READ WEBNOVEL Chapter 492
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## EP.492 The Path Continued from the Past (3)
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As he walked deeper into the tower, the air grew heavier. Feeling the cool, clingy atmosphere, Acrita stepped toward the darkness. As he walked, he unconsciously let out a laugh.
He had lived for a long time.
Longer than the stars above him, and he, being the only one who knew the primordial era, had raced through it as the Mage of Ancient Dragons. Remembering a certain woman he had encountered in that era, the Braver exhaled deeply.
“What a pity.”
Regulation.
“If only I had a little more time, if there had been no Ancient Dragons… I could have broken her.”
Gletus of Regulation.
Among the countless humans Acrita had seen, she was the one who shone the brightest. In the chaotic era, where everyone was screaming their beliefs and setting the world ablaze, she became a stream of water that crossed the world.
She was a mysterious woman.
She extinguished the blazing fire that threatened to engulf the world and turned it into her weapon. In doing so, she captivated a certain mage who was intoxicated with his own power. Many gathered by her side.
Fairy kin, spirits, Dragon breeds, and many more great and small races.
Heroes of all kinds gathered under the name of a mere human. Those assembled were not limited to those living on the ground. Even transcendents from the heavens gathered under her name.
The master of all dragons, the oldest god.
The Lord of Shadow Dragons and the dragons that followed her formed a singular force under the name of Regulation. When he closed his eyes and opened them again… those who had been but a small stream had now become a massive flood under the name of Regulation.
The flood swept across the world.
Regulation extinguished the flames and halted war, sweeping away the arrogant gods. Acrita, who had long plotted to incite the Great War of the sixteen races, managed to extinguish even the massive flames ignited by it.
Thus, Acrita grew curious.
When that woman collapses, what kind of beautiful scream will she let out? When her life shatters, how will those who gathered under her name react?
To satisfy that curiosity and to collect the most radiant work of art, the Braver sought any means possible. But in the end, he could not destroy Gletus.
“Did you say, ‘Heavenly Blessing’?”
“Indeed, that is fitting. You are a troublesome enemy, a bothersome opponent. Perhaps you might even be on par with Yormun…”
Ultimately, she spoke briefly to the self defeated.
“You are ultimately empty, aren’t you?”
“My life is not so light as to be defeated by an empty one.”
An empty human.
Recalling the words he had heard that day, the Braver chuckled.
“In the past, I ultimately failed though.”
Thud!
The Braver stopped his tracks.
At the place where he halted stood a mage who had touched the truth. Whether to express that form as having touched the truth or to say it was swallowed, it didn’t matter… so long as the meaning got through.
“Today is different.”
Acrita lifted his foot.
The moment his raised foot came crashing down with a thud, the tower shook. The great darkness dwelling deep within the tower began to ripple and overflow.
“Show me, Skebal.”
The first Braver smiled.
“This time it will be different.”
Eeeeeek!
The sound of a tearing fabric echoed.
The tower at its endpoint.
The tower, which had been cleaved in two in the middle, was named the End Tower. No exact record remains as to why such a name was bestowed upon that ruin; they only speculate it to be so because it is situated at the end of the continent.
“However, now that I think about it, the symbolic name ‘End Tower’ suits it quite well.”
Murmured Karioth, as he pulled out weapons from the cross he bore on his back. That tower is the final trial the raid teams must overcome, the terminus of this long and arduous struggle. Thus, he thought the name ‘end’ was quite fitting for such a battlefield.
“……”
As he quietly surveyed his surroundings, countless distinguished heroes preparing for the raid were present. Just as he was calculating the time left until they could enter the End Tower, Karioth steadied his breath.
Flash!
Something sparkled from the distant tower.
Karioth narrowed his eyes. The flash shot up toward the sky with a tail of light. The moment the flash reached the heavens, Karioth’s eyes widened.
“……!”
The flash that had touched the sky began to fall. The falling flash was not just one. A mass of light filled the sky, plummeting toward the ground. The falling items were arrows imbued with moonlight.
Hundreds, thousands of arrows.
It wasn’t only Karioth who witnessed this scene. The others gathered in the wilderness reacted instantly. Belnoa swung his arms, and Resti gestured. With the raging storm, the summoned beasts formed a barrier around the raid group.
Babababababababam!
The arrows of rain, momentarily dampened by the storm’s momentum, crashed into the summoned beasts. Though the damage was minimal, everyone gathered here understood. This was merely a signal flare. And…
All eyes turned to Remia.
The raid teams recognized the technique that had just covered her. The Moonlight Arrows. Lunar Glow. It was a technique symbolic of Remia, and one that Destel had imitated from the past heroes.
“…I can’t believe I didn’t know.”
Remia exhaled incredulously.
“The Legendary Archer Epta isn’t dead?”
She raised a finger.
The finger pointed toward the End Tower. She immediately recognized the figure standing on the battlements there. There was no way she could mistake it. He was a hero deeply connected with the elves… more importantly, a hero personally nurtured by the Elder.
The Legendary Archer, Epta.
The hero with the moonlight arrows, a treasure of the elves.
How could a hero thought to have died hundreds of years ago be there? Just as she began to question that fact, dolls started pouring out from the tower.
Dozens, hundreds of dolls flowed out from the tower’s crumbled cross-section. They resembled a wave composed of humans. The tsunami of dolls enveloped the tower, as if standing guard over it.
Ka-Ka-Ka-Ka-Kang!
The sound of them drawing their blades echoed loudly across the wilderness. The eyes of the raiding party, watching them, gradually narrowed. While they had known that the first Braver wielded necromancy, …
“That’s…”
Chloe groaned.
Having read countless heroic tales because of her love for stories, she instantly recognized who clustered in the wilderness.
“Radiant Haton.”
The hero who swept the battlefield together with the indomitable knights 400 years ago.
“Slicing Berzer.”
The hero of the holy sword who had been called the strongest before Kyle.
“Immortal Triton…”
The hero who wielded the great shield, first in line to protect the forces.
“Resplendent, Ganyr.”
The hero most admired by others, the quintessential hero.
A hero who saved countless lives. The instant Chloe spoke his name, her voice trembled.
“…there’s more than just heroes.”
It was not just the heroes of the past. Alongside the many superhumans who had made names for themselves on the battlefield, there were also historical figures who had made it into the records. Those who bore epithets, those who had dedicated their lives for humanity.
And thus, the heroes who represented an age.
These beings surrounded the tower to protect the Braver’s dwelling. The weapons that had once aimed at the demons to safeguard humanity now targeted the present heroes, belonging to the demons instead.
This was an insult.
An insult to their lives and a mockery of humanity.
“…I had heard rumors of the necromancy being used.”
Saint Natida clenched her jaw.
“I never imagined that heroes who should have met their end would be resurrected like that, let alone in their prime. This is an unexpected situation.”
She was right.
Those resurrected by necromancy were fundamentally incomplete, devoid of rationality. Yet, the heroes standing in the wilderness right now were indistinguishable from how they had looked in life.
‘No, rather more than the records…’
These were not the forms they had at the time of their death.
They had been resurrected exactly as they were in their youthful, perfect forms. How this was possible was beyond her comprehension, but that didn’t mean they could just sit idle and take it.
“…”
The raiding party swallowed dryly, drawing forth their weapons. At that moment, the forces guarding the tower began to charge toward the raiding party. They stomped the ground, drew their bows, crouched low, and skated with their swords as they hurtled through the wilderness.
Just like in the tales.
Just like the legendary exploits they had left behind.
Cutting through the wind, kicking up dust, the heroes charged toward the raiding party, embodying their prime. The one difference from the tales was the fact that their eyes no longer shone.
Crack!
The raiding party gritted their teeth.
As they attempted to move to confront their ancient seniors charging towards them, once more, the ground quaked with a thud.
Eeeeeeeeeek!
As the ground trembled, a bizarre noise echoed through the wilderness. With a piercing sound that assaulted the eardrums, the End Tower vibrated. Black sludge flooded from the trembling tower, shooting up toward the sky.
【■■,■■■■, ■■■■■■■■.】
A moment’s sound came forth, incomprehensible yet resembling a scream. The bulging sludge stretched out its tentacles and wrapped itself around the tower. The raiding party sensed something stirring inside the entwined tower.
Something was being born. Nourished by the sludge, it was attempting to break forth into the world.
[Contractor.]
A voice echoed in Belnoa’s ear.
As he dashed toward the surging forces of Braver, Belnoa listened to the goddess’s voice. The goddess, who hardly ever spoke to him during battles, had chosen this urgent moment to do so.
[I have something to tell you.]
If the goddess spoke in a pressing situation, there must be a reason for it. Belnoa nodded briefly, and the Lord of Shadow Dragons began her tale.
[In the primordial era, when the myriad gods divided the world, new gods were occasionally born.]
Belnoa charged ahead, lifting his head.
[To become a god, a wish is needed.]
[A fervent wish from someone. However, not all gods are born from wishes. If that were the case, the Great War would not have happened in the first place.]
He raised his head, looking.
At the sludge consuming the tower.
[Sometimes, it is something stronger than a wish.]
The Lord of Shadow Dragons grimaced. Belnoa could hear the noise leaking from the writhing sludge within the tower.
[Screams. Wrath. Remorse. Curses.]
It was a scream.
The sludge was screaming.
[Some gods are born from such emotions. And those born in such ways crave destruction. They seek to shape the world in their image while screaming.]
Hence, the Great War ensued.
The goddess continued with a moan.
[What lies within there is also a fragment of such a god.]
She warned him.
[Only not yet a god, but it has gained the right to become one. The moment the Star’s Balance tilts even slightly, it will become a distorted god.]
“A distorted… god, you say?”
That means, the goddess replied.
[It means you will become the Master of Demons, known as the Demon Lord.]
So, the Lord of Shadow Dragons stretched out her hand. With her slender finger, she pointed at the tower.
[Run. What you have to face is not merely remnants of the past. The moment that thing approaches completion… you can never win.]
The strength to reach that place is…
[I shall lend it to you.]
The goddess’s finger grasped Belnoa’s arm.
Belnoa’s shadow wavered greatly. As the shadow rippled, Belnoa’s body accelerated in an instant. Surprising even himself, his eyes widened at the enhancement of his physique, despite no particular price being paid.
[What for?]
The Lord of Shadow Dragons shrugged.
[Your God isn’t so clueless as to act finicky in such an urgent situation.]
A loan, you sly creature.
Belnoa chuckled at the goddess’s voice.