Chapter 138: The Miracle That Transforms Heaven and Earth Appears Once More

To overturn the waters of the seven seas!

Even just hearing the roar of the waves echoing in his ears, Duke Galsworthy could guess the intentions of those Deep Ones who had been suppressed beneath Hermetica alongside the Old Ones. It was nothing more than an attempt to replicate the feat of the Leviathan, that titan of the deep.

But... sometimes, what good does knowing do?

Knowing could not change the objective reality. Although he did not know how those Deep Ones who worshipped the Old Ones had managed it, the two defensive lines—the City of Silver and the Wall of Sighs—had indeed been breached. If Edgar were still alive, perhaps his intimate knowledge of Hermetica’s secrets could have changed something, but...

Gently closing his eyes, the silver-haired, black-eyed Glory-Bearer showed no trace of pain on his face.

As a leader, he could not show panic, nor could he show weakness.

Even if there was no way to stop the torrential waters destined to shatter the Wall of Sighs, he could not reveal a hint of it now. He had to be composed, steady, and unruffled.

"Brandon."

He spoke, his gaze fixed on the old man's inscrutable face. "What is your assessment?"

"It is difficult." The Patriarch of the Cult shook his head. "If it were a monster with a physical form, I might be able to help, but to contend with a natural disaster... I am afraid we are powerless."

"Then we have no choice but to evacuate." Duke had anticipated this answer. "Abandon Hermetica, abandon the defensive system constructed by the Tri-City, and make our stand against them during the Deepest Night."

"Are you prepared for a two-front war?" Brandon asked.

With the demons wandering the Deepest Night and the minions of the Old Ones coming from the deep sea, abandoning the city's defenses to fight both sides simultaneously would stretch their already insufficient forces thin. The situation would inevitably become dire.

"I do not believe fighting those amphibious creatures underwater is a good idea," the silver-haired, black-eyed Glory-Bearer said. "By comparison, I would rather cross swords with our 'old friends' again."

"That is true." It was an undeniable fact.

"If we are to fight on two fronts, there is no need for further discussion regarding command," Duke Galsworthy’s gaze lingered slightly on the old man’s face. "Please, take responsibility for the threat of the demons and high-level demons. As for those foolish amphibious fish, leave them to us."

"A remarkably bold decision," the Patriarch of the Cult nodded slightly. "We have no objections."

"Please organize the evacuation as soon as possible—including those lucky enough to have survived in the Lower Districts," the silver-haired, black-eyed Glory-Bearer assigned the tasks. "We have little time left; no one knows how much longer the Wall of Sighs can hold."

"Then," Brandon turned to leave, "we shall meet again in the Deepest Night."

"Until then."

Duke watched the old man depart, his black eyes devoid of emotional ripples.

After a long while, he turned around.

Behind him, a silver-haired girl in a wheelchair seemed to have been waiting for a long time.

—When did she arrive?

The Lord of Hermetica’s pupils contracted slightly before he relaxed his expression. "Yulia."

Instinctively, he did not utter her surname.

He despised Ulysses—all of them.

"It is dangerous here," but she was Enid’s child after all; he could not bring himself to scold her, speaking instead in a low, gentle voice. "Go now, and join the main force in their retreat to the rear."

Enid had two children: Amy and Yulia.

Yulia was his favorite. Compared to Amy, who inherited too many of Leo’s traits, this frail girl carried the shadow of Enid.

In her presence, Duke always felt an unconscious sense of guilt.

"I heard the entire conversation," however, somewhat unexpectedly, the girl did not heed his advice. Instead, she spoke to him of the war in Hermetica in a cold, clear voice. "If you harbor any degree of concern regarding the devastation of the Great Flood, I believe I may be able to provide a solution."

"What do you mean?"

The meaning of the girl's words was not hard to grasp, but the subtext was difficult to fathom.

In Duke's memory, Enid’s two children—whether it was the older Amy or the newly matured Yulia—had only performed mediocrely at the academy. It was for this reason that when he learned Amy had sold off the family estate, entrusted Yulia to Bishop Franks, and gone to the Lower Districts alone, he had taken no action. In a sense, whether it was leaving the Upper Districts—where the activities of the Chaos Cult were already becoming apparent—or joining the High Tower, which stood somewhat transcendent above the conflict between the Glory-Bearers and the Chaos Cult, it was actually a good thing for them.

But now...

He realized he had made a mistake.

Perhaps Yulia did not need his protection at all.

"A Chosen One," Duke Galsworthy said, uttering the term as if it carried the weight of the entire world, watching the girl before him and waiting for her reply. "Is that it?"

Although the power of the Glory-Bearers was based on bloodline, strength was not innate. Whether through postnatal training, the tempering of one's bloodline, or the deep excavation of one's own power, all required a vast accumulation of time. Generally, the peak of one's power fell between the ages of thirty and forty. Teenagers had only just awakened their abilities, and many could barely master them, let alone fight.

However, there was an exception.

The Chosen Ones, who completely trampled upon the efforts and determination of ordinary people.

Strong without reason, strong in an unreasonable way; once awakened, they could ascend to the seat of the strongest, possessing transcendent power that surpassed the laws of the Creator and the world itself.

"Yes." Yulia did not hide it. "For now, I am a Ulysses."

"Yes... a Ulysses." Ulysses was the surname Duke hated most, yet at this moment, no trace of disgust could be heard in his voice. "It could only be a Ulysses. A Galsworthy... that is impossible."

Few people knew that the Chosen Ones only awakened in the form of a family.

Only a few ancient families, descended from the primordial ancestors of an untraceable era, could produce such unreasonable monsters as the Chosen Ones. Although both Ulysses and Galsworthy were among them, Yulia could not have awakened as a Galsworthy—because, whether one was born with the blood of Glory and awakened as a Chosen One, or one constantly tempered their bloodline and surpassed themselves through sheer will, one fact remained immutable: a desperate, crushing fact.

—The number of Chosen Ones is limited.

In every family, there can be at most one Chosen One in any given era.

Since the name of Galsworthy had already been inherited, the only thing Yulia could have inherited was Ulysses.

"I can erase this catastrophe," the silver-haired girl said in a calm voice, uttering words that defied all reason as she reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I need help."

"What do you need me to do?"

Whether as the Lord of Hermetica or as Enid’s brother, he had no reason to refuse this request.

"Protect me." Although it was a request, Yulia’s voice lacked any sign of weakness, remaining flat and without inflection. "And... do not let the Cult discover my identity."

After a slight pause, she added, "Except for Franks."

"Very well." A simple, direct promise.

The silver-haired girl did not speak, only nodded silently, and then opened her eyes.

They were silver-grey eyes—

Reflecting within them was... the entire world!?

No, it was the laws of the world.

As a Chosen One who had inherited the transcendent power of the ancestors to the fullest extent, Yulia’s ability could not simply be called an ability; it was closer to an authority—the authority of the world. Her awakened "Eyes of Truth" could easily perceive the truths of this world. Whether it was the laws the ancestors used to plow and define the order of the realm, or the destiny written in the Holy Code of Hammurabi, all were clearly visible to her.

But seeing was one thing; rewriting was not so simple.

Chosen One... the title sounded fine, but in reality, what did it amount to?

In truth, they were no different from anyone else in this world—merely pathetic prisoners trapped within the cage of fate.

Perhaps those mortals who knew nothing of this were the truly fortunate ones, the descendants most favored by the ancestors.

The melancholy lasted only a moment. Yulia had no time to waste. Her pure and noble spirit transcended the heavens at this instant, rising to match the Golden City that illuminated half of Hermetica, and then soaring above it.

Stationed at the pinnacle of the world, she looked down upon everything.

Hermetica, half-bright and half-dim; the Wall of Sighs, rising into the clouds; and... the surging waves, roaring and churning, nearly merging with the pitch-black sky!

With a low sigh, all things fell into silence.

The gears of time ground to a halt at this moment, and the strings symbolizing the laws were plucked.

The music, transcending the mundane world, was played by a blind musician.

And then—

The world was replaced.

No, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that a part of the world was replaced, replaced in its very existence.

Water vanished from this world—at least from the world as perceived by the city of Hermetica.

Perhaps "vanished" was not the right word.

Because, from a mortal’s perspective, the power Yulia displayed was not so profound as to be incomprehensible; it was simply... so powerful that it made one doubt whether everything here was even real.

—The ocean, including the giant waves that reached toward the heavens, froze solid in a single, fleeting instant!

The world was entombed in ice.

For the first time in the thousand years since the long dark night descended, a miracle that reshaped the heavens and the earth appeared before the people of Hermetica.

Even if it were only a small number of people—those few who could observe the scene through the darkness.

"A Chosen One."

The Patriarch, who had not gone far, stopped his steps, watching the darkness beyond the sea that had been on the verge of swallowing everything.

Then, he walked on.

Duke Galsworthy, however, did not care about the frozen ocean beyond the Wall of Sighs. He only lowered his head, watching with complex eyes as the silver-haired girl in the wheelchair lost all vitality, as if she had fallen into an eternal sleep.

After a long time, he let out a long, white breath, took off his trench coat, and covered her with it.

—It has turned cold.

His gaze seemed to pierce through layers of darkness, and a cold, murderous intent coalesced.

The war

had only just begun!