Ark Undead

Pallas smiled slightly; as a priestess, she definitely possessed an extraordinary aura.

"First of all, the audience with the sacred relic is merely the name of the process. What you will see after entering the fog gate is not something we can decide. We are just priests serving the sacred relic; how could we possibly control it?"

"Furthermore, the War Knight is absolutely not in danger. He came here to take what is rightfully his, not to undergo a trial. All of us priests are aware of this."

"Besides, at this time yesterday, it was the War Knight who helped the High Priest stabilize the condition of the sacred object. He must have his own reasons for staying inside."

Seeing the heroes before her wary of the undead, Pallas felt no offense; instead, she couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

As expected of him.

"As for what the sacred object is, you are all heroes who have participated in the audience with it, so I will tell you."

Pallas didn't seem to care that the sacred relic had been leaked.

“We Minos have two sacred objects. One of them is a broken spiral blade. It radiates heat at all times, and no one can fathom the power it contains.”

When the spiral blade was mentioned, all three except Morton were stunned for a moment.

They also remembered the campfires that the Undead always lit in their resting places.

There is always a long sword with its blade twisted into a spiral shape stuck in the campfire.

"As for the other thing."

Paras paused for a moment, then spoke slowly.

"It's a badge."

Melantha's body tensed up suddenly.

badge?!

376. The Foreseen Future

"If you are interested in the history of Minos, you can go to the National Library to take a look."

Pallas continued.

"Our goddess brought a sword and established this nation with a culture themed around heroes."

"Of course, time has taken away life. Now all that remains is a broken blade and a slightly worn badge."

"However, the sacred object has its own mind, and it constantly tells the outside world about its mission. Our duty as priests is to decipher the secrets of the sacred object and follow the guidance of the divine oracle."

Bloodthorn realized what was going on when he heard this.

"So, you mean, Mr. War Knight?"

"Ah."

Pallas nodded; the people in front of him were all heroes recognized by the sacred object.

Moreover, since one of them was a disciple of the War Knight, there was no need to hide this matter.

“Back when I was in Akrotti, I had private conversations with Mr. War Knight. After confirming his identity as a divine messenger, everything became much clearer.”

Pallas's gaze passed over the figures of the others and landed on the fog gate behind them.

"This immortal contest is to find the true messenger of the gods. The hero from the oracle will take away the long-sealed sacred artifacts and bring a new future to Minos."

In other words, the Undead is the hero that the oracle was destined to see.

"So, everyone, don't worry. If Miss Melantha and Miss Maria, who are related to Mr. War Knight, are chosen by the sacred object, there must be a reason for it."

Pallas looked at Melantha and gave her a reassuring look.

"I believe in you, and I hope you can also believe in the Temple of Heroes. Give Mr. Undead some time."

The four who had just awakened exchanged glances. Although some questions remained, Minos had already answered most of them.

Melantha's mind was a bit of a mess; she hadn't quite figured out what was going on.

The scene she saw in the relic was somewhat unusual.

The emblem Pallas mentioned, along with the goddess, gave Melantha some unusual speculations.

"Let's go back first."

Bloodthorn said.

With the Undead absent, Bloodthorn, being the strongest among them, naturally took on the role of decision-making.

“The priest is right, the Undead has his own business to attend to. We should trust him.”

Melantha glanced back at the fog gate.

If that goddess really is the older sister, then the teacher probably went in this time to look for the Fire-type Girl.

For some reason, Melantha didn't show the same panic she had when she heard about Maria.

Teacher, you must bring my sister back safely!

After Melantha left, the fireless sacrificial grounds returned to peace.

But the fire has been extinguished, and finding a place of rest in this fireless world is a pipe dream.

For those who are still alive, they know this is the end of the world. Only by finding the legendary scrolls can they have a tiny chance of surviving this boundless dark age.

And then there was another group of people who learned the truth and a glimmer of hope from the Fire Maiden who served the king.

Today, many of the people who still remain at the fire-lighting ritual site no longer believe in the small flame that appeared in the darkness in the story.

They all knew, more or less, that these were just words to comfort themselves.

Only those who had some contact with that king truly understood that it was not a deception.

"Komikus, you're awake."

Feeling the person beside him get up from the ground, the old blacksmith gritted his teeth and then asked in a low voice.

"How did you sleep?"

"It's still relatively safe... That's the only good thing about the darkness after the flames have died down."

The blindfolded old man, dressed in a tattered overcoat, sat up from the ground, leaned against the wall behind him, and let out a long sigh.

"Did anything happen while I was asleep?"

"Hey."

An unintelligible laugh escaped the old blacksmith's lips as he turned to look at the old sorcerer.

"Your disciples and their descendants have arrived."

"?" The swamp sorcerer named Komikus didn't understand what the old blacksmith was saying.

He turned his head and looked at the old blacksmith with his blindfolded eyes, trying to get a response from him.

But then a woman's voice rang out from the darkness on the other side.

"The flames have long since vanished. Lordran today is like an isolated island constantly surrounded by shattered space and time, where anything can happen."

She hid in a small hole in the corner of the fire-lighting ritual site, with a few broken candles beside her, still retaining faint flames.

"But what I never expected was that the person who came was actually the disciple of that stupid disciple."

Upon hearing the woman's words, Komikus paused for a moment, then his lips twitched involuntarily.

You mean...?

Before he could finish speaking, flames erupted from his body, the slightly murky flames seeming to ignite everything in their path.

Everyone knows that it's nothing more than remnants of the past.

As time goes by, this will eventually fade away.

"Hey, calm down, calm down, old man. Don't burn the things I brought back."

Only one guy squatting to the side, in an exaggerated tone, moved his goods, which he had placed near the Firelink Shrine, a little further away.

The top of his head reflected the light in the dim candlelight, making it seem like the brightest object in the sacrificial site.

"Sorry, Patch."

Komikus controlled his emotions, pursed his lips, but still couldn't help asking the female voice in the darkness.

"So, you're my...disciple?"

"Old man, let's make this clear: this foolish apprentice isn't just yours, he's mine too."

The witch with the large hat sounded slightly displeased. However, after a brief silence, she let out a sigh.

"It was his disciple who awoke from an abandoned graveyard where ashes should never have opened their eyes again, and came from the distant future, following the scent of the flames."

"Could it be...could it be that I've mistaken someone else for someone else?"

The old sorcerer seemed somewhat incredulous; his voice trembled slightly.

"He's not already... already in the Initial Furnace..."

A hand gently patted the old sorcerer's shoulder.

The old blacksmith sitting to the side offered words of comfort.

“I can smell the blade of the sword at the child’s waist. It’s the smell of steel forged after being tempered by the first fire.”

"But I didn't sense the approach of the spellfire, otherwise I would have woken up."

The old sorcerer still couldn't quite believe it.

"If he is truly his disciple, why doesn't he teach him incantations?"

All that could be heard was a sneer from the witch in the corner.

"Old man, you're probably getting senile. The things we know aren't really suitable for little girls."

Upon hearing this, the old sorcerer was stunned.

After a long while, he nodded slightly.

“That’s right, Karula, you’re correct.”

"Besides, I didn't smell the abyss on that child. Instead, the intense, pure flames almost burned my eyes out."

The witch named Karula spoke with a hint of relief.