Chapter 569: Aura's People: Magic? Even kobolds don't learn it! |
The interior of the Sanctuary of Heroic Spirits is a realm belonging to the dead.
Yet, it is not the cold and silent place people imagine.
Within the Sanctuary lies an independent space, with boundless, vast heavens and earth.
Mountain ranges undulate like the spines of giant dragons, rivers surge as if countless silver threads were shattering, appearing even more magnificent and splendid than the scenery of the real world.
Every inch of land here is composed of spiritual essence; the air is suffused with a faint radiance. There is no wind, yet there is an indescribable sense of flow, as if the entire world were breathing slowly.
Behind Shire was an open wilderness, while a mountain range lay ahead.
He glanced at the mountain range and walked ahead.
His form was as solid as substance, looking no different from a living person. Every piece of his armor gleamed with a silvery-white luster, not a single scratch marring the plates, as if freshly taken from the forge. His cape fluttered gently behind him, untouched by any dust.
There was another person beside Shire.
He was half a head shorter than Shire, his features not particularly handsome, appearing quite ordinary, save for a pair of eyes as sharp as an eagle's.
His aura, however, was heavier and more solid than in life.
Legendary.
This Heroic Spirit had now also become legendary.
The two walked side by side on a gravel path leading towards the mountain range, their footsteps one light, one heavy.
In the distance, the figures of other Heroic Spirits were faintly visible.
Some wrestled with torrents beneath waterfalls, letting tons of water crash upon their shoulders and backs, their bodies unmoving. Others fought one against many on the plains, sword light like unrolled silk, forcing the three or four Heroic Spirits surrounding them to retreat repeatedly.
The crisp clang of weapons clashing was carried over by the wind, intermittent, mingled with roars and bursts of laughter.
Looking closely, one could see the Heroic Spirits fighting without any restraint, striking lethal blows against each other.
Longswords pierced chests, battle axes split skulls, magic blasted bodies into fragments... But whenever a Heroic Spirit died in battle, before long, they would be reborn in the Sanctuary's light, completely unharmed, even the scratches on their armor gone.
Moreover, some Heroic Spirits who had just been at each other's throats moments ago were soon slapping each other on the back and joking around.
Shire's hand hung casually at his side, occasionally stepping on clumps of wild grass by the roadside; the blades broke under his foot and swiftly restored themselves.
In this space, everything is composed of spiritual essence. The Heroic Spirits themselves, as well as the mountains, rivers, plants, and trees, will never truly perish.
"Rodrigo."
Shire suddenly spoke, asking, "Did you ever imagine you would become legendary one day?"
Rodrigo continued walking, the gravel crunching under his iron boots.
"No. While I was alive, I never once thought about it."
He paused, his gaze turning towards the mountain range ahead.
"My talent was poor. You probably didn't know—no, you should know."
"Aside from having some talent in command, I wasn't much different from ordinary people. In life, even giving it my all, I was only barely a professional who had stepped onto the Warrior Path, with a pitifully low level."
As he spoke, he lowered his head to look at his palm, turning it over and back.
"Legendary? It was like stars in the sky. I could see them, but couldn't touch them."
He spoke, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
The final defeat of his previous life was still vivid in Rodrigo's memory.
He remembered every detail of that battle.
He had made the most appropriate strategy given the circumstances at the time; every command was issued after careful deliberation.
However, although he was the commander, because he himself was not legendary, the legendaries did not pay him much heed. Those possessing extraordinary power were more willing to listen to their own strength than to the wisdom of an ordinary person.
Deep down, Rodrigo yearned to become legendary.
Not for the power itself, but for the qualification to be taken seriously.
"Truly never imagined that after I died, I would instead fulfill this dream."
He said.
Shire glanced sideways at him and gave a slight nod.
"The benefit of becoming a Heroic Spirit is that as long as there is sufficient spiritual essence, you can grow stronger. Inborn talent no longer matters."
"Here, what determines how far you can go is how much resources His Majesty is willing to invest in you, not how much talent you were born with."
He withdrew his gaze and continued walking forward.
"Becoming legendary is just the beginning."
"Perhaps you too have a chance to reach the heights I am at now."
Hearing this, Rodrigo shook his head and smiled softly, his laughter carrying a touch of helplessness.
"Alright, Crown-level Heavenly Being, don't say such things. I can't handle it."
He waved his hand as he walked. "I'm already very satisfied just being a low-level legendary."
"Besides, even if I became crown-level, I'm not skilled in combat. It's better to give the spiritual essence to other battle-proficient Heroic Spirits, like you. My value lies in command, not in fighting."
The two continued onward, the mountain terrain beginning to rise.
The gravel path turned into stone steps, flanked by unknown wild grasses and low shrubs, all condensed from spiritual essence.
After a while, Rodrigo suddenly spoke.
"Shire."
"Hmm?"
"You... from when did you begin pledging loyalty to His Majesty?"
Shire's steps paused slightly, then resumed.
"Very early."
"Very, very long ago."
"Back then, our Majesty was not yet the current Red Emperor."
Rodrigo's brow lifted slightly; he listened quietly without interrupting.
Shire's gaze grew distant.
"The first time I saw His Majesty, he was still very young. Of course, a dragon's years cannot be measured by human scales, but even by dragon standards, he was indeed very young."
"In those days, people called him the Lord of Molten Iron, the leader of a tribe."
"His tribe was in the mountains of the wilderness. He himself was far less powerful than he is now. But, the way he stood in the wilderness was exactly the same as the way he stands atop the dragon court now."
Rodrigo glanced sideways.
"Exactly the same? In what aspect do you mean?"
Shire thought seriously for a moment, organizing his words.
"Something ingrained in his very bones."
"Where His Majesty stands, it's as if the foundation of the entire world sinks three inches deeper, because something heavier than the world has pressed down upon it."
Rodrigo was silent for a while.
"What happened later? How did you become a Heroic Spirit?"
He asked.
Shire's expression didn't change much.
"Later... encountered a powerful enemy. I died in battle while fighting side by side with His Majesty."
His tone was very flat, as if narrating something unrelated to himself.
"It was a very fierce battle. The opponent was also a dragon. I was just carelessly hit once and died instantly, without any chance to resist."
He paused, a trace of regret flashing in his eyes.
"If I were still alive, perhaps I could have broken through to crown-level on my own, not completely reliant on spiritual essence, dependent only on His Majesty's regard."
Rodrigo smiled.
"So you're a senior veteran, no wonder. Varta's spiritual essence crystals were basically all used on you."
As he spoke, he suppressed his smile, his expression turning serious.
"I'm different from you. I once stood on the opposite side of Aola, a defeated general."
"A defeated general, yet able to hold an important duty within the Sanctuary of Heroic Spirits, even promoted to legendary... Our Majesty's magnanimity is truly extraordinary."
Rodrigo sighed with emotion.
There was no deliberate flattery in his tone.
He had once been an enemy of Aola, clashing with Aola's armies on the battlefield, ultimately defeated and killed. He understood better than anyone how much forbearance it takes for a victor to accept a former foe.
Shire didn't respond, only giving a slight nod.
Soon after, they reached the mountain peak.
It was a relatively flat rock platform, surrounded by steep cliffs. Below the cliffs churned a sea of clouds and distant, stretching mountain ranges. The cloud layers slowly surged like a white ocean, occasionally with specks of light condensed from spiritual essence flickering within the cloud sea.
And in the very center of the rock platform, Aola's Dragon Spirit was coiled there.
Its body had shrunk countless times, no longer that sky-obscuring behemoth, but like a chain, coiled round and round, binding the figure at the center so tightly that not a single gap remained.
Bound at its center was Aphra.
The Crown of Magic of the Latona Kingdom, and also, apart from Halden, the only crown-level spellcaster among the surface nations.
She sat on the rock platform, leaning back against the Dragon Spirit's body, her long hair disheveled, her face pale but her expression calm.
Sensing the arrival of Shire and Rodrigo, the Aola Dragon Spirit raised its head to look at the two.
"By His Majesty's command, to take away the Crown of Magic."
Shire's voice rang out on the mountain peak.
The Dragon Spirit's body trembled slightly, loosening its bindings. With each bit it loosened, its body grew larger. When the final coil detached from Aphra's body, it had already restored its original size, soaring into the sky and emitting a low dragon roar.
The Dragon Spirit circled once overhead, then beat its wings and flew away, transforming into a sky-obscuring giant dragon patrolling within the Sanctuary.
Shire looked down at Aphra.
"Aphra, your kingdom has already signed the unification treaty."
"Now, the treaty is in effect. Latona takes Aola as its suzerain. According to the treaty's contents, captured Latona legendaries are to be released."
He paused, his gaze falling on Aphra's pale face.
"The other crown-levels have already been released. You can verify this, though you probably can't verify it right now. You will be the last crown-level to leave the Sanctuary."
"His Majesty has requested to see you personally."
As these words fell, the wind on the mountain peak suddenly picked up again, even fiercer than before, whipping Aphra's disheveled long hair into a wild dance.
"Free..."
Aphra sighed.
"I haven't made many wrong choices in my life."
She slowly began to speak. "In my youth, I chose the right mentor. In my young adulthood, I chose the right path. In my prime, I chose the right allies... Step by step, from an apprentice in a small city-state to the Crown of Magic of the Southern Domain."
"Thinking carefully, my life has been too smooth."
"Almost every step landed in the right place, every choice brought good results. I had almost forgotten what the taste of a wrong choice was."
"And this wrong choice... truly carved itself into my bones."
Hearing this, Shire took a step forward.
He stopped before Aphra, looking down at her from above.
Aphra raised her head to meet his gaze.
Two crown-levels, one the current world's Crown of Magic, one a posthumous Heroic Spirit crown-level, met atop the Sanctuary's peak in a posture that was extremely unequal.
"You are fortunate."
Shire said.
"You made a wrong choice before. But now, you are still alive and have a chance to choose again. For the vast majority of people, one major mistake buries them. Not everyone receives this kind of treatment."
His gaze looked at her calmly.
Aphra's eyes flickered slightly.
"A person already dead tells me that being alive is fortunate."
She said softly, the corner of her mouth curving slightly. "Fate truly... is very skilled at making jokes."
Rodrigo stepped forward, standing at Shire's side.
"You should go. If you have anything more to say, go and say it personally to His Majesty."
His voice was deeper than Shire's, straightforward.
Hearing this, Shire raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Snap!
Space fractured at his fingertips.
Like a flower blooming in an instant, countless tiny spatial blades shot forth from his fingertips.
They hovered around Aphra, some pressed against her throat, some aimed at her heart, some coiled around her wrists and ankles, vibrating slightly as if ready to slice through any substance at any moment.
"These are necessary precautions, just in case."
Shire said.
Aphra gave a slight nod, indicating understanding.
Immediately, Rodrigo stepped back a few paces and raised his right hand.
Hum!
The light in the Sanctuary's sky gathered, accompanied by layer upon layer of glowing runes, transforming into an array. Light converged from the center of the array, condensing into a pillar of light.
Aphra lifted her head, gazing at the array in the sky.
Her brow furrowed slightly.
"This array's runes... have several dozen discordant points."
She said, her eyelids trembling slightly.
In matters of magic, she had a bit of obsessive-compulsive disorder, striving for perfection.
Seeing the disharmony in the array, she immediately felt extremely uncomfortable.
The order of those runes' arrangement, the direction of the energy circuits, the spacing between nodes... all had room for improvement. Some runes placed there were completely redundant; some necessary runes were missing.
She subconsciously raised her hand, wanting to point out those problems.
But remembering her situation, she sighed and lowered her hand.
Here, she did not have the final say.
A pillar of light descended, directly enveloping Shire and Aphra.
The light wrapped around them, the air began to tremble, space distorted and warped within the light pillar.
At the same time, in the distant space above, the Sanctuary emerged from a spatial crevice, glowing, locking onto a location on the surface, and projected a brilliant teleportation light pillar.
It was like a blur before the eyes; the surrounding environment had already changed.
Shire brought Aphra to the dragon court platform high above the sea of clouds.
Before them was a massive, majestic back.
It blocked a large swath of the light ahead, its scales gleaming with a dark red luster under the light, like steel about to cool in a blacksmith's furnace. Two enormous dragon wings were folded against its back, their wingtips drooping to the ground.
"Your Majesty, Aphra has been brought."
Shire addressed the draconic silhouette ahead.
As he spoke, he simultaneously dispersed the spatial blades swirling around Aphra. Here, there was no longer any need to worry about her trying any tricks.
The giant dragon slowly turned around.
His body was magnificent, almost completely blocking the heavenly light, the shadow he cast enveloping the two tiny humans simultaneously.
On the high platform, the wind whistled sharply.
The Heroic Spirit Shire silently retreated several steps, making no further unnecessary movements, and stood firm in a corner of the high platform.
Aphra stood alone before the giant dragon.
She looked up.
The distance was not far; every pattern on the dragon scales was clearly visible, as if an entire mountain range had been compressed into this body. She could feel the heat radiating from him, like standing at the mouth of an active volcano.
The red iron dragon lowered its head to look down at her.
Gazing at this tiny human who had disturbed his slumber, there was no obvious anger in his eyes, only a quiet observation.
Under the dragon's gaze, Aphra naturally lowered her posture and walked forward. Soon, she was beneath the dragon's head, slightly bowing her head, placing her right hand over her left chest, and saluting:
"Aphra of Latona pays her respects to the Master of Aola, His Majesty the Red Emperor."
"And congratulates Your Majesty... on soon becoming the Master of Atlantis."
Aphra herself had been imprisoned in the Sanctuary.
No one had told her what had happened in the outside world.
But she understood all too clearly in her heart.
In the Emperor's Awakening War, both Latona and Farrel stood on the losing side; the other nations need not even be mentioned. The moment her magic tower shattered, Aphra had already understood one thing.
On the surface of Atlantis, there was no one left who could stop this dragon.
The red iron dragon gazed at her, then turned around once more.
His tail swept past not far in front of Aphra, the wind it stirred whipping her disheveled long hair into chaos again.
At the edge of the high platform, the giant dragon looked down upon the sea of clouds beneath his feet and the vast lands faintly visible through gaps in the clouds.
"Come to my side."
He said.
Aphra was slightly startled.
The startle lasted only an instant. She stepped forward, walking to the edge of the high platform, standing beside the giant dragon.
She looked down.
The sea of clouds churned like a white ocean. Occasionally, the wind tore a rift in the cloud layers, revealing the land below.
Mountains, rivers, cities, roads... everything looked like a sand table shrunk countless times, appearing and disappearing amidst the mist.
She saw winding rivers like silver ribbons, saw the outlines of cities like pieces on a chessboard, saw roads crisscrossing like a spider's web.
As far as the eye could see, it was almost all Aola's territory.
This youngest kingdom on the Atlantis Continent, originally just occupying a remote corner, had in just over two hundred years grown from a small tribe into today's colossal entity.
"How is the scenery of my kingdom?"
Garoth asked.
His gaze did not look at her, still fixed on the distant sea of clouds and the contours of the land.
Aphra was silent for a few seconds, organizing her words.
"Strong soldiers and sturdy horses—this is the first impression Aola gives everyone."
She slowly began, her voice steady.
"Heavy infantry, cavalry, and those... dragon-blooded warriors. Their individual quality is unmatched among all kingdoms."
She paused, then continued.
"What Aola excels at most is its speed of development."
"Over two hundred years ago, it was just a nascent kingdom tucked away in the Northern Borders, seen by the various nations as nothing more than a barbaric land with shallow foundations. Now, it already possesses the bearing of a hegemonic kingdom."
"Such a growth speed is astonishing."
"And all of this is because of Your Majesty's existence."
When she said this, her tone held no trace of flattery.
Because it was the truth.
Everything about Aola stemmed from this dragon.
His power, his will, his decisions shaped every fiber of this kingdom. Without him, Aola would be nothing.
Garoth shook his head.
"Aola has existed for too short a time."
"Two hundred years might be long enough for a person, but for a nation... it's too short."
The red iron dragon's gaze was like a torch, looking into the distance. "It's like a kingdom pieced together. Militarily, we have the best warriors. But in other aspects... magical technology comes from various nations, alchemical craftsmanship from goblins, forging techniques from dwarves."
"Seemingly having everything, yet mastering nothing deeply."
"Especially... the magic system."
The red iron dragon said.
"The people of Aola take me as their example."
"They generally revere stronger bodies, revere steel and fierce destruction."
"If an Aola citizen displays spellcasting talent, unless they have no other path, they are more inclined to strengthen their bodies, hone combat skills to become a warrior, rather than stand in the back row chanting incantations."
He paused, then continued:
"Out of a hundred Aola citizens, ninety-nine want to be warriors."
"Therefore, the number of spellcasters in Aola has always been the lowest among all kingdoms."
As he spoke, he slightly turned his head, his gaze falling back upon Aphra.
"This is also the reason I kept you."
Aphra raised her head, meeting the dragon's scrutinizing gaze, suddenly understanding something in her heart.
"Your Majesty means..."
"Let me be clearer."
The red iron dragon said unhurriedly: "I want you to stay in Aola, spread magical knowledge here, train spellcasters, elevate Aola's magical level."
"Simultaneously, serve as my sparring partner."
"Everything you did before, I can let bygones be bygones."
Latona had already been reduced to a vassal.
In Garoth's eyes, this kingdom was basically also his property, and the Crown of Magic before him was as well.
As long as it could be ensured to be controllable and create more value for himself, then he had no hobby of damaging his own property.
Aphra remained silent.
Countless thoughts flashed through her mind, but she did not let any linger too long. She understood her situation clearly and knew she did not have many choices.
"If I stay in Aola..."
"Then, can I still return to Latona?"
She looked up and said: "Your Majesty, I have family, friends, students in Latona. My entire life is connected to that kingdom. If I can never return again..."
She did not finish the sentence, but the meaning was already clear.
Garoth did not say anything.
He turned around, once again facing the sea of clouds.
At that moment, Shire, who had been standing quietly to the side, understood and stepped forward, speaking: "Lady Aphra, the people you mentioned, a group has already been brought to Aola, and more will follow."
"Those already in Aola are currently very safe, residing in an estate in the eastern district of the capital."
"The estate's conditions are good, with gardens, a library, and a magic workshop."
He paused, his gaze falling on Aphra's face.
"Of course, if you still wish to return to Latona, just request permission from His Majesty. Given His Majesty's benevolence and magnanimity, as long as you offer your loyalty, he will agree."
Hearing this, Aphra gave a helpless smile.
"I understand. I thank Your Majesty for his benevolence. I will do as you wish and stay in Aola."
She understood very clearly in her heart that this was the price she should pay. Moreover, the conditions offered by the other side were already lenient enough, far better than the outcome she had anticipated after her defeat.
She was silent for a moment, then raised her head.
"The Sanctuary's teleportation array—I glanced at it when I left."
"Those runes... to be honest, there were at least several dozen discordant points. Some rune arrangements had problems with their sequence, some energy circuit designs were unreasonable. They could be made more efficient."
"I can repair these oversights, make the rune operations more efficient."
Her voice paused slightly, then Aphra continued: "On one hand, it can be considered as making up for the mistakes I made before. On the other hand... since I've chosen to stay here, I'd like to first prove my value."
Her tone was sincere.
The red iron dragon gave a slight nod.
Things like Sanctuary arrays were trivial matters in his eyes.
Having Aphra buff his magic resistance was what he valued most, and it wasn't just magic resistance.
For example, spellcasters of Aphra's level all possessed some powerful spell penetration skills or corresponding traits, capable of ignoring magic resistance.
The celestial giant sword she had condensed at the time was caught and crushed by Garoth using his Spell-Extinguishing Claws.
But if it had landed squarely on him, even with Garoth's physique, he would have had to pay some price.
Garoth wanted to adapt and develop magic resistance that could reduce spell penetration.
However, she could indeed provide more value. A crown-level spellcaster's knowledge and experience were an immeasurable treasure for the construction of Aola's magic system.
Additionally, Garoth cared about one more thing.
Current Aola had vast territory, strong soldiers and sturdy horses, and abundant resources.
But it lacked something like the "Eternal Tide."
Now, with a crown-level spellcaster like Aphra, if more resources were invested in this direction, perhaps something similar, or even better—a kingdom-made artifact useful to Garoth himself—could be created.
"Shire."
"Here."
Shire stepped forward, kneeling on one knee before the dragon's head.
"Take her back to the Sanctuary. Let her repair the spiritual essence. Before the repairs are complete, arrange her residence and work in the capital."
"As you command."
Shire stood up and turned to Aphra.
"Please, Crown of Magic."
Immediately, another teleportation light pillar descended from the sky, enveloping the human and the Heroic Spirit, returning them to the Sanctuary.
After the light dissipated, only the red iron dragon remained on the high platform.
He stood at the edge of the high platform, looking down upon the sea of clouds and the land beneath his feet.
"The series of aftermath from the Awakening War... are almost all dealt with."
"Now, only this remains."
Garoth's gaze passed through mountains and rivers, landing on the distant west.
"The Raging Tides Dragon Domain is practically the stronghold of the Purification Faction Metal Dragons, with the Bronze Dragon King holding court there. And that Ancient Dragon Lamorein is ambitious, seemingly hiding some secrets behind him as well."
"Should I get involved in this matter?"
The red iron dragon narrowed his eyes slightly, lost in thought.
The Breckton Kingdom and the Raging Tides Dragon Domain were still at war.
Since the Bronze Dragon King did not leave the dragon domain, without this Mandate of Heaven dragon personally taking action, although the Lord of Thunder's side was at a disadvantage, they would not be directly defeated.
The two sides were locked in a constant tug-of-war, the battle situation deadlocked, neither able to achieve a decisive breakthrough.
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