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Chapter 293 Final Words

"Am I finally going to die?"

He was at the top of the white tower, the highest point of the dark city. It was silent amidst the corpses. The Robin and Mordred had gone. Only the youth was alone in his puddle of blood. He had given up on struggling.

Emergency sewing was useless. He had not learned any healing scores and they would be useless too. As for the medicine, he had eaten them all and they were useless. In other words, he had tried everything to no avail.

His heart had completely shattered and the poison had spread to all his organs. He had lost two-thirds of his blood. Ye Qingxuan lay in the warm blood and stared at the sky. He felt himself going closer and closer to death.

"It’s so quiet."

Gazing at the darkening world, he unexpectedly did not feel any fear. He only felt regret. There were so many things he had not done and so many things he had not said.

A pity. It was such a pity…

Faint footsteps sounded in the silence. The footsteps walked through the puddles of blood and stopped beside him. Clear eyes looked down on him.

"Ye Qingxuan, you’re dying soon." The faraway voice sounded in his heart. It seemed like a hallucination but was so familiar. However, he could no longer hear it clearly.

"To be honest, I don’t want this either but I can’t do anything, Ye Qingxuan. No one is immortal."

"Are there no other ways? I think I can be saved."

"Ye Qingxuan, you can’t be saved." The comer gazed at him pitifully and shook his head sadly. "I’ll miss the days we played marbles together."

"Really? Seems like there aren’t any solutions." Ye Qingxuan closed his eyes in regret. "I’m sorry. It’s been so long but I never asked your name."

"Gawain," they said. "You can call us Gawain."

"Gawain?" The youth sank slowly into darkness. "Since you can read my mind, can you help me leave some final words?"

"Yes," Gawain agreed. "Anything else?"

"Take…my heart out…"

-

Late at night, the waves of Avalon were abnormally angry.

First, the rumbling from the Elizabeth Tower sounded throughout the city, shocking everyone from their dreams. However, they then sank into another nightmare.

Next, the enchantment of Avalon collapsed. The entire city fell into chaos. Without the restrictions of the enchantment, the heaviness of aether rose rapidly. Within a few hours, the white safe zone had become a yellow zone. It even showed signs of becoming a red zone.

The Musician Union and Church had acted and activated their own enchantments. However, they hardly had an effect. Who would have expected that the century-old enchantment would collapse?

Then a black sun appeared in the sky. The chaotic vortex of Avalon’s Shadow emerged and hung above the moon. It swallowed everything and emanated the thick aura of the abyss.

Every musician’s heart shook. They were afraid any movement would cause their souls to be tainted by the aura. Every connection and message to the outside world was suddenly cut off… Right now, Avalon had truly become a lonely island in the sea.

However, a man sitting on a bench in the dark alley of the chaotic downtown slowly opened his eyes. Outside the alley, the noise of metal scraping sounded.

Hundreds, thousands… The military had acted at this critical moment. At least a small battalion now rushed into downtown. They raised their shields and were covered in armor as if they were stepping onto the battlefield. Their spears reflected the cold moonlight.

Endless clangs of metal sounded in all directions. Countless people swarmed over. Their eyes were filled with cold murderous intent. Their steel boots crushed all obstacles; the rumbling rang in their ears.

"It seems that the parliament…has finally acted." Coldness flashed through Ghosthand’s eyes. He looked back at the closed door. "Sir, it’ll be too late if we don’t go now."

The dark room behind him was silent. The Shaman opened his eyes as if he had woken from a dream. "Let’s wait a bit longer," he said and closed his eyes again.

The darkness was still.

Taken aback, Ghosthand sighed in frustration.

"Is this what you mean by ‘guard the door and don’t let anyone in’?" Ghosthand rubbed his face and sighed. "Mr. Shaman, this is an entire armored battalion. Your command is a bit hard to follow."

Clunk, clunk, clunk. The locks snapped. The black glove restricting his invisible arm fell onto the floor.

The cold light of metal appeared at the entrance of the alley. The incoming heavy-armed military hoisted their spears and aimed at the old man before them.

Amongst the group of soldiers, someone yelled, "Kill him! Kill him! Drag the Shaman out. Anyone who fights back will die!" The wizened man with a hunchback waved the heraldry in his hands and yelled, "These are the Queen’s orders! Do not be doubtful and follow the command!"

Elegance and grace no longer existed in Ingmar. His hair had practically all fallen out during these short few days, revealing his spotted scalp. With his hunchback, he looked decades older.

The immense withered flower medicine cured his mental illness but also twisted his mind, causing him to become heavily addicted. Within the short few days, he had sunk to this crazy state. He would obediently follow any command if his mind was filled with hints, no matter how strange it was. He was like a ragged puppet.

"What are you waiting for? Hurry! Hurry!" he yelled and hurried them like a clown.

The mind of the commander beside him was clearly controlled. He sat woodenly on his horse. Hearing Ingmar’s orders, he raised his hand and pressed down.

Boom! The armored soldiers stepped forward in unison, charging like a forest. They shattered the wall and crumbled the tiles as they pushed toward the lonely old man.

"We’re…starting now? At least let me get ready." Ghosthand was taken aback. He quickly ripped a piece from his shirt and tied up his graying hair. His face was filled with regret. "I should’ve drank some wine."

His muddled eyes raised and reflected the wailing and growling battalion.

Ghosthand licked his lips. "Give me some blood…"

-

Ten minutes before, the sound of metal scraping sounded in the center of the city swallowed by fog and darkness. In the heavy fog, a large door suddenly appeared. Before it, all men were as insignificant as dust. One could vaguely see a terrifying shadow between the tightly closed crack.

"What…is this?" Charles’s voice almost cracked.

"What else can it be? It’s the palace." Jerome tossed a piece of paper into his arms. "Don’t waste time. If Gavin fails, there won’t be time for you to hesitate. You have to create a defense with fifteen people and four-hundred spears of Mary. Newton promised that you can do it. I hope you won’t disappoint me."

"That’s impossible!" Charles shook his head in shock. "Do you know how many calculations I have to do for the defense fulcrums of four hundred spears in such a big place? You need to at least give me a manually-powered calculator."

An aether ball was tossed into his arms. "You have four minutes and forty-five seconds."

"An aether ball is useless!" Charles threw the aether ball in anger but then picked it up again. "Whatever, it’s better than nothing. F*ck, there’s even the Tetris that we developed. Your score is pretty high."

"You still have four minutes and thirty seconds."

"Okay, I’m working now. Shut up, old man." Charles glared at him. His expression was crude and frustrated as if he was glaring at an idiot who was disrupting his work.

Taken aback, Jerome quickly looked away. "Whatever."

He spread a few feet of paper on the ground. Charles used the aether ball as light and studied the complex map and aether parameters. He was immobile as if he had turned to stone.

No one spoke in the silence. The only sound was his heavy breathing. His pupils trembled as he scanned the map over and over. Sweat seeped from his neck and forehead, rolled down his chin, and dripped onto the map, leaving wet trails.

Three minutes.

Swallowing thickly, he took out his pen. After short hesitation, he quickly pressed down and drew three overlapping ovals on the map. The palace was the center of the ovals.

He rapidly marked the parameters and positions with scrawled handwriting amidst the fine ink blots. He focused entirely on it to the point of forgetting his surroundings.

Two minutes.

He tossed his pen to the side. The sound attracted Jerome’s attention. He looked back and saw Charles, collapsed on the ground, and the map filled with markings.

"Done." Charles glared at him and panted. "What are you looking at? I’m awesome when I get serious."

Two minutes and fifteen seconds. He was so fast!

Jerome’s eye twitched. He waved and the royal musicians with sealed weapons quietly disappeared into the fog.

Sharp sounds came continuously from the still mist. It was the sound of long nails being driven into the ground.

"You’re even more amazing than what Newton described." Jerome stood before the towering gates and looked back at him. "No wonder you’re the genius of the Royal Research Institute. Your calculation abilities are incredible."

Charles shook his head. "I just have a good head. There’s nothing impressive."

…As if!

Charles actually felt guilty inside. He was drenched in sweat and now his expression froze. Have a good head? When had he ever used his brain since he started?!

Charles had used his good looks and gut feeling to survive in Avalon for so long! So basically…he had just made wild guesses for the positions.

This type of work would take a group two weeks even with a mechanically-powered calculator but he only had five minutes! What a joke? It would be easier to suddenly fly!

Thus, he became even more anxious after he turned in the results he had guessed with his instincts. If the activation was not successful, would he be killed by those angry royal musicians? And what did these *ssholes even want to do? Holding sealed weapons before the palace…did they want to pull a coup and start a revolution?

Who else would try to seal the palace?! No, this group was too weird. He had to find the chance to escape. But the moment Charles made this decision, he realized that everything was silent.