Bear School Astartes

”Brother.”

A ethereal and delicate voice rang out.

This voice slightly awakened Gwendolin’s consciousness from the drowsiness.

Although it was not much, it was considered precious in these difficult times.

Here is Ilyushil, the newly built divine capital, Ilyushil of the Cold Valley.

Since the last generation of the divine race, the undeniable God King, Sun King, Wuxin King—Gwyn, became the first to embrace the First Flame and became a Lord of Cinder a thousand years ago.

The last generation of the divine race had essentially disbanded, with all the divine beings moving out of the old divine capital of Yanorlund.

Only the youngest child of Great King G Wen, the ”Shadow Sun” Gwendolin, became the new Sect Leader of the Divine Race.

However, the influence of the Sect Leader of the Divine Race was not as strong as it had been.

After all, the continuation of the world depended on the First Flame, and whoever bore the burden of fire transmission held the most indisputable authority in the world.

And after Great King G Wen, it was undoubtedly Losric that bore the responsibility of fire transmission.

Therefore, King Ausloes was regarded by the clergy of the country of Kariem as the main branch of the divine race to this day.

But at least Gwendolin was still nominally the Sect Leader of the Divine Race.

So he still maintained a considerable degree of influence.

He is the object of faith for the Dark Moon Sect, with the Dark Moon Sword Knight Order established since the Divine Era, the Silver Knight Order that participated in the Ancient Dragon War, and the remaining members of the ”Four Knights of the King” enfeoffed during the time of King Gwen...

These are all loyal to Gwendolin.

Ilyushil is a beautiful and extravagant city, where residents built a cluster of Gothic architecture in the Cold Valley.

And behind the cluster of buildings was a part of the palace of the old divine capital of Yanorlund, which Gwendolin relocated entirely due to nostalgia.

In the era when divine beings were still flourishing, the architectural style of the old divine capital was as majestic and towering as the divine race of the past, sitting above the clouds.

Due to the presence of the ”Shadow Sun,” the city was perpetually shrouded in gentle moonlight and slowly falling sparse snowflakes.

Quiet and beautiful, but lacking a bit of lively vigor.

Gwendolin did not care about the decline of divine race prestige to the House of Losric.

He only wanted to diligently maintain the Fire Age founded by his father; this was his only insistence.

”Brother?”

Again came a soft and calm call, seemingly puzzled by Gwendolin’s long silence.

”I’m here, cough, I’m listening, You’Er Xia.”

Gwendolin’s slender fingers propped up his body, his pale long hair cascading over his thin collarbone.

Since his subordinate, Dark Moon Pope Shalivan, presented him with that golden branch staff spear, his body seemed to have had some issues.

Even as a divine being surviving since the Mythical Era, Gwendolin had never experienced such discomfort.

To the extent that now it was difficult even to remain conscious, and even as the lord, he had to have his sister You’Er Xia handle the return gift to the Pope.

Sending out a spear-gun named after ”You’Er Xia.”

Under such physical condition, Gwendolin could only temporarily delegate power to his sister.

You’Er Xia was a girl like a porcelain doll. Her size was much taller than that of ordinary people, but it was her unworldly demeanor and personality that gave people this impression.

She sat by her brother’s bedside, a fluffy tail protruding from beneath the hem of her white gauze dress, swaying on the smooth marble floor.

When Great King G Wen was alive, he had a wife of the divine race and also an illegitimate child born from the blood of an ancient dragon.

In this time when the divine race had weakened with the First Fire, Gwendolin no longer cared about the distinction between legitimate or illegitimate children.

He only wished to maintain the Fire Age and his family.

”What is it, You’Er Xia?”

Gwendolin struggled to put on the headpiece that concealed his androgynous appearance, symbolizing status and authority, and asked his sister softly.

”Shalivan submitted a report.”

You’Er Xia tilted her head and reached out to brush aside the strands of hair falling on her brother’s collarbone.

”He said that the situation in Losric is not optimistic. The ruins of Fort Fran have shown signs of soul-devouring ghosts, so Ausloes decided to elevate the city and cut off transportation.”

”He wants to dispatch knights to help Losric, and also to bring means to Losric for maintaining limited external communication under such circumstances.”

”Are you saying he wants to dispatch the little devils of the Royal City to work as porters in Losric City?”

Little devils are a type of demon, with broad wings, capable of flying and bearing loads. Thus, they were tamed by the divine race in the Mythical Era.

You’Er Xia nodded calmly and seemed very steady, but Gwendolin knew — this was only naivety.

Gwendolin pondered in his heart.

If he granted control over the little devils to Shalivan, and gave him the power to dispatch knights to Losric, would that not grant him too much power?

As the Dark Moon Pope, Shalivan already had significant power.

And now, with his own physical discomfort, many matters needing attention fell onto Shalivan’s shoulders.

And handling those matters inherently implied control over powers.

But as a wave of headache and dizziness struck, Gwendolin’s arm propping against the edge of the bed weakened, causing his headpiece to nearly fall off.

Fortunately, You’Er Xia timely supported him.

His body no longer had much capacity for thought, nor could it sustain such heavy thinking.

Shalivan was indeed reliable; he was wise and loyal. Let it be so. As long as the Fire Transmission Ceremony can proceed normally, nothing else matters.

Within the confines of his body, Gwendolin could only make this decision.

”Do as Shalivan suggested. Dispatch the little devils. Fortunately, Priestess Emma of Losric also has a banner that can summon them. It saves us the hassle of negotiation.”

You’Er Xia had no objections to her brother’s decision and immediately turned to leave, heading out the door.

The relocated Old Divine Capital Yanorlund felt too desolate, carrying memories of sadness, even Gwendolin was reluctant to reside there permanently.

Therefore, Gwendolin’s daily residence was in the side hall of the Dark Moon Church in Ilyushil.

It was also convenient for him to explain doctrines to the followers in the Dark Moon Church.

This hall housed many paintings, most depicting scenes passed down from the Divine Era.

To others, these were distant and possibly untrue legends, but for Gwendolin, they were memories of the past.

Gwendolin took off the Shadow Sun crown and lay back down with difficulty.

He turned his face to the other end of the hall, toward the largest painting.

In it, a beautiful, full-figured woman lay on a bed with a gentle and loving smile.

Just like a loving sun.

She was his elder sister, the beloved Sunshine Princess, Gwen Aveya.

In this moment consumed by illness, Gwendolin couldn’t suppress a wave of longing.

”If only sister...”

The Sect Leader of the Divine Race’s murmurs echoed in the vast, chilly hall and eventually faded into nothingness.

Outside the hall, Dark Moon Pope Shalivan, who had been waiting, quickly reaffirmed his authority after a brief exchange with You’Er Xia.

He began to dispatch the little devils to Losric, along with some ’support’ he had promised to the two princes.

’Support’... heh heh.

The pope, who respectfully retreated from the Shadow Sun’s chamber door, secretly smirked beneath the mask that intertwined like tangled branches.

He always found the two princes of Losric somewhat laughable.

They followed an unprecedented sage to learn knowledge, but all they learned was knowledge. They didn’t learn a shred of worldly wisdom.

Simply by passing on a few words, they trusted others. How... adorably naive.

And the ’support’ he dispatched would preserve and bring back that knowledge.

For in Shalivan’s view, those two princes clearly didn’t deserve this knowledge.

He was the one truly qualified! Without a doubt!

-----------------

Meanwhile, in Losric City, the city’s elevation only briefly stalled the organized chaos.

But because the process of the city’s rising was quite smooth, soon the life-and-death struggle resumed.

”They planned this all along! Those damned sages!”

Lann kicked a mage off the rooftop, and Lorenzo, who had been frustrated due to poor mobility, swung his greatsword mid-air, tearing the mage in two.

Blood and viscera splattered down accompanied by a piercing scream.

He wiped his face with his cloak using his iron glove as he spoke with hatred.

”Oh, so you quickly discovered their premeditation. How perceptive of you.”

Lann’s tone was obviously sarcastic, causing Lorenzo’s apples cheeks to puff up, yet he couldn’t muster a retort.

Being ambushed in the street, who would believe they weren’t ’prepared’?

And Lann didn’t always speak so sharply; he usually kept a polite demeanor when conversing with others.

But right now, his mood was far from optimistic.

Losric, the Holy City in charge of the Fire Transmission Ceremony, now had its internal forces ’self-destructed’!

Would the fire still be passed on?

If the fire went out, could this world even provide a stable living environment for people?

Thinking about it felt like the apocalypse was near!

”Don’t just stand there!”

Lann deftly jumped down from the rooftop, calling out to Lorenzo.

”The target of the raid and ambush certainly isn’t for small fry like us!”

Given the current high-ranking individuals left within the high wall, Lorenzo immediately thought of Priestess Emma and the Knight Captain.

He was suddenly startled, tensed again after the slight relaxation from defeating the ambushers.

”Quick, go...”

He instinctively shouted, but before he could finish, he saw Lann running off in that direction.

Swallowing the rest of his words, he hefted the Losric Knight’s Greatsword and, with a ’clangclang’ stride, followed after Lann.