Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 717 - 716: Crossing 700 Years

Seven hundred years ago, Beltira Augustus actually attended Gawain Cecil’s funeral...

This fact truly surprised Gawain; he had no impression of it at all—though it was understandable, given that his body’s primary task at that time was lying in a coffin for others to mourn, but there were also a bunch of bigwigs at the funeral, the first generation of old founding pigeons all had a violent temper, the kind that could start a brawl from Silver Castle to Iron Cross Street during a court meeting if disagreements arose, and Beltira, who had already become a dark Druid at the time, dared to come close...

One could only say she was quite interested in Gawain Cecil’s death.

”Actually, it wasn’t difficult,” Beltira seemed to understand Gawain’s astonishment, shaking her head with a slight, helpless smile, ”The Oblivion Association was far less ’well-known’ at that time compared to what it would become later; you should know that we had only just begun our activities. Moreover, as a powerful Druid, I always had my ways.”

Gawain made a sound in acknowledgment, without delving deeper into the issue: ”As you say, Gawain Cecil made a transaction with his soul, so after his death, his soul was exhausted, leaving his body as nothing but a blank shell, thus there was no way he could be resurrected, but then...”

A thought began to form in his mind, strange, yet persistent.

He exhaled, speaking in a deep voice: ”This blank shell really seems like it was prepared for me, doesn’t it?”

Beltira’s eyes widened; evidently, she had never considered this possibility before today.

Emotions and a natural wariness towards Wanderers from Outer Realm had clouded her originally keen mind and judgment.

”Don’t look at me like that, I know what you’re thinking,” Gawain glanced at Beltira, shaking his head with resignation, ”I’m only speculating; I don’t know the details—there’s a blank in my memory regarding this, possibly erased by someone else, or perhaps erased by myself, but we can maintain this possibility—this body left by Gawain Cecil was intended for me from the beginning.”

Gawain Cecil made a transaction with some mysterious entity in the Sea of Eternal Darkness, using his soul as the bargaining chip.

Upon hearing this statement, Gawain’s heart already surged with a wave; he’d always been pondering the secret of his ”resurrection,” reflecting on the mystery-laden expedition of Gawain Cecil, yet all events had a missing key piece, with clues isolated from each other, unconnected as a whole.

Until now, Beltira’s disclosed information allowed him to make a bold speculation—still incomplete, but at least offering a reasonable deduction:

The so-called transaction Gawain Cecil mentioned upon returning was actually this ”resurrection” after seven hundred years.

But the resurrection’s target wasn’t him, it was a lone visitor residing in the universe.

However, how did Gawain Cecil, an ordinary human being, make contact with an alien satellite in space?

Those crystals... the mysterious crystals he had entrusted to the Mithril Vault seemed to explain some of the mysteries.

When Gawain came into contact with those crystals, he successfully reestablished a connection with the satellites in space, indicating that those crystals functioned similarly to some form of ”communication medium.”

Gawain Cecil likely found those crystals during his voyage seven hundred years ago, perhaps in the so-called ”Sea of Eternal Darkness,” and those crystals allowed him to connect with the Gawain in space; in a communication with deliberately erased traces, the souls of two worlds made a transaction.

As for how this transaction was achieved and what motivations Gawain Cecil held at the time remain unknown.

Yet Gawain vaguely had a guess, if his suppositions held true, then perhaps what he was doing now was precisely what had been agreed in the transaction all those years ago.

He slowly exhaled.

A series of emotionally stirring assumptions, yet assumptions are ultimately just assumptions; without ample evidence, he couldn’t entirely accept his imagination as truth; these... were merely possibilities.

”It’s indeed unexpected that Wanderers from Outer Realm are also troubled by memory issues,” Beltira snorted, ”Seems your race isn’t without flaws in mental aspects either.”

Seeing Beltira’s expression, who knows how many non-existent traits the Eternal Sleepers had envisioned on their ”Wanderers from Outer Realm” card... Perhaps within the Eternal Sleepers, there even existed a dedicated ”Wanderers from Outer Realm Behavior (Imaginary) Research Room.”

Eventually, he must let Daniel investigate it if possible, see if some ”artistic processing” could be slipped in...

The most effective way to deal with evil cult followers is to outdo them in bluster—a profound lesson Gawain learned after his first successful bluffing of the Eternal Sleepers.

”Of course, we have flaws; all mortals do,” Gawain said mildly, ”And I shall remind you again—at least at this stage, you can consider me the true Gawain Cecil, whether due to the memories I’ve inherited or out of respect for his own honor.”

Beltira stared at Gawain for a long while, seemingly confronted with a difficult decision, but finally, she suddenly laughed: ”The true Gawain Cecil... You know if Brother Gawain were standing here, what he would do?”

”His first reaction would be to chop you down,” Gawain replied calmly.

Beltira’s expression froze.

”Do you remember what you said in the dreams? You’ve made a big mess, an absolute calamity,” Gawain continued expressionlessly, ”You’ve taken a wrong path, yet you expect the Plains of the Holy Spirits and all of Anzu to bear the consequences. Of course, the Oblivion Association has already received its punishment with its own end, and you’ve become like this, but Gawain Cecil would still draw his sword.”

Beltira lowered her eyelids slightly: ”...It seems you really have inherited almost all his memories...”

”But I haven’t finished speaking—his second reaction would be to strike the ground beside him with the sword.”

”Why?”

”Because you’re Beltira, and even more so because of your current appearance... there’s really no need to strike another blow,” Gawain quietly said. ”Do you think you still count as a living person now?”

Beltira was stunned for a moment.

Her perception was spreading, her spirit was spreading within this twisted body.

She could feel the deep darkness of the earth and the chill of autumn air; she felt the water rushing through her roots and could also sense birds landing on branches. Daring small animals were already settling between the tree branches, bushes, and grass pits, preparing for a new home.

The wind blew across the sky of Sorinburg, rustling the leaves on the edges of the giant tree. The immense canopy stretched in the sunlight, covering the scorched earth below from a great height.

She was rooted here; this was her new home, and also her eternal prison.

In the conference room of the Dark Abbey, Beltira—or rather a part of Beltira’s mimicry communication entity—lowered her head to Gawain: ”Then as a Wanderer from Outer Realm, what do you think of me?”

”I’d like to confirm,” Gawain thought for a moment, looking down at the Sword of Pioneers in his hand, ”if I strike you here with one blow, will you die?”

”...I’m afraid not,” Beltira shook her head. ”You would only sever one of my roots. The correct method is to completely destroy the entire tree... the entire tree is my body. Use your kind of powerful explosive tools, use your magic flames that can incinerate everything, burn the entire tree, including the underground structure, to completely kill me.

”It’s not easy, purely in terms of survival ability, my life has acquired a ’great evolution’, but I know for your army it’s not difficult, you can do it.

”And execution by fire... is indeed suitable for evil cult followers.”

Gawain lightly glanced at the Longsword in his hand and sighed softly.

”We’ve already set enough fires here; this land doesn’t need to burn again,” he spoke as if to himself, ”And you... just quietly take root here, maybe your rooting could be somewhat beneficial to the people of the Plains of the Holy Spirits.”

Beltira kept her head down, uncertain of what she was thinking until several seconds later, Gawain heard her voice: ”I understand, Brother Gawain...”

Gawain raised an eyebrow.

It seemed a deal was made.

He nodded, steering the conversation back on track: ”What’s left in this palace? What’s below?”

”There’s nothing worth exploring in the lower layers anymore. The body of the fake god destroyed the supporting structure at the lowest level when it broke free. To temporarily imprison it, the remaining priests blew up the main passage area and the rock bottom area,” Beltira shook her head. ”If you don’t believe, you can go down the corridor on the east side; I sense a gap there, you should be able to see the collapsed passage and stacked rock layers. In fact, if not for the rock layers squeezing towards the middle to form new supports on both sides of the underground rift, and my roots maintaining the structure of the abbey, the end here would be a collapse along with below.”

Gawain frowned; this was a regrettable situation—he had hoped to dig out more secrets and even lost technology from this ancient underground ruin, but it now seemed that all ancient secrets were buried underground with the collapse triggered by the rampage of the Artificial God and the Oblivion priests’ self-destructive resistance...

”No need to be overly regrettable,” but Beltira continued, ”The lower layers didn’t have much in themselves—this ancient palace wasn’t built by us; it is the work of some ancient civilization lost for countless generations, its deep layers lurked forces even we struggle to resist, so for hundreds of years, our main activities were in the middle and upper layers—the lower layers are almost entirely sealed, with nothing inside but decayed air and hollow echoes.

”The only two valuable areas in the lower layers were the Archbishop’s room and the Rift Valley area for creating the body of the fake god, but the body of the fake god no longer exists, and the most valuable thing in the Archbishop’s room...”

Beltira spoke while raising her hand, handing forward the big book she had been holding against her chest.

”Is this.”

Gawain’s attention shifted to that book as Beltira moved.

The moment he saw it, he felt an indescribable feeling—

He had a vague sense of familiarity from the book, similar to the ”spiritual resonance” he had with the satellite, yet markedly different, as if it’s... some sort of counterfeit, trying hard to imitate but ultimately not the real thing.

Or another way to say it, he felt clear spiritual vibrations when resonating with the satellite, but facing this book, he sensed similar vibrations, yet far more blurred and chaotic.

”What is this thing?” Gawain asked curiously.

”The Ultimate Tome, the only safe and controllable thing we found in the lowest layers of this abbey,” Beltira said. ”It’s belonged to our Archbishop over the past few hundred years.”

”The Ultimate Tome... sounds quite extraordinary.” Gawain spoke while cautiously eyeing the Black Leather Tome—knowing that curiosity is one of the driving forces behind human progress, but an overly strong curiosity can also be dangerous. Though he didn’t feel threatened by this book, its unknown origin and odd aura naturally evoked caution.

...Should he touch it?

”The Archbishop handed it to me before merging with the body of the fake god, hoping I’d lead the Oblivion Association,” Beltira continued. ”But as you can see—the Oblivion Association has disappeared, and I... have become like this. This book is useless to me. Wanderer from Outer Realm, if you want it, you can take it.”

Gawain thought for a moment and eventually took the book, carefully opening its cover.

The next second, a voice echoed in his mind:

”Detected unauthorized media logging into the system.”