Chapter 1266 — Remains of a Myth

At Kamael's words, Myrmina was plainly dismissive: "Don't worry about me—the environment is poor, yes, but at this rate of attrition, it would take at least ten years to exhaust this avatar's power..."

Kamael looked up at this "deity" and saw faint mist rising behind her, a deep purple haze flecked with fine arcane flames. He could not help saying: "But you've been smoking this whole time."

"..." Myrmina looked up silently, and only after a long while lowered her head again, her tone at last somewhat less confident than before. "Fine, perhaps two years... It doesn't matter. Explorers, it's time we moved. This space is hardly small, and its edges are crumbling all the while—we must make good use of this place before that happens."

Two flames leaped up in Kamael's eyes. He drew a light breath (a purely habitual motion) and waved a hand toward the distance: "Knight Solid, you take the first squad and stay here to continue setting up the base, and to receive the technical staff who follow through the portal. Knight Quinn, bring the second squad with you—we advance to that gate the Explorer puppet discovered last time!"

With that he immediately dimmed his own luminance, and the two flames at his eyes contracted as well—the charge capacity of his mana core was limited, and he had to use it sparingly to prolong his operating time here...

...

In the dim, chaotic Courtyard of Defiance, the holy white giant deer stood quietly amid a great array of fully powered arcane devices, its crystal-cast eyes fixed silently upon a platform before it.

Upon that platform had been placed a giant seat carved from boulders quarried nearby, and seated upon it was a woman in a black court gown, her lower body as insubstantial as cloud and mist, her stature vast as a bell tower. Around the seat, dozens of arcane devices hummed, each crowned with an artificial crystal shedding soft blue-white light; the special force field they emitted shrouded the entire courtyard. As the focus of the whole field, the woman on the seat was wrapped in layer upon layer of rune halos, forming seal after seal... but also barrier after barrier of protection.

Suddenly Myrmina, seated there, opened her eyes. They reflected the scene of another space, and her voice was low and even: "We've left the plaza... we're inside the city walls now."

"How are things over there?" Amon asked with some concern, watching the "Goddess of Magic" project a portion of her power outward along the lines. "Is there danger?"

"We've seen many stone colossi and hollow suits of armor guarding the gates... but the colossi are only statues, and the armor long since incapable of motion. There is not a single guard still able to move in the whole city," Myrmina said softly. Suddenly a bright radiance burst from one of her eyes, forming a clear, three-dimensional hologram before Amon, showing what the exploration team beheld in the divine realm. "The War God has truly fallen... dead beyond any doubt."

Amon bowed his head slightly, his voice low: "But the realm he left behind will drift in the deep sea for many, many years—perhaps until the end of our present cycle of civilization..."

"On that point... I've discovered something interesting," Myrmina said mildly. "This realm, I fear, will not drift in the 'deep sea' for a hundred thousand or even several hundred thousand years as the divine realms we know have done... I can sense it dissolving, faster than we imagined, faster even than Lady Enya described. Perhaps only decades—perhaps only a dozen years—and it will vanish utterly."

"...Dissolving that fast!?" Amon's eyes went wide. "How can that be?"

"My guess is that it began disintegrating after mortals broke their chains," Myrmina said, offering her conjecture. "The act of mortals casting off their chains set off tremendous ripples in the currents of thought, enough to influence the deep sea; a 'divine echo' that could dissolve slowly over decades in calm conditions will scatter all the faster before such ripples."

"...So the battle's impact has that effect as well," Amon said slowly. "Then it seems the mortals won't have much time for their research..."

"No, it is enough," Myrmina said softly. The phantom rune-locks flowed around her like a circulating stream, and her voice grew gentle. "For these diligent mortals of today, it is already enough..."

...

Kamael led the exploration team past the wall at the plaza's edge, pressing deeper and deeper into this "city of the gods," built from the currents of thought of countless mortal believers, exploring all the while.

The "Goddess of Magic," who had descended here in avatar form to lend her aid, walked beside the team. When the explorers came upon something of note, she would often pause to help analyze it and offer some fragment of ancient knowledge for reference.

A lady three meters tall brought the party a certain odd feeling—most of the White Knights were tall men, and once clad in their specially made power armor, a burly two-meter frame was practically standard issue for these armed theurgists; and Kamael, long wont to float through the air, had no small "height" of his own. Yet all of this meant little before the three-meter "tower" of a lady.

Even the tallest White Knight looked like a "child" walking beside Myrmina as she was now.

But this strange feeling remained merely a private musing; no one on site would give it voice. This team was, after all, well disciplined—they had come here on serious business.

"The district we are crossing now should be what the War God's scriptures describe as the 'Avenue of the Cheering,'" Kamael said, recalling the materials he had studied beforehand and observing their surroundings as he spoke. "It is said this was where the War God's servitors dwelt. It connects to the 'Plaza of Glory' that leads into the divine realm, and to the Eternal Arena prepared for valiant warriors; it also leads to the palaces where heroes might rest. When those champions favored by the War God fell in glorious battle, they would pass through the Plaza of Glory and enter this avenue, there to receive the cheers and acclamation of the god's servitors, and step by step shed their mortal flesh and blood, becoming true eternal spirits of this divine realm..."

A White Knight raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the buildings—doorless and windowless, capped with iron-gray roofs—and over the broad, empty avenues. For a long while, a low voice came from within his heavy helmet: "There is no cheering."

The avatar of the Lady of the "High Tower" lowered her head. "No, there is no cheering... That radiant myth, so full of glory, has been ended by mortal hands."

(End of this chapter)