Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 713 - 712: Plants

Leaving the room filled with mystic runes and housing the Eternal Sleepers’ magical devices, there were two paths.

One path was the one Bard took to descend, connecting the upper and middle sections through a sloping ramp, while the other path continued forward, reaching deep into the Dark Chaos.

Standing at the corridor leading deeper, Gawain slightly focused his mind to sense the magic distribution in the surrounding environment.

The subtle energy field enveloping the Sorinburg region still existed here, with continuous life force emanating from the tree’s roots, as if someone was endlessly casting healing spells, affecting all organic matter within range and even making Gawain feel slightly invigorated.

Apart from this energy field, he sensed no other threatening presence.

The exploration team that descended alongside Gawain gathered behind him, and the squad leader quickly issued orders, ”Groups of five, form a 1-2-2 exploration formation, proceed cautiously.”

The fully armed magic combatants quickly mobilized, dividing into several groups consisting of a vanguard shield guard, two observers, and two firepower units, moving forward in this deep and endless corridor. The comprehensive tactical scope provided them with a clear and intuitive view of the magic distribution within the underground ruins, and the rune glow emitted by their magical equipment soothed each person’s tense mood.

Only the orderly footsteps remained in the underground ruins.

Amber followed Gawain, advancing with wide eyes. This dim environment within the underground ruins had no effect on her, born in the shadow realm and seeing as clearly as in daylight, but she still activated additional shadow vision because what she was seeing wasn’t just visible to the naked eye but also... things only visible through shadow vision.

Her eyes slowly took on a golden hue, and fine shadow mist rose around her, resembling her ”Shadow Fairy” form in the shadow realm but obviously controlled deliberately to ensure she remained fixed in the material world while maintaining maximum shadow manipulation.

Gawain noticed the actions of this ”half-elf,” and asked quietly, ”Did you see something?”

”I didn’t see anything, but it seems more professional this way...”

Gawain: ”...”

”Alright, just kidding,” Amber quickly gathered herself, observing the hard stone walls around her; once she was thrown against them, it would be tough to get unstuck. So she quickly restrained her inappropriate jokes, ”There’s indeed some ’stuff’ here, shadow dwellers... everywhere, more numerous than other places.”

”Shadow dwellers?” Gawain immediately frowned and instinctively glanced around—of course, using human vision, he couldn’t see those creatures hidden in the shadow gaps, ”What are they doing? Are they a threat?”

”There shouldn’t be any threat; they’re on the shadow side and seem unconcerned with us visitors from the material world,” Amber blinked, ”They’re wandering in this corridor... interested in this underground ruin, but doing nothing more otherwise.”

As she spoke, she focused on the ”scenery” visible only to her.

In the deep, dark corridor of the underground ruins, the world turned black and white, and in that faded world, groups of humanoid phantoms wrapped in rune strips wandered back and forth, brushing past Gawain and the others, completely ignoring the visitors from the material world. Yet when passing by Amber, occasionally shadow dwellers paused to nod or mutter a greeting.

Amber shrank her neck, suddenly feeling a chill running down her spine from these creatures usually friendly to her.

She restrained some shadow powers, withdrawing herself from the shadow realm and anchoring herself more firmly to reality.

She belonged here; she didn’t want to return to that world.

Meanwhile, the team passed through the long corridor, and after passing through a collapsed, cracked door, Gawain found himself in a hall.

The hall was spacious, with a high ceiling. On the stone (or some stone-like artificial material) walls and floor were extinguished runes and cooled magi-metal. It seemed to have been a solemn and important place, yet now it was in complete disorder, party tables shattered to pieces, chairs knocked down in disarray, and a great number of roots sprouting from the ceiling and ground had almost entirely occupied the space, winding through the hall like a forest.

In fact, if it weren’t for these ubiquitous roots entwining and enveloping almost the entire underground ruins, this grand subterranean relic might have collapsed long ago. After all, the Artificial God that emerged severely damaged Sorinburg’s underground stratigraphy, and afterward, a plant larger than the castle sprouted here. The stable state of this underground palace after so much chaos was thanks to these roots.

Plant roots maintaining soil and water—indeed no exaggeration (foggy at best).

Gawain scanned the hall and vaguely recognized some features before realizing he had ”seen” this place.

This was the ”conference hall” that Bard experienced in the dream, except what Gawain saw in that shared dream was the hall in its complete form.

”Looks like I finally entered the conference hall...” Bard also recognized this place, murmuring with a sense of nostalgia, as his gaze swept over the chaotic tables and chairs and the root forest filling the hall.

There was no council in session, no bright magic crystal light—only chaos and faint rustling noises emanating from the depths of the roots.

Faint rustling noises?

Gawain and Bard both heard the peculiar sounds, and the former immediately lifted his head, alertly looking toward a dark corner deep within the hall.

The soldiers also reacted in succession, and various weapons simultaneously pointed in that direction, the light clicking of safety releases echoing in unison.

”Stay vigilant—watch out for misfires,” Gawain softly cautioned, then lifted the Sword of Pioneers in one hand, concentrating as he cautiously moved forward.

In the scattered beams of the personal lighting devices, a tangled and twisted cluster of roots (or vines) slowly stirred in the corner of the hall. Gawain motioned to the soldiers to hold fire, calmly watching the vines flip, transform, and amidst a faint green stream of light, a female figure slowly emerged from the plants.

Beltira Augustus—in the real world.

Her eyes were slightly closed, her appearance still familiar to Gawain, yet her body seemed fused with the plants. She wore what appeared to be a dress composed of plant fibers and mixed leaves, with tendrils growing from her back, legs, neck, and connected to the root forest throughout the hall. This bizarre posture, rather than attaching her to the roots...

Her current form was part of this giant tree, the structure of this giant tree mimicked Beltira, or... she had become the Sorin Giant Tree.

Gawain was unsure of the situation; he could only ascertain that the ”Beltira” before him was not conscious.

She was slightly closing her eyes, with no reaction to the uninvited guests and flickering lights around her, holding a strange and heavy book, as if it was the thing she desperately tried to protect before losing consciousness. Around her, Gawain sensed a very distinct fluctuation of Magic Power.

Indeed, it was a healing spell.

She was continuously releasing healing spells, and under her influence, the Sorin Giant Tree was connecting with the magic in nature, creating an unending field of life, directly leading to the complete revival and regeneration of the Sorin Region within a few days and nights.

”Seems like there’s no reaction...” Amber cautiously observed the eerie woman before her. She knew the other was once a dark and cunning fallen Druid, but now her form was closer to a dangerous non-human monster. ”Is she casting healing spells... operating with closed eyes and healing diseases in dreams, saving lives while asleep?”

Gawain frowned, observing the bizarre scene before him, speculating the reason behind Beltira’s strange state. He glanced at the tangled and twisting roots overhead, vaguely making some associations.

”There should be something behind these,” he suddenly said, ”Open up these roots.”

Immediately, soldiers stepped forward to clear the twisted roots. Gawain glanced at Beltira, who still had her eyes slightly closed, as if asleep. On her face... he didn’t see any change in expression.

This dark hierarch seemed to have truly become a plant, and plants are bloodless and tearless.

The tangled roots were tougher than anticipated; the soldiers cleared for a long time before finally opening a gap. A soldier who peered inside immediately shouted, ”There’s indeed something behind here! It’s a hidden chamber!”

Behind the root-covering entrance was a hidden chamber.

The chamber was filled with black ”objects,” indistinct from the original shape but roughly showing human contours.

The sight was chilling: hundreds of humanoid forms piled in the chamber, countless vines intertwined and growing around them, connecting to their flesh, linking with the roots on the surrounding walls. Their vitality was clearly severed, yet the vines entwining them were lush, and outside the chamber, Beltira...

She was still repeatedly casting healing spells on these deceased Oblivion Association believers.

The healing spells were not entirely meaningless: she forcibly maintained these lifeless humanoid entities in a state of neither living nor dead, also imprisoning their last remaining fragments of consciousness within this gigantic plant.

Now, Gawain finally understood the origin of Bard’s dream incident.

Amber also took a peek into the chamber, the eerie scenery inside made her break out in goosebumps. The half-elf swiftly recoiled, murmuring softly beside Gawain, ”This is too sinister... Even though I don’t have any good feelings towards these evil cult followers, their eventual fate is overly scary, right?”

”The mad eventually meet a madman’s end,” Gawain looked away from the chamber, sighing softly, ”Judging from the timeline of the Crystal Cluster Legion’s loss of control, that Artificial God experienced approximately half a month of confinement before completely emerging from the earth’s surface. During this time, this underground palace was sealed, and the last Oblivion Association believers along with the monstrous creatures they created were locked in the dark underground together... Madness followed by distortion, distortion followed by mutation, this giant tree covering half of the Sorin Region was their ultimate fate.”

He now vaguely understood the genesis of this giant tree.

”How should we handle this?” Amber asked Gawain, ”Maintain their current state or set a fire?”

”Even though they’ve died... continuing like this, no one can predict whether unexpected changes will occur,” Gawain shook his head, ”As for setting a fire... maybe it’s not necessary.”

As he spoke, he approached the ”Beltira” who had turned into a plant.

Plants indeed are bloodless and tearless.

But it’s not plants that dream.

”Stop it, they are all dead.” Gawain said to Beltira.

Beltira still had her eyes slightly closed, showing no reaction to external sounds.

Gawain raised an eyebrow: ”Pretending to sleep won’t solve the problem. Or perhaps you want me to teach you the lesson of life in the real world once more?”

After several seconds of silence, Amber and others were astonished to find that Beltira’s healing spell had truly stopped.

The life field suffusing the surrounding space was still maintained, it seemed to have become a characteristic of the ”Sorin Giant Tree,” unable to dissipate easily, but the healing spell Beltira maintained in this underground space had indeed stopped.

She finally slowly opened her eyes, with a certain heterogeneous, slow and deep accent, looking at Gawain and said, ”It’s indeed... you...”

Gawain knew she was referring to the ”dream confrontation” at the border of the Gondor wasteland, where he bluffed and muddled through by disguising as the founder emperor of Augustus. But it was obvious Beltira now finally realized the truth.

However, even if she figured everything out at this moment, it meant nothing.

Gawain suddenly felt a bit melancholic.

He truly didn’t expect to see Beltira again under these circumstances, witnessing the ultimate fate of these dark Druids in this way.

These mad, paranoid, extreme cult followers, ultimately buried themselves with their distorted divine arts.

They themselves became the grave grass of this dark sect... truly genuine grave grass.

Though the scale of this grave grass is quite large.