Chapter 351: Free Labor

Wang Yu activated Extrasensory Convergence. His attention sharpened, his will focused, and the power of the Chariot surged beyond its usual threshold.

Fighting spirit clung to his arm, giving it form even within the void. With a sudden motion, he struck at the fragment of the old God of Eternal Night that was locked in a desperate tug-of-war with the Lady of the Night.

In a muffled impact without sound, his blow, bolstered by the power of the Chariot, smashed into the divine fragment with his full strength. The shadowy mound was hurled away, its soft, amorphous mass splitting with jagged cracks.

The Chariot’s power uncoiled from Wang Yu’s arm, lashing out like a hook to seize the broken fragment and drag it back. Without hesitation, he drove another brutal punch into it, widening the fissures until chunks of its body broke off, crumbling into black mist that dissolved within the Lady of the Night’s divine realm.

This assault could not destroy it entirely. Divinity meant that the god would reconstitute itself even if its body dissipated in full. Yet the Chariot was clearly dealing damage. Amidst its struggle against the Lady of the Night, Wang Yu’s interference ultimately tipped the balance against it.

Countless threads of darkness burst forth from the Tree of the Night, winding around the fragment like a swarm of serpents. They slid over one another, cocooning it, before forcing the unwanted portion of divine authority into its being.

Its body, already torn apart by Wang Yu’s fists, could no longer sustain thought or resistance. It had no power to oppose the Lady of the Night, who now held an absolute advantage.

The Lady divested herself of vast portions of her authority that required considerable processing but was otherwise rote and mechanical, and forced them upon the fragment. At the same time, she stripped from it the meager but essential divinity that carried true significance. The exchange was merciless and unreasonable—and, thanks to Wang Yu’s intervention, steady and irresistible.

Because of the curious link between the Lady of the Night and the old God of Eternal Night, the Lady could not strike directly at this divine fragment. Yet their transfer of powers constituted an exchange, rather than an attack, bypassing the restriction in place between them.

Bludgeoned senseless by Wang Yu and overwhelmed by the Lady’s surge of power, the fragment could no longer resist. After one final tremor, it became still.

Its body swelled to rival the Tree of the Night in size as her imposed authority filled it, but its consciousness was utterly erased in the process.

What remained was instinctive, requiring no actual capacity for thought. Sole agency belonged to the Lady of the Night.

“It worked. I can no longer sense its consciousness. And…”

Her projection in the mortal world inclined her head toward Avia and Wang Yu. The plan really had succeeded.

“The powers it bore are beginning to return to me, perhaps because they cannot be sustained without consciousness. In other words, its divinity is being passed onto me.”

Her voice carried a touch of wonder. Before them, the fragment dissolved into black vapor, scattering across her divine domain until nothing remained. All of its strength was now hers.

“I didn’t expect my shabby trick would be so successful…” Wang Yu muttered, astonished. It seemed that even the fragment’s dreadful power to erase things from existence had been claimed by the Lady.

“I can command it as I command my own strength,” the Lady mused. She touched her chin thoughtfully, then drew upon the newly absorbed authority. A figure took shape in her divine domain.

It was formed of the same shadow-stuff as the Lady’s mortal believers within the Midnight Library, faceless, black, and indistinct. Yet its outline was clearly that of a woman. She looked to be one size smaller than Darkness, who towered over Wang Yu.

“Is that… the old God of Eternal Night?”

Wang Yu studied the shadowy figure. Divinity was feeling ever more abstract to him, bound less by rules or reason than by strange metaphysics. Or perhaps he simply knew too little of divine lore.

“I believe so,” the Lady replied.

“I can now set my newfound power to various tasks… for instance, organizing the Midnight Library.”

After a brief moment of thought, she revealed her intent.

The library had grown into a vast repository, filled with books offered freely by her believers. Its value was beyond reckoning, but its contents varied in quality and were scattered without order.

A librarian was needed: someone of learning who could be trusted and granted authority. But there were few candidates and an immense workload.

The Lady’s new power could easily fill this role. Drawing upon the very void, it possessed a limitless capacity to process and classify data.

At her command, the shadowy figure began its work. Books drifted from the shelves before being sorted and returned with deliberate care. It even seemed to recognize their contents enough to establish an index.

Avia stepped into the library from her mindscape, then moved before the figure. She began, “Please bring me volumes on magical records and continental history.”

The shelves shifted. Shelves of tomes glided toward her: histories and magical treatises, as she had requested. She confirmed that the tomes were indeed what she desired with a cursory inspection.

With that, she withdrew from the library. She, Wang Yu, and the Lady’s projection clapped hands together in quiet triumph. One hidden threat had been extinguished. In its place was a librarian—free labor bound to the Midnight Library.

They then turned to discuss Wang Yu’s discoveries in the archives of Skyborne City, and the unsettling hints of his connection to abyssal creatures. Wang Yu only shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Even if I’m an abyssal being, so what? My path won’t change.”

Wang Yu then raised a question. By its very nature, the void was chaotic and lawless. However, the Lady of the Night’s divine domain and the void spells wielded by most wizards he had seen were marked by order and clear structure. The contradiction gnawed at him.

Sieg joined the discussion. They dug through references in the Midnight Library, but were unable to find a clear answer in the end. They had no choice but to set the matter aside, turning instead to preparations for what lay ahead: the results of their research on hypermagic, and their next destination, the Endless Sea.

Far away, in the midwestern reaches of the continent, lay what was once the kingdom of ancient gnomes. After their fall, other races slowly encroached on their territory, yet the land had never truly been developed. Its climate was hostile to the intelligent races: it was humid, sweltering, and filled with swamps.

Disease and vermin thrived in the mire, breeding unchecked in its sodden, rotting depths. Underground aquifers made any attempt to dry the land impossible. Beyond a scattering of small settlements, no kingdom could take root here.

This tract of territory was known as the Umbral Marshes, the largest wetland on the continent. It was almost wholly smothered beneath enchanted mangrove forests. Their endless, sinewy roots plunged deep into centuries of mud, anchoring it in place. They spread no farther, yet neither did they ever wither.

The marshes teemed with creatures peculiar to this blighted ecosystem: marsh fiends, miasma crocodiles, carrion crawlers and more. They were everywhere within the marshes, and uniformly repulsive.

Foul stench and rot seeped out from their bodies. It was little wonder that the dark elves who now dwelled in this territory had a reputation so vile it stained the name of their entire race across the continent.

High above the marshland, a flash of silver lightning tore across the sky. The creatures below never even sensed the presence that sped past with terrifying swiftness.

In mere minutes, the silver light had crossed most of the Umbral Marshes and came to rest above a singular region where the mangroves thinned, revealing a broad, circular swamp.

Unlike the brown muck of its neighbors, this particular swamp gleamed with a strange, verdant sheen and pulsed with grotesque vitality. This was the Decaying Deeps, a place avoided even by the foul denizens of the marsh. The dark elves themselves had declared it forbidden.

The reason was simple: a hydra dwelt beneath these waters. Such an apex beast naturally held dominion over the land it haunted.

Invisible force spread across the air, shrouding the mire and veiling it from all outside senses. The lightning resolved into the form of a silver dragon: Aurelian.

The moment her titanic form descended, draconic aura enveloped the swamp. The muck surged as nine monstrous heads burst forth, hurling clusters of corrosive ichor blazing with foul light. The hydra had sensed the threat and chosen defiance over submission.

“Goelia, you’re as sly as ever.” Aurelian’s voice resonated like tempered steel. “Hiding yourself behind an unsuspecting hydra? Clever enough, but let’s cut to the chase. We have little time left.”

She did not so much as glance at the searing volleys hurtling toward her. The liquid masses were repelled by countless invisible blades around her, leaving her unscathed.

The hydra roared, thrashing, its nine heads poised to strike again. But before it could, something from the swamp below clamped upon its body with irresistible force. No matter how it writhed, it could not break free.

In the next heartbeat, it was dragged down into the depths. The swamp rippled faintly, and then there was silence.

“Speak, then…”

The reply was delivered in the rasping, scarred voice of a middle-aged man.

From the mire rose a giant green dragon, grotesquely massive even for his kind. Scars crisscrossed his battered hide; whole scales were missing. Emerald eyes glimmered darkly, stirring the swamp’s muck as they fixed upon the silver dragon above.

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