Pillars of Ita

Leonard Gulmod looked at the tall figure standing in the rain, the raindrops weaving a layer of silver mist onto the other's armor. The wild gaze from Toquinin gave him a slight illusion, as if he were looking at old Sir Gulmod—his strict and old-fashioned father in the rumors.

Reed's gaze also fell on the young knight, whose iconic red hair was so striking. The shadows of several generations—'Red-haired Griffin,' 'Gulmod's Hound,' and 'Proverb Anvil'—overlapped in his vision, finally settling on the most flamboyant one that he knew well.

“The cub of the Gulmod family, son of Calvin,” the cat-man spoke, his voice gentle yet powerful, like a sword cutting through the rain, “does he still have the courage to fight?”

Leonard took a breath, looked at the insignia on the other's right chest, and nodded forcefully despite his exhaustion.

The big cat's words caught in its throat as it realized it no longer needed to waste its breath, and it couldn't help but sigh softly:

"That person is just like you."

"Who?"

Reed shook his head slightly. "Just a rash guy."

If told otherwise, this cub of the Gulmod family probably wouldn't believe it. One day, a descendant of the Gulmod family would become the leader of the Knights.

He no longer harbored much resentment towards that man, only a slight sense of感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a complex feeling of mixed emotions, including regret and apprehension). At this moment, this lion had not even succeeded as the squad leader of the Holy Sword. After this war, the other party would still face many hardships before forging his illustrious reputation.

Oriana's Crimson Griffin, the Broken Blade.

The hope of Anvil Fortress, Leonard Gulmod.

That person's ancestor.

Leonard looked at the other person with confusion, though he had some doubts in his heart—how could he be associated with being impetuous? The Knights even thought he was too dull, and his mother had said more than once that young people didn't have to be as lifeless as him.

But he didn't ask any more questions. He simply picked up his sword, stood up, and walked into the wind and rain.

Reed stood there, watching the young figure—

The timeline is falling apart

Time is running out for them.

The great cat-man could smell the danger carried on the wind: a dark monarch had broken free of the shackles that had bound him for millennia—Lifgard was awakening.

On the holy mountain.

The temple in Tririel is collapsing at an accelerated rate.

The cracks in the barrier expanded at a visible speed, almost extending over the entire city. The Flame Court fleet reappeared behind them, attempting to enter.

But the brilliant firelight illuminated the sky, and even the fiercest artillery fire was of no use. Time, which had been stagnant for a thousand years, seemed to have begun to flow again, splitting this illusion in two.

Everything in that old timeline can no longer affect the re-flowing reality; people can only stare in astonishment as spacetime splits open before them.

The two ends of the crack seem like two different worlds.

The rumble of cannon fire transformed into faint thunder on the horizon, and the ground began to tremble, as if a colossal beast was awakening beneath this ancient fortress.

An unsettling, malevolent aura permeated the air, and the rainwater emitted a strong, metallic smell, as if blood had seeped from the ground, soaking into every crevice between the stone slabs.

Even the earth dragons resting in the square felt threatened, and they pressed their claws against the ground, exhaling heavy breaths from their nostrils.

The knights finally realized what was happening, grabbed their weapons, and mounted their horses.

Leonard stepped over the crowd, grasped the saddle, mounted his earth dragon, drew his longsword—raised the silver scepter high, and shouted to the crowd:
"Stay alert! Knights of Duro, move closer to me immediately!"

His personal guard arrived upon hearing the news and immediately raised their lances, causing Gulmod's crimson griffin banner to flutter in the rain. The knights in the square, as if given a pillar of support, all looked in this direction.

Leonard held a sword in one hand and the silver scepter in the other, causing the earth dragon to circle halfway through the crowd before looking up at the surrounding areas of the square.

The shadows of the enemies they had defeated flowed into the ground beneath the square like rivers, while new shadows grew menacingly from behind those buildings.

It was like a black tide, and they were nothing more than pebbles in the vast ocean. Yet, the young lion cub of Gulmod showed no fear on his face, only an indomitable fighting spirit in his eyes.

He was like this, and so were everyone else.

Leonard looked up at the mountain peak, the highest point of the city, and gently pointed his scepter forward, as if parting a clear path through the black waves:
"Lady of Justice, Lady of War, Knights of Marlan, follow me—"

He gripped the reins tightly with his sword, and together with the earth dragon, they surged forward, forming the first sharp point of that arrowhead before everyone else.

The knights agreed in unison and followed suit.

"Let us fight for victory—"

"For the Holy Son, for the Lady—"

"Open a path!"

"Long live Marlan! Long live Rota!"

The sound of hooves thundered.

Selgios felt his eyelids grow very heavy, as if he were falling into a long dream.

In that dream, he saw the silver stream merging into the black tide, which reminded him of many distant scenes: knights in silver helmets, elves carrying light, the Rota'o people, the Oshurs, and later the Corinthians, the mortal alliance that had defeated their once invincible might.

He spoke softly, “Look, they’re here—Lifgard.”

Do you consider them my adversaries?

Sel Gios shook his head.

"What I see is that three hundred years later, there will still be successors coming."

"But it's all in vain, isn't it?"

The gentle voice spoke. The golden gaze saw the long passage of time, in which mortals distrusted one another, fell apart, and former comrades became enemies, pointing swords at each other's backs, causing blood and fire to flow in one war after another.

As it has seen in each and every world.

It saw the sword light slashing towards its neck, saw the hero drinking the dragon's blood, and saw the hero's story gradually come to an end, and saw this land eventually return to ordinariness, with the people on the land no longer passing on those stories.

It saw the noble become base, the radiant become dim, the upright be eroded, and ambition grow among mortals. Just as it saw in world after world.

So they came back.

They will come back eventually.

“Selgios, you imprisoned me for three hundred years. Three hundred years is a long time for mortals, but for me it is but a fleeting moment—”

The voice said softly:
"Therefore, I have enough patience to wait for this unfair game to come to an end, and now, it has finally come to an end."

"Actually, you've always known that what turns mortals into beasts isn't some curse flowing in their blood, but rather that ever-growing ambition—"

The golden gaze calmed down, as if it were seeing a city burning in a sea of ​​fire, and a girl wandering aimlessly within that city.

Those golden eyes seemed to see their own reflection in the mirror again, and that unwavering gaze meeting their own:
“Evil dragon, I am willing to make a deal with you. I will drink this blood, as long as it can put an end to the curse and restore honor to my brother, my father, and my family.”

Revenge, resentment, greed, and anger.

Even pity, compassion, a heart yearning to fight, or even the injustice of the world, attachment and love—any weak thought that arises in the heart of a mortal can be matched with the power in their blood.

What turns mortals into dragons is sometimes simply the ability they possess to match it.

If I have the power to judge and change all of this, why should I be a bystander?
“I know you’ve been waiting for that opportunity, and I know that the fragment gives you a chance to fight me, but mortal, you know I’ve never been worried.”

“Because you see, it was you, my fellow countrymen who yearned for this power, who freed me from my predicament?” Sel Gios lowered his eyelids.

The explorer of the Son of the Gulf seemed to have fallen into a long slumber on that throne, and golden blood dripped from his fingertips onto the tiny objects, giving each copper rail a halo of light.

He finally remembered that dream.

The window through which dappled sunlight streamed was no longer as bright and clean as before, and everything in the old house finally looked worn and old, as if it had lost its former vitality.

After being neglected, the sea of ​​marigolds in the yard had long since withered, and it was no longer clear which year it was during a storm that even the black elm tree was snapped in half, leaving only a mess.

One by one, the faces I remembered faded into the distance, just as the prophecy foretold: of the family cursed for drinking dragon's blood, only this eldest son survived.

A cold wind was blowing through the harbor. As he prepared to head to the Bronze Bell Council once more, his old servant approached him with a worried expression: "Master, the rumors circulating outside are very unfavorable to you. The council believes you have already found the location of Vo-Sarastiel but have concealed it. After that great battle, even the Rota'o people have sent messengers to inquire about it more than once..."

"If you are going to the House of Representatives, Mr. Roms and his men have sent someone to tell me that you would be better off postponing your plans and, if possible, returning to the fleet first..."

The old servant hesitated for a moment, then said, "Those people over there seem to be itching to make their move against you."

Selgios was slightly dazed, looking at the familiar, aged face in his memory, then he gently shook his head, and those last words resurfaced in his mind:

“Bastian, you don’t need to worry about me, but I happen to have something I need your help with.”

"Master, just give the order."

“Bastian, now you are the only one I can trust. Please take this as my legacy and take it far away from this place, the farther the better—”

"And then, never come back, never go back to this place."

"master?"

The old servant took the small object he didn't recognize, held the brass ring in his hands, and looked up at his master with a puzzled expression.

“Do as I say, Bastian.”

The old servant took the fragment and boarded a ship bound for another continent overnight, as agreed, to take it to a faraway place.

Soon after, news of the Gulf explorer's conviction by the Bronze Bell Council spread throughout the entire Skyland.

But the old servant also failed to keep his promise to his master. The ship he was on encountered an unusual storm in the waters near Colin-Ishurian.

Many, many years later, on that long and cold coastline, a group of young pioneers were about to set foot on this ancient, frozen land and write their own story.

A hand was picking up a rusty, mottled object from among the rubble. The young man's curious gaze swept over the few rings on the small object—it looked old, but it didn't seem to be damaged.

Those conservative nobles huddled in the north and never went south, simply because they were afraid of the ancient monarch and his minions hunting in the cold forest. Wasn't this supposed to be a barbaric land? How could there be something like alchemy here?
The young man held the small object in his palm and felt that its exquisite craftsmanship even surpassed that of ordinary artisan works.

Until he heard voices calling his name from the shore:

"Lenasol Rogers, where have you been again? Quickly take your men and set off, find the upper reaches of this river before nightfall—"

“Here we are,” the young man replied, turning around, putting away the items in his hands, and then walking in that direction. “Lord Eisen, it’s us again. My men haven’t had a proper rest since we came all the way south from Deer City.”

"To expand the kingdom's territory is our honor—Lainasol, you are merely the youngest son in the family, with no right to inherit. Further up this valley, I've heard mountain folk tales of a valley that flows through a warm land. If you are the first to find that place, I will declare on behalf of His Majesty that it belongs to you. You may establish your family there and build your own castle—"

"Lord Eisen, is this really true?"

"Of course, you should think about what your future territory should be called."

“Winterhold,” the young man replied with great enthusiasm, “I have already decided, sir, that I will build a castle there, and it will be called Winterhold!”

……

Maryland Rogers clutched the old object tightly in her hand, then looked up at the man in front of her—and the twisted mass of flesh behind him.

Amidst the wind and snow, atop the lump of flesh, a long, vertical golden pupil stared intently at the object in his hand, as if a bright light were rising from it.

The man was the same—though he looked almost inhuman, his skin dry and peeling, his face gaunt like a ghost.

However, Elisa recognized him; this was the great explorer from the Gulf, the commander of the Sons of Saltbones who should have died three hundred years ago in history.

Selgios.

The explorer stared intently at the object in Maryland's hand, countless memories surfacing in his eyes. He slowly raised his sword, pointing it at the other man:

"Young man, give it to me..."

But Maryland took a step back, clutching what she was holding, as if reluctant to hand it over.

Behind him, Eleusis, witnessing this scene, finally couldn't help but step forward. "That greedy thing," she said indignantly, "I told you long ago that this guy is unreliable!"

At that moment, lovely Lisa reached out and stopped the other person. Miss Nightingale looked calmly at the Duchess and then gently shook her head.

"What are you doing?" Eliussis was taken aback. She turned to look at Elisa and the box. "Why didn't you stop him? Didn't you say that this was the only way to kill that thing?"

But Olivia chuckled softly, "Miss Eleusis, don't you understand?"

"Damn it," Eliussis said angrily, "am I supposed to understand that?"

The scholar smiled slightly again, but did not answer directly. Instead, she looked in that direction and said, "Don't rush, we are witnessing history right now."

Elius was slightly taken aback upon hearing this.

Not far away, Maryland seemed to finally realize what was happening. Clutching the shard with both hands, she suddenly mustered her courage and shouted at the mass of flesh behind Selgios:

“Great Dark Lord, these people all harbor ill will towards you, but I know that a part of your soul is sealed within this fragment. It is a treasure passed down through generations of my family, and now—I am willing to return it to you!”

A deep, muffled voice came from within that mass of flesh and blood:

"Oh? A mortal, then what do you desire!?"

Maryland glanced back at Elisa and the others, then looked at Selgios, who was raising his sword at him, but felt no fear, only a surge of ecstasy.

—So the legend was true!

His eyes blazed with intense heat, and he immediately raised the star gauge high with both hands. "Supreme King, what I desire is—"

But before he could finish speaking...

Selgios had already slashed his sword in that direction, but before his sword could hit Maryland, the star tracker in the young man's hand suddenly flew out.

Guided by Livegard, the fragment flew into the air and collided with the blade of Sel Gios. With a loud bang, the blade struck the two outermost copper rails of the orbiter, cutting a gash in them.

At that very moment, a bright radiance appeared on the star tracker, deflecting Selgios's sword. The star tracker itself was also knocked off course and flew into the snowy field to the side.

After this attack, the broken sword in Selgios's hand finally gave way and shattered into pieces.

He let out a muffled groan and then knelt on the ground.

Behind him, the voice emanating from the flesh and blood finally became sharp and contemptuous, "Pathetic mortal, did you ever foresee this moment?"

"Guess why I just watched you send that fragment away? Did you really think that once you took it to the ends of the earth, it would never come back to me?"

Livegard shook his head slightly. "You will never understand the ambition of mortals. Look, it has come all this way, hasn't it? And you have wasted hundreds of years, lost almost everything, and what have you gained in the end?"

"Mortal, you can't beat me."

...(End of chapter)