Chapter 143: The Order Weaves True Names, Ancient Appellations Reappear Here

The dead are prepared to receive more rest.

Five fingers gently brushed against the horn crafted from rhinoceros horn as Duke Galsworthy gazed out the window at the still-gleaming Golden City, inevitably reciting the ancient characters engraved upon it: "May the departed find their rest... May the departed find their rest... But I am sorry..."

His lips pressed tightly together, the man’s face written all over with bitterness and helplessness.

The Horn of the Mourned.

It was the name of the alchemical armament in his possession, inherited from the dawn of the Era of the Ancient Kings. It served as one of the ultimate defenses prepared for Hermetica by the previous City Lord and High Priest. Its underlying concept was to awaken the dead sleeping within this realm, blurring the boundary between life and death, thereby mounting the concepts of "Valhalla" or the "Realm of Shadows" upon the foundation of the Triple City.

Yet it had failed.

Even after summoning the most brilliant arch-alchemists of that era and engraving dazzling transmutation circles throughout the depths of Hermetica, they still failed to break the shackles of the Triple City, merely spinning within its framework. An alchemical armament like the Horn of the Mourned, capable of awakening the dead at a critical juncture, was already a rare—no, currently the only surviving finished product.

Rather than a horn, it was more akin to a primer.

A triggering device for the transmutation circles buried beneath Hermetica.

Sounding the horn—

What produced the effect was not the ensuing deep blast of the horn, but the act of "sounding" it. Through this ritualistic act, like flipping a switch, the transmutation circles spread across the entirety of Hermetica were activated, subsequently guiding the energy accumulated through the passage of time to surge toward the predetermined "Valhalla," thereby awakening the deceased sleeping here and restoring vitality to their decayed flesh.

If it had been a completed version of an "Einherjar," perhaps they could have endured in the world for ages.

Unfortunately, the inherent "Triple City" attribute of Hermetica was far too stubborn. The concept of the "Realm of Shadows" was collectively vetoed by the alchemists the moment it was proposed. Although the transmutation array for "Valhalla" was completed, bound by the shackles of the Triple City, it remained forever a semi-finished product. It could awaken the dead, but it could not recall their souls. When all was said and done, what it awakened was merely a hollow walking corpse—not only failing to be an extraordinary being like an "Einherjar" capable of recalling fragments of life memories to a certain extent, but also possessing an extremely limited lifespan.

Although deficiencies in combat quality could be compensated for by sheer numbers, for the Glory-Born who practiced ancestor worship, the act of desecrating the corpses of their forefathers was fundamentally unacceptable.

Moreover, the alchemists deduced that due to its incompatibility with the Triple City, every time this semi-finished "Valhalla" was activated, a portion of the underground transmutation array would collapse. A mere two or three uses would render the system mostly paralyzed, rendering it incapable of further use without extensive overhaul and adjustment.

And now marked the second time—and very likely the final one.

Therefore, what Duke Galsworthy activated was every single relative-intact corpse of the Glory-Born preserved since the completion of "Valhalla."

Was it a thousand? Or ten thousand?

It did not matter.

Yes, it did not matter.

His gaze lowered slightly; once numbers crossed a certain threshold, any magnitude simply became a digit.

Because it was already enough.

Death spread like a tidal wave, and the host of the dead advanced with unstoppable force. The once-haughty Old Ones could not mount any semblance of resistance, walking into their final end in despair like lambs led to the slaughter.

Yet the Lord of Hermetica did not display a single smile because of this.

He knew better than anyone that the probing had not ended even now, and the war had merely just begun.

The Old Ones were never that simple.

The wisdom they possessed exceeded that of mere fiends by far more than a little.

Thus, Duke Galsworthy waited, awaiting the counterattack from the Old Ones.

——The Wall of Sighs cannot hold it.

Just as the Silver City was destined to meet its fate of sinking into the deep sea, Hermetica, forged of black iron, was equally doomed to sink into the delirious dreams of R'lyeh.

Therefore, defeat it here!

Even at the cost of the glory of Augustus—

He gently closed his eyes.

What remained to be done was to wait, waiting for the arrival of "it."

"Crack, crack, crack—"

Beyond the outer side of the wall, countless microscopic crisp snaps converged into one. Countless icebergs drifted and shifted, and the entire frozen "continent" sprouted rings upon rings of cracks, before... accompanied by a deafening roar, the deep abyss-bound cleft—vast, deep, and leading to the unknowable—split the entire world in two.

Immediately following, the boundary between the two "continents" swelled upward like mountain ranges, and the extreme chill from beneath the abyss spewed forth from within, forming a pillar of snow-white vapor.

Then, it condensed.

Then, it shattered.

A hand—a humanoid, deep-green hand with five fingers and webbing between them.

Punched through the frozen "continent."

Then, came the other hand.

Naturally, a geological movement of even greater scale began.

The former peace and tranquility were gone beyond recovery, and the world plunged deep into turbulence and unease. Fragments and ruins of ice and snow crumbled in all directions amid the intensifying changes. Set against the destructive subterranean bass notes, a smooth, scaly, and unsettling dark-green mountain range emerged from beneath the ice surface. Rising higher and higher amid the earth-shattering roars of a collapsing world, it became the third highest peak in the "world," eclipsed only by the frozen towering waves and the Wall of Sighs.

Yet even so, the transformation had not ceased, and the world beyond the wall continued its slide into the unknowable abyss.

"Boom!"

Accompanied by a world-shaking crash, massive quantities of ice crystals flew in all directions. Ranging in size and shape, but all equally razor-sharp, the fragments pierced downward into the ice surface, forming vast expanses of crystal forests—a scene that ought to have been grand and magnificent, yet compared to the spectacle across the vault of heaven, it appeared far too delicate, fragile, and petty.

Like a comet crashing into a great sun.

A skull measuring anywhere from several to over a dozen houses in size smashed the ice, pierced through the clouds, and towered above the firmament.

"Roar!"

Following a heaven-shaking, thunderous howl, it slapped its exposed snow-white belly. Its jaw, lined with jagged canine teeth, opened wide to spew a breath mingled with massive amounts of crushed ice shards. An ultra-giant Deep One, nearly matching the height of the Wall of Sighs, stepped forth from beneath the ice layer. "Boom, boom"—its extraordinary bulk naturally brought about extraordinary weight. With every single step taken, the world within and beyond the wall shook, and the echoes from the deep core of the world could be heard.

Although blocked by the Wall of Sighs and tangible darkness, the commotion announcing its arrival was truly extraordinary. Even the dullest and most oblivious among the Glory-Born realized that an unprecedented event had occurred.

"Fall back, regroup."

This was a command originating from the mental network, transmitted simultaneously to all the Glory-Born.

Just as Duke Galsworthy had anticipated, the Old Ones capable of shattering the Silver City possessed far more than the meager combat strength currently on display. Beyond the Wall of Sighs lingered extraordinary monsters whose vital intensity vastly surpassed ordinary species, and its existence was the very source of confidence for those half-human, half-fish monstrosities.

The Wall of Sighs could not hold it, and numbers likely held little significance against it.

Besides... the host of the dead had already awakened.

There was no need to spill the blood of the living.

The Lord of Hermetica commanded the retreat of the Glory-Born through the mental network, yet unfortunately, the actions of the Old Ones were far swifter than he had anticipated.

"Boom!"

Glass shattered, stone chips flew—

It was no illusion; the entire city of Hermetica shook violently several times.

Mere shockwaves alone caused large swathes of the Glory-Born—whose physical qualities far exceeded ordinary mortals—to tumble to the ground. Many of the sluggish ones had not even realized what had just occurred, merely looking blankly toward their companions.

And then.

"Boom!"

Another earth-shattering roar shook the entirety of Hermetica to its foundations. Accompanied by the wholesale collapse of buildings, crack after crack materialized upon the Wall of Sighs, a barrier mortals could never hope to surmount!

The Wall of Sighs could not stop it!

Although no one could clearly see the changes to the Wall of Sighs in the dim light, having personally experienced the aftermath of those two attacks, every single Glory-Born harbored this vague, creeping thought.

Only... it was somewhat troubling.

The third impact was long in coming—

Had something happened?

Amidst anxious trepidation, someone could not help but wonder with curiosity, yet the scenario that unfolded next crushed the final shred of wishful thinking in everyone's hearts.

The Deep One, nearly matching the height of the Wall of Sighs, rested its hands upon the ramparts. A pair of crimson pupils, akin to searchlights, illuminated the darkness and scattered the clouds. The Glory-Born on the ground, marching like ants on a migration path, seemed to sense the malice descending from the sky and instinctively turned back to look toward the heavens above.

And thus—

The overflowing malice transcended visual limitations, striking directly into the depths of everyone's soul.

They "saw"—they saw those malicious red pupils and the hideous smile it revealed.

Deterrence!

The malice erupting in an instant was enough to make any battle-hardened Glory-Born tremble, while Gladis, who linked everyone's minds, bore a psychological contamination beyond mortal imagination.

——Snap.

The young girl instinctively snapped the cord within her mind, shattering the mental network that was continuously transmitting and spreading despair and madness. Then... rolling her eyes in a completely unconscious blank stare, she plunged into total unconsciousness.

The main force of the Glory-Born showed the nascent signs of chaos in the blink of an eye!

Fortunately, the horrific monster that should not exist in the mortal realm did not continue to reveal its form. It released its grip, concealing its physical body once more behind the Wall of Sighs and the ice sheet.

Immediately following—

"Boom!"

Flying rubble pierced the air, the earth shuddered.

The third impact arrived right on schedule.

And what was even more horrifying was that upon the supposedly unbroken Wall of Sighs, a hand appeared—a humanoid, deep-green hand with five fingers and webbing between them.

Then it withdrew.

Amidst a brief yet suffocating silence, the "thud, thud" footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

Had it given up?

The Glory-Born, unable to clearly perceive the changes to the Wall of Sighs in the dim light, could not help but exhale a sigh of relief.

However, the hard-earned flicker of hope was instantly extinguished—footsteps growing louder by the moment echoed once more across the world. That monster's strides fell not only upon the ice sheet but straight upon everyone's heart.

Was it...

The question had barely formed before the answer arrived.

"Bang!"

Like a collision of heaven and earth, everyone momentarily lost their hearing in that split second.

A sudden, frenzied gale swept across the land. Collapsed buildings, the marching dead, and several utterly unlucky Glory-Born were blown flying, disappearing beyond the horizon into locations whose landing spots were unknown, their lives or deaths uncertain.

——Nor did anyone care about their lives or deaths.

For a greater crisis, a greater terror, had already appeared before their eyes.

The Wall of Sighs—

Had been breached with a conspicuous humanoid silhouette.

The fish-headed monster, whose form closely resembled that of a human, planted its feet firmly on the ground. An invisible shockwave blew away everything in the immediate vicinity—it seemed in no rush to attack the host of the dead surrounding it in tight formations. Under the gazes of everyone filled with fear, trepidation, solemnity, or curiosity, it unhurriedly stretched its somewhat stiff limbs.

Its body was slightly frozen stiff.

It was probably thinking roughly that, before raising its head to emit a long howl.

"Hiss!"

A deep, hoarse vocal timbre pierced the sky, proclaiming its arrival.

And thus—

The true name of the law was constructed, and the ancient appellation that had existed since the dawn of order re-emerged here.

Its name was—

Hydra!