Chapter 318: The Swordbearer Arrives

“They walk a path contrary to all others—I can describe the Lady of the Night’s scripture in no other terms. If one follows the tenets within that holy book, then the Church of Nightfall’s faith is completely divergent from the faith of all other gods that now rule the world…”

In a quiet corner of the Church of Nightfall’s caravan encampment, the three new converts sat huddled around a fire, communicating in the secretive, nuanced manner unique to the Cult of the Lightless Order.

After their failed attempt to erase Elliot and his companions, the cult had opted for a more subtle approach.

This was their new method: conceal their identities, join the Church of Nightfall, and thereby gain insight into the Lady of the Night, this strange, silent divinity whose rise might herald the return of ancient gods.

“Even that Archbishop,” one of the Bell Ringers began. “I saw no awe or fervor in him. His words, his demeanor—he acts as though faith is just… a profession.”

Another nodded in solemn agreement.

“Yes. If this is truly the faith of the Church of Nightfall, I foresee an unsettling, even paradoxical, outcome. The faithful may no longer need their god…”

“It is a contradiction,” murmured the first. “The more prosperous the church becomes, the more its followers achieve by their own hands. As their material needs are met without divine aid, their dependence upon and reverence for the goddess will surely fade.”

“And when the day comes that prayers are no longer necessary, will they still remember Her? Will they still revere the one who gave them strength?”

Damian’s voice dropped to a whisper, the firelight flickering in his contemplative gaze.

“It’s troubling. The final line of that scripture—it’s as though they foresaw this outcome. But did it truly come from the goddess’s own hand? Or was it penned by the archbishop in Her name? Either way, we must speak with him.”

His comrade nodded, prodding the firewood with a stick to shift the flame. The grease from the church-provided sausages sizzled on the wooden grill, the heat threatening to burn it through.

“Smells… incredible,” the third Bell Ringer murmured, inhaling deeply. The mingled scent of roasting meat and spiced fat stirred a hunger none of them could ignore.

The others glanced at him with bemusement. Embarrassed, he scratched his nose and turned away.

Damian sighed, then admitted inwardly that it did smell good. How long had it been since they’d eaten a proper meal? Even such a simple meal felt indulgent.

“I want to try praying to Her,” said the third Bell Ringer abruptly, turning back toward them. “Just to see… if there is power to be found there.”

“…Do it,” Damian replied after a pause. “We do need to know.”

The Bell Ringer brought his hands together and closed his eyes, reciting the invocations of the Church of Nightfall. Slowly, like ink blooming in water, a tendril of shadow formed in his palm. It was faint and fragile, but undeniably present.

“It worked.”

Surprised, he opened his hand and showed the other two the sliver of darkness that had answered his call.

“We were all once devout believers, after all,” Damian replied. “But I didn’t expect it to come so quickly…”

“Perhaps our old devotion has not yet faded,” Damian murmured. “But that power is not unlike that of the old gods. It’s different. Fundamentally different.”

“You must really be devout,” came a familiar voice. Elliot had approached from the side, eyebrows raised. “Few new initiates manage to channel the Lady’s power on their first day.”

“I suppose it makes sense. You really did seek to understand the Lady’s scripture…” He handed them several pieces of barley bread. “Here. Sausages alone won’t fill you up.”

Elliot scurried away before any of them could launch another barrage of questions at him.

“Thank you.”

Damian split the bread three ways. Each of the Bell Ringer had a huge chunk.

The sausages split open, their crisp skin releasing an aromatic steam. The three Bell Ringers tucked the meat into their bread and ate in quiet unity—a simple, hearty, unexpectedly comforting meal.

“No matter how we look at it,” Damian finally said, “this deity is unlike any other. If the Church of Nightfall continues to flourish in this direction… it may inadvertently suppress His return.”

“We should wait a little longer,” one of the others replied. “When we finally meet this Archbishop, if he or his goddess meet our standards, we may not need to destroy them.”

“We may find another path,” Damian agreed, taking a final bite of his sausage sandwich. “Let him—or Her—be the Swordbearer.”

Back in Skyborne City, in the bustling mercantile district, Noelle balanced a crate larger than herself on her head. One hand steadied the box, while the other held a crumpled, ink-stained slip of paper close to her nose as she walked.

“Store No. 124, 64 units of liquid redstone; Store No. 143, 24 gold crystal shards; Store No. 167, 40 measures of luminite powder…”

Muttering under her breath, Noelle moved methodically through the crowded street. It had been three months since Sieg completed his living dragon armor. Since then, both he and Avia had become fully absorbed in the magical research conducted by the Council of the Arcane.

Sieg’s revelations about the deep ties between draconic magic and hypermagic had thrust them both into the forefront of the institute’s most sensitive projects.

Their discoveries had sparked unprecedented progress. Though a final breakthrough was still distant, the steady stream of new insight was already considered miraculous.

As for Wang Yu, he spent his days acting as a living material processor for the Council of the Arcane, and his nights training his body as per usual.

His Chariot power had proven so invaluable that the entire Council now relied on him. He could resolve otherwise complex, time-consuming tasks in mere seconds.

There were plenty of harried researchers who would pop into his workshop from time to time, seeking his services with all sorts of materials they had procured.

Wang Yu was happy to help out. Not only could he continue to amass experience and hone his power, he was paid by the task. Though his rates were discounted, there was a guaranteed supply of steady work for him. The Council of the Arcane could save money even as he grew progressively wealthier.

Noelle, meanwhile, needed neither constant supervision nor endless training. Though Sieg and Avia continued to guide her, they also let her explore outside the Seed of Eden’s sanctuary.

Unlike Sieg, her human form wasn’t yet second nature to her. Using magic to conceal her draconic presence, they gave her errands around the city. After completing her deliveries, she was free to wander Skyborne City.

Despite her youthful appearance, she was a dragon through and through. The Wang Yu who had first made his way to Aleisterre’s capital would have had trouble surviving a serious spar with her.

And Skyborne City was far safer than the capital. Under the Magiweb’s omnipresent watch and with mechanized alchemical legions poised to deploy at a moment’s notice, any breach of order was swiftly dealt with.

Noelle pushed open the door to Store No. 124, stepping inside with the massive crate still balanced over her head.

“Welcome—oh! Miss Noelle!” The plump shopkeeper looked up from his counter and beamed upon recognizing her. “You’re as fast as ever with your deliveries!”

He was expecting a customer, only to be pleasantly surprised by Noelle’s delivery.

She thudded the crate onto his counter, nearly cracking the wood, then retrieved a bundled packet containing the liquid redstone.

“Every time I see your strength, I’m amazed all over again,” the old man muttered, peering at the dented countertop. “So young, and already so powerful… You’ll be a terrifying knight one day, mark my words.”

Noelle puffed up her chest. She extended a hand to the shopkeeper. In public, she wasn’t too fond of talking to others.

“As usual, 64 units of liquid redstone.”

With a faintly amused tone, the shopkeeper tapped his own identity card against the one Noelle held out. A soft chime confirmed the transaction, transferring the payment for the alchemical supplies to her account.

He couldn’t help but wonder who had taught this girl how to do deliveries—each time, she would show up, drop off the goods, and immediately stretch out a hand for the money without so much as a word of small talk.

Satisfied after checking the transfer, Noelle gave a curt nod, then effortlessly hoisted the heavy crate back atop her head. The sudden motion made a loud clang ring through the room as she turned and stepped outside, off to her next delivery.

Noelle moved with brisk efficiency. Within barely half an hour, she had completed all her rounds. The crates were meant to be single-use, so she casually tossed the last one into a roadside recycling chute, then began walking toward the outskirts of the city.

Noelle loved visiting the observation decks at the city’s edge. From there, she could gaze down at the lands far below Skyborne City as the City traversed the continent. She could identify the scattered kingdoms of many races, their mountains and rivers so different from her own. It was a view she never tired of, a world that always felt new to someone like her, who was so often sheltered from the world.

“Wow…”

Today, Skyborne City happened to be flying over a kingdom that was fending off a wave of rampaging magic beasts. From her perch, Noelle could see the battle unfolding below. She let out a soft sound of wonder.

A dozen towering metal golems stood firm in the tide of feral beasts. Though monsters flung themselves against them, biting and clawing with wild desperation, the golems did not so much as flinch. Even the monsters’ spells, cast from mana crystals embedded in their bodies, splashed harmlessly against their gleaming hulls.

With one sweep of a massive iron blade, a golem carved a path through the horde, cleaving beasts as easily as parting waves. Severed limbs flew, broken bodies fell. Then, a sigil on the golem’s chest flared, blinding light pulsed—and the resulting explosion tore a burning swath through the swarm, reducing dozens of monsters to drifting ash.

The battle ended swiftly. In the charred wreckage of the forest, only the unscathed golems remained. The once-teeming beast horde had been reduced to scattered, panicked stragglers fleeing for their lives.

Still brimming with excitement, Noelle finally left the observation zone and began her return to the residence where Wang Yu and the others were staying. What she did not know, however, was that a single strand of red imperceptible to the eye had silently stretched forth from the void and marked her.

Elsewhere, atop the Beacon Bridge, a massive planar gate flared to life. From it emerged the research expedition that had departed for the undead plane two months prior, now returning to Skyborne City.

“Excellent. No casualties,” the magician overseeing the portal muttered, scanning those who stepped forth. The headcount matched exactly—none had remained behind.

“Mm.”

Varma’s only reply was a grunt. She walked off the bridge with the rest of the “researchers” in tow.

The magician blinked. Something about them felt off. For one, they were quieter than before. Still, there were no apparent anomalies, and he dismissed the thought.

His instincts, however, were not wrong. Among those who had returned, only one was truly “alive”: the dragon lich Varma, who now inhabited the body of the leading magician.

The others, former members of the expedition, were nothing more than well-disguised corpses, puppets that Varma had spent two months preparing.

“Hmm? How fortunate. So close, and so soon. The heretic dragon…”

Varma drew out the Crimson Mark. The scarlet filament trailing from it glowed brighter than ever. A slow smile curled across her lips. Luck, it seemed, was on her side.

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