name... The Bain People regarded it as a proud treasure, and although it was the product of the labor of the lowest farmers, those who could taste it were not these people. Delan recalled a period of splendid days when he was proud to drink such wine, deeply trusted by the Royal Household, along with that wise and resolute Queen. Everything from the past spreads out in his mind like the color of aged paper.

But in the end, all falls silent.

Amidst the low wind sound, there is a certain frequency of deep humming mixed in.

This sound seemed to awaken some memory, and Delan raised his head, his gray eyebrows gradually knitting together, his gaze fixing on the direction of the dungeon’s entrance.

In the flickering light of the resin torch, a burst of light appeared, causing the long shadow on the ground to sway. There were staircases leading up to the ground level, ascending seven steps, then turning, and another ten steps upward led to a half-open door.

The humming sound grew louder, and a golden light shot through the crack in the door, flying into the dungeon. It halted abruptly mid-air, spun halfway back to Delan, and it was a small golden sphere, vibrating with two pairs of wings, turning its orientation, observing him through a crystal in its polygonal frame.

The dark crystal reflected an old, gray face.

The next moment, the dungeon door opened with a ’bang,’ and several people dressed as adventurers filed in. ”He’s here.” The person who entered spotted him immediately and shouted. A clamor of footsteps followed as they rushed down the stone steps toward him.

The sound made Delan look at these people. They were uniformly dressed in gray cloth cloaks worn by desert travelers, with wind hoods pulled back, revealing young faces. Their shoulders, hoods, hair, and eyebrows were all covered in dust, as if they had just emerged from a sandstorm.

Their origin was clear as day.

The young adventurers lacked much experience and quickly came to his cell, eagerly identifying themselves: ”We finally found you, Mr. Delan.”

”We are from the Southern Alliance, the Elfendo Council. You must have heard of that place?”

”We’ve come to rescue you.”

Delan uncommonly remained silent.

He pressed his lips together, his solemn gaze merely observing the Clockwork Fairy hovering gently in front of him.

The young adventurers exchanged glances and, sensing something, took a step back, placing a crystal on the ground. The next moment, the crystal emitted a luminous glow, forming a beam of light that projected an image in front of them. The figure in the image was a middle-aged man with a serious expression.

If one had to describe him, aside from his serious demeanor, nothing much stood out. He wore an ordinary blue-gray coat. The only slightly notable thing was perhaps his overly meticulous grooming.

His silver ash hair was immaculately arranged, every edge and corner of his coat meticulously tidied, with no wrinkles visible. Although the coat’s fabric appeared old, it was clean and spotless. He also wore a pair of white gloves, rare among alchemists aside from reinforced gloves.

Upon appearing, the middle-aged man spoke:

”Long time no see, Delan.”

”Since the Queen passed away, it must have been at least ten years since we last met, right?”

”You’ve stayed in this place long enough; your promise to the Queen is probably fulfilled by now.”

Delan remained silent for a long while.

But finally, he asked quietly, ”Have you found ’him’?”

...

The conversation in the dungeon continued.