“Give it up,” Solomon said. “You won’t find a way out of this.”
She grit her teeth, “This… This is bullshit!
“Why do I have to run across old roofs for three hours a day without rest?! Why do I need to do weapons training?!
“I know you’re supplying me with anima to keep me going, but that only improves my willpower! I can feel my muscles all burning—I’ll just pass out again if you do this to me!”
“Then pass out.” He said callously.
“.....” She had no words to say.
After another moment of silence, He sighed. “Child, time is of essence. And you are running out of it.”
He could feel her emotions draining by the second. “Why… Why is all of this happening to me…”
“Fate, child. It is a mysterious thing. And it has ordained you as one of its prime chess pieces. The times we are in now… They have been foretold since before the Age of Regression. You and I cannot stop the inevitable.”
Hearing this, all Julie could do was shield her eyes from the blinding sunrays that had somehow managed to bypass the thick cloud cover. Maybe that too was ordained to happen.
“The whispers of history… This term, why does it hold any significance?”
The silence was deafening, but short lived.
“Human history is truly long, child. Even I do not know its full story…
“In fact, no one that lives today knows it truly…
“As for the reason? The Age of Regression would be the answer to that.”
“The Age of Regression?...” Julie frowned. “I’ve heard of this term countless times and have yet to decipher what it means… Most information in the Human Preservation Project’s archives about this topic are classified.”
“Indeed,” He chuckled. “Of course those other children in your organization won’t say anything about it. After all, not many would be able to handle such a truth…”
“Get to it, old man.” She rolled around the asphalt to find some shade.
“Have you heard of the Great Flood story?” His voice cut through her lingering thoughts. She froze for a second, contemplating what He meant.
“The great flood? Like the biblical story?”
“Indeed.” He sighed, “However, it is not only a biblical story. It is referenced in all cultures and societies, some more ancient than even my own temple.
Of course she had heard of this…
Before her subsequent spiral into the Mysterious World, Julie was nothing more than a simple history major. What Solomon was speaking about was true—the bible wasn’t the only religion with a flood myth. Countless other societies—some that were separated by miles of ocean—referenced the same event.
Historians and anthropologists refer to this phenomena as the ‘Great Flood Motif.’ A story that gets retold across many cultures and societies, even when information regarding it was not spread outwardly… It was a mystery that many of her colleagues were interested in, but a lot of them simply attributed it to rising sea levels in the past that were misunderstood as divine acts.
She might have believed similarly in the past. Now, however…
Almost immediately, her thoughts on the matter were confirmed:
“The Great Flood… It did happen. However, our world’s history wasn’t just physically washed away… No—even the Beyond itself was cleansed.”
“What…” The revelation left her stunned. “What does that even mean?!”
“It means that our history… All traces of it were erased. All that is left is tiny remnants.
“That is why we refer to this era as the Age of Regression. Humanity has regressed—its history has been wiped clean. All our progress… All our advancements… It was all washed away—we have been forcefully returned to our starting point.”
The revelation left her frozen like a statue. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. However, Solomon continued:
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“That is what the Whispers of History refer to. The whispers of the past—a past that is desperately trying to return to the present. And when those whispers finally claw their way back, is the day the revelation speaks of…”
After separating from Myrin and the others, Soren found his way back to his room. He’d be lying if he didn’t say he found the conversation fruitful.
Although Soren had planned on journeying North toward the summit of Mount Tolarion, getting there alone would have been a truly daunting task, indeed. Not only did he not have the route planned, he also lacked the resources to fund it completely…
He had planned on possibly joining some Dungeon Explorers to scour for loot, however, aside from Magitech devices, most other relics were worthless to anyone but those rich nobles who love collecting them in their cellars.
That was why, although Myrin’s proposal sounded suspicious, he still entertained it. And, he was glad he did.
Myrin’s offer to hunt for spirits together came at the perfect time. Although the chances of them finding a spirit, defeating it, and possibly being awarded with a compatible Abstract Rune that he could merge with were slim, they were still not zero. At least, it offered a direction for him to focus his attention on during the journey…
But by far what was more important had to be Myrin’s countless connections across the continent. He has been to many places on behalf of the mistress, and has befriended many people along the way. Having people in Staterra to rely on gave him a slight bit of comfort.
They had also discussed the route thoroughly. Although Myrin was opposed to it at first, Soren’s suggestion of going through the Avalon Ruins to pass through the demilitarized zone between the two countries became the obvious choice. He even considered having Nicholas grant them entry.
Speaking of Candice’s husband, the stoic magus who was once a teacher at Luvinica’s archeological department was still researching the relics he had found in the Avalon Ruins. The mistress had left him there in the camp site alone to continue his studies so that they could reunite once the expedition starts again.
However, because the guild was now disbanding, someone had to forward that message to him. So their visit to the ruins will also give them an opportunity to let him know of the situation… Of course, that also meant leading Candice with them so that they can drop her off there. The couple will likely decide to go back to the academy with the mistress or continue manning the library alone.
“So much to do…” Soren sighed as he threw himself on the bed. He frowned deeply as he covered his face in his pillow.
“Tomorrow, we’ll have to visit the Silver Vial Distillery…” Meeting the guild that Cassia has been fuming over for the past few weeks… He was looking forward to it—the drama of it all was certainly going to be entertaining.
Maybe I should convince Myrin to bring Cassia along… Her reactions will certainly be funny…
“The Runic Acquisition Festival, huh?” A child-like voice echoed in his mind. “That young man truly has some eccentric ideas.”
Soren frowned. “Tazzith… How long have you been spying on me?”
“Not too long.”
Soren stayed silent until he heard the ancient demon cough, “Okay, you caught me. I’ve been listening in from the start.”
“Fucking creep.”
“Harsh words for a spirit that has eyes that could see through anything…”
He shook his head, “Yeah, yeah. Also, it’s technically not Myrin’s idea, but Sylia’s. That Saintess… I wonder what goes in Her head sometimes…”
“The Saintess of Dreams,” His voice hid a slight hinge of salt. “She really is unlike most other Saintesses that speak to me from time to time.”
“Speak to you?” He furrowed his brows.
“Indeed,” the sovereign confirmed. “After all, the Subterranean Shunning Grounds are managed by Them. Speaking to their inmates is one of their prime hobbies whenever they are bored inside that twisted old tree…”
Soren remembered Myrin’s lecture on the Saintesses. All three of them were never allowed to leave the Spirit Blossom Willow. Their sacred duty will always be to manage the tree, even when the Whispering Dream was actively massacring their believers with the Nameless Mist.
“Truly a boring existence,” Tazzith said mockingly. “I don’t know how they can tolerate it.”
Soren chuckled, “You’ve literally been imprisoned for over a thousand years yourself, and yet you still have the cheek to reply to me like a teenager in their youth.”
“That’s because I am a teenager! Don’t you hear my childish voice?!”
Soren rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.
“However,” He continued, “I find it interesting how that elven companion of yours didn’t mention what truly happens during the Nights of Twilight.”
Hearing his words, Soren returned his focus. “What do you mean?”
“The Nights of Twilight—they aren’t just an opportunity for the Fae Spirits to roam the world. No, it is also their way of reenacting their war against us daemons.”
Soren frowned, “What?”
He heard the old demon laugh to Himself dryly. “Indeed, the War of Swords. Fae against Daemons. Elves against Spirit Wolves and the forsaken Giants… Did you believe that war already ended?
“Endings… Us spirits don’t believe in such a concept—for we are eternal.
“And on the Nights of Twilight, the grudges of that dreaded past return to the waking world… Our war continues to this day in the blight-filled sands of the Eclipse Moor.”
His words left Soren speechless. He had heard of the Eclipse Moor from Cassia once before—how its black sands shift on their own even now… One legend says that an abyss was contained beneath those sun-draining dunes—one that allows the daemons of old and new to emerge into our world.
And in that barren expanse where the Aretores live, a war between the fae and daemons rages on in silence…
He had thought it was nothing more than a legend. However, Tazzith’s words now say otherwise.
“Why is it that the past always clings to the present…”
“That is the question of the century, Mr. Traveler.” Tazzith chuckled.
“After all, the Whispers of History cling to the shadows, and yet they seek the light of remembrance. It has always been known that way.”