Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 710 - 709: Deep Underground

What preparations should be made?

Bard Wendell looked up, gazing at the enormous tree canopy that covered the sky, and the countless vines and pillars hanging down from beneath it. This ”plant,” which was almost mythical in nature, far exceeded his experience and understanding. Even in the ancient texts of the Oblivion Association, there was no description related to it...

No, not completely none. He recalled that in the library of the Oblivion Association, some religious books inherited from the ancient Druid religion described similar things: deep within the gods’ kingdom, untouchable by mortals, the ancient God of Nature, Amoen the Giant Stag, resided under a huge tree called ”Samsara.” This massive tree covered the sky and supported a city called ”Life” in its canopy, with roots deeply buried underground, entwined around a large tomb called ”Death”...

Could this giant tree before him be a byproduct of the Oblivion Association’s forced creation of an Artificial God?

In the face of such a thing, there is really nothing much to prepare.

Set your mind at ease, write a decently worded will, have a hearty meal, and if he were still the Wolf General, he could say a few stirring words — but unfortunately, he was now just a prisoner, so stirring words were unnecessary.

He lowered his head, ”I’m ready.”

Gawain nodded and signaled to the soldiers beside him. Soon, someone brought over the necessary equipment.

Although Bard was a former evil cult follower who needed to redeem himself, and his task was akin to a daredevil’s, Gawain didn’t bring him here out of spite or for extrajudicial punishment. This task truly required someone like Bard, who understood the situation — Pittman wouldn’t do, as he had left the dark sect years ago, leading to many changes in this underground ruin. But Bard knew what structures lay below and how to disarm the latest magical mechanisms and traps there.

Regardless, setting aside his identity as a cult follower, Bard Wendell himself was of considerable value to Gawain, who didn’t want to lose him in this exploration mission too easily. If possible, Gawain hoped Bard would return alive — for this, he had ordered a full set of equipment to assist Bard in completing the task.

The soldiers brought a large box, inside of which was a set of Steel Cavalry-design lightweight armor for ease of movement. This was currently the most suitable magical energy suit from Cecil Clan for special tasks, combining excellent protective power with auxiliary abilities. Also included were packaged emergency potions, additional barrier devices, and weapons for protection.

Since Bard was not familiar with operating magical equipment, Gawain selected items that could run automatically or were extremely easy to operate, including swords, which were traditional steel enchanted weapons. He believed these would suffice — after all, despite the equipment, Bard himself was a formidable Transcendent, capable of some degree of self-defense.

Bard looked at the equipment, whose unique style immediately betrayed their fine craftsmanship, and quickly understood Gawain’s intentions.

”I don’t know if you’ve already embraced the idea of dying to atone — nor do I care, but at least this time, you must do your best to come back alive,” Gawain nodded slightly to Bard, ”These things will provide you with maximum protection. Try them out first, and I’ll go over the details with you.”

With the assistance of two soldiers, Bard quickly donned the full suit. He moved his limbs, satisfied with the lightness and comfort of the black armor, and felt the armor’s inherent multiple elemental protections and physical enhancements. Then, he picked up the protective short sword and a dagger, swinging them casually — they weren’t legendary weapons, but they were valuable enchanted gear, comfortable and handy in use, undoubtedly carefully selected.

This mission indeed seemed very important.

After Bard got used to the equipment, Gawain pointed to a peculiar metal device placed on the ground nearby, ”You’ll need to take this with you — keep it with you at all times.”

Bard glanced at it, noticing that it was a magical device with a triangular base, embedded with crystals, roughly the size of a human head. Its base had grommets, seemingly to hang on the chest straps of his armor. He weighed it in his hands; although not very heavy, carrying it would certainly affect agility to some extent.

”What is this?” Bard asked curiously — without knowing its purpose, he merely felt it would affect movement. But since Gawain specifically had him take it, it undoubtedly served an essential function. Bard knew he had no right to be picky, but at least he wanted to understand what he was carrying — even if it was a self-destruct device to demolish certain underground facilities, he wanted to know.

After all, these Cecil Clan were best known for blowing things up. That devious knight last time nearly took his life with a metal box...

”It’s a communication device that can relay what you see to the surface,” Gawain explained casually, unaware of Bard’s inner mumbling, and ordered the activation of a nearby Magic Web Terminal, ”Wearing this allows us to confirm the environment around you.”

A nearby magical device started, and Bard was surprised to see the device on his chest emit a faint glow, then noticed that an image of his surrounding area appeared above the device not far away — this magical phenomenon reminded him of the magic projections floating around the streets.

Is it a similar technology?

”It might slightly affect your movement, but it’s currently the most advanced, miniaturized equipment, and as a Transcendent, you should be able to overcome this inconvenience,” Gawain continued, ”Its effective range should be enough for your mission — but considering the complexity of underground situations, it might interfere with the signal. You need to be extra careful with your actions. We will notify you during severe signal interference, or if you observe the crystal going dark, immediately return to a position where communication can be maintained, then we will arrange further actions.”

Bard listened intently to every word Gawain said — before the operation began, every instruction affected his chances of survival. He also knew that besides communication, this incredible magical device held more significant meaning: it allowed those on the surface to confirm the real situation below without relying on his verbal descriptions afterward.

As a prisoner under observation and a guilty cult follower, his words currently lacked trustworthiness, and the Cecil Clan preferred their magic guide technology.

For these realities, Bard calmly accepted — it was a necessary means and price to prove himself.

”I understand.” He nodded forcefully.

”Good, then let’s depart,” Gawain nodded slightly, ”Act with caution and return safely.”

Return safely...

In that brief moment, Bard found himself suddenly dazed. He blinked, his memory, already dimmed with time, began to flip abruptly. In the depths of recollections buried by a dull gray life, his last warm afternoon replayed: dressed in battle attire, he sat on horseback while his daughter reluctantly clung to his clothes, his father stood by the roadside, and the last words he heard from his family seemed to be these few words...

Now, he no longer has the right to face any of his old friends.

Bard turned around and stepped toward the triangle opening that emitted a dim glow, gradually disappearing into the darkness.

Gawain withdrew his gaze, looking at the open space next to a large root on the left side, where a metal base supported a floating, gently rotating glowing crystal in mid-air. Abundant magic power was steadily released, lighting up the nearby magic crystal lamps and activating the Magic Web Terminal set up in the open space.

It was a high-power Magic Obelisk, maintaining the magic power supply of the ”Sorin Giant Tree” trunk area and serving as the signal hub for the communication device Bard carried. Throughout the upcoming operation, the situation in the root area of the ”Sorin Giant Tree” would be transmitted back by that crystal.

Not far away, a soldier in charge of monitoring the Magic Web Terminal shouted: ”There’s an image now, Your Majesty.”

”Let’s wait over there,” Gawain nodded, speaking to Amber and Pittman beside him, ”Bard should be active down there for quite a while.”

...

Dim, deep, the path winding, seemingly leading to an endless abyss.

Some kind of glowing moss clung to the surface of nearby vines and roots, creating limited illumination. This faint light was insufficient to brighten the path, instead making the way ahead seem even more treacherous. Therefore, after progressing a short distance, Bard turned on the portable lighting device he carried.

The Cecil Clan’s magic guide technology was indeed convenient — he couldn’t help but think.

The road was not easy to traverse. While there should theoretically be a wide ramp here, a great collapse and the rampage of the Artificial God had caused the structure of this part of the underground ruins near the surface to completely collapse. The fallen earth formed steep slopes, but fortunately, the origin of those tangled roots remained unknown, covering the slope with a layer of relatively gentle ’road’, making normal progress possible.

Bard carefully chose his direction as he proceeded along the ’road’ formed by the tangled roots, guided by the broken stairs and corridors around him, slowly advancing towards the depths of the ancient underground palace.

He was very familiar with this place, but like almost every Oblivion Association believer, he didn’t know who constructed this ancient underground ruins.

Yes, although this was the nest of the Oblivion Association, it existed even before being occupied by the dark Druids.

The Oblivion Association merely rebuilt the ramp and corridors that connected the upper level to the surface to facilitate the secret access of its members. However, the palace spanning the subterranean canyon... was beyond the engineering capacity of the Oblivion Association.

That palace might even be older than the Anzu Kingdom, possibly tracing back to the era of the Gondor Empire.

Or... even older.

Following the path remembered, Bard cautiously proceeded deeper; he crossed the upper area’s large ramp, navigated through the fragmented assembly hall and twisted broken hallway corridors, moving toward the original structure of the underground palace.

The crooked walls extended in sight, the walls retained remnants of already half-destroyed Magic Web Units. In the distance, some magic crystal lamps seemed to still function, emitting flickering light. These modern creations derived from ”Cecil Clan’s technology” appeared in the dark nest of the Oblivion Association, and this nest itself was built upon an even older mysterious relic, creating a profound sense of temporal overlap for Bard. He shook his head, cautiously avoiding some slippery vines, advancing down this corridor occupied by giant tree roots and vine moss.

Meanwhile, he stayed vigilant, constantly monitoring his mental state.

In the depths of this underground ruins existed some bizarre force referred to by the Archbishops as the ”God’s Echoes.” It might be the reality erosion resulting from the dark Druids’ study of forbidden knowledge or possibly the inherent power of the underground ruins. As one ventured deeper, the influence of this bizarre force became more pronounced; the mentally weak began experiencing hallucinations in the mid-layer, inundated with terrifying twisted knowledge. In the deeper layers, even flesh and limbs might undergo grotesque, uncontrollable mutations.

Though theoretically these forces were suppressed at the deepest level and hadn’t shown signs of proactive outward seepage for years, who knew if, after this upheaval, the ancient relic’s restraints remained effective— while Bard wasn’t afraid to die, he hadn’t come here expressly to die.

He arrived at the council hall.

This was the place where religion priests discussed affairs, and this hall, as well as adjacent areas on the same level, were places he often visited as a mid-level priest.

He vaguely heard some voices, sounding like whispers from someone, but as he focused on looking, the source of the voices was merely a tangle of intertwined roots.

The communication device he carried on his chest was functioning, its magic symbols and crystals emitting faint light. Bard groped to find a ’button’ on its surface and, following the instructions given by soldiers before setting out, he pressed the switch, lowered his voice, and said, ”This location is the council hall; beyond here, I’m not very familiar. Should I continue going down?”

There was no response from the communication device, just a hollow and low whistling sound.

On the surface, Gawain and Amber and others stood beside the Magic Web Terminal, with a holographic image of the underground ruins’ depths projected above the terminal.

Under the illumination device’s light, the environment near Bard’s front appeared clearly.

The image hadn’t moved for several minutes, yet Bard’s faint breathing could still be heard normally, indicating he was still alive.

Amber scratched her head, showing puzzlement: ”Why is he standing there not moving?”