A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

Bray had no intention of walking the entire Middle Continent.

"It's okay, I still have the one from before." Dorothea wasn't worried about it at all.

"Wasn't that car broken?"

"It's just a flat tire."

“If our current vehicle breaks down, we can just remove the tires and put them on the old ones, right?” Dorothea said.

"!" Bray's right eye lit up; he felt that Dorothea's words made perfect sense.

"Vroom vroom vroom—" Then Bray decisively started reversing.

"Get ready to step on the gas," Dorothea said from the back seat, legs crossed.

Her magic was violently pouring into the engine. One good thing about magic vehicles is that they can go very fast as long as there is enough magic.

With a whoosh, Bray slammed on the gas, and the car shot off like an arrow, flying over the cliff.

Even in mid-air, the four wheels of the magic chariot continued to spin rapidly.

The cold wind made Bray squint his right eye slightly.

The two people and the car are now soaring through the air.

Below lay an endless abyss, but instead of feeling afraid, Bray felt a little...excited?

"Boom!!!!!!!!!!" The car crashed directly into the wall above the open space and fell apart.

The engine was destroyed, and the magic inside went berserk, causing a small explosion.

The flashes of the explosion overshadowed the eerie glow of the fireflies.

"We did run into each other." Bray's tone was full of regret.

It crashed and exploded.

"Is the speed still too fast..." Dorothea frowned and pondered. She originally thought that she had not output much magic power, but she did not expect it to be so fast.

I need to control myself better next time.

It's a real shame that a brand new car was damaged like that.

Magazines containing parts of the magic vehicle were scattered everywhere in the air, and then two of the wheels flew directly towards the two people's heads.

"Ah, it's a tire." Bray caught a tire and muttered to himself.

“Two? That way, we can have one as a backup.” Dorothea subconsciously pointed to the other one, saying with a hint of surprise. “See that?” Dorothea pointed to the stone tablet in the open space.

The stone tablet is huge, but even so, it's still hard to see clearly from a distance.

“I’m not that blind.” Bray shrugged. He could see his surroundings clearly after landing.

For Bray, the visibility inside the cave was about fifty meters.

"Is there something written on it?" Bray frowned; he could vaguely make out the writing.

“Yes, it does, but I can’t understand it.” If Bray can see it, Dorothea can certainly see it too.

Unfortunately, Dorothea was not an ancient linguist and had no way of understanding the words above.

“Let’s take a closer look,” Bray said, and started walking ahead of him.

He kept wanting to touch the stone tablet.

"..." Dorothea first looked around and, finding nothing unusual, then followed forward.

The fact that this stone tablet was deliberately placed in such a peculiar location within this cave indicates that it is no ordinary object.

Sure enough, after Bray had taken only a few steps, the inscription on the stone tablet began to emit a faint glow.

It wasn't particularly bright, but it was at least a little more dazzling than the light of a firefly.

The closer Bray got, the brighter the light became, as if something was about to appear.

"..." Dorothea stood there, trying to understand what was going on.

But Bray showed no sign of stopping. He went straight to the stone tablet, looked up, and gazed at the strings of glowing words.

As expected, the characters are incomprehensible.

When he stood less than half a meter away from the stone tablet, the light on the inscription finally became dazzling.

The pitch-black cave was instantly illuminated by the light from the stone tablet.

The fireflies began to fly around erratically because of the sudden bright light.

The specks of fluorescence were completely swallowed up by the blinding white light.

However, this exaggerated light did not last long; after about ten seconds, the light began to dim.

In the end, only a faint glimmer of light remained, as if it were about to vanish at any moment.

"Something's trying to come out of there," Dorothea noticed and alerted Bray.

“I know.” Bray had long sensed that there was something strange inside the stone tablet.

Then, a semi-transparent "person" appeared from the stone tablet.

First, the hand stretched out, then the body, and finally the foot stepped into thin air.

The figure was so elusive that anyone who saw it thought it was an illusion.

But Bray was certain that the guy wasn't hallucinating.

“Welcome to this diary, Curious one.” The man’s face looked quite young, and his glasses made him look somewhat like a scholar.

But his voice was unusually deep, like an old bell in a clock tower that has stood for countless years.

"So it was you who locked us up?" Dorothea looked at the scholar with displeasure.

"I'm sorry, I only did that so you could see the true history," the person who emerged from the stone tablet said helplessly, adjusting his glasses.

"Clang—" A long spear pierced through the scholar's body and stuck in the stone tablet behind him.

"Hmph." Dorothea snorted coldly when she saw that her attack had failed.

The other party was not a physical entity at all, and could not even be described as a ghost.

"I am merely a remnant of will in this world, and feeling angry is of little significance to me." This scholar has no body, no spirit, only a wisp of will.

But this thing is not some self-willed object; it is a more peculiar being.

"However, now that you've actually found this place, I should let you see a long-forgotten story."

"This diary contains so many stories that I want people to know."

“…” Bray looked at the scholar who was sighing with emotion.

"Who are you?" Bray asked directly.

He suddenly appeared and started talking to himself, which puzzled Bray.

There are many questions, but Bray first needs to figure out one very simple one—who is the other party?

“At least give your name,” Bray said seriously.

"My name is Blakelas." Since others were to introduce themselves, he felt he should do the same.

“Breclas, huh?” The scholar first looked at Breclas gently, then glanced at Dorothea, who had a cold expression on her face.

“That’s true, it’s basic etiquette.” The scholar smiled.

"However, I don't know if anyone will still know me after countless years have passed."

"I was called 'The Prophet' in the Second Age, but my real name has been forgotten for so long." The scholar only vaguely remembered that someone called him "The Prophet," but had forgotten his real name.

“…” Bray raised an eyebrow.

Dorothea, however, did not know much about the "prophet".

Dorothea also knows a lot, but only a few people know about the existence of the "Prophet".

If it weren't for Nick Borras, Bray probably wouldn't have known who the "Prophet" was.

"The Prophet," an aborigine from the same era as Kalogaris.

However, he did not leave his mark on history like Carlogaris.

He even committed suicide by himself.

Yet this very person foresaw the tragedy that would occur in the future and participated in the forging of the Five Rings.

The creation of the Five Rings was all due to his leadership.

However, he committed suicide; in other words, he should be dead.

According to records, he died in his own cemetery.

Bray had also visited his grave.

So what exactly is this guy in front of me who calls himself a "prophet"?

Bray frowned, his doubts growing stronger.

“It’s really strange, so there really are people who know me.” But Bray was puzzled, while the “prophet” was very happy.

The scholar pushed up his old glasses and let out a sigh of regret.

“I thought that after an era, I would be buried in the long river of history,” the scholar told Bray.

He could tell from Bray's eyes that Bray knew everything about him.

Dorothea's reaction was different; she truly knew nothing about the existence of the "Prophet."

"No, you have indeed been buried in the long river of history."

“I know very few people who know you; you can count them on one hand,” Bray said, shaking his head and telling the scholar the harsh truth.

"Is that so... What a pity." The scholar didn't seem too surprised by the truth Bray had revealed.

It's normal to be forgotten; what's surprising is that Bray knows this about himself.

“But didn’t you commit suicide?” Bray stared at the man in his simple scholar’s ​​robe and asked.

“Suicide…” The scholar closed his eyes, as if recalling the past.

"Yes, he committed suicide."

“But only by committing suicide will I leave a trace of myself in this diary,” the scholar said quietly.

He didn't seem to care much about killing himself.

"Who is he?" Dorothea listened to Bray's conversation with the scholar and found herself completely bewildered.

Unbelievable! Usually, it's Bray who's the most confused one, but this time it's her?

“The Prophet, he played a part in creating our ring,” Bray explained casually.

However, he has already revealed the most crucial part.

As expected, Dorothea's expression turned even colder after hearing Bray's words.

For the wearer, a ring is a curse they can never escape.

Therefore, Dorothea could not possibly show any displeasure towards the person who gave birth to this curse.

"Ah, the ring... it brings back so many memories." Among the scholar's distant memories, the memory of the ring is the clearest.

“It’s not something to miss.” Dorothea looked at the scholar coldly, her eyes filled with a blizzard.

If Dorothea hadn't already tried to attack the scholar and failed...

I suspect she will choose to kill the scholar.

“Your eyes tell me you hate the ring.” The scholar lowered his eyelids and looked at Dorothea.

The ring on Dorothea's left ring finger was very obvious and easily visible to scholars.

It turns out this girl is a person who wears a ring; no wonder she harbors such resentment towards the ring.

There's no way around it; as one of the creators of the ring, I naturally understand its purpose.

"But, despite my resentment, you also seem to cherish this ring."

"Because this is my wedding ring," Dorothea answered the scholar's question without any emotion.

What she cherished wasn't the ring itself, but rather the meaning it held for her.