Chapter 367: Selwyn’s Fallen Capital

“So this place got buried under the snow the moment the Selwynians were gone, just like that?”

Wang Yu gaped at the ruined city before him, which had nearly been swallowed whole by ice and snow. This was Selwyn’s old capital. Even if its people had perished, the infrastructure here should have remained in good condition.

That the Aleisterrans had never put this city to use struck him as sheer absurdity. He had heard rumors about it before, of course—but standing here now, he couldn’t help but let out a low whistle of disbelief.

“No wonder Aleisterre crushed Selwyn so easily back then. A land this harsh might raise iron warriors, but the disparity in terms of resources must simply have been too great.”

He shook his head. At least the neglect made a kind of sense. Aleisterre had promised much regarding this place, granting plots of land here to many who had earned merit. But no construction had ever begun.

The reason was simple: Aleisterre didn’t need a functioning city here. What it needed was the illusion of one—an empty prize set in the frozen wastes. So long as that prize remained, it could forever be dangled before others, a carrot always just out of reach.

For within the kingdom, the prospect of land to call one’s own was irresistible. Even knowing it lay in the bitter north—even suspecting the promise might never be fulfilled—men would still flock to it, eager to gamble their lives for a chance. Many were opportunists; many more, simply fools.

It was, to the crown, a priceless bargain. So long as Selwyn’s buried capital stood here, the Aleisterran throne could use it to lure more blades and more labor to its service. Travelers, adventurers, free-men—so many were glad to toil for the promise of “rich reward.”

“And in the end,” Sieg remarked with a curl of his lip as he stepped out from the Seed of Eden’s pocket realm, “is this all they’ve offered?”

Before them stretched a desolation. Selwyn’s capital had been smothered beneath the endless blizzards sweeping down from the slopes of the St. Anna Snowfields.

During the war, the city’s wind-warding arrays had been shattered. With no shelter from the storms, and no inhabitants to keep them repaired, the city had slowly been swallowed up by time and snow.

Aleisterre had never rebuilt. Only a few adventurers came here by choice, and a handful of disgraced or unwanted officials were exiled here to rot.

Most who glimpsed the desolation fled immediately.

The officials had no such liberty—without orders they dared not leave, lest harsher punishment fall upon them. They could only endure, waiting in vain for the crown to finally honor its promises.

“My father has already dispatched men to begin development here,” Edward said quietly. “In a few months, the Grand Duke of the North will move his seat of power to this place. Away from the capital, certain matters will be easier to handle.”

“Fine by me,” Wang Yu replied with a shrug. “We won’t be staying. Our goal lies beyond, across the Endless Sea. This is only a waystation. We’ll take a look at the ice-bound city you spoke of, and speak with the one tied to the Church of Dragonkind. Then, we’ll move on.”

He cared little for the city itself. The debts that Aleisterre’s crown owed to him, he would reckon later—after the affair at the Endless Sea.

They pressed on through the half-buried ruins, now reduced to a handful of cleared spaces serving as a makeshift outpost. At the foot of the St. Anna’s Snowfields they beheld a vast, gaping cavern amidst cliffs of ice.

Deep within that frozen maw, countless buildings gleamed faintly, entombed in layers of ice stretching deep into the glacier.

The city beneath the ice was immense—large enough, Wang Yu judged, to rival Selwyn’s capital itself. Its architecture bore little resemblance to anything of the present age.

“This city appeared only recently,” Edward explained. “A survey team of mercenaries stumbled across it while investigating attacks near the Selwyn ruins—humans who transformed into beasts struck at their camp. In pursuit, they uncovered this place.

“We still don’t know its true nature. But one thing is certain: the city is releasing soul fragments.”

“Soul fragments?”

Wang Yu rubbed his chin, intrigued.

“Yes. Newborn children of the snowfields absorb them, causing a second soul to grow within their body and manifesting the trait of ‘twin souls.’

“But the second is mindless, feral and bloodthirsty. Under certain conditions, the host can even transform into a half-beast, a mindless being of hunger and slaughter.

“As for why this city releases soul fragments, or why they carry such corruption, we have no clue whatsoever.”

Wang Yu’s gaze lingered on the glimmering ruins beneath the glacier. The discovery of such ancient ruins wasn’t a particularly rare event. In fact, such occurrences had been commonplace across the continent in recent times.

“Souls altering flesh? Fascinating. Just as our friends in Skyborne City suspected, this continent seems to be growing restless. Truly a year of upheaval…”

This was no isolated incident. Guided by an unseen hand, events were unfolding throughout the world.

There was no time to worry about this discovery for now. They had another purpose here. Beneath the St. Anna’s Snowfields, someone associated with the Church of Dragonkind awaited them.

Inside a sturdy wooden lodge hastily built at the edge of the snowfield, Wang Yu and his companions finally met him. He was a young man, younger than Wang Yu himself, plain of face but with striking crimson eyes.

“Greetings. I am Leit Servison. An honor to meet you, Archbishop.”

The youth’s warmth suggested that he knew exactly who Wang Yu was.

Wang Yu had never separated his own identity from that of the Archbishop of the Church of Nightfall.

That was the point. He wanted outsiders to conflate the two, so that any analysis of his motives would be tied to his ecclesiastical role, leading would-be schemers into misjudgment.

“Just Wang Yu is fine,” he replied.

This Leit had been newly drawn into the Church by the Lady of the Night herself. Something in his nature made him conspicuous to those with eyes to see.

Wang Yu’s Chariot could not penetrate the bodies of the living, but his blood sensed something peculiar in Leit’s veins—a trace of draconic heritage, and perhaps even the source of his crimson gaze.

After a pause, Leit spoke, his voice firm, “Sir Wang Yu, I wish to find a dragon,one bound to me by blood. Its name is Caesar. The blood in my veins is its gift.”

Wang Yu raised his brows. He had suspected a tie to the Church of Dragonkind, but this went deeper than he could imagine.

“No problem. If I manage to contact Caesar, I’ll notify you through the Prayer Network. In fact, news of him surfaced quite recently. What I’d like from you is insight into the Church of Dragonkind.”

With Avia’s help, Wang Yu conveyed the battle that had taken place near the Dying Crag, transmitting it through the Prayer Network in vivid, shifting images.

As for actual contact, that was another matter. Even they had lost touch with Aurelian, who seemed deliberately to be avoiding them. And while the Prayer Network was remarkably convenient for human communication, it was no use for dragons.

That which had befallen their kind had left them wary of even the word “faith.” To expect dragons to worship the Lady of the Night was all but unthinkable.

“Thank you for the news. I’m a wanderer precisely because of the Church of Dragonkind. Revenge and my search for Caesar are what guide me.”

Leit bowed his head in gratitude. This was the first he had heard of Caesar all these years. He began to speak of his history with the cult.

From his account, Wang Yu learned that Leit was once a nobleman—not of Aleisterre, but of a kingdom to the north.

Some seven or eight years ago, Caesar had appeared overhead while battling the Church of Dragonkind. Though victorious, the dragon was struck by a peculiar, devastating attack. He fell, crashing through the family estate and demolishing a substantial part of it. Leit’s kin took Caesar in, sheltered him, and nursed his wounds.

When the dragon regained his strength, he left behind a gift of his blood for Leit, as well as a measure of guidance, before he departed.

The Church of Dragonkind had come soon after in search of Caesar. They slaughtered Leit’s household to the last soul—save for him alone. He escaped only by sheer desperation.

“So the cult’s movements began earlier than we thought,” Wang Yu mused. “They’ve been spreading inward from the Endless Sea. But Aleisterre is much further inland, which is why there’s barely any word of their actions there.”

A cold logic revealed itself. Though the Church of Dragonkind had seemed to appear out of nowhere, they had been actively and methodically hunting dragons for years. They simply left little evidence for outsiders.

With the Church of Nightfall now having spread across the continent, Wang Yu wondered if it could gather more intelligence about them.

“And your potential is Beastwalker?” Wang Yu suddenly asked Leit.

“That’s right.”

Leit nodded. With a gesture, he invoked his potential. Around him, translucent beasts took form out of pure fighting spirit. Birds flew by, a bear lumbered past, and even a great turtle swam calmly through the air. Phantasmal yet palpable, these spiritbeasts circled him in silence.

The ability let him draw upon the spirits of beasts, wielding them as facets of his fighting spirit. The sight made Wang Yu want to rub his temples. In the elven capital of Liaheim, he had encountered an oddity: a treasure cat. Here was another, something like an otherworldly Udyr. The world was endlessly strange.

Watching the spectral beasts shimmer and prowl around Leit, Wang Yu felt more than mere wonder. A thought began to form. He had seen countless potentials—Malevolent Possession and Blazing Raze, among others, each manifesting in its own way. But this one… this one stirred up a half-formed idea in his mind.

“Setting aside my own bias, this is truly a unique potential. Could it be applied in a different way? But what truly determines the form of a person’s latent potential?”

No answer came to him. With nothing more than fleeting inspiration, he dismissed the thought and made a mental note of it for later. Bidding farewell to Leit and Edward, Wang Yu pressed onward. Beyond the St. Anna Snowfields lay the Endless Sea—and there the merfolk awaited them.

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