Chapter 119: The Gathering

The fire crystals piled within the brazier emitted a dim glow through the ancient, endless night. The Glorifiers gathered in small groups, maintaining a shared silence, like wounded lone wolves distancing themselves from the crowd. In the dim corners, they licked their still-unhealed wounds. Only the fire-patterned talismans around their necks cast faint light upon weary, unsettled faces, betraying the calm they pretended to wear.

Beneath the sea, dark currents surged.

Perhaps that was the best way to describe it.

Upon entering the city hall, Joshua Onions instinctively scanned the room. As expected, several familiar faces were missing, and his gaze darkened further.

The circle of Glorifiers was actually quite small. In the entire city of Hemtica, there were barely one or two thousand Glorifiers—perhaps even fewer. Unless one was like Amy Ulysses, who lived in isolation, it was nearly impossible not to recognize most of the city's Glorifiers of the same generation. After all, in a place the size of the Academy, everyone saw each other every day.

Even though Joshua had never been one for socializing, finding someone to talk to at this moment was not difficult.

For example...

No, never mind.

Feeling somewhat awkward, he scratched his nose. The few familiar faces he could call acquaintances either buried their heads in their knees, unresponsive for a long time, or leaned against pillars and walls, their eyes vacant and lifeless, like broken dolls devoid of any vitality.

He hesitated to disturb them, especially since he couldn’t tell who was simply crushed by adversity and who had just received terrible news about loved ones or friends.

So, after much hesitation, he remained silent.

He simply sat down and waited.

Waiting for time to pass, waiting for the city council’s leaders to present a final solution.

He—or rather, they—needed an answer, a direction.

Yet silence alone did nothing to solve the problem. In the oppressive, pessimistic atmosphere of the hall, the silver-haired, red-eyed Glorifier felt his heart slowly tighten, a sensation of psychological suffocation arising—nervousness, restlessness, anxiety, unease... It felt as if a hundred ants crawled through his chest, or a steam bomb was about to explode. The torment of an uncertain future made it difficult for him to continue wasting time on meaningless waiting.

So he stood up, his crimson eyes sweeping across the dim hall.

The mood was growing more and more restless.

Joshua noticed the change and, after a brief hesitation, cleared his throat and spoke with earnest seriousness: “We can no longer remain idle. We must find something to do, or else we will be killed by this terrible mental state sooner or later.”

He didn’t speak empty words or lofty rhetoric—he merely stated what everyone already knew.

Yet such a lackluster call to action barely stirred a response.

Still, even a few responses were better than none; a qualitative difference.

“But what can we do?” a voice came from the corner. It belonged to a middle-aged Glorifier who had lost one eye in battle. With his unbandaged hand, he held a cigar, exhaling smoke rings as he said, “The fire has already gone out.”

Like a heavy bomb dropped into the deep sea, the rising dark tide suddenly intensified.

“How could that be... Yeah, how could it be...”

Some voiced doubts, but their words grew quieter as their thoughts cleared.

—Logically, it made perfect sense.

—And the thirteen chimes of the bell meant what... was self-evident.

“No, it’s possible, and the likelihood is very high,” a voice near Joshua interjected. The speaker was a girl around sixteen or seventeen, vaguely familiar but whose name escaped him. “You must have noticed the earlier massive explosion. I was there, near Greenland Avenue, and saw the rising mushroom cloud with my own eyes—I can confirm the blast’s epicenter was the Hephaestus Temple. There must have been a fierce battle there.”

“I can testify to that,” another Glorifier took over. “On my way back, I passed by the Hephaestus Temple... it was gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean gone?” The atmosphere finally stirred.

“What else?” the respondent said with indifference, clearly a different person but similarly having “passed through” the Hephaestus Temple, witnessing the crystallized land and the battlefield that could only be described as terrifying, “It was leveled to the ground.”

“Are you kidding? That’s Hephaestus,” a tall, burly man leaning against a pillar suddenly slammed his fist on the floor. His fearsome brown eyes, like those of a grizzly bear, scanned the crowd, seemingly trying to find the speaker. “Nearly a hundred Glorifiers stood guard there, with Lord Edgar himself commanding at Hephaestus!”

“Unfortunately, they’re telling the truth,” a third person confirmed the absurd news.

The tall young man fell silent, never uttering “I don’t believe it.”

“Any other news?” Though the gloom hadn’t entirely lifted, the atmosphere had visibly improved. Joshua didn’t want to see the momentum stall. “Perhaps none of us fully comprehend the changes occurring in Hemtica City, but if we can properly piece together the fragments of information everyone holds, the truth will surely emerge.”

His suggestion was partly inspired by the earlier discussion.

But not everyone agreed. Almost immediately, a murmur of dissatisfaction arose: “And what good would that do? The fire’s already out. The bigwigs keep bickering endlessly, so what can we do on our own?”

“Anything is better than doing nothing,” Joshua answered earnestly, locking eyes with the speaker, speaking slowly and deliberately.

He didn’t know what others thought or what considerations the leaders had, but he himself truly wanted to act, unwilling to waste time on pointless waiting.

“Agreed,” more voices expressed approval.

“Speaking of which...” a timid, somewhat weak-looking young man spoke up. As nearly half the hall’s eyes turned toward him, he shrank his head like an ostrich, speaking in a barely audible voice, “Has anyone had strange dreams...?”

He paused, then added, “Since darkness fell.”

An instant of silence fell, as if the world had plunged into a soundless hell.

“Strange dreams...” After several seconds of silence, an elderly man with frost-white hair sitting at the edge of the hall broke the deadlock. “Perhaps ‘bizarre’ is a better word. Everything is shrouded in eternal, unchanging darkness. A maddening, chaotic whisper constantly lingers in the ears. Walking through that eerie world, in the end, one can’t tell if the madness lies within you or the world itself.”

“I feel the same,” many agreed.

More and more joined the discussion, and amid the growing clamour, the Glorifiers’ expressions grew heavier and more somber.

Not surprising.

Joshua was no different. As the pieces of the truth slowly aligned, his brow furrowed deeply.

All present had once fallen into a nightmare shrouded in empty darkness after the fall of night, hearing grotesque whispers enough to drive ordinary people mad, glimpsing the terrifying essence seeping from the unspeakable, and amid near-insanity, their ancestral blood boiled, awakening them from the nightmare amidst hysterical noise.

Not one or two, but all of them!

In other words, all Glorifiers had been affected—no, perhaps not just the Glorifiers, but everyone, including the Chaos cultists!

There was evidence, but before the truth’s puzzle was complete, no one dared to think in that direction.

“I was fighting a group of Chaos cultists earlier,” the tall, burly man leaning against the pillar reminisced. Like a gorilla scratching his head, he said, “Then... I fell into a dream. When I woke, the enemies were gone. At the time, I thought the sudden darkness had driven them off, but now I think they might have fallen into a state similar to ours.”

“Maybe worse,” another added. “My experience was similar to Rod’s, but after waking, I tracked their footsteps. In the end, I found nothing. They seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving no trace of their existence.”

“At first, I thought my memory was faulty, but now it seems the destination that nightmare guided us to is far more bizarre and terrifying than we imagined,” said a middle-aged man of portly build and dignified attire. Joshua knew him—this unremarkable gentleman was a rare psychic and a notable figure among the Glorifiers. “When darkness fell, I was staying at a private home. When I broke free from the dream, the homeowner had vanished—no blood, no corpse. For a time, I couldn’t tell if I was in reality or illusion.”

“What about the Swordbearers? Does anyone know their situation?”

The disappeared Chaos cultists and the civilians in the upper district were a tacit subject the Glorifiers avoided. But whether the Swordbearers of the cult could break free from that terrifying darkness under the nightmare’s assault was crucial to Hemtica’s fate.

Though usually adversaries, even the most proud Glorifiers had to admit the cult’s power—even that of a single branch in Hemtica—was not much weaker than theirs.

Under the corruption of chaos, uniting with them—whether to hold the city or break through the darkness—greatly increased the chances of survival. Even if it only moved the odds marginally, that faint glimmer of hope was precious.

“They seem no different from us,” said a mature woman of about thirty, her ashen face unable to hide her beauty. “All waking from nightmares with terrified expressions. It’s just surprising that their sacred marks glow brightly in the darkness.”

“Do you have any way to contact them?” Joshua asked.

“No,” the female Glorifier rested her chin on her hand, fingertip lightly touching her lips. “But I’m sure the council’s leaders have the means and connections to reach the cult.”

“True.”

The silver-haired, red-eyed Glorifier could only agree. Though he was reluctant to rely so heavily on others’ decisions, now was not the time to criticize leadership. In crisis, Hemtica’s children of glory needed a backbone. Even if that backbone was unreliable after Duke Gorsworthy fell unconscious, they still needed a unified voice, a unified will.

Only a clenched fist can strike. Without unity, without all fingers working together, no matter how many people there are, they are just scattered sand easily crushed in a single blow.

“So, what did the leaders decide?” Not everyone had Joshua’s broad perspective. Though Glorifiers generally received elite education at the Academy, each had strengths and weaknesses depending on their nature. The tall, burly man clenched his fists, then swung them wildly in the air. “Waiting—this damned waiting—I’m tired of waiting!”

“Rod!” A familiar Glorifier grabbed him, soothing him like calming an irritable lion. “Control yourself. Don’t let the fire of anger consume your soul.”

Then the hall quieted.

For a moment, only the heavy, restrained breathing of the burly man could be heard.

But once the floodgates opened, it was never easy to close them. After about twenty to thirty seconds, the anxious silence was broken again.

“I think we must make plans soon.”

Under the dull glow of the fire crystals, someone opened the forbidden box of words.

“This waiting is futile. Just as the day sinks behind the mountains and the stars begin to shine, while Duke Gorsworthy remains unconscious, the council’s leaders could argue for ten thousand years without a conclusion,” a Glorifier sharply pointed out the situation. “Now, assuming the fire is truly extinguished, the demons in the deep night will likely give us little time to prepare.”

“Hmm.”

No one contradicted him because it was fact.

Though none present had experienced the brutal wars centuries ago around the Mist Zone, the blood-soaked cruelty still sent chills down spines through the ink left in historical records.

And if the fire was truly out, their situation would be even more perilous than then.

What should they do?

Everyone harbored doubts and uncertainty. The reason they gathered at the chimes was simply because they needed a voice to guide them, to show them the way forward.

To tell them—

The world had not yet lost hope!

Then... a voice sounded. A voice echoed through the hall, instantly overpowering the clamour, causing the Glorifiers to instinctively look away and fall silent.

“Quite lively.”

A noble figure with silver hair and black eyes stepped forward calmly, surveying the scattered Glorifiers as if inspecting his kingdom, his army, and his people.

“But far too undignified!”

He frowned deeply and spoke in an unruffled tone.

Then—

Shame, shock, and a swirl of surface emotions stirred the disheveled Glorifiers like a defeated army. They rose, as if summoned, straightened their backs, puffed out their chests, proud and fervent like soldiers awaiting their lord’s inspection.

Yet the visitor, neither young nor old, remained unmoved.

He simply descended the stairs in the central courtyard at his own pace, eyes sweeping over those familiar yet strange faces before nodding slightly.

“I have returned.”

His calm gaze held an extraordinary authority.

No reasons were needed, no explanations required—because he was... Duke, Duke Gorsworthy.

The highest-ranking Glorifier in Hemtica!