novelraw Chapter 101
Chapter 101
Chapter 101: The Beginning of the Journey
On January 22, 838 of the Common Era, Sunday, at Ruls Station.
Isabella, with her long golden hair, blinked her lake-blue eyes, curiously looking at the group before her.
At this moment, Anwendeika cleared his throat and said to everyone:
“Cough, she is Isabella Lancaster, daughter of the current Earl of Lancaster, and also the messenger of that existence who provided us with help.”
After the introduction, Isabella, holding a box in her hands, nodded reservedly.
“She?”
A woman dressed in a neutral fashion who stood beside Anwendeika frowned, her tone filled with doubt:
“We are going out to sea. Can such a ‘delicate’ noble lady endure it?”
At this, Isabella was not angered. Instead, she replied with a smile:
“It does not matter, after all, I am a swordsmanship adept.”
She deliberately emphasized the words “swordsmanship adept,” and Anwendeika also gave the other party a meaningful glance.
In the end, that woman said nothing more and simply turned around to board the steam train.
Seeing this, Isabella did not continue speaking. She only kept that warm smile on her face and followed along, stepping onto the train as well.
“She’s like an angel.”
After her figure disappeared around the corner, a male member of the Southern Cross Constellation sighed in admiration.
“After all, she is a noble lady.”
Another member casually agreed.
But in the next instant, Anwendeika’s stern gaze swept over them:
“I advise you not to have other thoughts.”
With that, he did not wait for a reply and turned to leave.
…
Amidst the billowing black smoke, the train slowly began to move forward.
Sitting in a first-class carriage, Isabella placed the box she held onto her lap. Watching the black gauze drifting faintly from within, the smile on her face shifted from false to genuine.
Then, she opened the box, revealing a head.
“Your Highness.”
“Mm.”
Sylvia shifted her head slightly, supported by strands of her hair, and then complained:
“This posture is truly uncomfortable.”
Looking at the face before her, broken and ruined with only a single eyeball remaining, Isabella held back her laughter:
“Just wait two more days. Adela has been worrying over how to repair your body so much that she is nearly losing her hair.”
“Cough.”
At this, Sylvia let out a vague cough, using it to cover up her embarrassment.
From the very beginning of her descent, she had been bound too deeply to her puppet body, forced to exist only in that form.
And now, the binding was even deeper.
Seven days ago, in the City of Alova, she successfully prevented the Outer God Hethorik’s attempt at deification and saved the city.
At the same time, she had reaped enough benefits—
Abundant Tenth Divinity!
No, it should not be called the Tenth Divinity, but rather “Divinity Ten—Kingdom.”
Thinking of this, she used her hair to lift a booklet from beneath her and flipped it open to the first page.
“Divinity One—Crown.”
“Divinity Two—Wisdom.”
“Divinity Three—Understanding.”
“……”
“Divinity Ten—Kingdom.”
The lines written in an unknown script conveyed their meaning instantly upon being seen.
This notebook had been passed to her a week ago, delivered by Lakdevo on behalf of the Reformer from the Church of Machinery.
What was the other party’s purpose?
And before she attempted deification, why would the God of Machinery and the Lord of Radiance choose to help her?
She could not understand. Moreover, her deification had essentially failed.
Hmm… failure might not be the most accurate word. It was more like she was stuck, stuck at the final step.
She did not know whether she was missing something, or if it was because of the nearly equal amount of Outer God divinity within her body that left her trapped between the two levels of True God and Apostle.
Stronger than an Apostle, but weaker than a True God.
It was about the same state as Hethorik at his peak.
And according to Lakdevo’s explanation, she could now contend on equal footing with those Outer Gods who bore triple-layered honorific names—perhaps even surpass them slightly.
At the time, she wondered whether she was missing the so-called “Divine Throne,” but Lakdevo only shook his head, saying he did not know.
Perhaps this question could only be answered by the gods themselves.
But now…
It seemed that apart from the Lord of Radiance and the God of Machinery, the other True Gods held some objections to her.
Thus, while she was still at St. Ruls Cathedral, she had Loruze send a telegram back to the Sanctuary, requesting an audience with the Angel of the Sword, but she was refused.
In the meantime, she had also chanted the honorific name of the Lord of Radiance in the spiritual tongue, yet there was no response.
From that point on, the path to finding the Lord of Radiance was cut off.
In her current state, it was impossible for her to knock upon the Gate of the Divinity Realm.
Then perhaps she should seek the God of Machinery?
Considering Buolanke’s earlier words and the God of Machinery’s behavior at the end of the divine war, she suspected that something might have gone wrong with Him.
Thus, all she could do now was make wild guesses.
Letting out a sigh, she pressed her non-existent temple with strands of her hair to ease the throbbing pain that came from the depths of her soul.
After her deification attempt, the chaotic consciousness of Silquaya the Faceless did not vanish but instead remained within her soul, within her Outer God divinity.
As a result, she was constantly tormented by that eerie and incomprehensible howling.
This had left her in an extremely poor state, unable to fully concentrate.
To calm the howls in her ears, only the erosion of time might work.
Yet among those howls, what concerned her most was the final moment of deification, when she understood that phrase in Mandarin—
Homeland.
Go home.
Her thoughts… they were somewhat chaotic now. A vague suspicion had begun to form in her mind, yet she dared not believe it.
She tried to carefully distinguish those howls, but unfortunately, even until now, she could no longer make out the meaning hidden within them.
With another sigh, she tried to make some instinctive motions, only to realize that she no longer had a body—
That puppet body had already become severely damaged at the end of her deification attempt and was now in Adela’s hands for repair.
As for Adela, who, with Sylvia’s help, had completed the ritual to ascend into the third stage and then obtained the Power of Lust, she had thrown herself into urgent overtime work—while muttering that she wanted to die.
Sylvia’s power had risen dramatically, and so too had her requirements for a body, doubling the workload of this puppeteer.
After silently mourning for that fallen noble lady for three seconds, Sylvia—who had chosen to act separately from her body—turned her gaze toward the window of the speeding train.
That was the City of Alova, gradually receding from sight; the City of Alova that had survived the so-called “geological disaster.”
She stared at the city for a few seconds, then withdrew her gaze, letting the starlight of her soul spill out silently, mending the cracks upon her broken face.
It was not that she was unwilling to use the Divinity of Kingdom.
Beyond the fact that she did not know how to wield it, from the moment the deification attempt ended, the Divinity of Kingdom had gone dormant. Now it was like a foul and stubborn stone, impossible to pry open even a fraction.
Could this be one of the reasons why her deification failed?
Yet precisely because of this excessively stable Divinity of Kingdom, most of the chaotic Outer God consciousness within her had been suppressed.
Not only that, her connection with Silquaya was severed once more.
As she sank into thought, the steam train had already left the City of Alova far behind.
Its final destination was Antrelard Port, located within the Kingdom of Falrope.
Their objective was to join the members of the Southern Cross Constellation, to rescue their leader—who had yet to resurface.
…
City of Alova, outskirts, ruins.
A crimson dragon awoke from its long slumber. Its golden pupils looked up at the ruins’ ceiling, flattened at some unknown time by some unknown hand, and it fell into contemplation.
At that moment, its spirituality, dried up over endless ages, suddenly received a kind of guidance, drawing its gaze to some inconspicuous object on the ground—
It was an eyeball, transparent purple and gleaming with starlight.
And behind it, a gentle and mature female voice rang out:
“Will you… be willing to return?”
“Return?”
The crimson dragon’s tone brimmed with mockery:
“To pledge myself to that betrayer of the dragon race?”
“…You have misunderstood the Mother Goddess.”
The female voice fell silent for a moment, then gave a faint explanation, though it sounded powerless and pale.
“Hmph.”
“Begone. I do not wish to see you.”
The dragon irritably swished its somewhat stiff tail, while quietly covering that eyeball with its claw.
Hey! Treasure!
So it thought.