Pillar of Yita

”They indulge in wild dreams, but even when truly favored by the Goddess of Luck, the wealth that comes too easily is soon lost at the gambling table. I’ve seen too many of those gamblers, they rise to power suddenly, and in the next instant, they’re penniless. Many years later when you see them, they’re often still living a life of wandering...”

The girl smiled: ”There are indeed people like that, but they are who they are, and we are who we are.”

She gazed at the silver sand, the white palaces, the verdant palm groves, and the shimmering lake, gently looking at it all from afar.

”Barbaltan, do you see it? This is your country, and I want it to exist forever, even after we pass away, for many generations to come, people can still remember you—as a wise monarch.”

”Or, as... a pioneer of a new era...”

”Affia?”

The girl turned her head: ”Do you remember what I told you a long time ago, Barbaltan. I said I would tell you a secret—”

He looked at her with slight confusion—at his beloved.

And the girl softly spoke:

”Barbaltan, our world may not be able to hold on much longer.”

It was an old story from a long, long time ago.

A thousand years ago—the elves of Numelin left humanity not just with a gift, but perhaps also with another precious hope.

”...The third Star of Calamity will bring complete destruction to this world, maybe that’s why the elves left this world...”

”So the place the elves went to find was one where they could escape the flames of war, and that place might be the Third World, but it might also be another world we completely know nothing about... perhaps even the legendary Promised Land, who knows...”

”Barbaltan, you know that place, right?”

The name from the legend.

Yita.

”Barbaltan...”

”That note recorded things we can’t even imagine...”

”The elves can’t take everyone from this world, can’t take the descendants of mortals who once fought alongside them...”

”But they left behind a key.”

”That key is hope.”

”The secret contained within the Holy Relic—”

Yet Istania has no heritage of Holy Relics.

But we have this, Affia. The King of Sand gently brushed his hand over the verdant crystal before him, as if caressing a lover’s skin, he silently observed the aged reflection on the crystal, seeing himself, the woman beside him, their familiar faces, and even their children.

Everyone he remembered seemed to be etched on the verdant wall, history was extending backward in the reflection, he gradually saw the past and future of this ancient kingdom, the ancestors of the Desert People rose on this land, and crafted all the past glory.

He also saw the future, majestic buildings, tall palaces, white domes rising from the unknown land, his descendants, the offspring of the Istania people, would continue on that land, lasting until the end of the world and time.

And that was everything she wished to see.

It was the eternal they both sought.

The raging fire of life burned in the chest of this aging monarch, seemingly ready to burst forth at any moment. But his somewhat overstrained hand seemed paler, as if drained of blood, showing a grayish hue on the back of his hand.

He finally made up his mind, turned around once again, and slowly spoke:

”Ebene, you will conduct this ritual.”

This was the second step recorded in the notes—

But Seniman before them was slightly stunned, his face changing as he spoke: ”Wait, Your Majesty, I should be the one conducting the ritual here.”

But as soon as he spoke, there was a resonant clang, and a slender blade rested against his neck. The chilling intent from the blade caused goosebumps to break out on Seniman’s wrinkled skin, the elderly man was slightly taken aback, but his expression quickly calmed.

He looked grimly along the sword blade, the hand wielding the sword was young and strong, it belonged to a gladiator barely in his twenties, who didn’t even glance at him, his eyes only calmly gazing ahead. Beside that young man, was another young man—Seniman just happened to recognize him.

Colin Ishurian, former chairman of the Southern Alliance, one of the Ten Kings among the Holy Chosen, that person named Ye Hua, an odd name. But to the Holy Chosen, their names always seemed odd.

Except for some, of course—

Like ’Ade’, so ordinary, so mundane.

For some reason, that name suddenly popped into Seniman’s mind. Yet he looked down at the sword at his throat, his expression dark, but he silently refrained from speaking.

His calmness slightly surprised Ye Hua, glancing in that direction, though it was just a glance, the task was already in hand, this was their last duty to the King of Sand. The Invoker’s mission upon arriving in this world was to deliver the information of the Starlight, the ”Stargate Declaration” binding their actions, preventing excessive intervention in this world.