Unimaginable and incomprehensible.

In the end, Tyr had no choice but to go in person - after all, he was looking for Emya, not the Elf God. If there was any accident in the communication,

However, the senses of a powerful god are naturally much stronger than those of an ordinary Valkyrie, so as soon as he arrived in Avandor, he discovered the most "noisy" place in the kingdom of God.

Only there, the storm of magic is howling.

At the same time, a constant stream of conversations could be heard: "How high and mighty! The great Mr. Emiya found a solution to the problem in a moment of laughter and conversation, and the price was only the destruction of his simulacrum."

"Don't talk nonsense." Then he was scolded mercilessly.

"Heh." The person who spoke first responded with a sneer.

The strange thing is that the tones of these two sentences are so different that they seem to come from two different people - but their voices are exactly the same.

At this moment, a third voice suddenly rang out: "Simulacrum. Although the clone created by the technique has independent thoughts, its personality is theoretically the same as the original, unless your personality has undergone a serious change. Lord Emiya, it seems that your personality was different in the past."

"I don't remember." Emilia answered simply in Elvish, "Maybe."

Finding Emilia was much easier than Tyr had expected—and Lunya's Emilia was more sociable than he had imagined.

Or perhaps, he was outstanding enough to attract the attention of the gods. So even though he embarrassed the gods of Arvandor, he still found friends?

-----------------

Emya's way of helping Mythrion Serret was to use his own simulacrum.

Temporarily give a portion of the Silver Fire to the Simulacrum, then use Ascension on the Simulacrum - then have the poor Simulacrum describe its feelings before it turns to ashes, so that the God of the Mystique can use it as a reference.

In theory, this seemed to be a taboo, but Afanduo was not a place with strict discipline. Such seemingly illegal behavior, which was actually done with good intentions, would be completely ignored.

This inhumane method does work.

Mythreon Serret, one of the gods most familiar with high-level magic in Avandor, especially the mythal, successfully reached the final conclusion after several experiments: "--So that's how it is, so that's how it is! No wonder this high-level magic is called Ascension!"

Then, the God of the Mystical Chains entered a completely immersed state and began to talk to himself without paying attention to others.

"No wonder they dared to use the forbidden technique of Ascension, because Ascension was originally derived from another forbidden technique!"

"To be honest... How dare they... They've already exposed that incident, forcing Father God to personally intervene to patch up the problem, yet they still dare... No, if they were golden elves, of course they would dare..."

"...No, maybe I can borrow this magic and make some adjustments..."

Emilia wasn't angry.

He was so familiar with this scene that he could even be said to have gotten used to it, to the point where he no longer even felt angry about being ignored.

Now he just had to wait for the results.

At this moment, Tyr's voice suddenly rang in his mind: [Sir Emiya.]

Emilia really didn't want to meet Tyr privately.

After all, deception is always welcome in war, and the Lord of Justice had suffered greatly in the previous bet. Even if Tyr was magnanimous and didn't make a fuss, Emilia still felt extremely embarrassed.

Therefore, he would never and would never dare to neglect the God of Justice again - kindness and integrity do not mean having no temper!

[Lord Tyr, are you looking for me? Or do you want to visit His Majesty Corellon?]

"I dare not disturb His Majesty Corellon. I carried Arvandor's divine weapon, yet I was defeated miserably, leaving him humiliated. Naturally, I cannot face him again." Tyr's voice was calm but serious. "I have come to visit you."

Now Emiya was really sweating profusely - because he always used this tone when he accused Miss Yin.

But fortunately, he had prepared for this day in advance!

"...Then you've arrived just in time." Emiya took a deep breath. "Actually, I had some gifts to give you as apology, but everything happened so quickly after the bet, and I haven't had the chance yet."

It was a complete set of equipment—an extra set that had been prepared when Thor was being made.

To be more precise, Emiya was worried that if the elves were so crazy that they didn't make any equipment for Tyr, the situation might get out of control, so she made an extra set of equipment for Tyr during the gambling game - but it did not use the additional element amber to charge, and the weapons were just ordinary Holy Avengers. In terms of gold content, it was much worse than Thor's new equipment.

-----------------

"Ordinary" Holy Avenger.

But Tyr didn't think so.

Although the God of Justice is fair, he is not without temper. It is just that he would never attack mortals - but any vague anger he had disappeared when he saw the Holy Avenger before him.

It was almost dusk, and the several-meter-long giant sword made of pure gold was emitting brilliant light in the dusk of Avandor.

Tyr's fingers slid across the sword's spine, and the unusually delicate touch almost made him tremble.

He had thought he wouldn't be jealous of Thor, nor would he blame his own craftsmen—

But just by seeing the sword, he came to a conclusion.

Thor won so easily only because of Emiya.

The base materials of the equipment made by the elves are as different as heaven and earth from those of Emya's works. This sword must have been made with some skills that ordinary craftsmen cannot imagine.

"...Sir Emiya." Tyr narrowed his eyes slightly. "I remember you came here to learn the craft of making the Moon Blade?"

"Yes," Emya said honestly, "I think there's still a lot of room for improvement in my crafting skills: the materials and enchantment runes are still a huge gap from those of the Seldarine."

Translated, this means that there is no need to learn forging itself from the Seldarine anymore - just as Tyr himself judged.

But that's strange.

Tyr opened his mouth.

As the two of them were talking in low voices, the God of Maze was muttering like a madman, with violent waves of magic power surrounding him.

"You intend to learn creation from Mythreon Serret?" Tyr couldn't help but ask, "You should only come to him if you intend to be king or if you've already become king. The Mythril God isn't known for his creation."

He had indeed become the king, but the reason he came to see Mithrein Serret was... in a sense, it was a kind of study group that helped each other.

They are all unlucky people who have been deeply poisoned by the naturally powerful God King.

He came to help Mythrien Serret understand the Weave, and the mythal Lord helped him understand the power of the Seldarine.

"I see." Tyr couldn't help but sigh, "Sir Emiya, your future is limitless."

"Thank you for your kind words," Emilia replied.

But he doesn't care much about his future.

Hopefully, the Moon Blade will be the final straw that breaks the camel's back for Asmodeus.

And right in front of them, the God of Maze let out a mournful cry, squatted on the ground with his head in his hands without any manners, and never made another sound.

After a long moment, the Mystique God finally grasped Emya's hand, completely ignoring the much taller Tyr standing beside him. "Mr. Emya, are you from Faerun?"

"Uh...yes?"

"Then I can cut to the chase." Mythrean Serret's eyes were dull. "In short, after careful research, I discovered that the forbidden ascension technique actually originated from the Great Sundering."

"The Great Schism?"

"About eight thousand years ago," Mythrin Serret said weakly, "a group of foolish high mages suddenly decided to build an earthly paradise for the elves on Toril. Their plan was extremely drastic: to simply merge Toril and Arvandor. From then on, Toril would be Arvandor, and Arvandor would be Toril. They would no longer have to go through the cycle of reincarnation between Arvandor and the material plane."

Hold.

At this point, Emiya also reacted.

What Mythrien Serret was referring to was one of the greatest catastrophes in Toril's recorded history, and one of the greatest messes the high mages had ever caused.

The Great Split.

Naturally, the fantasy of this group of high-ranking wizards did not succeed. The bad news was that their failure would not only lead to their own destruction, but also to the burial of all the inhabitants of Toril.

That was one of the few clear divine interventions in history - the Seldarine gods took action personally, and finally ensured that this high-level magic landed safely, preventing it from causing too much damage.

——Just tore off a large area from the continent of Faerun.

A piece of the continent was torn off!!!

This kind of power and catastrophe, which is unheard of on Earth, is one of the "glorious" histories of the elves.

When this happened, even the Wasan family had not yet risen to prominence. Perhaps the Wasan family's cruelty was unprecedented and unparalleled, but the elves before them were definitely not good men and women.

That piece of land was later called Evermeet, and it is still the promised land for the decaying elves. They will board the ship to Evermeet and prepare to go to Arvandor.

"And Ascension and that higher magic have the same origin! Or rather, it's another approach guided by the same goal!" Mythriln Serret screamed. "That higher magic wanted to transform Toril into Arvandor, but Ascension is even more ingenious. As the name suggests, it wants mortals to become gods!"

"Damn it! The inventor of this spell must have believed in elven legends, convinced that all elves are exiled gods of the Seldarine, and so intended to use high magic to reverse their supposed exile! Damn it! Using high magic to forcibly bend the spirit and body of a mortal to the standards of a god, while simultaneously trying to convince everyone involved that the recipient is a god, erasing any trace of their mortal past... This kind of stupid spell can only result in the recipient's annihilation!!!"

"The inventor of this spell must have failed from the start. As a result, no one else knows the original purpose of this spell! But it doesn't matter. This spell can only obliterate others!"

"...Uh." Emiya wiped the sweat off her face. "So, have you thought of a countermeasure?"

"It can't be countered! Because in a sense, this is the stupidest buff spell!" Mythreon Serret roared, losing his composure. "When I designed the maze, I never imagined there would be such a... insane buff spell in the world! Now, if I want the maze to be able to restrain it, I have to completely redesign it! Hundreds of years? Thousands of years? I can't do it in a short time, not even with the magic web!"

"...Then, can't it counter the caster?" Emilia asked. "Does the mythal have the ability to counter the enemy remotely?"

"For extremely long distances, yes. The mystique can simulate the advanced magic of Hundred Paths and Thousands of Tracks, but this function has been disabled by my Lord."

"What are the Hundred Paths and Thousands of Tracks?"

"One of the most powerful spells in high magic, it's designed to break down the barriers between planes, allowing elves, and even the elven high magic, to freely reach any corner of the multiverse. Its completed form should be able to create a special portal to any plane."

Emiya shuddered as she thought of the portal outside Candlekeep that once blocked out the sun.

If the creatures from other planes that came in through the portals had not happened to run into the dark elves' army, who knows how much harm those portals would have caused.

"This spell sounds normal, so why is it banned?" Tyr couldn't help but feel curious.

This god of justice does not have such a deep relationship with the Seldarine pantheon, at least he does not know this secret.

"That was a long, long time ago," the Mystique God said weakly. "Yes, Hundred Paths and Thousands of Tracks is a portal, but that portal can transmit spell effects. Of course, the portal can also be seen from the other end, so it's not very effective for attacking enemy formations."

Emiya blinked, and then felt a chill in her heart.

What do you mean, attacking soldiers is ineffective?

If the spell is not used to attack others, what is it intended to be used for?

As expected, the God of the Mystique spoke angrily, "Finally, the main uses of the Hundred Paths and Thousand Tracks were as follows: burning forests, contaminating drinking water, spreading diseases, and killing civilians, especially children, who were outside the range of the mystique and in their sleep. So, what was this high-level magic? It has become a completely despicable butcher's knife. Thus, the Lord declared the Hundred Paths and Thousand Tracks a forbidden technique."

After venting his anger, Mythrain Serret said weakly, "Forget it. I'd better ask my master for permission. I now know how to detect ascension, but, apart from remote teleportation spells, I really can't think of a way to counter ascension. I really don't want to design a mythal lock that can cast an anti-magic field. It's too troublesome and too tiring..."

At this time, Mythreon Serret finally raised his head: "Emmya, how did you counter the ascension back then... Huh? Tyr? When did you come?"

"You might not believe this," the God of Justice said expressionlessly, "I've been here for a while."

Then, Tyr was stunned: "Counter-ascension? What happened?"

Chapter 62: The Last Conversation

Corellon disappeared, or more accurately, ran away again.

As soon as Emya turned to seek the Lord of the Chains for advice, the great God-King Corellon Larethian immediately ran away.

However, this time, he did not sneak into the Kingdom of God like he did before - he just came to Afanduo's wine cellar, which was a rare occasion.

The most fragrant wine in the entire kingdom of God has now been opened by someone or a god in the most luxurious way.

At this moment, a handsome God King was lying drunkenly on the ground full of wine bottles. From time to time, he would shake the bottle in his hand to his mouth, empty the last contents and then throw it aside.

These fine wines, which were priceless in the mortal world, flowed into Corellon's mouth like ordinary water.

Corellon is drinking heavily.

This was not a common occurrence—the Elf God King was actually a heartless person in a sense, and there were few things in the world that could make him so depressed.

His strength is strong enough, and Corellon can confidently say that there is no enemy in this world that can make him helpless by relying on strength.

Even though Aroshi, as the Queen of the Elven Gods, had gathered all the enemies of the Elven pantheon that she could find, she should have repeatedly put Corellon in serious disadvantages: poisoning, curses, and so on - and finally launched a rebellion that was bound to succeed.

However, these efforts ultimately proved futile. The closest Arosh came to victory was when he exploited Corellon's trust in his daughter Eilistraee, poisoning her and rendering her unconscious.

The bad news is that in order to save Corellon in time, the three goddesses merged into the goddess Angris and saved him in time. As a result, Arosh failed in the end and was thrown into the abyss by Corellon who could no longer tolerate him.

Now, his last weakness, his wife, had practically vanished. Angrith was a true match—and in that sense, Corellon was practically invincible.

Except for the last point: even a judge cannot judge family affairs.

Therefore, it won’t be long (according to the standards of God, of course) before we get here.

Arosh was deliberately trying to torture Corellon.

And his descendants, the mortal elves, can accomplish the same purpose naturally and completely unintentionally.

This was the third time the elves of Toril had successfully forced Corellon into the wine cellar.

Normally, Angrith would have sighed as she carried Corellon back to his room, or perhaps two Seraphim servants would have supported him and dragged the God-King out of the wine cellar.

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