124 A Dire Situation

Chapter 124: A Dire Situation

Translator: EndlessFantasy TranslationEditor: EndlessFantasy Translation

"The Realm Stone… It is nothing that groundbreaking as I can clearly recall it from The Compendium of Magic and Materials,a book dated from Ancient Rohlserlese time. Perhaps Sir Archmage might remember it?" The Scholar started.

"Most definitely! I was one of the editors and compilers on the later editions, too." Came the reply. "Of course, the Compendium of Magic and Materials had been around even before I was born. It had always served as a type of encyclopedic journal, with newer editions being published every so often. When I was first introduced to it, there were already about 100 plus volumes. Huh, what happened to it during your time?"

The Scholar’s tone was respectful. "I am pleased to inform you, Sir, that the Compendium had expanded to more than 1000 volumes. The possibility of it being lost is low as ardent scholars continue to add new information to it."

"Truly, it is one of our kinds’ greatest fortune to have not lost such a wondrous heritage from the Ancient Rohserl Empire. It had allowed many of us to be less vexed and stupefied, and indeed more empowered to unravel the mysteries of the world. Please, allow me to express my gratitude to you, Sir Archmage, and by proxy to all who had contributed." She finished, clearly expressing a gratitude she had long felt.

"It’s merely the eventual consequence of mankind’s innate need to consolidate and pass on what they have learnt to the next generation. I was merely one of the many who passed the baton," the Archmage replied humbly. "Back to this however… We can no longer discern the origin of this stone anymore now, can we? We should really restart our study on it like it is a brand-new material. Wipe off whatever legends and hypotheses and even its name."

Maybe keep the name, as a sign of respect and acknowledgement to those before us? Even though the stone has not much to do with realms as we know it, Baiyi chimed in quickly.

Since the Voidwalkers were one of the most erudite and most informed about the theory 1of realm, they very quickly found out that the Stone was not one of the mythical foundational blocks to construct a whole new realm, contrary to its name. Either a Material Realm or a boundary between realm were, to the Walkers, purely the consequences of the Law. They were essentially independent concepts, transcending any form of material construct.

In other words 2, any object meeting the powers of the Law would be sufficient to construct a realm of its own— superficially similar to the concepts on Earth. If the laws of physics were met, even gas and water may form a planet.

There were still mysteries that the Walkers could not wrap their heads around. The Realm Stone kept emitting a very strange pulse. Only a very acute use of Psychic Energy could uncover its track, and more intriguingly, despite the massive knowledge Baiyi had, he could not properly label or even categorize those pulses, knowing nothing beyond the odd sensation it gave.

Other Walkers had their own hypotheses. They speculated that the pulse orginated from a certain Law. It was not the property of any material, but the property of the War God’s Sword. The conjecture was confirmed by Baiyi who had thoroughly studied the Sword with clairvoyance, only to discover that there was nothing— no runes, no spell formation, no outside force— in it except for the pulse. It was like a piece of everyday rock.

Don’t tell me… This Sword itself is a physical manifestation of the Law , Baiyi joked.

"The Laws do not materialize into something so trivial, child," The Archmage reminded him. "Perhaps it’s similar to the Fourth Walker’s ability? Speaking of, is that guy still alive?"

Uh… I think so?Baiyi replied hesitantly, trying to scan the Void using his own consciousness.

Then, very weakly, he detected a response. "Still alive. Just asleep— like he always is."

There were very few Voidwalkers who would not jump at a chance to escape their dark limbo, but at least two would probably be at home in the Void. The Painter (who would, of course, outwardly protest against that) and the elusive Fourth Walker.

He was called the Oracle, and that was really all there was to it. No name, no knowledge of his powers, his former titles— even the memory he had exchanged with Baiyi was pitifully conservative. Boring childhood, then a few discontinuous images flashing, and that was all. Baiyi felt cheated by that experience.

Not that Baiyi was given a chance to complain, because immediately after that exchange, he promptly went into a deep slumber, and had never roused ever since. Sometimes when a game needed more participants and there weren’t any, Baiyi would drag his sleeping consciousness in, partially to see if he could provoke any sort of reaction.

Yet it always felt like he had created a unit for a body pillow. There was never any input from him. He was either offline or away from keyboard.

His backstory sometimes became a pastime topic between the Walkers and Baiyi. They tried to assemble his past like a puzzle through the few clips Baiyi had gleaned from him and only one thing was for sure— every prophecy he made came true.

He had never made any prediction that didn’t.

So either the man was a brilliant conman who happened to possessed an air of enigma and otherworldliness, or, he could somehow manipulate the Law. After all, the thing about prophecies was that no one was supposed to be able to predict the future, let alone talk about them. Even in fifth verse on the first page in the Church’s scripture was written: "For no one could predict the things that come afterwards, only by the omniscient God can one be protected."

If the scripture was what the One True God wanted the world to adhere to, then someone who could do something similar to him would, of course, end up in the Void. Curiously, the Oracle seemed to have no interest in escaping the Void, nor did he ever want to talk to anyone else. The consequence of him keeping to himself was that people hardly remember him. Baiyi would still occasionally use him fill the quota for participants in a game, but other than, that he was pitifully forgotten.

"The Fourth Walker, the Ancestors, this sword— and even the bow the Fairy used to own… All of these things could somehow manipulate the Law. I have a hunch that they are all puzzle pieces that will show us the secrets of the Law. We just can’t figure it out yet… Hmm, quite fortunate that you got your hands on this sword, really. Now we have a chance," The Archmage said thoughtfully.

"I still need the Mark though, don’t I? It’s probably the key to this sword," Baiyi replied. I wonder what is our little barbarian king doing right now?

She had just been recovered by her own clansmen and finally regained consciousness. Although she was in a very… undignified state when she was found but she still had her air of superiority, so nobody dared crossed her.

As she was riding home, she scrubbed her cheeks clean with a cloth made from animal hide until she could feel the heat of friction.

It startled her. It’s been so long since she felt pain. Ever since she inherited the War God’s Sword she had never been in such distress.

The pain reminded her of how dire her current situation was.

The Sword had abandoned her.

She was no longer the king of the Steppe. She was now back to being just an ordinary girl from a barbaric tribe…

A new sting of pain hit her in the chest— far more intense than the heat on her cheeks. Her hands started to tremble as a long-absent expression fell on her face. An expression of helplessness.

One of her retainers, a man of considerable age, spoke. "It’s been a while since I’ve last seen the old Attie."

She quickly turned her face away from him. "Do not call me by that name!" She feigned that severe tone she had been using since becoming the King.

"Right, right. My bad for forgetting that, my King." The man smiled, unperturbed by her demeanor. "You know," he added quietly, just enough for the both of them to hear. "To me, you’ll always be that Attie I have watched growing up. The same Attie who snuck into my house to drink my goat’s milk. Heehee! Even when you became our King with the War God’s Sword, I still see you as that girl…"

"Uncle, please don’t…" Her voice broke.

"No matter what happens after this, Attie, we will always be by your side because you are always family."

The man struck his harness and rode forward, leaving Attie alone with her thoughts.

The War God would never tolerate a disgraced failure. That was what the legend had said. So those people who came to look for their downtrodden King were riding against the fate that was awaiting them back in the royal court. Their actions spoke far more clearly and loudly, than any words and pledges of allegiance.

Her group rode into the sunrise but their path was not a bright one.

Not every member of the tribes were so welcoming. Before reaching the royal court, just close to a swamp, the group was already encircled by thousands of cavalries standing on high grounds peering at them like hawks. Their horses cast shadows across her ashen group.

If they charged, Attie and her men of about ten or twenty would instantly be buried.

Behind the cavalry, more messengers were still riding hard on their horses. They would bring even more reinforcement. The Steppe would once again be fertilized by blood.

"My most respected King," one of the men in the front called out. "Where have you been last night? The Warrior Gala is about to start! Shouldn’t you be waiting and watching from your royal seat?"

He was the Khan of the Sprinting Wolf Clan. Had it not been for the War God’s Sword in Attie’s hand as she slayed his prized cavalries, he would have been ruler of all the Steppe Barbarians.

"Oh, yes, our most respected King, owner of the War God’s Sword, the pride of the Steppe… Where have you been last night? I heard there was quite a commotion around your place. Do you need our assistance?" The Khan of the Blue Hawk clan— another one of the contenders to the throne— added, his voice dripping in overt respect yet he was advancing closer.

"What is this? A coup d’état?" Attie retorted hotly.

She was met with laughter.

The Khan of the Sprinting Wolf Clan smiled mirthlessly. "No, no, no, I think you’re mistaken, my King. We are extremely loyal to you! We’re only bringing our best warriors here today to give you a hero’s welcome..."