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Page 118
Shar paced slowly around Cyric, whispering, "Cyric, your suspicions are valid, but have you forgotten that you, like Isis and Midnight, were commissioned by Mystra to find the Tablet of Fate and return it to the AO? We don't need the Tablet of Fate because we know what it means—it can make us gods, but we are already gods. We only need to wait for you to complete your missions to reclaim your divine positions. So, what are you still afraid of? Don't you want to become a god?"
Casalos shook his head in the shadow of the dome; Shar's words struck at the Achilles' heel of the increasingly crazed Cyric—
Chapter 368
This guy is the self that has lost itself in the pursuit of power. The hope of becoming a god is right in front of him, and no doubt can stand in his way anymore.
Even so, Casalos made no attempt to reveal itself to stop Cyrek. It didn't care whether Cyrek would follow the original timeline and become the new Grim Reaper. More accurately, if this was AO's will and the fate that Shar, Jaeger, and Musk foresaw before the upheaval, then Casalos was quite willing to grant it.
The reason is simple: it and Cyric are now locked in a life-or-death struggle. But gods have their rules, and mortals have theirs. Cyric, now a mad god, is much easier to deal with than the Death Hunter.
Sure enough, under Shar's influence, a ghostly light emanated from the shadows surrounding Cyric: "Become a god..."
He turned to Shar, his voice laced with greed, "This is what I've always wanted. But Mystra never promised it!"
“Hehehe…” Shar chuckled softly, “Do you know what the difference is between Mystra and us? It’s very simple. She, like Bane, Melkor, and Baal, is a god who was elevated from mortal. She has no idea what a god is, nor what it means to be a god above gods.”
Upon hearing this, the twisting of Cyric's shadow became even more complex, as if it were on the verge of spiraling out of control.
Seeing this, Jaeger quickly joined in the persuasion: "Sirik, think about it, if you can become the new God of Death, then for the first time the power of death will be in the hands of a being who truly understands the nature of death. You have experienced death and been resurrected as a hunter of death; you will understand the true meaning of death better than any god, better than me!"
Cyric's body trembled slightly, as if he were pondering the words of the two gods.
“Yes, that’s why I’ve always been willing to become a sword to help you!” Musk even joined in the persuasion. “Kill Baal quickly, grab the Tablet of Fate and summon AO, quick!”
The God of Thieves' cries were anxious and urgent, no longer trying to conceal his true intentions as before, as if something was compelling him to hasten Cyric's ascension to godhood.
Shar frowned, and Jaeger extended four claw-like claws from under his cloak.
Cyric remained silent, his gaze shifting between Shar, Jaeger, and Broken Sword. Before he could make up his mind, Shar suddenly snapped out of her half-asleep state and roared at Musk, "You damned thief, what are you doing bringing this hard, smelly thing here?!"
The broken Godslayer Sword trembled uncontrollably, broke free from Cyric's grasp, and then let out a scream as it rose into the air. Blue mist continuously emerged from the rust and scratches, converging into a golden lion-headed humanoid.
Tom, who had disappeared after the Battle of Tanris, appeared as soon as he emerged from the sword that Musk had transformed into. He then condensed a sword and shield and swept it across the ground, forcing Shar and Jaeger back. He then let out a battle cry and attacked Cyric.
“You mortal traitor, you are not worthy to continue Mystra’s mission. I will hand over the Tablet of Fate to Eden or Lanwalker!”
"Idiot..." Casalos muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes, and quietly backed away.
Faced with Tom's objection, Cyric, who had been hesitating, suddenly froze, his swaying shadows still: "You want to stop me? You want to stop me from gaining the same power as you?"
Having said that, it rapidly twisted and expanded, revealing the Lost Dragon form that Casalos was familiar with before Tom even got close—a massive dragon body covered in dark scales, a pair of huge eyes flashing with the deathly light of the underworld, three pairs of fluorescent dragon horns on its head indicating its extraordinary power, and huge translucent wing membranes obscuring most of the space inside Darragon Fortress.
"You think you can stop me?"
With a swift sweeping kick, Cyric sent Tom flying. The Broken Sword, as if its energy had been completely depleted, crashed to the ground, bounced a few times, and made a crisp metallic sound. It then reverted to its previous form as a barefoot woman, lying on the ground gasping for breath. Compared to before, her body was emaciated, as if severely malnourished, and her skin was grayish-white and cracked, likely because Tom had stolen most of the Saint's life force.
Cyric looked down contemptuously at the fallen gods: "You were just using me. And I've long been tired of being used."
Then, it turned to the frozen Baal, its dragon claws easily shattering the ice to reveal Baal inside. The saint of the tyrannical god thrust out his staff and short spear without hesitation, but it was easily blocked by the scales of the Death Hunter.
Sael, who had fallen, propped herself up with satisfaction, regaining her half-asleep, half-awake charm. A mocking smile played on her lips as she looked at Tom, who was flying backward, Baal, who was being held by the dragon's claws, and the dragon's body that blocked out her entire view.
Jaeger's face was grim, his gaze shifting back and forth between Musk and Shirek, as if he were calculating some kind of gain or loss.
Cyric opened his massive jaws like a vicious dog pouncing on its prey, and seized Baal in one bite. He swung him around rapidly, leaving the aged saint paralyzed from the waist down, before swallowing him whole.
The next morning's sunlight pierced through the broken clouds, finally illuminating the ravaged city of Deepwater. In this pale light, the survivors truly saw the full extent of the disaster's scars. The once glorious city was gone, replaced by an endless expanse of ruins and floodwaters. The once orderly streets were torn into twisted waterways, magnificent buildings collapsed into shapeless rubble, and the bustling markets were reduced to twisted metal frames and broken wooden beams. On the muddy ground where the floodwaters had receded, the half-buried remains of corpses could be seen from time to time; in the chaos, no one had the strength to salvage them.
The half-dragons and hidden dragons who intercepted the Flame Fist mercenary group returned from afar, their weary bodies still gleaming with a metallic sheen in the morning sun. Meanwhile, the survivors in the shelter emerged one after another to join the rescue efforts. As the sun rose higher, the seawater that had accumulated in the low-lying areas began to slowly recede, and the ground, now exposed to the light of day, evaporated wisps of moisture, forming a thin layer of morning mist that drifted over the ruined city, adding an ethereal, hazy beauty to the desolate landscape.
Piergelen quickly organized the surviving adventurers and other able-bodied workers, beginning a systematic clearing of the ruins in search of possible survivors. His armor had long lost its former luster, stained with blood and corroded by seawater, yet this did not hinder the paladin's resolute steps. Isis and Midnight, after briefly replenishing their strength, also joined the rescue team, dragging their weary bodies. Although their magic was far from its peak, they could still maintain several low-level detection spells to help the search team locate the faint signs of life buried beneath the rubble.
“We will rebuild,” Piergellen said to a group of homeless, dazed residents. His voice was hoarse but firm. “Waterdeep will not disappear.”
His words were like a ray of light in the darkness, bringing a glimmer of hope to these desperate people. Yes, cities can be rebuilt, life can go on, and as long as there are people alive, there is hope. But this newly ignited flame of hope was quickly extinguished by a new disaster.
Just as the rescue efforts reached a critical point, another earthquake struck. Unlike the devastating natural disaster of the previous day, this tremor was not particularly strong, but its epicenter pointed directly at Deep Water City—more precisely, at the foot of Deep Water Hill. The survivors numbly turned their heads to look in the direction from which the tremors came; their eyes no longer held fear, only utter despair in the face of their fate.
The rock face halfway up Deepwater Mountain trembled violently before exploding with a deafening roar, sending massive rocks raining down. This was followed by a long, almost inaudible scream, accompanied by the collapse of one-fifth of the mountain. A thick aura of death emanated from the collapse, enveloping the entire city of Deepwater.
A colossal dragon, unlike anything ever seen before, emerged from a crack in the mountain. It was more than twice the size of any dragon ever known, its body wreathed in...
Chapter 369
A thick, tangible aura of death permeated the air. The colossal dragon ascended the sacred staircase, visible only to a select few, and began its ascent towards the sky.
"Cirik!" Shaving's exclamation shattered the silence.
Isis's pupils contracted sharply, her voice filled with shock: "It is climbing the holy staircase to heaven!"
Just as Cyric was running towards the top of the Heavenly Staircase, a deep, resonant voice rang out from the top of the stairs: "Stop!" The words were like a thunderclap, the force of which was almost comparable to yesterday's tsunami.
With a thunderous roar, the Heavenly Staircase suddenly became visible to all. A figure clad in shimmering armor appeared at the top of the staircase and began to descend step by step. This deity was over three meters tall, with a robust and imposing physique. His gaze was melancholic and compassionate, yet concealed an absolute and unwavering loyalty. On His shield, the Unsleeping Eye of Helm shone brightly.
The survivors around Deepwater Mountain all gazed up at Heim's majestic figure, then involuntarily knelt under the influence of a peculiar force. Even powerful figures like Fang, Piergalen, Elminster, and Kelburn the Black Staff could not resist the oppressive force emanating from the depths of their souls—a power possessed only by true gods, entirely different from that of the saints banished to the mortal realm. Even Casalos, hidden within Deepwater Mountain, involuntarily shrank back to resist this supreme divine pressure.
Across the ruins of Waterdeep, tens of thousands of refugees abandoned their work and turned toward the mountaintop—though their naked eyes could not see what was happening in the distance, thousands instinctively recognized that the enormous voice came from the gods. They trudged through the ruins toward Waterdeep, hoping to catch a glimpse of the divine presence. Some, terrified by Heim's voice, fled in panic to shelters. Many more, however, simply stood rooted to the spot, gazing in awe at the radiant light tearing through the clouds and the sacred staircase atop the mountain.
Cyric did not stop despite Heim's rebuke; it continued its relentless climb up the Heavenly Staircase. The Death Hunter clearly did not believe Heim's command was directed at it, and even if it were, it would not hesitate for a moment before delivering the slab.
Isis seemed to remember something, and took Midnight's hand, casting a flight spell. The two flew straight towards the Heavenly Stairs at the summit. As they approached the sacred realm where flight was forbidden, the spell failed, and they gently landed on the steps, dragging their weary bodies as they laboriously climbed upwards.
Compared to the Death Hunter's massive body, the two mage girls were as small as dust, and even after running for a long time, their four legs could not match the dragon's single step.
Heim met Cyric in the middle of the stairs, then stood still, waiting for midnight to finish climbing with Isis. The Death Hunter also sat quietly, joining Heim in waiting for the two mage girls to laboriously ascend the stairs in mid-air.
"It got the Tablet of Fate?" Isis asked Heim breathlessly, Midnight standing behind her silently supporting her swaying body. "It doesn't belong to it, it's just a thief!"
"It is not my responsibility to try him," Geim replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Cyric looked down and examined Isis and Midnight closely, then turned to Heim and spat a stone tablet into His hand: "I have found the Tablet of Destiny." The Lost Dragon's voice was deep and hoarse.
Heim took the artifact. "I know who found them," He turned to gaze at Isis and Midnight, waiting for them to hand over the stone tablets they were keeping. He then gave Cyric a cold glare. "AO knows as well."
Unaware of the reproach in Heim's eyes, Midnight hastily defended Isis, saying, "It's lying! Cyric betrayed us, betrayed the goddess of magic's trust in us; it stole the tablet from Isis's mentor!"
Heim turned his rough, cold face toward the young mage, his voice as hard as steel: "I have already said that I know who retrieved the stone tablet."
Isis's legs went weak, and she almost collapsed on the steps, but she still relentlessly questioned, "If you knew of Cyrek's evil, why did you accept the stone tablet it handed over?"
“Because making judgments is not his duty,” another loud and forceful voice rang out, devoid of any anger or pity, but possessing only a vast and indifferent majesty like the heavens, “nor is it his right.”
A figure a meter taller than Heim appeared on the steps. His age was impossible to determine from his appearance; he might be twenty or one hundred and twenty. His hair and beard were as white as plaster. His face was neither handsome nor ugly, utterly unremarkable, and would have gone unnoticed on any street in the kingdom.
Yet, He wore an extraordinary robe that would stand out even in Faerûn's most opulent palace. The robe draped naturally like ordinary fabric, but when Isis's bewitching eyes gazed upon it, it seemed to be gazing upon the entire heavens. The robe was as black as vanished memories, adorned with countless stars and moons. The patterns were intricately arranged, creating a mysterious and harmonious beauty. One part of the robe was illuminated by swirling light, while another part remained balanced by its inky blackness.
"Your Majesty AO!" Heim called out the other's honored name, then bowed his head deeply as if in prayer.
"Give me the Tablet of Fate," AO commanded, his tone flat and unequivocal.
The three stone tablets appeared extremely small, almost insignificant, in the enormous palm of the god. Heim respectfully presented the stone tablets to AO, then knelt on the steps awaiting further instructions.
As AO gazed at the three stone tablets, all intelligent life on the continent of Faerûn instantly fell into a daze. In the consciousness of every being, an incomparably magnificent and splendid scene appeared: the surviving gods appeared in various parts of the continent because of AO's summons. Although they were separated by thousands of miles, they seemed to have all gathered at this moment, together with the place where they were, in the nebula surrounding AO.
“On these stone tablets,” the God of Gods said in his usual calm and indifferent tone, his voice and image conveying to all living beings, “I have recorded the power that balances order and chaos.”
“I’ve returned them to you.” Cyric said bluntly, his long eyes boldly meeting AO’s gaze.
AO looked at the Death Hunters, his gaze showing neither approval nor condemnation: "Yes, you three." As he spoke, he stacked the three stone tablets together, "This is their meaning!" The God of Gods suddenly crushed the stone tablets in his hand, turning them into countless dust particles.
Midnight involuntarily took a step back, as if the world was about to collapse; Elminster on the ground cried out in surprise; while Cyric watched the dust fall from AO's fingertips and angrily raised the thorns on his eyebrows.
Heim stood up in shock. "My lord, what have you done?" The god's voice was filled with disbelief and fear.
"The stone tablets were meaningless to begin with," the Ao declared to His gods, wherever they were. "They were kept only to remind you that I created the gods to maintain balance, not to satisfy your own selfish desires. Yet you dared to ignore this, treating the tablets merely as a set of rules to play those grand and ostentatious childish games! Even worse, when these rules became inconvenient, you stole them—"
“But—” Heim hesitated, unable to finish his sentence.
“I know who stole the stone tablet.” AO waved casually, signaling Heim to be quiet. “Bane, Melkor, and Baal have paid for their crimes with their lives, but you are all guilty. You drove your followers to build extravagant temples, to make them bow down to your name, even at the cost of their ability to support their families, and to spill their blood on your corrupt altars—all so that you could control these so-called inferior mortals and ensure that your names would be etched in the world.”
Chapter 370
In people's hearts. Your actions are enough to make me regret creating you.
The Ao paused briefly, allowing all listeners to ponder His words, before resuming: "However, I did create you, and this was not without purpose. From this day forward, I demand that you fulfill this purpose; your power will depend on the number and loyalty of your followers! You will no longer be able to arbitrarily cast your power outside the Kingdom of God!"
Upon hearing this, all the gods scattered across the continent expressed surprise or sighs.
In distant Surago, Talos the Angry began to roar, “Rely on mortals?” His young and strong saint’s last remaining eye widened in anger and shock.
In the vast forest of Comanso, the one-eyed Rabelas lowered his head and asked, "Imprison us?"
“It’s far more than that,” AO added coldly. “Without believers, you will become weak, even utterly destroyed. After all that has happened in the kingdoms, winning the faith of mortals will be no easy task; you will even have to serve them.”
In the bright sunshine of Tesser, a beautiful woman with silky scarlet hair and reddish-brown eyes wore an expression of near nausea: "Serve them?" the fiery-haired woman asked with disgust.
"Quiet! I will never repeat myself." AO said softly, his gaze passing through Isis, piercing the mountain, and reaching Casalos, who was hiding in the dome, as well as Shar, Musk, and Jaeger in Skull Harbor.
“Someone foresaw all of this long ago.” A different expression finally appeared on His indifferent face as He looked around at the gods with a half-smile: “Even now, you are still stubbornly clinging to your delusions.”
"And what about me? I'll return the stone tablet to you. What kind of reward will you give me?" Cyric stared at AO with a blank, yet somewhat shocked, gaze.
"And what kind of reward do you seek?" AO countered, his eyes fixed on the Death Hunter. "You yearn to become a god, to control your own destiny, to possess immense power? Even though Jaeger has already given you the latter two, even though I have established new rules, you still want to become a god?"
104. The Foundation of Divinity
"Indeed!" Cyric roared. "I swear I will serve you well, and I will be grateful!"
Its originally majestic and terrifying voice sounded sharp and piercing against the backdrop of its sacred aura. Cyrek, now fully revealed as a dragon, writhed wildly in mid-air, its translucent wings flapping and creating tiny gusts of air. A chilling light shone from its eyes, and strange patterns appeared on its deathly gray scales, resembling some kind of ancient runes, yet upon closer inspection, they were nothing at all.
A low, cruel laugh escaped from AO's throat: "No need to thank me. I can't give you what you want."
The sound was like thunder echoing in the vast void, yet it seemed to whisper right beside your ear, filled with indescribable majesty and transcendence. Even for Casalos, this sound caused its dragon scales to stand on end, and the dragon magic flowing in its veins to freeze.
This is the sovereign behind the gods, an existence beyond mortal comprehension. Every word He utters is as heavy as a thousand pounds, filled with an irresistible command, yet the words He speaks are so... unbelievable to the dragon.
"What!" Cyric couldn't hide its disappointment; its arrogance vanished by half with this simple response. It had undoubtedly hoped for more—a pie in the sky that Musk, Jaeger, and Shar had all promised it, and Tom had even "proved" the pie's authenticity with his anger.
"Enough!" AO snapped, extending his hand towards Cyrek, like a compressed fold of spacetime, squeezing the surrounding reality. "I know you'll fulfill your duties well; that's indeed the only thing you're suited to do... But open your eyes and look around. Look at all the gods surrounding me. Is there even a single dragon among them? The affairs of the dragon gods have never been my concern—except that they must abide by my rules even when they are in their kingdoms."
Cyric shuddered at AO's words, as if struck by the most powerful legendary spell. Every rising shadow on its body froze, and despair radiated from within. For Cyric, who had long yearned to become a god, AO's attitude was like a thunderbolt, shattering its last remaining illusions.
"I obeyed your rules!" Cyric roared, his tail thrashing rapidly behind him, the malice and resentment in his eyes almost tangible.
"But you are a dragon." AO closed his palms, and Cyric in mid-air seemed to have his throat choked, his mouth opening and closing but no longer able to make a sound. The entire dragon was as if it were firmly bound by an invisible chain, and could only struggle futilely within a fixed range. Its dragon eyes were filled with pain and anger. At this moment, it probably hated Jaeger the most—the servant of death who turned him into a dragon and cut off his path to godhood.
Casalos almost burst out laughing at the sight.
It wasn't entirely unforeseen that this consequence would occur. After all, back in the era of room-based dungeon challenges, it had become quite familiar with many dragon gods, who were clearly distinct from the pan-Forsaken gods—all dragon gods originated from IO, not AO.
The dragon gods and the pan-Forgotten Realms gods each go their own way: one ruling over the dragon race of the multiverse, and the other ruling over the non-dragon creatures of the world of Toril and the continent of Forgotten Realms.
Cyrek was, after all, a dragon that had been transformed, and Casalos dared not speculate before the AO gave a definitive answer. Clearly, the AO's judgment indicated that this difference was insufficient for it to make any discriminatory treatment—a dragon is a dragon, regardless of what it was originally.
"Yager has already given you enough power to control your own destiny. Your achievements are worth only this much. Don't expect anything more from me. Otherwise, I will take back the power that doesn't belong to you." AO gave its final warning. Its words were like an invisible hammer, shattering Cyric's last resistance. It still writhed in mid-air, but its movements had become sluggish and powerless, like a puppet without a soul.
Casalos could even sense the power Jaeger had bestowed upon Cyrek trembling and shrinking back under the majesty of the AO—even as a gatekeeper, Jaeger's power still came from the AO's permission, not from his own possession. If the AO wanted to take it back, it would be no more difficult than breaking a tree branch. This is the essence of power hierarchy in the multiverse—before the will of the highest being, those of the next level are as insignificant as dust.
"Isis, midnight."
Upon hearing their names called, the two girls turned to face the Lord of the Gods. Isis, as always, wore her tight-fitting soft armor, her black skin contrasting sharply with her white hair, the aura of her magical artifacts dimmed under the oppressive power of AO. Midnight, on the other hand, wore a deep blue mage's robe, her hands gripping her staff tightly, appearing tense and vigilant.
"There is something within you that does not exist within the realm," AO said. "In this crisis, I have lost many gods. As punishment for their theft, I will cause Bane, Melkor, and Baal to vanish, and new gods will succeed them in their divine office and divinity. But the Mystic Lady, the Giver of Magic Mystra, is also gone, and even I cannot restore her. Are you willing to take her place?"
AO's words were clearly heard by all the gods present, causing a silent tremor. The dissipation of three evil gods was already astonishing enough, but what surprised the gods even more was that the goddess of magic, Mystra, had completely vanished, and even AO could not restore her.
As the builder and maintainer of the magic network, Mystra's existence was crucial to the entire Faerûn; her complete annihilation would fundamentally shake the entire magical system. Compared to the three punished gods, Mystra's departure was clearly a true loss—which explains why the Apocalypse is now searching for a successor, rather than having her divine office revoked.
Chapter 371
Scattered.
While Midnight hesitated, Isis grasped her hand and said to AO, "We accept." Then, turning back to Midnight, she added, "I, Isis Rothfis, and 'Midnight' Ariel Manx, are willing to become together the teachers of magic, teaching all the magic that has existed and yet to appear in the kingdom, equally, fairly, neutrally, and without prejudice. We will impart to them the true meaning of magical knowledge, guide their application of magic, and lead them to explore the deeper and more essential mysteries of magic. We are also willing to use our soon-to-be-acquired divine authority to forever bind our divine power within the divine kingdom, to do our utmost to repair the damage to the kingdom's magic network, maintain the safety and stability of its operation, and build it even stronger, so that its warp and weft intertwine within all the dead magic zones, dark magic zones, and wild magic zones, and to flourish and grow towards other kingdoms."
Isis's voice echoed across the ruins of Deepwater Mountain, powerful and resounding. Every syllable was precise and firm, fully demonstrating the inner strength hidden behind her.
"No, you don't..." Shar suddenly opened her half-asleep eyes and fiercely rebuked the two young mortal mages, but was silenced by AO.
Sha'er, the Dark Lady and creator of the Dark Magic Network, has always coveted magical authority. More importantly, she has an instinctive aversion to mortals directly ascending to godhood—this would break the ancient rules and order and shake the authority of the gods. She was about to voice her opposition when AO gestured to silence her, leaving her only able to glare angrily at the two young mages.
"Someone taught you to say that, didn't they?" AO glanced at Casalos's location again: "But it doesn't matter. Just remember that all the vows you made today will become indelible marks on your souls, the foundation of your divinity, and the eternal will you follow. That's enough."
105. Above the Gods
Clearly, the AO did not intend to pursue Casaloz's "guidance" to Isis, or rather, this level of interference was within His expectations—He only cared whether His God could effectively fulfill His divine duties from then on in order to maintain the balance of the kingdom's heavens.
AO raised his hands, and the Saint Rank, along with Heim, Isis, and Midnight on it, as well as Shar, Tom, and Musk below Deepwater Mountain, all vanished in a beam of light, leaving Casalos and all the residents who were looking at Deepwater Mountain dazzled.
The light was as dazzling as the rising sun, so pure that all impurity receded in its wake. It was not the light of Faerûn, the material world, but a manifestation of something far more wondrous and profound than the flow of divine energy from the gods. It pierced through the barriers of the mortal realm, reaching the very depths of the divine kingdom. All beings who witnessed this, whether ordinary residents or powerful otherworldly creatures, involuntarily bowed their heads.