“I don’t understand… This sounds like a doomsday prophecy? But what exactly is the ‘Ark’? Who said these words? And where exactly is this place?” Salian’s questions came one after another, filled with confusion and unease.
The two continued forward, finally stopping before a “wooden wall” that stretched endlessly, extending upward and downward into infinite darkness.
Iros placed his palm gently on the wall surface and spoke: “This is a small portion of the ‘Abyss.’ By all logic, it should be an absolute forbidden zone for life. However, the Divine Tree is rooted here and has changed the state of this area.”
“The Divine Tree?” Hearing this, Salian jolted, abruptly looking up to re-examine this massive “wooden wall,” only then realizing in shock that this wasn’t any wall at all, but rather a small part of an unimaginably colossal tree!
You couldn’t blame Salian for his slow reaction. Without a status panel, even Lin Jun would have difficulty connecting this magnificently vast entity with that seemingly wind-blown sapling from before.
Iros continued explaining to his student: “And the Ark is the dungeon! They possess independent spaces and ecosystems. With appropriate adjustments, they can completely isolate external calamities and become self-contained.”
“Independent space? I know some dungeons do have this characteristic, but the Divine Tree Dungeon seems…”
Iros shook his head, his tone like when teaching students as usual: “Don’t be satisfied with only surface knowledge! Salian, do you know what ultimately remains in place after a dungeon is completely destroyed?”
Salian shook his head blankly.
He had never witnessed the complete destruction of a dungeon with his own eyes. Even the great library of the royal city had no detailed records of such knowledge.
Iros hadn’t expected his student to answer. He said in a low voice: “Nothing will remain. No ruins, no enormous crater—only blank land will be left, as if nothing ever existed there. That is this world’s original foundation. A dungeon’s existence actually overlays the original area in space.”
“Salian, you possess great talent, but staying in Ishildorin all this time has ultimately limited your perspective.”
“I also… haven’t had much opportunity to go see the outside…” Salian said softly.
Iros sighed gently, his voice so low it was almost like talking to himself: “This is precisely the problem… precisely so…”
“As for who said those words…” As they spoke, they had already arrived before three smaller information cubes.
At Iros’s indication, Salian directly touched one. Inside was also a passage:
[Time: 77635.223.74]
[Another idle day with nothing to do today too.]
[Waiting to die turns out to be quite pleasant once you get used to it.]
[Not my fault anyway.]
“Some kind of… diary?” Salian felt puzzled.
And what was this timestamp about?
Salian looked questioningly at his teacher, but Iros only had him continue.
[Time: 77635.223.115]
[Laughed to death, I knew Arthur would crash and burn over his lust!]
[Can’t control his pants, has to collect every beauty he sees, and so fertile too!]
[Now look, such a huge empire crumbled like cookie crumbs. Wasted his whole life for nothing.]
[Speaking of wasting effort, Nephryla and Iksion are the same, futilely fussing when it’s clearly hopeless.]
Reading the first half, Salian was still struggling to recall which emperor in history was named Arthur.
But when the names of the Light God Iksion and Death God Nephryla were mentioned in such casual, even contemptuous tones, Salian’s expression immediately changed.
He took a deep breath and extended his hand toward the last small cube. Sure enough, it was still the same style of record:
[Time: 77635.226.2]
[Nephryla invited me over, says she wants to show me a method that can turn the tide.]
[I’d like to see what she’s been tinkering with for so long.]
“This… this is a god’s diary?” Salian’s voice was somewhat hoarse from shock.
“At least an existence close to a god.” Iros’s answer maintained its rigor.
Though unable to determine who exactly left these records, from the tone—almost casual chatter, even teasing—this recorder’s attitude toward the gods was clearly one of peers.
As for the possibility that this was someone’s mad ravings…
It wasn’t impossible, but too unlikely.
It was hard to imagine an ordinary person could leave records in such a strange form.
From the content of these records, the Light God and Death God seemed to be attempting to save this world, but this mysterious recorder held no hope for their efforts.
What truly troubled Salian was where these records cut off!
“Teacher, could that so-called ‘method’ be the dungeons?”
“I think so.” Iros cast an illumination spell, revealing an immensely huge black cube not far away, and reminded: “Don’t touch it. You’ll die.”
“Many such record cubes are scattered here, but I don’t have enough time to organize and decode them all one by one.” Iros’s gaze swept over those black cubes, finally returning to Salian. “But one thing is certain: the Mist will ultimately devour everything. And before that happens, we must thoroughly research it. And this is something that can never be accomplished while cowering in a corner of the continent.”
“Then why not tell the king…”
“I understand Aurel too well,” Iros directly interrupted him, his voice carrying a trace of imperceptible weariness. “He would never agree. The long years have already worn away all his sharp edges. His current self would never agree to any decision that might bring risk to the elven race, even for long-term survival.”
“Teacher, are you planning to… seize the throne?”
Iros looked at his most excellent student: “Salian, this isn’t for myself. Like Aurel, my remaining lifespan is less than a century. I probably won’t live to see the day when the Mist swallows the land beneath our feet. But what about you? What about those younger elves? The elven race shouldn’t walk toward extinction because of our shortsightedness and conservatism… At the very least… we should struggle with all our might once.”
“Salian, you are young and possess outstanding talent. You’re destined to become one of the elven leaders in the future. Come with me. The elven race’s future needs your strength.” Iros extended his hand toward Salian.
Salian instinctively wanted to grasp that hand—it belonged to the teacher he had always admired and followed. But at the last moment, he couldn’t help but ask: “This will kill many people, won’t it?”
“Sacrifice is unavoidable,” Iros’s answer was calm and firm. “But for the entire race, any amount of cost is worth it.”
Salian hesitated for a moment but ultimately withdrew his hand: “I can’t do it… Teacher, should I also be sacrificed?”
Iros sighed, as if somewhat expecting this.
“Sacrificing you isn’t worth it,” his tone carried a trace of regret. “Since you cannot make up your mind at this moment, then stay here temporarily until everything is over. The time… won’t be too long.”
“Oh, and…”
Iros suddenly turned, the tail of his staff drawing a line through the air.
The Scout Puchi watching the show behind Salian instantly stopped all movement.
The next moment, its several mycelial tendrils broke off at the roots, falling to the ground.
Then its round mushroom cap also slid down.
Immediately after, Iros’s figure disappeared directly from before Salian’s eyes.
Even keeping such a low profile, he still couldn’t spare the Puchi?!
(This plot section was quite stuck, there’s another chapter being written, around 1 o’clock)
(End of Chapter)
