Chapter 614: The Great Sacrifice
A vast mountain chain stretched across the horizon, its slopes drowning in a heavy sea of black fog. Only a few peaks pierced through that ocean of darkness, and atop one of the tallest stood a grand palace.
Beneath the clear, star-strewn sky rose a structure of awe-inspiring scale, a palace carved from abyssal stone, dark as the void yet gleaming faintly under the celestial light.
Tier upon tier, it climbed the mountain’s summit, each level marked by sweeping arches, towering spires, domed roofs, and delicate bridges that laced the structure together with perfect symmetry.
From afar, it resembled a city condensed into a single monumental work of art.
The uppermost level housed the main keep, its spires reaching skyward like obsidian spears. Below it, the second level spread outward in grand terraces, two colossal balconies extending to the far left and right, large enough to accommodate giants.
Between them, a broad walkway stretched toward a domed structure at its end, an architectural heart that tied the entire palace together.
Tonight, those vast balconies thrummed with life. Hundreds gathered under the starlight, humans, elves, dragonkin, lizardfolk, and beastmen, every known race mingling amid the glow of the stars.
Yet it was not diversity that stunned the eye, but status. Each presence there could make empires stir or cities bow in silence.
Aristocrats and clan leaders stood beside faction masters and high nobles of ancient bloodlines. Legendary figures and battle-hardened generals mingled with monarchs draped in ceremonial robes or armor that shimmered with power.
Some spoke in low tones, others merely observed, their gazes sharp, calculating, or cold. For every honored guest, a servant moved swiftly in attendance, carrying trays of crystalline glasses or fine bottles, ensuring that no need went unanswered.
So when a small corner of the balcony shimmered with distortion, space bending for the briefest of moments, few paid it any attention.
However, as the haze of warped space cleared and the air regained its stillness, leaving Alex and Zahra standing on the marble floor, countless heads turned their way, some in surprise, others in curiosity, and a few in recognition.
Alex’s gaze swept across the crowd, quietly taking in familiar faces, and seeing that several powerful figures gave subtle nods of acknowledgment.
Seeing that most of them were already engaged in conversation with others of equal standing, he decided it was best to greet them later.
Zahra, seemingly unconcerned by the attention, moved gracefully toward the farthest corner of the terrace, her intent clear, to enjoy the night’s occasion in silence.
Alex was about to follow her when a familiar, melodic voice drifted from his right. "Hidden One,"
A young woman approached, no older than twenty-two, with refined features and narrow lips that hinted at perpetual amusement.
She was draped in a sky-blue gown that swept down to her ankles, its fabric woven with intricate frost patterns that shimmered like frozen mist under the starlight, a proud testament to her heritage as the Heir of Frost.
Faylen Winter, the daughter of Asher Winter and Grand Arcanum Elara. Someone Alex had come to know well during his stay in the Glacial Dominion.
Unlike her father, who seemed determined to see the two wed and bless him with grandchildren, Faylen herself had no such intentions, so Alex didn’t mind being around her.
"Hidden One, how have you been?" she greeted brightly, her tone laced with playful warmth. Then, leaning in closer, she whispered with a grin, "Well, I see someone’s been quite the liar."
Her brows arched in mock reproach, eyes glinting with amusement. "Tell me, how did you manage to court her?" She flicked her chin subtly in Zahra’s direction before adding under her breath, "When I first met her, I wondered if she even had emotions."
Alex exhaled softly. "There’s nothing between us, just friendship," he said, already sensing the futility of clarifying.
"Mhm," Faylen hummed, unconvinced.
"I can understand your predicament, you have gone for the crown jewel of our clan... no, our realm." She smiled sweetly, her words carrying the playful sting of mock sympathy. "But if you really want to keep that story straight, perhaps don’t wear matching outfits with her next time."
Her tone made it sound like advice, but her grin said otherwise. Alex sighed, deciding it was best not to take the bait, so without another word, he turned to leave, clearly not in the mood for Faylen’s games.
"Come on, I was just teasing you," Faylen laughed, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "I’m participating in the Sky Pride Tournament, so you had better be there cheering for me, front seat, no excuses."
She winked and drifted away, the soft rustle of her gown fading into the hum of conversation.
Alex exhaled and turned toward the far corner, where Zahra stood. In the few minutes he had been gone, she had already drawn attention. One finely dressed noble had approached her, only to retreat moments later, his expression dazed and uncertain, as though the will to speak had been pulled from him.
Alex smiled faintly as he went and stood next to her.
He had agreed to accompany her to the New Year’s celebration, and he intended to see it through, even if it might require him to explain things later.
The final minutes slipped away quickly. The murmurs across the balconies softened, fading into an eerie hush as the crowd began to count down in low, reverent tones.
It wasn’t silence of restraint, it was anticipation.
Above them, the starlit sky began to stir. Threads of light twisted and converged, forming a constellation, first the six-horned dragon, then the winged fairy beside it.
When the image was completed, marking the birth of the New Year, there was no roar of celebration. No fireworks. Only a deep, collective breath, as some whispered their wishes, others closed their eyes in silent prayer, while a few simply smiled.
Then a voice, a woman’s voice, echoed from the sky above, melodic and warm.
"Children of the Great Realm," It said, the words carrying like a song, "I welcome you all to a new year."
The tone was gentle, almost maternal, an ethereal sound that seemed to embrace every heart that heard it. The voice belonged to Lady Erda, and just as every year, she would narrate the history of her father and his role in shaping the realm.
However, it was not his story that was being remembered, but that of an even more important figure, one who changed the realm for the better, though at a great cost.
A hush of awe followed, and then the sky ignited.
In the starless void left within the two vast constellations, stars came alive, light connecting them to reveal a scene woven of light and shadow, a young boy stepping into a chamber filled with swirling portals.
Every soul present, whether adventurer or noble, recognized the vision instantly. It was the beginning of every otherworlder, the moment an otherworlder first set foot upon the Ancestral Realm.
The boy was Odysseus, founder of the Drakaryx Clan.
Few in the realm could claim to have never heard of that story, and fewer still could watch its retelling without feeling the weight of its history.
The voice continued, carrying a calm authority that resonated through the night.
"Odysseus Drakaryx entered the Realm like any other adventurer, a young soul seeking strength, fortune, and growth. But fate had other plans for him."
As Astraea spoke, the stars shifted again. The boy appeared upon a vast plain, battling towering giants with a single vertical eye blazing in the center of their faces.
He struck them down and saved from their claws a delicate, winged fairy, her light flickering against the darkness.
The appearance of the fairy stirred emotions in everyone, sparing not even the powerful ruler, for this remembrance belonged to her.
The fairy was Astraea, the Star Maiden, one of the most revered beings in all of the Realm’s History.
The vision changed once more, and the two strangers were now seated beside a quiet fire. The fairy spoke, her expression solemn, as a burning vision reflected in her eyes.
"The Realm was dying," Lady Erda narrated, "Set ablaze by its rulers, the Cyclops, masters of the land; the Frithon, demons of fire who ruled the underworld; and the Qanyr, children of the void."
Each name echoed like a curse, evoking a multitude of emotions from the gathered crowd.
"The Cyclops sought to erase all life, demanding freedom the Realm would never grant. The Frithon wished to reign unchallenged, forcing all to kneel or burn."
"The Qanyr were no saints either, as amidst the chaos, they saw a chance to birth a king, one who would stand above even the Realm Ruler, but it would come at the cost of countless billions."
The scene devolved into chaos, with crimson skies, rivers of flame, and shadows consuming the light. Yet amidst it all stood the young adventurer, blade drawn, eyes burning with defiance.
"In the fires of ruin, Odysseus grew," Lady Erda continued, "forging bonds with others like him, the steadfast Vasticus, the wise Asher, and from their courage rose the first Drakaryx band."
Her tone softened. "And in the heart of war, he found love, Astraea, the Maiden of the Fairy Race."
A tender image appeared, the two beneath a field of stars, their hands entwined. But the peace was fleeting, as the very next instant, fire engulfed the vision, silent screams echoing through the night.
"While Odeseus fought to preserve life, the realm was never his to save from the ever-spreading flames of ruin."
"For ten long years he battled, doing all he could until at last he prepared to return to his own world, ready to take with him the only person in the realm he wished to truly keep safe, to the free life, away from the fate of the Ancestral Realm."
"But fate had other plans for Odeseus." There was sadness within her voice, "Astraea died protecting her people, and Odesues could do nothing as that terrible fate befell the one he loved."
The crowd watched in silence as the young man cradled the dead fairy in his arms, his grief painted across the starry sky.
"A normal soul would have left the Realm behind." Lady Erda’s tone deepened, edged with sorrow. "But not Odysseus." The image darkened, the man’s tears turned to fire, his sorrow to wrath.
"He swore vengeance... and surrendered his freedom for it, and within thirty years, he slew the Cyclops King, and within a century, he hunted their kind to extinction."
The screen blazed again, mountains melted away, cities fell, and a single dragon’s roar burned away the shadows of demons.
"He also played a major role in toppling the Fire Demons’ rule and ended the schemes of the Qanyr."
Her final words came softer, almost like a whisper to the stars. "Odesues became the savior of the realm, known as the Inheritor." She never made it clear whether he inherited the realm or its pain, for the man had lost the one he wished to keep the most, and with her, his own freedom.
A haunting silence followed a silence filled with awe, grief, and reverence.