Chapter 46: Shaman Timmah

"Fate? Heh..." The Pope narrowed his eyes, as if savoring the mysterious and unpredictable flavor of the word. Then he looked at the Marquis and said, "These words aren't new to me. Over twenty years ago, someone mentioned them to me. It was the previous Pope, Emperor Decken. Inham, do you know him?"

The Marquis nodded. "Emperor Decken was not only the Pope at the time but also recognized as the strongest on the continent. It's a pity I was too young then to witness the presence of such a legendary figure."

"Yes. In terms of magical prowess, Emperor Decken was a dual practitioner of white magic and fire magic, making him one of the top three mages on the continent. Even without magic, his combat skills placed him among the top ten warriors. His status as the strongest on the continent was unquestioned. During his reign, I, along with Ronis and Aescher, served as his three cardinals. The glory of Celeste was at its peak, spreading far and wide. He was undoubtedly the most powerful man on the continent. Inham, don't you think such a person could be considered someone who had gathered great power?"

"Of course." The Marquis nodded. Such a person could claim to be anything. In fact, in the eyes of most people at the time, the Pope was no longer a man but a god. Even the Lord in heaven did not shine as brightly as His Majesty's representative on earth.

"Back then, he mentioned Akibard's prophecy to me. He said he could see fate, that fate was already in his hands. He intended to tread upon this prophecy to surpass Akibard, the strongest mage in history, and draw the Dark Star, which no one had ever been able to wield." The Pope smiled slightly, as if reminiscing or perhaps mocking. Perhaps he was too immersed in his memories, or perhaps he truly saw the newly appointed cardinal before him as a fully cooperative ally. These words of his were something no one else would ever hear. "But unfortunately, this man who thought he had fate under his feet ultimately died. He didn't even fall on the path he believed would conquer fate."

"Don't look at fate, and don't take any prophecy too seriously. Keep your eyes on the present and your feet on the ground. You may not go far, but at least you won't fall and shatter. This is the lesson I learned from him. The prophecies of sages are usually vague and ambiguous. Trying to interpret them only projects one's own wishful thinking."

"I think we don't need to care whether Akibard was referring to an individual or a group, nor what kind of power is being gathered. All we need to know is that the central lands must not truly become the place where orcs begin to change this world." The Pope stood up from his chair, a glint in his eyes.

Perhaps this was well said. Interpreting the words of sages is indeed just projecting one's own thoughts, and this applies to many people. The Marquis silently made a laughing expression in his heart, but he didn't show it. He only said, "Your Majesty, please rest assured. Sir Lancelote and the temple knights have already set out. As long as they can proceed smoothly, Orford won't last another two or three years."

"Yes, this time we really owe it to you. Inham, if Orford is truly eradicated, it won't be by my hand, but by yours." For the first time, the Pope's gaze toward the Marquis held genuine appreciation and a hint of gratitude.

Two days later, another letter delivered by a dragonfly from Celeste appeared on Lord Theodorus's desk.

The letter stated that seven temple knights, including Lancelote, had all disappeared from the Glory Fortress. The castle's griffins were still there, and there was no news of any temple knights leaving the city. It seemed they had used teleportation scrolls to depart from Celeste.

This letter gave Lord Theodorus quite a headache. It wasn't just that each secret letter from Celeste cost over a hundred gold coins, but he truly couldn't figure out where these seven temple knights had gone.

Including Lancelote, these seven temple knights were all top-tier experts, representing the church's highest combat strength. A mission that required these seven to act in complete secrecy was indeed worth pondering deeply.

The number of teleportation magic arrays on the continent could be counted on one's fingers. Using the process of elimination, one could deduce the possible destinations of the temple knights. However, after eliminating the most likely places, the most valuable locations seemed impossible for them to go.

The Dehya Valley? Even if they had enough teleportation scrolls for the Valley, sending all twelve temple knights there would be suicidal. The Dark Star's barrier wasn't as gentle as the Sunwell's, and all the necromancers would return to the Valley in the shortest time possible, possibly including Sandru and Agrenel, who had been in hiding for years.

To the Whispering Forest to seize the World Tree's leaf? This seemed the most likely. But Lord Theodorus almost hoped they would go. The combined barriers of the Sunwell and the Ancient War Tree, when used flexibly, could even surpass the Dark Star's. Although there were no necromancers there, there were tens of thousands of elves. As long as Grutt cooperated with the elves, these seven temple knights would have no chance of returning to Celeste.

To the Tooth Tower to seize a large number of scrolls? There were thousands of mages there. Einfast? Unlikely. There were two or three other places that seemed completely worthless...

Could they be going... but what would they do there? Is it still suicide? As Lord Theodorus pondered, he felt his headache growing worse.

...

This underground hall was more like a plaza than a hall. Although it was indoors, looking up revealed an endless darkness with no ceiling in sight. Only four massive stone pillars, extending slowly into the darkness above, indicated that this was not an open plaza. Despite the abundance of fungi providing oxygen, the underground city generally didn't have the habit of burning torches. The entire hall was illuminated by fluorescent gems embedded in the walls. Perhaps because they were products of the underground city, the light from these gems seemed to inherit the characteristics of the underground—dim, ambiguous, yet faintly extending far.

In the center of the hall was a massive stone table proportionate to the hall's size, surrounded by equally massive stone chairs. However, the guests sitting on these chairs now seemed somewhat small in comparison. Moreover, the faint glow and aura emanating from their bodies didn't quite match the gloomy, oppressive atmosphere of the underground world. It was the holy fluorescence unique to white magic.

The air carried a hint of sulfur and decay, characteristic of the underground city. But when this sulfur and decay reached Lancelote's nose and then his mind, it always seemed to transform into the smell of blood. This made him feel as if he were hallucinating, as if countless pieces of flesh and blood were flying before his eyes, splattering onto his body. Lancelote unconsciously glanced at the minotaur warriors standing at the entrance of the hall. He could tell these were elite minotaurs, but they were nothing in his eyes. He couldn't help but think about how to use the most effective tactics to kill these minotaurs within three breaths... His hand nervously touched the hilt of his sword...

Although ten years had passed, the half-month of slaughter in Nigen had left an indelible mark on his mind. Just seeing these monsters and breathing this air, even without any killing intent, the habit of wanting to kill would unconsciously surface.

Taking a deep breath, Lancelote steadied his emotions. He reminded himself that this time was not like ten years ago. Today, he was not an enemy here but an ally.

A strange ally. Ten years ago, when he led the twelve temple knights into Nigen, they had reduced Nigen's population by at least half, nearly wiping out the harpies. In the end, only two of the twelve temple knights had left Nigen with him, resulting in mutual devastation. But ten years later, he could sit in this minotaur hall and receive the grandest welcome.

Unbelievable, from a knight's perspective. But Lancelote also understood that what brought him back here wasn't the power of a knight but the power of politics. So now, he was not an enemy but an ally.

However, including him, these seven were not suited for politics. Each of their faces was as cold as frost. The conflict between humans and Nigen could be traced back to prehistoric times. Since the establishment of the church, the extermination of these heretical creatures had never ceased. As elite warriors of Celeste, each of them had at least a hundred Nigen lives on their hands. Their students and friends had also perished in battles against Nigen.

Cave servant creatures brought in plates of meat and various fungi, specialties of the underground. There were no knives, forks, or dishes here. Apart from the self-important dark elves, the living habits of Nigen's residents were quite similar to those of the orcs from the wilderness highlands.

At the head of the conference table stood a massive figure, entirely covered in a dark priestly robe adorned with strange objects. The horns on its head were densely carved with dark totems. If not for the slight rise and fall of its massive chest, this towering figure would have seemed more like a statue in the dim light.

Although slightly shorter than the average minotaur, Shaman Timmah still loomed like a small mountain before Lancelote.