The Divine Realm of the Races

"Who... who are you?"

Urbato gripped his sharp greatsword tightly, his eyes fixed on Aylon's back, his grip growing tighter with each passing second. The female mages behind him also clenched their weapons, each one more tense than the last. Though there was no detectable magical aura emanating from Aylon, encountering such a figure in an eerie ancient city was enough to unsettle anyone.

"Who am I? Who am I really?"

Aylon turned around slowly, muttering to himself, his gaze distant as he looked at the unexpected visitors. "A long, long time has passed in the blink of an eye. I don't know who I am, nor do I know what I am. I only remember... many, many years ago, I walked every inch of the wasteland, spreading the light of the gods. At that time, it seems... it seems that someone called me Aylon. Then I was captured by a lich and imprisoned here for who knows how many years; so many memories have faded, and my body has grown weaker. Now that I am free, I lack the strength to leave this wasteland."

Aylon's expression was one of confusion, his hands rubbing his temples, as if he were a wanderer who had lost his memory.

"Are you a missionary?" Ophilia, dressed in white, exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she gazed at the weary-looking Aylon.

For countless centuries, the divine court had dispatched numerous missionaries to convert the vast populations of the wasteland. Except for a rare few who had returned victorious, most had disappeared without a trace, their sacrifices revered by the faithful.

"Perhaps. But, strictly speaking, I may be more of a wandering bard."

Aylon fumbled through his robes, pretending to search for something. Discreetly, he retrieved a book from his dark ring and began reading a few lines of incomprehensible poetry, swaying dramatically as he recited them. He even began to sketch in the air with his dark magic quill, making it all seem highly authentic. As he showed no sign of immediate danger, the group relaxed, glancing around at the grand hall. They were surprised to see cherry blossoms blooming on a nearby table.

"I brought these from the wasteland outside the castle. Long ago, I met a beautiful and kind girl. She loved cherry blossoms and promised to wait for me under the cherry tree in her hometown every year when they bloomed." Aylon's voice dropped to a somber tone as he continued, "Years have passed, and I wandered the wasteland like a ghost, imprisoned in this desolate castle. After a serious illness, I forgot her name. All I remember is that once, a girl who loved cherry blossoms waited for me to return."

Aylon's face was clouded with nostalgia, as though recalling a long-buried memory. His appearance as a missionary, his weariness, and the poignant story of a lost love stirred something deep within the female mages, their eyes growing red with emotion.

Even Ophilia, the academy teacher, who was usually composed, could not help but have her eyes well up with tears. No one knew better than she the immense sacrifices the devoted missionaries had made in the name of spreading faith. Only Urbato, the aloof warrior, remained indifferent. He wandered around the hall, searching for something of value.

"Hey, Ophilia, look! What are these strange symbols carved on the stone tablet?" After a brief search, Urbato found no treasure but stumbled upon an ancient stone tablet behind Aylon, which was covered in strange, square characters. His surprised exclamation drew the others' attention.

"Divine Language, by the gods..."

"Yes, indeed. This is the Divine Language, passed down through the ancient divine realms of our race. Only the highest-level diviners can comprehend it."

...

The demon hunters were stunned, their eyes wide in shock. Aylon too stared in astonishment. He never expected the random names of famous actresses he had carved into the stone to be interpreted as the so-called Divine Language by the demon hunters. The fragmentary memories left by Ovessis upon his death contained little about the so-called divine realms of the races.

"Aylon, where did this stone tablet come from?" Urbato, now eager to uncover the truth, asked with excitement in his voice.

"It's just an ordinary stone tablet. The names etched on it are simply those of people I wrote down a few days ago," Aylon answered truthfully, causing the demon hunters to gasp in disbelief.

"What? These... these are your writings?" Ophilia exclaimed, her eyes wide in disbelief.

What is the Divine Language?

As its name implies, it is the language of the ancient divine race. The continent of Dallas, located in the Atlanta dimension, was said to be the origin of all races. Every race has its own divine realm, a sanctuary that nurtures the essence of its people, and humans were no exception.

Legend has it that in ancient times, humanity occupied most of the lands of the Atlanta dimension, creating a glorious history. The powerful ancient gods protected the divine realms, able to obliterate entire dimensions with a mere thought, their battle prowess fearsome beyond measure. But then, for reasons unknown, the ancient gods and their divine realms vanished. As humanity's influence waned, other races such as the Titans, Angels, Demon Kin, and Undead began to rise.

The mighty ancient gods had been gone for millions of years. Even the most seasoned diviners who had trained for millennia could only barely decipher fragments of the language left behind. Upon hearing that Aylon claimed to be able to read the Divine Language, everyone was stunned.

"I don't know much about the Divine Language, but the symbols on the stone tablet are indeed mine. A long time ago, while wandering the wasteland, I accidentally entered a strange place. It felt like a dream—my consciousness was hazy, and though I seemed to have been there for only a few days, it also felt like several centuries passed. I left with many unfamiliar memories." Aylon spoke with a nostalgic expression, pausing before continuing, "The names on the tablet... they belong to female warriors from that place."

"My gods... did you... did you accidentally enter the Divine Realm of the Races?" one of the female mages gasped, her eyes wide with astonishment. "Aylon, how powerful are these female warriors? Did they all step into the fabled Divine Domain?"

"Powerful, extremely powerful. They no longer practiced magic, but wielded incredible divine talents. Their bodies were their greatest weapons. Even those who had reached the pinnacle of the Divine Domain would be no match for their abilities!" Aylon said, his face calm. He rummaged through his robes for a moment before pulling out several crumpled little books. "These are some cultivation techniques I wrote down from memory after leaving that place. If you want them, feel free to take them."

"Ancient incantations, my gods! These are earth-shattering ultimate spells!"

"Wait... is that a wind-based forbidden spell, the Wind Blade?"

...

The female mages eagerly seized the little books from Aylon's hands, flipping through them with excitement, their exclamations growing louder. Only Urbato, who had been pretending to be uninterested, looked disgruntled. All the cultivation methods were for mages, with no martial techniques for warriors. Initially, they had doubted Aylon's claims, but after seeing the long-lost ancient incantations, they could not help but believe.

"Aylon, surely you must have some martial techniques for warriors?" Urbato, unable to hold back, finally asked, lowering his pride.

"Well, there is one. It's a paladin's cultivation technique, but... a while ago, I accidentally ate something bad, and when I had a stomachache, I didn't have time to find any paper. I had to use that book to... well, you know." Aylon sighed and searched through his robes for a moment before pulling out several wrinkled yellow pieces of paper. "These are the cleaner ones I kept. But if you really need them, you can take them."

A priceless paladin's cultivation manual, used to wipe his backside?

An idiot... an absolute fool!

Looking at the seemingly amnesiac Aylon, Urbato nearly lost his mind. He was ready to strike him down with a sword. The ancient divine race's cultivation methods, priceless beyond measure, had been used as toilet paper! What kind of idiot was this?