When Fei'er Li saw this information, her head buzzed nonstop, her mind going completely blank. Others might not understand, but in the book, every priest-level figure of Abyss Church was no simple character, essentially a favored servant of an evil god with great power and partial control over divine authority. Each appearance carried heavy pressure and despair, often positioned as at least a boss, and this particular one was a key figure behind a major background disaster.
And now the Priest of the Decaying Flame was killed by a passing, kind-hearted giant dragon. It was like a hero finally passing trials, drawing the holy sword, gathering a party, filling the backpack with items, and storming the Demon King's castle, only to find that the Demon King and all his generals had already been beaten to death by a farmer whose field had been seized by illegal construction. After hearing the cause of death, it became even more absurd, as the story claimed he died because he abandoned being a Mage and chose to wrestle a dragon, getting punched to death.
At that point it was not even the farmer's problem, but more like the Demon King tripped over a hoe, hit his head, slipped into a ditch, and drowned. Even considering that the dragon was probably very strong, that kind of death was still ridiculous. Some powerful Mage could duel dragons, but close-quarters brawling was another matter entirely.
One heavy piece of news after another left her dizzy, yet the Beast Tide continued to advance, and abyss cultists were still surfacing in various places. This proved the matter was far from over. Based on the novel's pattern of fragile allies and stubborn villains, it was obvious that the enemy was not really dead and was still working in the shadows.
There was also bad news. Although the power of evil gods was strange, it could generally be countered with holy light, but the Dawn faction was already gone, so Vann had invited a high-ranking the Lord from the Day faction to oversee the situation. The problem was that all the earlier good news caused subtle changes, because the Northlands was not completely out of control.
As expected, the nobles and politicians of Rohn Empire began fighting with words sharper than blades at the table of interests, trying to get their share. Amid endless wrangling and slow paperwork, the scheduled the Lord was naturally delayed by countless trivial matters. Divine glory could not move at the speed of light.
Other planned support also changed. Vann, knowing how dangerous the situation beneath the Northlands really was, sent out the wolf guard and used force to deal with most obstruction. But others, seeing his urgency, chose to wait and observe instead.
What could be done now? Smash all the plot knowledge in Fei'er Li's head into their faces? These were seasoned old foxes with inner dramas running daily, and none of them would believe it. Even if they did, some would pretend to grieve while secretly applauding, ready with popcorn and drinks, offering everything except real resources.
Her blood pressure rose. Fei'er Li almost forgot about the peculiar hierarchies of Otherworld, but to fight Abyss Church, holy light was essential, and the Northlands lacked powerful priests. Until recently, when the gradually recovering Icelis said to Fei'er Li, who was buried in books, "By the way, that human place of yours, the Dawn Temple, I think I know where it is."
That was how the previous scene came to be. Two Ice Spirit acted together, using wind and snow to forcibly shave away the frozen rock of the mountain. From within, they unearthed a massive gate over ten meters tall.
The patterns on it were worn and unclear, forged from extremely white marble, yet carved with golden branches symbolizing the Dawn Goddess, forming a hollow relief. This was only a faint remnant of its former glory, now badly damaged and marked with traces of blockbuster and Rend. It was the Dawn Temple of the Holy Light Church, once glorious but long overshadowed by the Day faction.
In the early days of the church, the three factions followed the sun's path and built three great temples: the Dawn Temple, the Day Cathedral, and the Dusk Hermitage. They symbolized key moments along the sun's course, with the Dawn Temple corresponding to early morning. Long ago, however, an earthquake split the Dawn Temple, and later shifts in the sun's path meant the rebuilt site no longer aligned, leading to the faction's decline.
If Fei'er Li guessed correctly, this was part of the true ancient Dawn Temple, likely displaced here by that disaster. The Dawn faction had tried to find it, but records were fragmented, and changes in the sun's path made the original site impossible to pinpoint, so the matter faded away. In the novel, the future heroine came to the Northlands to search for the lost temple, guided by Icelis, and now it made sense why she knew this place.
"This place must be thousands of years old," Fei'er Li said, uncertain. "There should be something inside that can help us fight the abyss, hopefully." She had little confidence, knowing that ancient treasures left buried without care might retain little power.
Still, there was indeed one item inside, extremely powerful, capable at full strength of rivaling the top of Otherworld and even clashing with the Flame Calamity God. But it would not recognize anyone now, and it would be decades before a true the Lord appeared. The gate had frozen solid over the ages and crumbled easily, letting cold air spill out.
A small flame lit up in Fei'er Li's hand, tiny yet bright. Inside was dim, with frozen incense, dry white silk underfoot, faded decorations, and stained glass overtaken by frost. Broken pillars and hanging icicles filled the hall, and she saw no human remains as she moved on.
Ahead were three branching paths and a relatively intact white statue. Draped in white cloth, the female figure held sacred words in one hand and a hammer of dawn in the other, vines and golden laurel leaves adorning her form. The Dawn Goddess statue was covered in frost yet pristine, untouched by time.
Few now dared to say whether she truly existed, her light long faded. Still, given the story's background, Fei'er Li felt a sense of reverence and passed quietly, unlike some meddlesome child who might try to chip a piece off. Better safe than sorry, especially if the goddess still lingered.
Facing the three paths, Fei'er Li chose the straight one with faint hope. She walked through a long corridor of reliefs depicting myths of the goddess, forging the sun, ringing mountain bells, passing the torch to Day, and keeping watch after Dusk slept. Further along, other figures blurred into obscurity, leaving only the goddess clear.
At the end lay a small circular hall, mostly intact, with an unbroken carpet underfoot. The stained glass was shattered, yet no fragments lay on the floor. A crack from the mountain above let in the first beam of light in thousands of years, shining directly onto a single object.
On a pedestal supported by flowers and grass stood a sword, forged long ago yet never gleaming. It looked plain and simple, almost out of place in a divine hall. The reason was simple.
"The Hero's Sword," Fei'er Li murmured. It was forged by the goddess herself, distinct from the widely known second holy sword of the hero.
When did it start, no one could say. The Chosen Hero was meant to be the child of destiny, blessed with seven divine virtues, untouched by desire, clad in splendid armor, and wielding a Holy Sword that revealed their power. So when did it become fixed that the destined Holy Sword of the Chosen Hero had to be embedded in some kind of pedestal, stone or otherwise. Only the one who pulled it free could be called the Chosen Hero.
It was old-fashioned, yet it never faded, passed down and sung of to this day. If the sword was really that powerful, why not let it fall straight into the hands of the Chosen Hero from the start and skip the trouble of drawing it. Those who could not explain it would push the reason onto gods or fate, or say there had to be such a showy ritual for it to feel right. That explanation, annoyingly, did make sense.
Because in the Otherworld, there truly was such a Chosen Hero. In another place, forever filled with light and without darkness, brilliant beyond measure, at the Cathedral of Eternal Day on the mountain said to be closest to the sun and the gods, there was a Holy Sword shining like the sun itself. That sword matched the ancient legends sung to this day, its appearance worthy of divine glory, set with radiant gems and blessed by a god, even gold gleaming with light.
From blade to hilt, it was covered in ornate patterns and fine details, every inch worthy of being called art. It had slain the Demon King of the Black Crown, ended the raging Undead Cataclysm, and brought down the Golden Dragon. Everyone knew its image, because countless poets had sung of it, and it appeared in children's storybooks, ancient histories, and the epics of the Chosen Hero. And it also appeared before Fei'er Li.