Chapter 167: Belonging(part-2)

After a long while, the vibrations gradually subsided, and the dust slowly settled.

The pile of bones before them was noticeably lower, now loose and messy.

At the spot where Leopold had vanished, only a shallow depression remained, along with a few bone fragments bearing scorch marks.

“It’s… over?”

Sistine released Muxuan, vigilantly scanning her surroundings.

[Lyrasel] was still firmly gripped in her hand, the tip of the blade trembling slightly.

Half-leaning on Sistine, Muxuan brushed the dust off her clothes.

Then, Light surged out, forming a small canopy-shaped barrier that isolated the pervasive bone dust.

“No… Leopold was also being controlled.”

“The Inteke Tribe is probably all under control as well.”

“What Zi Luo Mo truly feared was the person controlling the Inteke Tribe.”

Sistine hesitated for a moment, then probed:

“The Kostershka Mountains?”

Muxuan nodded.

Then, she waved her hand, letting the cloud-like Holy Relic, which had reappeared, cover her body, forming a thin film.

“The goblins’ setup in the Kostershka Mountains wasn’t just to deal with the Watkan Tribe.”

“It was also for whoever is truly controlling the Inteke Tribe.”

The Great Artisan God held his chin in thought, his expression filled with complexity.

“The Inteke… all controlled…”

His voice was low, carrying disbelief and a hint of sudden realization.

“Yes.”

Muxuan’s voice was thick with exhaustion, but her tone was exceptionally firm.

“That being behind the scenes… is a huge hidden danger.”

But going to the Kostershka Mountains now was obviously not a good idea.

They all needed time to rest and recuperate.

Muxuan glanced at Sistine and Theodore, finally resting her gaze on the Great Artisan God.

“Let’s go up first.”

“Watkan needs you.”

The Great Artisan God took a deep breath, suppressing his surging emotions, and nodded heavily.

Right now, leading the survivors out of danger and stabilizing the tribe was the most important thing.

He thrust his hands into the cliff face again.

The power of ash-yellow earth and stone surged forth, and the sturdy steps extended upward once more, layer by layer.

This time, the climb was exceptionally smooth.

The suffocating dead silence at the bottom of the cliff seemed to have frozen entirely, with no further anomalies.

Following the stone steps built by the Great Artisan God, Sistine supported Muxuan, who was nearly completely exhausted, while Theodore followed closely behind the Great Artisan God.

The four finally returned to the previous cliff platform.

Although the edge of the platform had crumbled considerably from the earlier battle and the final explosion, the main structure remained intact.

From the outer passageway came faint sounds of dwarves’ anxious shouts and footsteps.

Clearly, after the explosion had subsided, they were frantically trying to approach this place.

The Great Artisan God stood at the edge of the platform, facing the Watkan dwarf warriors who had rushed over upon hearing the noise.

Most of them were wounded, their faces a mixture of fatigue and panic.

The Great Artisan God couldn’t help but frown.

He had made it very clear that they should not approach this place.

But soon, his brow slowly relaxed.

Among the approaching dwarf warriors, Carlo was also there.

Seeing that the Great Artisan God and Theodore were safe, he visibly relaxed.

But when he saw the mess everywhere and the heavy expressions on everyone’s faces, his heart tightened again.

The Great Artisan God stood there in silence.

He slowly looked around at his surviving clansmen.

His gaze swept over every gash on their faces, the exhaustion and confusion in their eyes.

The Watkan Tribe had guarded the Holy Relic for generations.

Although they had old grievances with the Light Church, independence and pride were etched into their blood.

This decision was nothing short of an earthquake.

While the Great Artisan God was facing the dwarves, the Holy Relic had already transformed into the image of “Muxuan.”

After the Great Artisan God finished speaking, “Muxuan” stepped out from behind him at the opportune moment.

Carlo’s mouth fell open.

He looked from the Great Artisan God to the slowly emerging figure behind him, his eyes filled with mixed emotions..

The young dwarf warrior gripped his weapon tightly, his knuckles white.

His eyes held both unconditional trust in the Great Artisan God and deep concern for the future of his own tribe.

Several scarred veteran warriors instinctively stepped forward, their lips moving as if they wanted to question, but were intimidated by the heavy atmosphere and the imposing figure of the Pope before them, unable to make a sound for a moment.

This time, “Muxuan’s” eyes were open.

His golden pupils swept over, and an overwhelming aura of vast holiness pressed down on them immediately.

He did not speak immediately, but merely raised the hand not holding the Crosier.

The tips of his fingers moved slightly, and a soft yet incredibly pure light lit up at his fingertip.

Then he flicked his finger, and that point of light transformed into countless fine specks of luminous dust, accurately drifting towards every injured dwarf warrior present, regardless of the severity of their wounds.

The moment the specks of light touched their wounds, the burning pain, numbness, and bleeding brought by battle and corruption were instantly soothed.

Wounds deep enough to show bone visibly stopped bleeding and closed; corroded flesh stopped festering and began to radiate vitality; exhausted bodies seemed to be injected with gentle strength, and their spirits were also lifted.

“The Light… protects the warriors of Watkan.”

“Muxuan’s” voice was not loud, yet it clearly reached the ears of every dwarf, carrying a peculiar penetrating power that calmed some of the restlessness.

“Your sacrifices, your steadfastness, the Light has witnessed it.”

“Zi Luo Mo’s schemes have been shattered, the Holy Relic has been preserved, Watkan’s glory has not been extinguished, but tempered to be even tougher through blood and fire.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the crowd again, finally resting back on the Great Artisan God with a hint of acknowledgment.

“The Great Artisan God’s choice is for Watkan’s continuation and rebirth during this Era of Darkness. Independence is not isolation, alliance is not subjugation. The Light Church will stand shoulder to shoulder with Watkan, rebuilding a shared order and hope.”

As he spoke, “Muxuan” stepped forward.

The end of the Crosier gently tapped the ground, covered in rubble and cracks, producing a clear and resonant echo.

“This is the future I will promise you!”

As his words fell, a vast amount of Light surged out, forming a grand scene before them.

It was no longer the cold, damp mine tunnel, no longer the battlefield strewn with corpses.

In the scene, sunlight pierced through the thinning Black Mist.

On the vast land, green shoots tenaciously emerged from the scorched earth, and flowers bloomed in dazzling colors within the cracks of ruins.

A future picture filled with life, order, and possibility was vividly displayed before every Watkan dwarf.

Carlo’s mouth was agape.

The doubt in his eyes quickly melted and dissipated, replaced by immense shock and a faint, irresistible longing.

Even some old veterans had tears glistening in their cloudy eyes.

They were not afraid of sacrifice; what they guarded was their home and future.

And this picture scroll was precisely the scene they most longed to see in their hearts after this bloody battle.

“This…”

Carlo’s voice was hoarse.

He looked at the Great Artisan God, then at the sacred and inviolable “Pope” in the radiance.

Finally, all his words turned into a single complicated sigh.

He knelt slowly and heavily on one knee.

Following his action, one by one, the dwarf warriors, whether young or old, with solemnity born of shock, bowed deeply towards the Great Artisan God, and even more so towards that holy and majestic Pope.

“We pledge to follow His Holiness the Pope! May the Light guide Watkan!”

The low but firm oath began to converge among the crowd, eventually turning into a powerful wave of voices echoing through the space.

The Great Artisan God looked at his clansmen kneeling before him, saw the longing and hope in their eyes, and felt the huge stone in his heart finally slowly settle.

He, too, turned and performed a solemn bow to “Muxuan”—the highest courtesy of the Watkan Tribe.

“Muxuan” nodded slightly, light swirling in his golden pupils.

His gaze seemed to pierce through the kneeling crowd, reaching deeper into the dim mine tunnel, as if sensing something else.

The Holy Relic’s manifested form appeared even more sacred and majestic within the grand illusory backdrop.

Not far away, Sistine gently helped Muxuan lean against the wall, then walked to the edge of the cliff, silently watching the figure of “Muxuan.”

“You’re leaving?”

Sistine’s tone was very cold, as if facing a most detestable person.

“Yes… I have to leave.”

She tried to make her tone as cheerful as possible, but in the end, it involuntarily sank, carrying a hint of dejection.

Sistine’s pupils moved slightly.

The icy expression on her face softened after hearing these words.

She looked at the illusory figure beside her, a hint of complication in her eyes.

“Mu… I warned you long ago… not to go…”

“But you…”

Halfway through her sentence, Sistine couldn’t continue, only letting out a low sigh.

“It can’t be helped~ You know my nature.”

“Alright, don’t make that face at a time like this.”

Even as she said this, the illusory figure’s expression was already brimming with attachment.

She looked at Muxuan leaning against the wall, her eyes filled with boundless nostalgia.

“So, what actually happened back then?”

Facing Sistine’s inquiry, the illusory figure just shook her head, revealing a helpless expression.

“You know, I’m just a wisp of Obsession.”

“Ask her. When she remembers everything, this world will still have a chance.”

Afterwards, the illusory figure and Sistine both fell silent.

The two leaned against each other like this, not speaking for a long time.

But time did not stop.

The illusory figure soon became even more transparent.

Sistine finally couldn’t hold back and asked:

“You’re about to completely dissipate… don’t you have anything to say?”

“But… I’ve forgotten so many things, what can I say.”

“If I had to say something… I’ve always loved you.”

Sistine’s heart suddenly skipped a beat.

She whipped her head around, but by the time she looked at the illusory figure, it had already dissipated.

She wanted to lunge forward and hold onto it, but her hands could only grasp those tiny specks of light, which quickly faded from her grasp.

“Muxuan… Goddess…”

Sistine stared blankly at her own hands, somewhat lost in thought.

“[Lyrasel]” was casually dropped onto the ground.

After a long while, she slowly lowered her hands and let out a long breath.

“I love you too.”

“So… this time, even if I have to die, I’ll die first.”

Muxuan’s eyes were tightly shut at that moment.

Her long, silvery-white eyelashes cast a faint shadow on her pale face.

Instinctively, Sistine came to Muxuan’s side.

She reached out, a faint, barely perceptible tremor in her fingertips, and with extreme gentleness, brushed aside a few strands of silver hair plastered to Muxuan’s forehead by sweat.

The gesture was filled with a tenderness bordering on religious devotion, and a deep, unbreakable tangle of emotions surged in her eyes.

The profound love, already etched into her very marrow, was now laid bare.

She looked at Muxuan, her gaze focused and soft, as if the entire world had narrowed down to this delicate, peaceful face.

Just then, amidst Sistine’s gentle gaze, amidst the grand echoes of “Muxuan’s” proclamation of the future, Muxuan’s eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly.

Then, those tightly shut golden eyes slowly opened.

“Sistine?”

There was a hint of confusion in Muxuan’s voice.

Why does Sistine seem a bit strange… hmm, seems gentler?

Meeting Muxuan’s slightly puzzled gaze, Sistine smiled softly.

“Your Highness.”