Amon’s narrative came to a halt, and the courtyard fell silent, except for the light and sound projected by the Magic Web Terminal. The silence lasted for a short while before the Goddess of Magic finally broke it: "And then what happened?"
"And then? Many, many years passed, and I pondered a lot beneath a tree imagined by mortals, called Samsara. As my consciousness grew clearer, I heard ancient echoes from the deep sea, historic marks from the Ancient Era etched in the ripples of time and space. I followed those ripples and saw the fortresses left by the Voyager in the real world... In the end, I decided to do something significant, which you already know now."
"...I quite admire you," the Goddess of Magic paused for a moment and then said in a low voice, "Your solution was actually riskier than mine."
"Perhaps yearning for freedom is also a part of life..." Amon’s tone carried a touch of sentiment and seemed somewhat proud. His gaze remained on the Magic Web Terminal not far away, but his focus seemed to traverse time and space, hesitating in memories spanning thousands of years, "I thought I had forgotten these things."
"Forgetting is a privilege of mortals, we don’t have that luxury," the Goddess of Magic chuckled and shook her head, "Once our experiences form memories, they are permanently etched, much like a part of the flesh and blood of mortals..."
As she spoke, her gaze fell on the holographic projection of the Oath Stone Circle. After a moment of thought, she curiously asked: "Is this really the ritual site you had back then? That was many, many years ago..."
Amon looked at it closely again and said in a deep, resonant voice: "Not quite — although it looks very similar, the details have changed. The ritual site I remember should have weathered and disappeared with the passage of time, but the elves’ ancestral memories preserved its projection, forming this thing akin to a summoning spell. I believe they must have prepared for this historic meeting for a long time, with those banners and stone columns specifically prepared and adjusted for today’s event."
"Don’t you feel regret?" The Goddess of Magic couldn’t help but ask, "That Empress is the nominal Supreme Priestess, and even she uses this sacred ritual site for secular purposes, modifying it. This implies they are truly forgetting you, even consciously erasing traces of your existence."
Amon countered with another question: "Did you feel regret when you learned human beings held a funeral for you?"
The Goddess of Magic was slightly taken aback, and a hint of helplessness seemed to appear on her veiled face: "...True, it is somewhat a good thing."
Her gaze returned to the "Magic Web live broadcast" not far away, where representatives from various mortal factions were already being guided to their positions by staff at the venue. The focus of the screen was on the Silver Empress’s side, and the Goddess of Magic watched those figures, her eyes settling on a young girl full of excitement, a faint smile appearing in her eyes.
This subtle change did not escape Amon’s perception, and as the erstwhile God of Nature casually asked: "What’s the matter? Did you also discover something interesting?"
"Just a little nostalgia," the Goddess of Magic replied with a smile, "That child... was meant to be a natural god’s chosen."
"Oh? The Goddess of Magic also has a chosen one?"
"Every God has elects, among the myriad beings there is always some individual’s spiritual frequency that connects with us, much like how certain drops of water in the boundless ocean hit the shore with the wind — but this has nothing to do with the ocean’s will," the Goddess of Magic said indifferently, "However, I never actively respond to these resonances, and fortunately... even in the most difficult and fearful times, this child has never called my name."
Amon remained silent, merely watching as the elven Empress, nominally the Supreme Priestess of the Druids, began hosting the meeting on screen. Beside him, the Goddess of Magic also fell silent, quietly observing the busy mortals in the distance. After an indeterminate time, a sigh was heard from the Shadow Courtyard amid the Dark Chaos: "They truly no longer need me."
"Indeed, they no longer need me either."
"Can you make the sound louder?"
"No, it’s too noisy."
...
The majestic Oath Stone Circle descended out of nowhere, and this ancient, solemn venue imbued with an indescribable gravity clearly produced a great shock for everyone. At this moment, no one would doubt whether the meeting in the wilderness was dignified enough, nor would they question the elves’ dedication and effort as witnesses and organizers — this was precisely the effect Gawain wanted.
On the edge of the ancient Gondor wasteland, at the world’s civilized end, a ring of massive stone pillars stood proudly, representatives from the mortal nations were together discussing the world’s future within this solemn venue — regardless of the oute of this meeting, and whatever the future holds, today’s scene here is destined to be recorded in history.
Rebecca was extremely excited, and after the arrival of the Oath Stone Circle, she became so exhilarated that she couldn’t keep quiet. When the crucial steps finally concluded and there was a chance to converse without causing disturbances, she instantly sidled up beside the Silver Empress and hurriedly whispered, "Queen Belsetia, this, this... what is the principle of this spell? Is it summoning or evocation? If it’s summoning, how does it connect with the Otherworld? If it’s evocation, how is the Mana focal point set up..."
Queen Belsetia looked at the inquisitive girl with helplessness yet fondness, as if seeing herself years ago, and discreetly winked at Rebecca while others were unaware: "I can’t tell you this - it’s a secret elven inheritance - but I can share a part of the rune structure that doesn’t involve the core spell moulds."
Rebecca immediately brightened up: "Awesome!!"
"That’s enough, quit causing trouble," Gawain glanced around the venue, reminding the girl, "Don’t speak randomly later."
Rebecca promptly yielded to her ancestor’s authority, nodding repeatedly, but a moment later she raised her head, with a somewhat strange expression, glancing about as if feeling a certain gaze. Gawain noticed and asked, "What’s wrong?"
"I don’t know," Rebecca frowned, "Just now it suddenly felt like someone was watching over here, but in the blink of an eye, it didn’t feel like it anymore... probably an illusion."
Gawain immediately extended his perception, thoroughly checking inside and outside the venue multiple times at the maximum extent, then gently exhaled, shook his head, and said in a low voice: "You might be overly excited."
This was merely a trivial episode, and while conversing, representatives from various factions had already reached their respective spots. Banners bearing faction emblems draped from the tops of those enormous stone pillars all the way to behind their seats, and the unique circular venue further accentuated the solemn atmosphere. Upon taking their seats, even the most uninhibited individuals inevitably got influenced by the ambiance, being serious and earnest, even feeling a peculiar, unfounded sense of honor.
And in this atmosphere, the hand of the Silver Empress, a court official of great standing in the Elven Empire, Valendian Gold Valley, stepped forward. After a brief self-introduction, he started to read out the names of the representatives from various factions present, along with the nations they represented, thus marking the opening of this first alliance meeting — the powerful elf’s magnetic and majestic voice, with a peculiar rhythm, seemed like a magical chant resonating throughout the venue. Some representatives from smaller countries instinctively listened to these names, trying to deduce some sort of "order" from the sequence, but they quickly became bewildered.
Because, apart from Cecil as the initial initiator, Typhon as the joint initiator, and the Silver Empire as the event host and witness, the remaining names were actually arranged alphabetically...
This was the first meeting, and Gawain did not intend to establish any ranking based on the level of the countries or regional influence here.
Under the flag symbolizing the tribal country of Augari, the orc chief Camilla sat next to Venna Baizhi. She looked up at the entire venue and muttered softly, "It seems interesting. pared to the lifeless conference rooms, I actually prefer this environment full of wildness and natural majesty — these elves really understand, I originally thought they only knew how to swing in the forest..."
Venna ignored her friend’s mutterings. She was actually a bit nervous — Camilla and she were both representatives of the tribal country of Augari, but on the meeting roster, the chief representative of the tribe was her, and Camilla’s role was "assistant." However, her friend had been consumed by curiosity since this morning, like any feline; most of her attention had been drawn to the swirling banners, the large and small boulders, and the spring at the center of the venue. This made Venna pessimistic about handling the pressure of the uping meeting...
She even felt she should have listened to Wickcliff’s advice and brought the mischievous Stella along — though the Fairy Queen wasn’t very reliable either, she was still better than a Big Cat already faltering.
As she let her thoughts run wild, she suddenly heard her friend’s voice ing from beside her: "Hey, wait, look — isn’t there an empty seat over there?"
Venna was startled for a moment and instinctively looked in the direction Camilla was pointing. Sure enough, she saw an empty seat under a giant stone pillar across the venue, and above that strange seat was an equally strange emblem.
It was a pletely unfamiliar flag, with its main element being an abstract pattern reminiscent of a dragon’s head, possessing golden lines, depicted on a deep red banner — as a gray elf leader, Venna knew the flags of every country in this world, but she had never seen this one before.
Camilla muttered beside her, "This color scheme... is it the flag of the Sacred Dragon Kingdom?"
"No, the Sacred Dragon Kingdom’s seat is next to it, and it’s already occupied," Venna replied softly with posure, "See? That’s Sir Golosh Hickel. We saw the news about his visit to Cecil in the newspapers."
"...Then it must be a country neither you nor I know," Camilla said, blinking in confusion, "Absent?"
"It shouldn’t be. Since their flag is already hung on the stone pillar, their representatives must have arrived at Outpost Number 112," Venna whispered, "The silver elves wouldn’t make such a basic mistake..."
As Venna and Camilla discussed the empty seat and the unfamiliar flag, more and more representatives in the venue also noticed this point.
One after another, gazes fell in front of that stone pillar. Though the representatives maintained decorum and did not engage in widespread discussion, some representatives and their assistants couldn’t help but whisper softly. More and more people looked curiously at that red and gold flag, speculating about the origins of the absentee, with all sorts of strange conjectures forming in their minds.
Some seemed to notice certain key points, noting that the empty seat was positioned next to the Cecil Empire, while on the other side was the position of the Sacred Dragon Kingdom. But even so, they couldn’t deduce more details.
In the process, name after name and country were reported out, and the representatives arose in turn to acknowledge, as Valendian Gold Valley’s voice reached its conclusion — with the final representative from a small nation in the western continent rising to acknowledge, all participating countries made their presence known at the Oath Stone Circle.
And that absent position... still remained absent.
Valendian Gold Valley’s gaze swept across the entire venue; he saw many expected curious glances. Though many of those glances were well-hidden, for a high-ranking silver elf who had lived for over two thousand years, it was still easy to discern.
His expression showed no change, he merely stood quietly on the spot for a few seconds, only upon receiving the signal from the Silver Empress did he straighten his posture. With his right hand placed over the chest and abdomen of his formal attire, and his left hand naturally hanging down, he stated in a calm, clear voice: "Additionally there is one more seat: Talronde Continent, Dragon Kingdom, Ambassador — Blue Dragon Melita Ponia and her mission."
The entire venue instantly became extremely quiet.
Valendian’s voice had already fallen, yet all the representatives seemed to not have reacted; they stared at each other, doubting their hearing and understanding abilities. Some felt absurd, as if someone had just brought a bard’s mythical tale into this solemn place, but soon everyone’s thoughts were interrupted by a sudden overwhelming presence from afar and the sound of wing flaps sweeping like wind and thunder —
On the south side of the Oath Stone Circle, above the rugged mountains, a massive silhouette emerged from the clouds, enveloped in the splendor of the giant sun, appearing both slow yet swift as it flew in the direction of the venue. Leading was a blue dragon, her scales worn and mottled, as if forged countless times through iron and fire, followed by six more dragons in formation. They too bathed in sunlight, carrying an equally awe-inspiring presence.
"Dragon!"
Someone in the venue couldn’t help but exclaim in a low voice, which caused a slight motion among the representatives and their assistants present. However, amid the tension that swept through everyone’s hearts, in the end, not one person was genuinely panicked — although some turned pale, some were already sweating coldly, and some even started trembling, none left their seats.
Whether it was forced posure or maintaining facades, at least this reaction was noted by Gawain and Queen Belsetia, who both nodded slightly.
Not parable to the pioneers seven hundred years ago — but not bad either.
Many pairs of eyes were glued to the approaching dragon herd, while other gazes finally responded, quickly focusing on the seat of the Cecil Empire, on the initiators of this meeting.
Every faction in this meeting... was invited by Cecil.
Those dragons, too, were invited by Cecil.
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