Chapter 292
Chapter 292
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 292
Chapter Title: The Key to the Nine Myriads Long River (8)
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During the Heavenly War era, commonly known as the Mythic Age in that distant ancient time, demons and angels, dragons and elves and dwarves roamed the continent. This meant that contact with Hell or the Heavens wasn't as rigorously controlled as it is now.
Even ordinary people, if they had a stroke of luck, could encounter a fragment of a god. They could beg for a god's blessing or attention. Sometimes, they could even abandon their patron deity and convert to another.
And that implied the gods could discard their followers at any time. It was easy to overlook, hard to believe, but undoubtedly possible.
It should have been possible.
* * *
Maleyrn's face was ashen. He knelt before the sacred ark with his eyes closed, trembling uncontrollably. To Gaaymern and Jerolen, who had known him for so long, it was an astonishing reaction.
The innate arrogance unique to elves—what they themselves called "nobility"—was nowhere to be seen in that moment. Though he didn't want to put it that way, Jerolen thought Maleyrn looked desperate as he gazed at him.
It was half a day later when Maleyrn, sweating coldly and shaking, finally opened his eyes. His body visibly scattered particles of his spirituality, burned away during communion with the divine.
"Water......"
"Here."
Jerolen uncapped the canteen and handed it to him. Maleyrn took a sip with trembling hands and immediately vomited it back up. The bile-mixed vomit splattered across the floor of Eidaar's sanctuary.
"What happened? What's wrong?"
"We......"
For a while, he struggled to find the words, stammering as if trying to force them out. As if speaking them aloud would tear his soul apart, he looked terrified.
That wretched sight granted patience to the two watching. They waited calmly for Maleyrn to speak. After several dry heaves, he wiped the vomit from his chin with effort and said,
"We've been abandoned."
"What?"
"The gods...... no, the Immortals. They've discarded us."
"Could they even do that? Normally...... isn't the relationship between god and creation......?"
"They're not gods. They're...... not gods. Never use that word for them again."
Maleyrn's eyes blazed like those of a wounded, exhausted beast. Sweat and tears mixed in the fluid streaming from them.
"Jerolen. We weren't created."
"Hmm...... I'm not an Ataillatl, though. Hey, Gaaymern, are you a dragon?"
"This doesn't seem like the time for jokes, Jerolen."
"You stiff-necked......"
Elves are the children of gods. They live longer than any civilized race, noble, beautiful, resilient. The valor and wisdom of ages pulse beneath their veins, and their civilization surpasses all contemporaries.
Naturally, no one but a god could create such beings. Moreover, since creation, the gods had ceaselessly bestowed wisdom upon them, guided their development, and led their civilization.
The priest-kings of the Three Dynasties were compasses pointing to their world. The kings' authority was the gods' authority, and under strong royal power, the elves moved as one.
As long as the World Tree cast its influence over this world, the bond between elves and gods burned as fiercely as the first sunrise cresting its branches.
However.
"We're not their children. They...... had no hand in our birth. They're nothing more than parasites feeding on our faith and spirituality."
"......What?"
Elven society being theocratic meant faith was inseparable from elven life. Though not of the royal guard, he was at least a devotee of Talie, the wind god. Jerolen couldn't help but grimace at Maleyrn's words.
"Their very existence...... the forms they showed us...... all of it was deception. They neither love us nor care for us. It's more like......"
More like the sentiment of a farmer tending his livestock. No matter how contentedly the pig oinks, at slaughter time, no mercy is shown. That level of relationship.
Elves. The arrogant race calling themselves Aurillas (children of gods). No matter how much they loved the gods, it meant little from the gods' perspective.
With the world's ruin at hand, myriad gods of myriad races wielding influence across the continent, great demons shattering it with their kin. The gods judged coldly with reason.
[They've outlived their usefulness.]
The world is not unique. The material realm is worthless froth. Even if shining jewels slumber within, to the Immortals, this dimension was something they could abandon at will.
This arrogant race called the Elven Pantheon prepared to depart. And cleverly, they whispered to the finest pig in the herd that came seeking them. It was close to twisted mockery....... a whim.
[Your world will meet its end.]
And they would pass by that scene with slight regret, slight amusement, and mostly indifference. Tragedy is, after all, most beautiful from the audience's seats.
"Enough. This is hard to listen to. Go see a priest, Maleyrn. Get some counseling, have a drink, then we can talk later."
"To survive!!"
-Bang!
Maleyrn smashed the sacred ark as he spoke. The ancient device said to house the gods' blessings and wisdom shattered under his magic. Jerolen was speechless at the shocking, blasphemous sight.
"To survive! We need their power!"
"......What are you saying?"
"Don't you get it? The World Tree. That massive tree isn't just some overgrown sapling! It's the spire they left in this material world! A dimensional gateway letting their divinity intervene with us. If they abandon us, will the World Tree remain?"
The World Tree is undoubtedly alive. Closer to a magitech lifeform, but still breathing. It absorbed corruption, birthed new life, protected elven lands—a legacy.
Maintaining such a being requires vast resources. Yet the World Tree roots only in fresh water, consuming no other sustenance. Not due to ingenious design, but the gods' divinity at work.
From the gods' view, with no need to maintain the link, why keep the World Tree alive? No. If elves are no longer needed, neither is it.
The Three Royal Houses' authority stems from the World Tree. If it burns, royal power crumbles instantly, and yearning for gods who suddenly turned away—
These wretched kin, knowing no way to live without divine attention....... They would spark civil war immediately. The kings are to blame. The priest-kings lost divine favor, bringing doom upon our race.
To appease the gods' wrath, offer the kings' heads.
"Then it'll be too late. Far too late......"
In a world where races vie with all their might, how could a decaying folk losing divine authority to civil war survive?
"So...... there's only one answer. We need their power."
"Do you realize what you're saying?"
"Of course."
So, kill the gods and seize their divinity. Slay every god in the Pantheon, build power for our entire race. End this accursed war, erect a pure mortal civilization free of divine authority or transcendent meddling.
That's what he thought. Maleyrn convinced the two heroes. The three turned toward the World Tree.
Toward the sole gateway to the material world open to the Elven Pantheon. It wasn't difficult. Maleyrn was the high priest most favored by the gods in this era, and his personal magic overwhelming.
"I have a way to kill gods."
* * *
"Lies......"
Leiya couldn't close her gaping mouth. The wine glass in her hand trembled, sloshing. She stared at him with dazed eyes.
"Lies. Serpent King. I already knew your hypocrisy and vile desires from the precedent of the two kings. How dare you...... how dare you......!"
She remembered the glory in Infermer City. The dawn and light shown by the Dawn Goddess Melisildur. The light that routed vampires in an instant, filling their souls and bodies......
How could such great beings be false? How could she say the gods don't love them? Leiya stammered on.
"I won't...... kill you, Jerolen. As you said...... today, no elven blood will stain the sea. But leave. We'll punish your lies ourselves."
"Hear the story to the end."
"Shut up! No more wagging that sly tongue! Gwen!"
"Yes, Your Highness!!"
"Expel him! All of them!!"
Jerolen's knights rose as one to protect their lord. But since the feast began unarmed, they had no means to resist Leiya's Wildprinces drawing blades.
Yet their eyes held firm conviction. The conviction to throw away their lives protecting their king.
"Hear my story to the end."
Jerolen snapped Gwen's approaching arm in an instant, seized his weapon, and hurled his body aside. Astonishing strength and skill. He sat back down, snapped Gwen's longsword, and tossed it to the floor.
His palm tore open, blood flowing from the force. Jerolen stared blankly at his bloodied hand. Like that day......
"After the story ends, I'll leave without resistance. And if you still want war after hearing it all, so be it."
To Leiya, still filled with distrust and rage, the old wraith growled.
"Your father and Maleyrn lost that era's power. But not me. We all chose our paths in life, but I had what they lacked."
It was a threat. From an ancient hero who slew gods, still wielding the Heavenly War era's full might, revealing his presence and power. Leiya's instincts screamed warning.
The Wildprinces reacted instantly. Fingers on hilts, they eyed Jerolen.
"I was saved."
"You who killed gods dare speak of salvation!"
"Not gods, but dragons. Ataillatl. Means 'Fearful Serpent.' But the one I met was never fearful."
Pitiful. Jerolen smiled bitterly, raising his bloodied hand to down his drink.
* * *
"I was saved by him."
Lakrisir wiped her tears and spoke gently. Abel seemed deeply moved. He gripped her hand tightly and nodded fervently.
Smiling playfully at Abel, Lakrisir said to Fernandez,
"I know you revived my old friend, restored dragon wings to a world that lost them...... but you and these elves didn't come with good intentions."
......
Fernandez didn't reply. The hostility from the two elven kings was already clear. But Risir shook her head cautiously.
"If you'd met the other Serpent Kings first...... I get how you'd think of him. But he and I just wanted to survive. They all just wanted to survive. No need to understand him. But don't hate him."
"How did you survive a thousand years?"
That was the burning question. Gaaymern solved his aging flesh through his children's bodies.
Maleyrn fortified his body by mixing his soul with his people's spirituality.
But Jerolen? How had he endured a millennium?
To non-elf Fernandez, the method needn't be good or evil. Yet there was ample reason to loathe it.
Souls mixed with foreign essence inevitably corrupt. From his past life to now, Fernandez was near the staunchest purist.
"He needed me as much as I needed him. Do you know? Dragon flesh is immortal, and dragon souls can house divinity."