Chapter 1209 — Meeting Again

In the last glow left by the setting sun, the great eagles of the Silver Empire beat their enormous wings and descended onto the Pioneer Plaza near the city center. These proud and well-drilled giant raptors stood solemn and orderly, lowering their bodies on foreign soil to let their riders dismount, while the final trace of sunset slipped away almost at the same moment from the rooftops around the plaza, and night fell upon the imperial capital.

Yet darkness did not arrive as expected — the mana-crystal lamps had already been lit, their bright radiance pouring down from the tops of the tall iron posts, making the plaza and the surrounding streets as bright as day. The welcoming party came forward from both sides; at the plaza's edge, immense holographic projections leapt into the air, gleaming with brilliant streams of light and welcoming addresses written simultaneously in two languages. Joyful music echoed above the plaza — a human melody, yet interwoven with elven-style variations.

Azmor climbed down from the eagle's back. Before he could carefully observe this human imperial capital, the lights and sounds flooding his eyes and ears made him pause; only then did he slowly adjust, his gaze sweeping over those humans dressed in "modern attire" quite different from his memory, looking spirited and vibrant; over the bright, orderly street lamps and the towering buildings at the plaza's edge; past the giant holographic projections floating in the air, to the faintly glowing crystal towers and mechanical clock towers in the distance, and further still to the flying machines patrolling the sky, and even dragons on night flights.

The eyes gifted by the gods let him see farther in the night, and what he saw now were details impossible to discern when gazing down from the sky.

The oldest living druid sage widened his eyes somewhat in surprise — he still remembered the splendor of the old Gondor Empire, and the nations built by pioneers who had hacked their way through thorns after the magic tide. Yet all of it... was utterly different from what he saw today.

"This is... that 'Cecil Empire' risen from the ashes?" he murmured in astonishment. "I thought..."

"You thought it should be rougher, more like a military empire drunk on arms and conquest, yes?" A woman's voice, tinged with amusement, came from behind, startling the old druid. "As so many rumors say."

"...I hold no such prejudice, Empress. I know that a military empire devoted only to arms could never build an alliance uniting the strength of an entire continent," Azmor said slowly, shaking his head. "But I truly did not expect it to look like this... The humans in my memory lived shorter lives than elves, yet carried themselves more gravely than elves do. And in Xuanque City — everything grows wild and free."

He used the phrase "grows wild and free" to describe the Xuanque City he saw, for what he beheld was indeed different from what others saw — through those god-given eyes, he could see the veins formed by "life" and "vitality," could see the surging power behind those seemingly cold buildings, could see the entire city wrapped in a vast, living energy field. At the same time he could see the "resonance" formed by countless minds — a positive, high-spirited, confident and mighty resonance of souls covering the sky above the city. And such a powerful, vivid, cohesive force he had not seen for many centuries.

"Xuanque City gathers twelve different intelligent species, and they in turn contain dozens of peoples from every corner of the world. Here are dragons from Talongde, elves from the Silver Empire; dwarves come here to do business, and gray elves study abroad — on occasion, you might even meet sea sirens from the deep," Belantia said with a smile. "I know what you mean by 'grows wild and free'... Though I lack your eyes, I too can see how immense a power gathers on this land."

"...As the head of the druids' 'Orthodox Church' today, is it proper to admit that you do not possess the 'God-given Eye'?" Azmor said without raising his head, his tone calm and detached. "For the past three thousand years, the Morningstar family never once admitted it."

"That no longer matters," Belantia said softly, lifting her gaze toward the distance, where a tall figure had already appeared at the end of the carpet, the plaza's artificial lights seeming to weave a curtain behind that silhouette. "Meet that 'resurrected' human hero — he has arrived."

...

In the Shadow Realm, shrouded in endless chaos and darkness, the Court of Defiance kept as ever its peace unchanged for a thousand years. A holy giant stag, like a small mountain, lay motionless amid floating boulders and immense metal structures, as if resting with eyes closed, while a great many artificial devices — tiny as toys beside his bulk — were arrayed around him, runes flickering on their surfaces, the radiance of magic flowing slowly.

A giant lady in a somber black gown, her lower body half-vaporous and half-solid like cloud and mist, sat leaning against a stone pillar not far from the stag, arms wrapped around her knees, staring intently at the mageweb terminal nearby. Above that specially built large terminal, a huge holographic projection was screening the loves and hatreds of the mortal world — a story of twists and turns enough to captivate the eyes of a god.

How long passed thus, none could say, until the stag, who had been resting with closed eyes, suddenly opened them, glanced at Mirmirna, and remarked casually, "You have watched it three times already. Does it not grow tiresome?"

"A classic drama deserves to be enjoyed ten times or more — and I have only watched it three times," Mirmirna said without hesitation, without turning her head. "Besides, I think you ought to watch this too — I think it is the most interesting story I have seen to date, unlike any drama mortals have created since the beginning of history..."

Amorn had never had the slightest interest in the "dramas" Mirmirna favored, but now he could not help asking, "What is it about?"

"It has to do with the sacred legends of the Sunlight Church!" Mirmirna said at once, her eyes seeming to shine — and in fact they did shine, every thread of that light enough to run a high-power mana engine for two days. "It tells of how the first-generation Apostle of Holy Light led the tribe's people through the darkness to seek the 'holy land where grain ripens in all four seasons,' only to encounter on the way tricksters disguised as divine messengers and soul-devouring monsters manufacturing false gospels, and even a false holy land that devoured flesh and blood and grew endlessly while disguised as fertile soil. In the end, the saint led the people back to the very place they had set out from, and only then discovered that the holy land was their homeland all along...

"Oh, let me tell you, that final cut jumping straight to five hundred years later is so good — right at the crossroads where the saint led the people away, a city that big has been built..."

Amorn listened quietly to Mirmirna's account, and after a long while said suddenly, "A sacred legend with no god in it, a church story with no church in it — so they really went and did it..."

"I see nothing wrong with that," Mirmirna said with a faint smile, leaning back against the boulder pillar behind her with considerable ease. "Those who write the stories are people, those who tell them are people, and those who listen are people. And the gods... the gods are inside the story, inside that story where one has no choice. Now at last they can pull the gods out of that story where one has no choice, and that is good for everyone.