Pillar of Yita

These plants are not all friendly, some of them are filled with danger and aggression, but over the centuries, the queen’s people have long known how to deal with the lurking crises here.

Now retracing this path, there are no longer the heavy dangers of yesteryear.

There are some buildings in the forest, and a white palace wall spans between them. This palace was built in the last twenty years, having weathered the elements but still looks new from the outside.

The King of Sand stepped out of the palace, traversed a stone-paved avenue, and looked at the familiar scene in front of him, as if he was back to more than a decade ago—except at that time he was not walking this path alone—he couldn’t help but glance towards his left side, but now there was no one there.

He paused slightly, a trace of gloom flashing in his eyes.

He then remembered, his daughter was only about this high at the time, and she was still there—

Nulman followed behind the king, silently watching this scene, and couldn’t help but sigh.

The two quietly passed through the courtyard—this courtyard had long carried a well-known name outside—the Garden of Illusions.

At the other end of the avenue, there was a tall circular building with a white dome, supported by numerous stone columns. After passing through its door, Barbaltan saw the ministers waiting in the hall. But his gaze went beyond the crowd, falling in the center behind them, on an emerald green crystal towering like a mountain.

It might be the largest Emerald Star in the world.

It escaped that long ago Alchemy craze, becoming one of the best-preserved Emerald Stars in today’s world. Barbaltan cannot imagine what Affia’s ancestors felt facing this Emerald Star, but surely, it was with caution.

In that era, kingdoms and Alchemist organizations contended for control over the Emerald Stars, even resorting to war. In such a chaotic age, preserving this Mountain of Crystal so well must have taken endless effort—of course, the Phantom Sea must have contributed.

It, along with the Great Canyon, changes location every few years, known only to a handful who grasp its pattern.

”Your Majesty.” A hoarse and aged voice sounded.

Seniman, holding a magic wand, parted the crowd and came before the monarch, bowing in salute.

In terms of status, he is the Left Minister of Istania, just below two others—yet today, the old Clan Leader of the Oathkeeper Clan wasn’t present, so he stood as the one beneath the King of Sand and above everyone else. Even Nulman had to give way to this Left Minister.

The ministers quickly made way.

But Barbaltan only gazed calmly at his Left Minister.

Seniman faced the gaze openly, responding: ”Your Majesty, everything is ready.”

”Only waiting for Your Majesty to personally preside over the ceremony.”

Barbaltan withdrew his gaze, looking again at those present.

Those who came here were at least his trusted aides, somewhat involved in the first stage of the plan, and thus knew some of the inside story. Of course, the deepest reasons were known only to Nulman, and perhaps a few Arcanist Hall Defenders participating in the plan.

Soon, they would all understand.

Silence fell around.

Those who came weren’t ignorant of the taboos of Alchemy, but for various reasons—mostly related to power and status—they chose this path. After all, nothing is more critical than earning a king’s trust, right?

But Barbaltan only nodded, then withdrew his gaze, walking past Seniman towards the crystal, and the servant of the Blind Followers simply turned to watch the king move forward silently.

The King of Sand reached the foot of the Mountain of Crystal, raised his head, first looking at this ’giant rock’.

Then he stepped forward, extending his hand to press against the crystal.

An icy touch replied from his palm.

At the moment of pressing on the crystal, for an instant, he seemed a bit dazed, feeling himself returning to those profound times—

That was a gentle yet lively voice:

”Barbaltan, I have a secret to tell you—”

”Do you know about the Third World, about the Bridge of Heaven?”

He laughed dumbly, youthful eyes looking at the beloved woman before him: ”Affia, I am the future King of Sand, the Overlord of Istania. I am destined to remain upon this land all my life; what do such ethereal things have to do with me?”

”Fool,” the girl laughed: ”Of course it relates to you, not just you, but our kingdom as well.”

”How so?”

”Do you know why I want to venture out?”

”Are you talking about that Tulip Adventure Group or what?”

”That’s merely the Adventure Group I joined, but the Captain is a good person; it’s a pity she’s a Holy Chooser of the gods, otherwise I’d certainly introduce her to you.”

”I only need you, Affia.”

The girl smiled slightly.

”You know, Barbaltan, I also love this land dearly.”

”And that is precisely my reason.”

”Do you know about the legend of the Elf Relic...”

”My brother gave me a secret note...”

”He didn’t really understand the content, I suppose because he doesn’t really associate with those Holy Chosen Ones. But as for me, I happen to know a bit...”

...

The heavy Phantom Realm before Barbaltan disappeared.

But the voice did not fade.

”I don’t understand much of the notebook’s contents...”

”Elves forged Holy Relics from Emerald Stars, which are the only clues and keys to that New World...”

”Holy Relics? We don’t have Holy Relics, what’re you thinking, Barbaltan...”

”But regarding the contents on the notebook... it seems we can find that singular path by similar means...”

”You know, the Emerald Star... my family possesses one too...”

”As for that approach...”

”You must remember it clearly, Barbaltan.”

In places unseen by others.

The King of Sand pressed one hand against that Mountain of Crystal; his face was already tear-stained.

He then murmured to himself:

”I indeed remember it clearly, Affia.”

...