Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 250 - 249: Heresy and Faith

Kamel awkwardly twisted his body, and the magic symbol armor plates floating in mid-air made a soft clinking sound as they moved with him. Yet that strange feeling came and went quickly, and before he could figure out what had happened, everything seemed to return to normal.

To be honest, it had been many, many years since Kamel had experienced such a "feeling"—ever since he had lost his human form, he had lost most human sensations, replaced by the ability to detect his surroundings through magic power. He wasn’t even sure if what he felt just now was "itchiness"—such sensations had become a distant memory, so distant that he only retained a vague impression of it. When the feeling suddenly appeared earlier, it startled him, making him think something was wrong with his body.

Jenni in front of him looked quite worried, "Master Kamel, are you really... okay?"

"No worries, it’s probably just a slight discomfort after coming into a new magic-pervasive environment. I just need to adjust my energy flow later," Kamel replied with a buzzing sound, and he controlled the magic to make the sheets filled with formulas and calculations float around him. His voice carried admiration and surprise, "I still can’t believe... you managed to summarize these things..."

"Not just me, but also Master Ravencrest and Mr. Wild Mage, they laid the foundation. I just did the summarizing," Jenni corrected seriously, daring to look directly at the two dancing Arcane Sparks in Kamel’s head, "The leader once said: The truth of the world should tend towards simplicity and clarity. Exploring the truth is a God-given right for everyone; a person’s magical talent shouldn’t become a shackle on thinking..."

"A shackle on thinking..." Kamel mused thoughtfully, "Everyone has the right to think—that was a common saying among the Master Mages during the Gondor Era, but rarely would anyone actually extend it to everyone. We were accustomed to the fact that only Mages deserved to explore the truth, to the point where we almost forgot... ordinary people think too."

He glanced at the sheets of paper floating around him, and the thought of those magical mechanisms he saw at the Cecil Mechanical Manufacturing Facility crossed his mind—those ordinary people operating and even designing those magical mechanisms. As an ancient Master Mage who had delved into the path of magic for years and witnessed the magic civilization of Gondor, he naturally understood what these things represented.

Even ordinary people with no magical talent, provided they have sufficient knowledge, could harness the power of magic—not only could they use it, but they could also research and invent, driving technological development forward.

Kamel was a researcher, but that didn’t mean he was oblivious to things like societal development. He could envision the impact these technologies would have on human civilization, and what baffled him was not knowing whether that impact would be good or bad.

"Noble magic, in the end, is it nothing more than a tool..." he couldn’t help but mutter to himself.

"Magic isn’t noble; it’s just a power," Jenni immediately retorted, but she shrank back her neck after speaking, "That’s what the leader said too..."

However, the anticipated scene of the "ancient Master Mage bursting into anger" didn’t occur. Kamel merely let out a series of hoarse laughter, "You seem to really admire your leader?"

"The leader is a great person," Jenni said softly, "He’s far-sighted beyond what any of us can imagine."

"If he truly believes this is beneficial to humans, then I’ll support him. After all, I’ve already sworn allegiance," Kamel chuckled lightly, neatly arranging the manuscripts on the table before turning to Jenni, "May I take a copy of the manuscript back to study? I’m very interested in these things..."

"Of course!" Jenni nodded eagerly, looking a bit surprised, "I didn’t expect you’d be so interested in these things... I thought someone like you, a Master Mage, would be angry after seeing this kind of stuff. After all... treating the mysterious magic as a tool is considered heretical by many Mages. My mentor nearly killed me for it once."

"Heretical... perhaps it is," Kamel laughed lightly, "but do you know what I used to do?"

Jenni shook her head honestly, "I... don’t know."

"I did even more heretical things," Kamel said faintly, "We all did... we were the most heretical researchers that were handpicked, so the things you’re researching aren’t anything to me. I’m more than happy to study them with you."

Jenni bowed her head joyously, "Master Kamel, it’s my honor."

"In this field, you are the master," Kamel said humbly, "Many things I’ve learned are outdated in this era and need to be relearned. On the academic path, honor belongs only to those who have the capability... hmm?"

"Master Kamel?"

"It’s nothing, I feel that itch again..." Kamel twisted his body awkwardly, suddenly turning in a particular direction. In that brief moment just now, he finally sensed the direction from which the fluctuations of magic causing his ’itch’ came, "What’s over there?"

"There? Over there is mostly residential areas and warehouses..." Jenni paused, "Ah, but there’s a magic laboratory at the end of the street, it’s Aunt Heidi’s, she should be conducting experiments there now."

"Magic experiment?" Kamel’s tone was filled with curiosity, "Interesting... I want to take a look."

...

In the defied Fortress located within the shadow realm, the material transport work was nearing completion.

Most of the useful samples and ancient equipment were packed and boxed, transported through the magic door to the fortress in the real world. Those that couldn’t be transported were mostly large pieces of equipment connected to the main structure of the building or clearly harmful and unsuitable for transportation to outer space, and with the transport work nearing completion, this fortress facility was gradually returning to peace.

Pittman stood at the topmost level of the defied Fortress, the heavy isolation wall had opened, and through that semi-transparent "divine power protective barrier," he quietly watched the chaotic, disordered shattered world outside the barrier, as well as the white giant stag floating amid large fragments of rock and metal debris.

Passing soldiers occasionally cast curious glances at this old Druid, surprised that the old man, who was usually never serious, could appear so deep and solemn. Yet, no one came over to speak with him—they were still busy completing the final tasks to leave this bizarre place as early as possible.

Some soldiers also curiously glanced at the corpse of Amoen, the Giant Stag outside the protective barrier, but they did not devote much attention to this massive creature’s remains—only a few knew the true story of the white giant stag, and those who were in the know had been ordered to keep silent. Now, common soldiers had no idea of the astonishing secrets buried within this fortress. The explanation they received was that it was an ancient research base used to study powerful ancient creatures, and the white giant stag floating in the Otherworld was an ancient non-human monster that had died many years ago—such explanations were easier to accept than directly telling them this place was for slicing Gods.

But Pittman knew the truth about the white giant stag. Gawain had told him about the defied Fortress and this defied fortress, and even if Gawain hadn’t said anything, Pittman could recognize what it was the moment he saw Amoen, the Giant Stag.

He had been standing there for a long time, gazing at the remains of the God of Nature, his wrinkle-covered face tense, showing no emotional change, leaving it a mystery what he might be thinking until there wasn’t a single person around him. Then he softly sighed, "Truly dead, huh..."

Subsequently, he quietly took a silver disc, an oak thin slice, a blessed tender branch, and an acorn from his pocket, used them to build a small altar in front of the isolation wall. He ignited the oak thin slice at the center of the altar, sprinkled a handful of pollen onto the tiny flame, his movements meticulous, as precise and skillful as those ancient Druid priests three thousand years ago whose traditions had remained unbroken.

Nowadays, there are very few Druids who can master such a complete set of ritual movements.

However, the flame at the center of the altar only burned quietly, gradually dying as the fuel was consumed. Even with the God of Nature right before him, the altar could not call forth even the slightest miracle.

Pittman didn’t mind; he simply completed this short yet complete ritual ceremony in silence, watching the items on the altar be completely consumed by flame before lifting his head to gaze at the dimly glowing white giant stag’s remains in the darkness. He suddenly smiled:

"Lying here, it seems the God of Nature will no longer appear."

Finishing this sentence, Pittman turned around and left this place without any lingering attachment.

He passed through the emptied defied Fortress, traversed the ancient fortress within the Dark Mountain Range, and took a long time to walk back into his domain. The great sun was gradually setting, the sprawling corona overshadowing the western forest like a golden crown, and in the gradually dimming daylight, he saw a group of people departing from the town’s only church.

These were probably civilians who had just finished their prayers, all wearing peaceful and serene expressions, and the Holy Light cleric, who bore a likeness to a Berserker, stood at the church doors, watching the last batch of worshippers leave.

Wright had already spotted Pittman approaching, and the uniquely styled Holy Light clergy began calling out loudly from a distance: "Old man! Want to come in and sit for a while? I still have some of those unleavened bread not distributed yet!"

The Holy Light sweetbread distributed by the Cecil Holy Light Church, each piece meticulously handcrafted by Priest Wright, dense and indestructible, could chop gold and cut jade if equipped with a handle, invincible and impenetrable.

So they’re never fully given out.

Pittman, considering his own teeth and digestive system, decided it was unnecessary as an elderly person to take on something even youths dared not challenge, thus politely declining Wright’s offer but still stepped into the church.

"It’s rare to see you coming around," Priest Wright illuminated the magic crystal lamps inside the church and handed a cup of fresh water to Pittman, "You probably visit the church the least in the whole territory—Amber Miss comes even more frequently than you."

Pittman instinctively asked, "Lost anything?"

Wright could indeed continue the conversation smoothly: "There’s really nothing left to lose here, so lately Amber Miss doesn’t come around as much either."

Pittman was briefly taken aback, then laughed silently. After a few chuckles, he softly sighed, "Is your faith firm?"