Pillar of Yita

Two people, covered in blood, wailed on the ground, their cries turning hoarse, their bodies a grotesque mix of blood, mud, and moss. Fang Hong silently observed the pair, pitiable as they were among the shrubs; he did not finish them off—staying on this battlefield was a death sentence either way.

He lifted his head and glanced at the female healer in the distance. Terrified, she screamed, her face ashen as she fell on her rear, continuing to scoot backward, her expression like that of someone who had encountered a serial killer.

Fang Hong watched as she got up, fell, got up again, nearly collapsing as her knees buckled. She leaned against the wall, shivering as she backed away, until she took off at a sprint and vanished from sight without once looking back.

After a long while, he turned around and approached Sicape, taking a knee and settling down opposite her without a word.

He let out a laugh and then asked, ”Do I look that frightening to you, Miss Sicape?”

”Frightening?” Sicape would certainly say that, barely containing a chuckle: ”Haha, wet behind the ears, you little brat.”

If she were not asleep, that is.

Sicape’s head drooped slightly, as if in deep slumber.

”I’m not leaving Eteliria. I’ll ensure Morning Dawn Star endures forever,” Fang Hong said with a calm that surprised him; no anger, no resentment. He simply stated softly, ”I’ll show you all—my Adventure Group will be unprecedentedly magnificent, surpassing any era, any one person.”

Sicape let out a soft chuckle: ”Go ahead and boast, kiddo.”

”It’s not boasting,” Fang Hong blinked, smiling: ”I mean it, Miss Sicape.”

”You don’t even have Magical Adaptability; it would’ve been wiser to stay put in Tarun.”

”Based on your condition, is Tarun safe?” Fang Hong let out a wry laugh: ”There is no absolute safety in Eteliria, Miss Sicape.”

Sicape gazed at him intently: ”You’ve finally understood that, haven’t you, youngster?”

Clear tears finally overflowed, like a dam breaking, streaming down his cheeks.

”How childish,” Sicape said as she watched him, gently shaking her head.

”Not at all,” Fang Hong said loudly: ”Just sand blowing into my eyes, that’s all.”

”Yes,” Sicape sighed: ”The sandstorm tonight is quite heavy.”

Fang Hong chuckled through his tears, his face still washed by them, yet his eyes remained unusually calm.

The ruins were somewhat silent.

In the endless darkness, it was as if such a conversation lingered.

”I’m leaving, Miss Sicape.”

”Go on, then. I’m waiting to see your legend, in another world.”

”I’ll come back.”

”Survive tonight before you make big claims.”

The floor trembled slightly.

The sleeping Sicape tilted her head, her body softly slumping against the wall.

Fang Hong turned back, slowly stood up, his resolute gaze as if it could penetrate the many obstacles, meeting the dark red eyes hidden in the darkness.

From that moment on.

He knew his path—to survive. Carrying Miss Sicape’s Glow Stone and the convictions of Morning Dawn Star, he would write his own legend.

And that legend would surely be the most beautiful of poems.

The ground began to tremble, rhythmically, as if something was rising from below.

Soldiers of the Jiefulite Red Cloak Team were crouching in rows, raising their muskets. Across from them, Kroid held a Great Sword in his hand, his left gently clutching a broken Clockwork Fairy, his face calm as he gazed ahead.

In front of him stretched countless dark muzzles.

”Captain!” A Dailin Shield Guard from Morning Dawn Star cried out desperately from afar.

But the female Wanderer from Silver Shadow held him back fiercely, hissing into his ear: ”Don’t go, don’t let the warriors die in vain!”

”I don’t want ’value’, I just want to be with everyone,” the Dailin Shield Guard, not young but weeping like a child, said: ”What’s the point of staying in this godforsaken place if everyone has left?”

”The point is,” the female Wanderer from Silver Shadow told him deliberately: ”Morning Dawn Star needs justice.”

He froze on the spot.

The squad leader of the Jiefulite Red Cloak Team silently regarded the tall man, his heart softening, but his raised hand never lowered. He spoke, ”Do it yourself, warrior. I give you the chance to leave this world with dignity.”

Kroid glanced at the Clockwork Fairy in his hand and replied serenely: ”But a warrior dies only in battle.”

The squad leader of the Jiefulite Red Cloak Team looked at him for a long while before finally swinging down his hand in a fierce gesture.

He then turned his back, refusing to witness the scene.

Gunshots rang out.

The towering figure swayed, his scale armor riddled with bloody holes. He propped himself up with his sword, his gaze passing over each person present.

Then he slowly closed his eyes.

”Ade.”

”Can you do it?”

The Clockwork Fairy, bloodied, rolled from Kroid’s hands into the dust.

The sobs of the Dailin Shield Guard turned into deep moans, like the howling of a beast. The female Wanderer from Silver Shadow silently watched the scene unfold, aware of the Grand Guild’s methods—Silver Forest Spear would have been no different, for this was Eteliria.

But for some reason, she suddenly felt a wave of weariness.

She couldn’t help but recall what had brought her to this world, to Eteliria.

Had she fulfilled the dream she came here with?

The trembling of the ground became more noticeable as if the entire forest and the ruins were experiencing a major earthquake; many buildings within the ruins showed signs of settling.