Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 609 - 608: Humble

The dense fog is gradually dissipating, yet it still envelops the entire Eastern Plains.

The radiance of the giant sun becomes pale and dim in the mist, and one town after another loses connection amidst eerie whispers. On city streets and rural fields, twisted humanoid creatures stagger through the thin mist, as if a nightmare has descended upon the mortal world, spreading across the tainted land.

The fortress of Sorinburg is finally shrouded in this boundless fog.

Erratic winds sweep wildly over the city, causing all the flags to flap noisily in the air. Increasingly bad news is coming from all directions—not just this city, but across the vast lands beyond it, all order is rapidly breaking down.

In the castle hall, a high-level knight in dark steel armor is reporting the latest situation: ”...We have lost all contact with the Sost District. The roads are blocked by fog. Any messenger who enters the mist never sends word back. This morning, fire beacons briefly flared in the direction of Slanting Forest Valley and Mount Yartel before extinguishing. The communication spell was severed, and the knights sent to investigate have not returned, feared lost...”

Another high-level knight immediately stands up: ”The situation within the city is also very unusual. Soldiers discovered wandering civilians in the Outer City District, appearing disoriented. Some have even witnessed an abnormally tall black-robed giant moving in the fog...”

As he speaks, this knight seems slightly uncomfortable, gently moving his shoulder and arm.

At the head of the long table, Edmund looks solemn: ”How many personnel can we confirm we can contact and mobilize now?”

The high-ranking knights and aristocratic leaders in the hall fall into an awkward silence. After a brief exchange of glances, someone rises to answer: ”Confirmed to be normal... we only have the two thousand personal Guards Corps in the castle area, and the two thousand soldiers stationed at the two camps near the castle area.”

”So, in other words, due to this bizarre fog, the tens of thousands strong Eastern Legion now only has four thousand available?”

”...Yes, Your Highness.”

”This is not ordinary fog,” Duke Silas Loland spoke, ”It shows signs of magical manipulation, likely the product of a large-scale Forbidden Spell or even a divine descent ceremony.”

Edmund frowned slightly, turning to an aristocratic leader: ”...What intelligence is available from the Anzu Kingdom’s military?”

The leader immediately stood: ”The news from that direction has completely ceased, Your Highness, but according to the last communication spell sent, thick fog has also appeared in the plains controlled by the kingdom’s military.”

After a brief silence, Edmund slowly stood up, placing his hands on the table, his gaze exceptionally stern: ”It’s evident we are under attack, and the attacker controls atmospheric-level power. Our Mage Corps is now preparing large-scale spells for dispersal and purification. Until they complete the ritual, everyone must ensure the safety of all the Mage Towers in the Inner City District. Duke Silas Loland, the protection of the castle area is entrusted to you, and please immediately notify Belk to return to the castle.”

”Yes, Your Highness.”

Those who received the orders quickly left the hall, and soon the vast main hall was only occupied by Edmund Moen and a few attendants.

In the sudden quiet, the atmosphere grew increasingly oppressive and low. Wisps of fog seeped through the windows into the hall, bringing with it the twisted and insane malice lurking throughout the city. Amid this unbearable quiet oppression, the hearth on one side of the hall suddenly cracked and popped.

Edmund immediately raised his head, looking towards the suddenly brightening fire...

...

On the streets of the Outer City District, the situation deteriorated more rapidly than anticipated.

In the slightly thinning fog, the sharp clash of metal briefly shattered the deathly stillness in the air. Accompanied by several sudden flashes and husky groans, several abnormally large humanoid monsters, a blend of flesh and crystal, fell heavily to the ground.

Belk Loren flicked his slightly numb arm, shaking off some dirt from his longsword, and frowned at the ”creatures” lying on the ground.

They (or perhaps they should now be called ’it’) were hideous, twisted, grotesquely mutated. Their bodies were covered in growing crystal clusters, and dangerous arcane energy continued to jump between these clusters with a crackling sound even after the monsters perished. Upon these mutated, bloated creatures, one could still see the remnants of armor and clothing fragments that had fused with their flesh-crystal forms.

Just a few minutes earlier, these ”monsters” were knights and attendants accompanying Belk to investigate the situation in the Outer City District, but upon a tall black-robed monster’s sudden appearance from within the fog, once their eyes met the monster’s, they transformed into their current state, attacking their master madly.

What exactly happened?

Cautiously alert to his surroundings, Belk slowly moved towards the nearest military camp, with a huge question forming in his mind.

He too had made eye contact with that black-robed monster, yet for some reason, he did not mutate like his subordinates.

Were his subordinates unknowingly cursed? Was the eye contact with that black-robed monster the ”key” that triggered the curse? Why was he unharmed?

The young Marquis silently cast a series of protective blessings and invisible armor on himself, his sharp gaze sweeping over the fog-shrouded street corners.

After ”provoking” the terrible mutations, the black-robed monster quickly left the confusion, now likely lurking somewhere in a nearby dark corner. As a powerful supernatural knight, Belk had to maintain the highest vigilance when facing such a completely unknown, bizarre enemy.

Suddenly, unmasked chaotic footsteps reached his ears, along with multiple magic power fluctuations entering his sensory range.

Belk swiftly turned, with an illusory, fiery layer now engulfing his longsword, while a group of tall, mutated monsters covered in crystal clusters stepped out of the fog, gathering towards him—these were clearly not the black-robed giants but were still over two meters tall, emitting visible arcane energy.

These shared traits with his mutated subordinates—these too were ”provoked” mutated sacrifices.

The thought flashed swiftly through Belk’s mind as the monsters launched their assault.

A ”Crystal Cluster Giant” took a step forward, charging towards Belk with bewildering speed, while other giants either charged or raised their hands, producing powerful arcane arcs—the young marquis swiftly twisted aside, narrowly dodging the claw reaching for his shoulder and neck. Simultaneously, his longsword swung obliquely, its illusory flame shattering an arc soar above. The longsword, undeterred, continued its trajectory, severing the arm of a second Crystal Cluster Giant amidst a teeth-gritting metallic crash.

Disarming the attack briefly, Belk immediately leaped back, transferring his longsword to his left hand. With a forceful downward swing of his right hand, a translucent energy blade descended from the sky, pinning the first Crystal Cluster Giant mercilessly to the ground, while a chilling gust whisked narrowly over Belk’s nape—instantly, he lunged forward, turned, evaded the deadly ambush, and sprayed severed hair strands scattered in the air.

The attacker launched another strike, and Belk adjusted his balance briefly before raising his sword to meet it.

They passed each other at close range, and in the less than one-tenth of a second of crossing, a pair of eyes partially transformed into crystals, surrounded by tiny crystal clusters, flashed before Belk.

He was somewhat stunned, vaguely feeling that those eyes seemed familiar...

...

A woman dressed in a green Priestess Robe, beautiful and dignified in her upper body but with grotesque plant roots in her lower body, walked slowly out of the flames, step by step towards Edmund Moen.

Edmund, wearing black armor and a wolfskin cloak, stood behind the table, staring fixedly at the woman emerging from the flames, staring at the High Priestess of the Oblivion Association.

”Is this all your conspiracy?” he said in a low voice, his words barely falling before a black sharp sword appeared in his hand.

At the same time, he noticed that the attendants and guards standing not far away had no reaction, seemingly already in some hypnotic state, completely oblivious to the presence of intruders.

Beltira leisurely came to the opposite side of the long table, looking at Prince Anzu with a faint smile on her face: ”To others, it’s a conspiracy; to you, it’s an open scheme, isn’t it? Our ’ally’ Your Highness...”

Edmund knew this strange woman was extremely dangerous and powerful. While quietly applying a Knight’s blessing to himself, he suppressed his anger and said: ”You really are untrustworthy after all.”

”Didn’t you know this from the start, confident Prince? You just habitually underestimated others and overestimated yourself.”

Beltira said as she calmly pulled over a chair and sat in front of Edmund—her legs formed of vines and roots spread and grew, making a rustling sound, and fused with the chair and the ground.

”What exactly are you trying to do? What do you want?!”

”Us?” Beltira laughed, her smile exceptionally sincere—in fact, it was almost the only time in seven hundred years she smiled from the heart, ”We want to find a path for human survival, a way to continue on the Goddess’s dining table, amidst the world’s malice.

”And I... I just came to welcome you, welcome the new you.”

”Madman.” Edmund felt completely unable to understand the thinking of such an evil cult follower. He had already gathered enough power, not wanting any more variables, so he raised his Longsword, countless tiny black cracks spread quickly from the tip of the sword, sealing the entire space like a cobweb.

The long table turned to dust in the cracks, and the chairs shattered one by one. However, before the deadly black cracks reached Beltira, waves of mind-splitting, rationality-breaking whispers and murmurs suddenly flooded into Edmund’s mind, causing him to abruptly lose control of the Longsword and even find it hard to stand.

Beltira quietly watched Edmund using the sword to support himself as he gradually collapsed, and she spoke softly, ”Have you been feeling thirsty lately?”

”Water...” Edmund’s cheeks were gradually growing transparent crystal clusters, and a trace of understanding flashed through his eyes, ”You poisoned?”

”Not poison, just a blessing—a blessing bestowed by the ’Gods.’

”You will... destroy... Anzu...”

”Destroying it is you, or rather, it should be you all,” Beltira looked at the Prince almost with pity, ”Remember, this vortex was initiated by you.”

Edmund felt his rationality quickly dissipating; those whispers were swiftly stripping away his ability to think. He spoke with difficulty, almost instinctively, ”I just... wanted to return it... to prosperity...”

Beltira stood up from the chair. She quietly observed the Anzu Prince who was about to lose his self-will, with a deep gaze, and spoke in a low tone, ”Do you really understand what true prosperity is?”

A misty curtain covered Edmund’s vision, his eyeballs rapidly being reshaped by crystals. In that alienated vision, he could only make out Beltira’s eyes, deep and determined, seemingly carrying some terrible obsession but also a hard-to-believe purity and reason.

He couldn’t understand why a crazed evil cult follower would suddenly reveal such eyes.

Those eyes reminded him of a person, a person who returned to this world from the grave.

Before losing his self-will, he heard the other’s last words:

”You have never truly looked down, to see those humble beings.”

...

The attackers who were ”Crystalized” all fell, including that familiar-looking... person.

She had already turned into a monster standing two meters tall, with flesh swollen and twisted, mixed with energizing crystals, but Belk could still recognize her.

She fell on the mist-covered street, her body curled up, trembling slightly, reminding Belk of the time not long ago when he saw her curled up in an alley, curled up in the mud.

Belk slowly walked forward, sharp pain emanating from some small wounds on his body, as he used his Longsword to support himself, crouching down in front of the ”laundry maidservant,” his head level with hers.

”Who turned you into this? Was it also those black-robed monsters?”

The woman, transformed by crystals, let out a hoarse voice. Amidst a difficult gasp, Belk heard an answer he could not understand at all: ”We are... willing, my lord.”

The young Marquis exclaimed: ”Why?!”

The ”monster” whose human appearance could no longer be discerned raised her head and spoke softly:

”Turning into this... eating stones is enough to live, my lord...”