Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
The outskirts of the Sea Dragon City, the distant southern reaches of the Mycroft continent.
Grey clouds were unleashing a downpour upon the land, leaving heaven and earth in vagueness while thunder roared amidst layers of rain clouds.
Vahina the Sage of the Oceans stood in her backyard, looking up at the skies, her face impassive, veiled by a sheet of psionic veil. Even so, that little act paused the thundering downpour of this rainy season around the Sea Dragon City, the rains and gales promptly stopping, their resounding crash reduced to perfect silence.
“My lady. Are you in a bad mood?”
A middle-aged handmaid who stood behind Vahina stood forward and handed the Legendary champion a cup of rare high-grade potion. Known as the ‘Heart of Stone’, it was once a secret exclusive to the Earth Temple that requires various rare magical ingredients. It strengthens the mind and grants considerable magical immunity, but most factions and Extraordinary champions had recently publicized once hidden texts and recipes, the Heart of Stone include.
Though it remained rare, it was still much more commonly seen than before and was only considered a luxury object. Thanks to that, many gifted psionics were discovered in the Sea Dragon City alone since every middle-class family with some extra income would buy a bottle, testing the fortunes of their own children to see if they could secure a tutelage under the local Legendary champion.
Being the most powerful heir of divine bloodlines and the Earth Temple, Vahina grew up drinking that potion thanks to a former elder, which was why it was absolutely ineffective for her now. That familiar scent, however, would make Vahina recall that warm and comforting childhood and still her from bewilderment.
“Indeed,” Vahina answered rather nonchalantly. “It’s not exactly a bad mood, but…”
“You’re at a slight loss of what to do, right?”
The handmaid put a firesilk cardigan on Vahina. Though she did not need clothing to stop the cold as a Legendary champion, it was a habit of the handmaid—or more correctly, her best friend to stood by her over decades. Vahina hence simply allowed her to tidy the garment, a hint of warmth in her heart.
After some silence, Vahina suddenly spoke.
“Laya. If one day, you received some very bad news that you could never solve, face or start to confront it from, what would you do?”
Though the silk kept Vahina’s face inscrutable, anyone could hear the great psionic champion who had mastered Soul Substance Transition and could meld herself into heaven and earth was, at the moment, in a moment of great loss and doubt. “Laya, tell me—if a new path forged out of a pass filled with calamity and threats proved to have an end as well… what should I do?”
The handmaid called Laya listened to Vahina’s perplexed words that were more words of self-doubt than questioning, her expression becoming serious.
She was the same age as Vahina and had grown up alongside her. After Vahina had become a Legendary champion, her facial features did not age, while Laya’s hair was growing white even with the help of potions. Indeed, Laya was an ordinary Silver champion from every perspective possible, one who even lived a material life and existed in a distinctly different world from Vahina.
However, it was precisely such a normal person who, thanks to her constant exchange with a Legend that Laya learned something: even Legendary champions felt excitement, joy, perplexity. They might be superior beings, but they were still beings of emotions, occasionally feeling overburden and needing the opinions or consoling from others.
“My lady.”
Hence, after some thinking, Laya said softly, “While I am unsure what troubles you and how terrible the news was, is what troubles you a calamity that would soon come to pass?”
“No.” Vahina shook her head, her eyes still fixed upon the skies: the raging color of gloom reflecting her mood as she slowly replied, “It would be a matter that would only come a very long time later if it does. After all, we still have a massive hurdle to surpass in decades—we don’t have a future if we couldn’t handle that too.”
“Still, Laya.”
At those words, Vahina turned, holding her friend’s hand and slowly strolling through her own backyard. “I know you would definitely say something like ‘what good is there in worrying something so distant?’” she said, “You might even tease me that ‘I’d be dead by then and whatever calamity wouldn’t have anything to do with a mortal like me’, distracting me with another problem so that I would forget the bigger headache.”
“But this calamity isn’t like any of the past. Unlike murloc rampage, tsunamis, the Berserker Dragon Plague, otherworld invaders, what I worry about isn’t calamity itself, but an idleness that grows in the heart out of the sense that ‘resistance was futile’.”
At those words, Vahina sighed heavily as the massive volumes of details a certain warrior sent her appeared in her mind once more. It was his prediction of the present circumstances, and substantial theories obtained tailored to those predictions.
Joshua van Radcliffe.
How could you always paint such terrible and hopeless sights of the future?
How could you always sharply uncover shadows that were darker than black amidst the gloom?
There were moments where even Legendary champions would never lose their strong spirits in the face of all calamity.
However, there would still be a sense of feebleness in the face of genuine despair.
Vahina knew that the reason she could fearlessly stand up against any powerful foe, even any Evil God was because even if she died gallantly in battle, the darkness would always pass, and the light would certainly come. Failure would be inevitable for humans, but at least they strived so that they could make one last tribute to the light.
But this time, Joshua told them a supreme dark reality that light itself may not exist.
“So what if we triumphed over the Evil Gods who would come decades later? There is no ridding of the fated darkness, and even if we would advance towards the center of the Multiverse, our present ability would leave us ensnared in the boundless temporal traps…”
And what if they did reach the center?
Why were galaxies becoming still? Why would the Initial Flame shrink and detach? Why are no galaxies born unto this Multiverse? Do the masterminds actually exist? If they did, what were they, what were their purpose, and how could they be beaten?
There were so many questions that humans could not solve even one even after exhausting all effort. There was nothing they could do, leaving one’s mood in a mess.
“It would have been better if I wasn’t informed… Being left out of the loop, I could at least ignorantly and fearlessly muster my courage…”
Vahina muttered quietly and laughed once, at herself.
But as she did so, every Legendary champion of Mycroft fell into a similar silence simultaneously.
***
What Joshua revealed to all of them was an exceedingly dark future. Compared to that, even absolute despair was kind for it hid the face of the future, and with ideals even in death, there would not be regret and the pain of death.
Through the Metal Dragon God and Unified Archives, everyone could read the star map data—Joshua had coldly hinted at a terrible sight of what was to come, a future of nothingness: galaxies ceasing to move, with Mycroft’s own galaxy recently becoming still as well. The Initial Flame would contract and no new galaxies would be born, while Void Behemoths and Ancient Dragons acted as a restoration system each galaxy created to save themselves.
Be that as it may, galaxies would always end like the galaxy of the Astral Dragons’ homeworld. After such a long time had passed, it would be reduced to unending dark remains sandwiched between the world of Mycroft and other galaxies.
In such despair, even the assault of Evil Gods became acceptable. After all, Evil Gods were foes with actual forms, and they could be retaliated against whether they would triumph.
And now, what all Legendary champions faced were nothingness.
No hope, no future.
All was ashen and meaningless, with only cinders remaining from the blazing flames, descending into eternal slumber or awakening of rage and despair to become part of the darkness.
On top of the Skypiercing White Tower, above clouds and heavens, Barbarossa looked upon the night of only stars and moonlight. The Legendary mage silently looked the stars, not knowing which amongst those stars had already died, and whether the silver light he sees now was a recent brilliance or a light that once shone billions of years ago.
In the depths of the sea, the Murloc High Priest was sculpting runes upon underwater walls by its lonesome. It was Godard’s sole hobby over the last few centuries: it had made a habit out of inscribing the gist of every important event, but today, it did not write anything for a long time—it attempted to start on several occasions, but each time it raised its hand, it would then lower it with a sigh.
At the depths of subterranean reaches, thirty-two years after he had forged ‘Gundar’s Tempest the Divine Hammer’, the divine dwarven craftsman raised a hammerhead and began to strike a burning-red metal mold in the forge which he had sealed for a long time. Each time he felt shaken, Flo Ironfinger would work in such fashion—and yet the noise of the forge made it clear that the heart of the divine craftsman was at peace.
Be it God or Legend, each Mycroft Legend who was in the skies or in their lab; wandering the Void or calibrating the Mana Net; dwelling in the Holy Mountain Fortress or in the main monitoring hub had entered profound pondering thanks to the message sent from a certain man.
Naturally, those Legendary champions could persuade themselves that the inevitable ruin was a matter for a few billion years later. Now, they were still troubled by the Evil God invasion that looms in several decades—what purpose was there to worry for such a thing?
They definitely could say they should stay aware only of each step they take, and there was no need to frighten themselves and worry about unnecessary matters.
They totally could play an ostrich and pretend that all of it never happened—there was no evidence proving that some powerful entity destroyed those galaxies, just as it was the same for some ‘mastermind’. Perhaps those galaxies had died of natural causes, and that it was a natural pattern for the Multiverse? If that was the case, there was no telling if humans would still be around when the galaxy dies.
Indeed, they could do that.
But none of them would.
Israel temporarily severed the main server of the Skynet monitoring system and rose from his throne, and looked out over his nation from dozens thousand meters above.
Linking hands, the Nature’s Magister and Elven Queen stood on one of the massive branches of the Eternal Mother Lifetree, carefully stroking each of its branches and leaves to witness the ancient lifeform of the Starfall elves dredging its energy circuits.
Igor was, for a rare, sitting in his prayer chamber. The Six Gods were thinking presently as well, but the Pope had not intended to speak to his own gods—he had simply stared at the portraits of former pontiffs that hung on a wall of the chamber, his gaze motionless.
None of them would ‘flee’, for they were the leaders of civilization.
Mortals could neglect and ignore, or simply convince themselves that the danger may not come—that even if darkness descends upon them, they would at least have enjoyed a complete life and that it would not affect them.
Nevertheless, they could fool themselves thus for they were Legendary champions, near eternal beings on this world, leaders of empire, race, and religion, symbols of Mycroft’s Extraordinary civilization. They had to think about how that crisis could be resolved, how to stop the inevitable end arriving in the future. They were clearly aware that if Joshua’s prediction holds—that if there was one, or a group of masterminds existing behind all these anomalies, this was the direst moment over several millennia for the world of Mycroft as it slows down.
They, like those ruined galaxies would fall in the clutches of those masterminds—be it surviving or destruction, everything would be decided by another entity and not their own effort.
That was precisely why they would profoundly be at a loss, finding themselves powerless and despair, and hence enter a true meditation.
Now, Joshua was at the Multiverse Sacrificial Grounds, unaware of the various Legends’ reactions.
He simply hovered beside the Silver Sky Radiance, conversing with the Commanding Will sporadically.
The warrior of course knew that the details he discovered would deal a serious blow into everyone’s optimism, and that some—even the entire civilization could fall from that. He had only seen too many similar scenarios in the battle against the Evil God of Death.
In the face of a massive, unbreakable meteorite, there were civilizations that would descend into madness even before the apocalyptic crash arrive, its societies erupting into violence and hence destroying itself.
In the face of the minions of Chaos, there were civilizations that gave up on any form of resistance, their entire species hence become fodder of Chaos.
In the face of the reality that their sun would die in the next few centuries, there were civilizations that did not attempt any effort or progress, naturally and serenely embracing their death.
Civilizations that fall amidst darkness, collapsing as darkness consumed them were truly numerous. They were abandoned like torches that had burnt out, becoming perished memories.
And were the champions of the Mycroft civilization amongst them?
