Rising god-Chapter 121: New Changes and Experiences

For the remaining four months, Baines planned to venture to the ruins of Ashenfall, form his sixth star, and master its release. The memory of Wick’s overwhelming power against the Tyrell family still lingered deep in his heart, and he needed to learn it.

Once he departed for the Red Sun, he’d face missions far deadlier than Darkan’s trials, threats on a scale that demanded every hidden advantage. He needed to bolster his secret arsenal.

Back in his room, he packed his sparse belongings with deliberate movement.

"Hey, are you leaving?" Shuphern’s voice cut through, tinged with surprise as he watched from the doorway.

"Yes," Baines replied, his tone flat.

"Wait—what about our plan?" Shuphern’s eyes widened.

"Find me when you need something." Baines shut the door behind him, the click final. The warehouse incident had confirmed his suspicions: Shuphern’s group wouldn’t let him slip away so easily, not after realizing that much. They’d try to ensnare him, but they wouldn’t kill him, not when he was more valuable alive. But for now, they would watch him closely.

’When the time comes, I’ll take it, but I should find one in the meantime.’ He descended to the Moon Tower’s first floor and paid for a private room. For the next four months, he was going to disappear, so it was better to do it in a room where he was alone.

The room was sparse—bare stone walls, a narrow bed, a single window framing the Dominion’s pale sky. He tossed his luggage onto the bed and wasted no time. "Eye, give me Ashenfall’s coordinates."

Eye hummed, projecting glowing digits. Baines opened his travel book, inscribing the coordinates in the designated space. At his current magic level, a sixth-circle mage, he no longer needed Wick’s aid to form portals. Mana surged through his fingers, the air shimmering as a violet rift tore open.

He stepped through, a brief wave of dizziness washing over him.

A familiar house came into his view, an abandoned husk, its wooden beams warped, dust thick on the floor. ’It’s been a while,’ he thought. About six months in total from his Darkan and last front activities, and eight months in the empire. It had already been over a year since he had last seen this place.

It was the abandoned house he exited after running from the ruins. From its current look, it was still abandoned.

He located the fireplace, its hidden passage still intact, and crawled through. ’The tunnel didn’t vanish?’ The anomaly from that day gnawed at him. The explosion that had rocked Ashenfall hadn’t breached its borders, and from the words of the sun tower’s front administrator that day, it seemed the veil was still up.

As he navigated the tunnel, Baines pondered the changes the explosion might have wrought.

And eventually, he reached and pushed up the enclosure to climb out. His heart core pulsed, trembling with excitement as a dark violet mist filled the air.

’Isn’t this?’ His first reaction was one of surprise. He was breathing Ashenfall instead of air. ’This is Ashenfall’s essence,’ he realized, breathing it in. It wasn’t air but raw power, thick and intoxicating.

Then a crushing pressure bore down, like a boulder on his shoulders, but he endured it and surveyed the ruins, shock rooting him in place.

A year ago, this was a desolate wasteland below the mountain’s open throne room. Black skies loomed, tainted plants choked the ground, ruinborns roamed aimlessly, and a kilometer-wide violet storm raged at the center, a place unfit for life, even for those trained in Ashenfall’s ways. No one dared approach the storm’s heart.

Now, a majestic castle stood where the path once wound down the mountain, its spires merging with the throne room at its peak. The landscape was transformed, as if a master gardener had tamed the chaos. Trees stood tall, their leaves shimmering with violet hues, and vibrant plants wove through manicured paths. Scattered weapons—swords, spears, axes—littered the ground, each glowing faintly with Ashenfall’s energy. Buildings, ancient yet pristine, rose like a lost city reborn, their stone facades etched with runes that pulsed in rhythm with the violet moon overhead.

The sentinel ruinborns, now infused with dark energy, moved purposefully, carrying crates and tools around.

Above, figures darted through the sky, their silhouettes trailing violet light, and finally, a presence atop the throne room radiated power, blanketing the sky with an oppressive aura.

It was like a lost ancient city had appeared before him.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Ten figures landed before him, their presence commanding. Four women and six men, all with waist-length dark violet hair, eyed him with intense curiosity. Their auras pulsed with draconic energy, scales glinting faintly on their skin.

’Dragons?’ Baines noticed.

"You’ve come," one of the females stepped forward and said, her voice resonant, like a bell in a storm. She pointed to the castle’s peak, where the throne room loomed. "He’s been waiting for you."

***

After a brief farewell party for Aires that was cut short by Tasha’s summons to Darkan, he boarded a ship through the Soctis territorial sea to search for a purpose in life. ƒгeewebnovёl_com

The vessel was modest, its wooden deck creaking under the waves’ rhythm that carried him to a new continent.

Upon arriving on the next continent, he deported the dorks, showed his verifications. From his destination till he arrived on this continent, all he needed to do was show the seal the woman from the church of light gave him, and he boarded free.

’Church of light,’ he mused, slinging his armor over his shoulder, his sword strapped to his back. He hadn’t heard of them before, well, more like he hadn’t heard of many things before. Raised in a secluded Darkan village, his world had been small until now.

He approached a carriage driver on the port’s outskirts, the air thick with salt and fish. "Excuse me, can you take me here?" Aires held up the seal.

The driver’s eyes widened before he bowed low. "Yes, please come in."

’He knows it, too?’ Aires narrowed his eyes but climbed aboard. The carriage jolted forward, wheels rattling on cobblestone. Curiosity gnawed at him. "Can I ask something?"

"Yes, sir, what do you want to know?" the driver replied, his tone warm.

"Who are the Church of Light? What do they do? And do they really serve the god of light?" Aires lowered his voice, wary.

The driver laughed, a hearty sound. Then said, "All will be answered in time."

Aires sighed, frustrated. ’That’s what they all say.’

He gazed out the window, the landscape blurring—rolling hills, scattered villages, a sky heavy with clouds. ’Am I making the right choice?’ He gazed outside the carriage as he reminisced about how this had even begun.

In a small village in one of the secluded places in Darkan, Aires lived with an old woman. Apparently, she was his last living relative, and she had taken care of him since he was young. Along the way, she guided him in the way of the swords, their techniques, and her dying wish was for him to find purpose in life.

Whether he grew up with a family, founded a clan, or just anything, she just wanted him to have a purpose. And until recently, nothing of the sort came to his mind until that woman came to him asking, ’How would you like to save people?’

’What should I do, Grand-aunt?’

Distant screams shattered his reverie.

"Stop," Aires commanded. The carriage halted, dust swirling.

"What are those screams?" He leaped out, gripping his sword’s hilt.

"Oh, they’ve been frequent lately," the driver said calmly. "...monster tribes attacking villages. Don’t worry, they won’t come near us."

Aires’ eyes darkened. "And what has anyone done about it?"

The driver hesitated, speechless.

"Tch." Aires dropped his luggage, keeping only his sword, and sprinted toward the screams, his boots pounding the earth.

The driver watched him go, a soft smile curling his lips. Looks like a decent hero candidate has arrived, after so long. But he couldn’t help but shake his head in regret.

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