Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

Chapter 915: Chapter 373: Blood of the Stars

Southeast Continent, above Silver Moon City.

Surrounding the city core and the Mystery Lock, twelve clock towers hang high above as always.

Whether day or night, through storms or clear skies, they forever maintain their eternal trajectory.

This is a masterpiece of witchcraft… and a testament to the power of the Goddess of the Magic Net.

Because it is not only man-made; it is also a gift from the gods.

Indeed, while the spellcasters of Silver Moon City pride themselves on their exceptional skill, there are some things they must acknowledge.

That is, the founder of alchemy was not among their self-proclaimed wise, but a seeker from afar.

And the reason these twelve towers are so special is not that the technology they contain is so powerful.

After all, time levels everything, and perhaps at the time the first tower rose, it indeed was an unparalleled miracle of its age.

But from the earliest of these towers hanging in the sky to the present day, nearly a thousand years have passed in Silver Moon City.

In this era without civilization gaps, in the realm of witchcraft, ancient does not equate to powerful.

On the contrary, among the humans in the age of gods, the newer things are, the more extraordinary they often appear.

“…”

“So, Erwin, this is the difference between humans and deities.”

“…To humans, new creations often outshine the old.”

“Because our strength comes from wisdom and creation, the future will always triumph over the past.”

“But for deities, the old often surpasses the new.

“Because their power comes from the world itself, the past will always triumph over the future.”

“Just like a pre-cut cake, when it is laid out on the table, naturally, the ones who served first eat the most, while the latecomers get but a meager share.”

“However, the gold mine buried in the ground belongs solely to the one who unearths it.”

“As long as you are good at digging and seeking, it doesn’t matter when you arrive.”

Thud thud—

The deep-colored oak staff struck the ground, making a dull sound.

Standing by the window and looking down at the city below, the elder with sparse and grayed hair couldn’t help but sigh.

Looking out, within Silver Moon City, the bustling crowds and flickering magic lights shimmer like stars laid upon the ground.

Truly, it’s young and vibrant… generation after generation.

“I am indeed old.”

With a slight shake of his head, the elder gently sighed.

He still remembered what he looked like when he was young, in that year, as the first-generation offspring born of Bronze Age remnants and Water Elves, he and his friends played together by Falling Star Lake.

Back then, Silver Moon City still appeared desolate and primitive… but under the guidance of the Great Prophet, everyone was full of hope for the future.

Time, in the blink of an eye, so many years have passed.

The hopes of the people back then have all been realized one by one.

Wilderness turned into farmlands, The Sky is occupied by the creations of humans, and he, of course, is no longer young.

After all, being human, one will inevitably age, and I, of course, cannot escape my later years.

“So Erwin, enjoy your young body while you can.”

With a smile, the elder pointed his staff at the middle-aged man behind him.

“Unlike me, you’ve only lived for a few hundred years and have a long future ahead of you.”

“Experience the sensation of youth while you can because when your day comes, no matter how much knowledge you have, no matter how glorious your honors, you cannot change your soul that is slowly decaying…”

“Magic might delay the decay of the body, but who can change the continuation of a soul that is complete and vibrant?”

It is not difficult to extend one’s life, at least not for the elder himself.

But to prolong life without affecting one’s emotions and integrity is as hard as reaching the heavens.

The elder knew that maybe in a hundred years, perhaps two hundred, at most not more than three hundred, he is destined to start on the road to Death.

To mortals, this might already be long enough, but for him, it’s just the last glow before Life’s fire extinguishes.

“Teacher, you are exaggerating.”

“Your life has just begun, how could it possibly come to an end.”

Slightly bending over, the middle-aged man known as Erwin smiled respectfully.

Deep blue robes draped over his body, with a complex and exquisite floral pattern etched onto his left chest.

That is the symbol of the ‘Clock Tower,’ and Medea owns an identical one.

It symbolizes that its owner has reached the pinnacle within the domain of spellcasters, the master of one of those twelve towers.

Yet in front of his teacher, the middle-aged man’s attitude remained as ever, as though he was still the apprentice of the past.

“Just as you said, the greatness of humanity lies in wisdom and creation.”

“In the Bronze Age, humans regarded transcendence as the prerogative of gods, but now it has become widespread in the Mortal Realm.

“So nothing is absolute… Perhaps one day in the future, the crown of the secret to eternal life will be rightfully placed upon your head.”

“The crown of immortality… Heh.”

“Alright, Erwin, you know how difficult that is.”

Shaking his head with a smile, the elder did not take his student’s words to heart.

The greater the hope, the greater the disappointment.

When he first started researching, he also believed that he only lacked the opportunity for experiments to be successful.

But after really getting started, he realized just how minute he was.

The gap between gods and humans is as wide as chasms, just like these twelve clock towers.

Only someone like the elder, who had participated in their construction, knows that their true strength never lies within themselves but in the divine grace that envelops this place.

Mystery Lock, the supreme miracle born under the will of the gods.