[The Legend of the Mage] (Chapter 8)

Chapter Eight: The Lich Who Loves Opera
?
The lich led the group through a dark and empty hall. Soon, the four of them arrived at a
barrier radiating arcane light. The lich gestured for everyone to step back, then extended a withered, sinister
hand from his sleeve and placed it on the barrier. Two silver flames flickered in his eye sockets. Accompanied by a rhythmic chant of ancient Netherssal,
the pale green in the center of the barrier vanished, replaced by a large door—"The Door of Anywhere!" Lin Mo exclaimed inwardly
. This old lich's magical skill was indeed extraordinary; a level 4 spell like the Door of Anywhere was cast with effortless ease.
Upon closer inspection, the Door of Anywhere faintly emitted light.
The lich turned around, straightened his clothes, and bowed in an inviting gesture. "Honored guests,
please." With that, he gracefully stepped into the Door of Anywhere.
The two women turned to look at Lin Mo, who calmly nodded. The three of them then disappeared into the
portal, and the pale green barrier returned to its original calm state.
Passing through the portal, a wave of warmth washed over me, and the scene before me was even more astonishing. It was a
magnificent hall, with thick, soft, brightly colored carpets underfoot. The snow-white walls were adorned with
oil paintings depicting the Nether gods. In the far corner stood a huge fireplace, its orange-red magical flames
leaping merrily. A round table and several reclining chairs surrounded it. Opposite the fireplace, a staircase spiraled upwards
, leading to the upper level. In the center of the ceiling, a huge metal chandelier floated in the air under arcane power,
hundreds of candles burning on it, their light illuminating the entire hall. Below the chandelier was a
long table covered with a pristine white tablecloth, next to which were several elegantly designed high-backed chairs. A group of invisible servants
moved about among the various cutlery, delicacies, and drinks.
...
Everything was ready. The old lich turned around. "Distinguished guests, welcome to my reception hall.
You will enjoy a sumptuous meal."
Lin Mo was taken aback. He cautiously asked, "Master Schiller, this is your reception hall. Then...
what was that place just now...?"
Schiller had just taken a step when he heard this and stumbled. He turned around and chuckled at the three of them.
"Uh... that room was my... my junk... ah no... it was where I stored my unfinished research results
... hahaha... it was just a small problem with the teleportation magic when you came in.
That's all... hahaha... don't mind it... enjoy this wonderful evening."
Damn it, Lin Mo thought to himself, despising this old guy. What kind of bullshit storage place for unfinished research results
? He could have just said it was a junkyard... This guy's skin is really thick. No wonder he's
a thousand-year-old monster.
The three humans and the demon took their seats. The old lich, having already noticed that Lin Mo and the others were starving after a long day,
didn't waste any words, raising his wine cup in a slight toast to them, announcing the start of dinner
. The three immediately began to devour their food.
Schiller didn't touch the knife and fork on the table, only sipping his wine with amusement,
observing Lin Mo's uncouth eating habits with great interest. Lin Mo, while enjoying the delicious food, kept an eye on the old
lich's movements out of the corner of his eye. He noticed the old lich seemed quite interested in him, and cold sweat broke out on Lin Mo's back.
Did this old guy have some kind of special fetish? Right, he'd heard that ancient nobles often kept male prostitutes and took pride in it.
No one could be sure that an old demon who had lived for thousands of years wouldn't change his sexual orientation. Could it be that this old thing
thought Lin Mo was handsome and wanted a change of pace? Was his earlier fawning over the two women just
a cover?! The thought of possibly becoming an old lich's lover filled Lin Mo with sorrow,
which fueled his appetite, causing him to wolf down his food.
Soon, a lavish dinner was over, and Lin Mo… embarrassingly… was stuffed. Stroking his round
belly, Lin Mo slumped lazily in his chair, motionless, occasionally letting out a few unladylike burps
. The old lich paid no attention, snapping his fingers in the air. Lin Mo jumped in surprise, looking up abruptly. There he
was!
Sure enough, a figure had silently appeared beside the old lich. No one knew how he had appeared, as if he had
emerged from the surrounding shadows. The person wore a gray cloak, his head slightly lowered, his face shrouded in
shadow, making it impossible to tell his gender. He stood silently behind the old lich, coldly awaiting
his master's instructions. The temperature in the room seemed to drop considerably with his arrival. (Welcome to the cool entrance of Butterfly King
! Let's give him a round of applause!)
Schiller stood up gracefully, casually pointing at Lin Mo and gesturing to the gray-clad man. Lin Mo's body trembled, his sphincter tightened
; this old glass was so powerful, even the three of them combined were no match for him. "When
you're under someone's roof, you have to bow your head," he thought. "A true man can bend and stretch, a step back opens up a vast sky," "No pain, no gain," "Xiao He
chased Han Xin under the moon..." Lin Mo tried to comfort himself with these wild thoughts, his face filled with tragic determination as he prepared to accept his fate
. But what happened next completely surprised him.
Schiller waved his hand in the air, and a portal opened. He turned to the gray-clad man beside him and said
, "Take the ladies and gentlemen to the guest rooms upstairs and prepare hot water." Then he
bowed slightly to Lin Mo and the other two. "Esteemed guests, I still have experiments to do, so I must take my leave. I wish you all sweet dreams tonight."
With that, he performed a tedious ancient mage's bow, turned, and walked through the portal, disappearing from sight.
As the old lich disappeared, Lin Mo's tense nerves relaxed instantly. His chrysanthemum was safe;
it seemed the old lich wasn't gay. But why did he look at him like that?
What could a mere magic apprentice like himself possibly have that would interest a thousand-year-old monster? ... Just as he was thinking this, a chill ran through him ,
startling Lin Mo. He looked up to see the gray-robed man standing beside him, bowing and inviting him to follow him
upstairs.
Lin Mo had no choice but to temporarily suppress his thoughts and follow the gray-robed man up the winding staircase to the second floor; a few candles...
Candles floated in the air, making the entire floor exceptionally quiet. They randomly chose two adjacent rooms; Aunt Bi and the little
girl shared one, while Lin Mo stayed alone next door. The three said goodnight to each other and went to their respective rooms to rest
. Then, Lin Mo, seized by a mischievous impulse, casually opened his door and peeked out. The gray-clad man outside was about to turn and
leave when he heard a door open behind him. He turned around and saw Lin Mo, who had just entered the room, sneaking back
out. The gray-clad man immediately stopped and stood there, waiting for Lin Mo's instructions.
Lin Mo carefully observed the gray-clad man, who exuded a chilling aura. The man remained
standing there, as cold as ice, waiting silently. After a while, Lin Mo chuckled.
"A deity?"
"..."
"A monster?"
"..."
"Thank you."
"..."
With a "bang," Lin Mo slammed the door shut, leaned against it, and laughed three times. The pent-up
frustration in his chest dissipated with his earlier antics. Lin Mo buried his face in the bed he had longed for,
bounced a couple of times, and gave a smug smile. "Serves you right for trying to scare me with your cool act."
Outside, the gray-clad man still stood there. He slightly raised his head, revealing a glimpse of translucent skin and a delicate
chin in the candlelight. Two crimson eyes flickered for a moment in the shadows of his cloak before he disappeared
into the depths of the corridor.
...
The night passed in silence.
In his dream, Lin Mo was engaged in a fierce battle with the old lich for the sake of his chrysanthemum. Seeing his position about to crumble and his chastity
threatened, a knock on the door startled him awake. Still groggy, Lin Mo
got out of bed and opened the door. Outside, an invisible servant brought breakfast. Taking the breakfast from the servant
and watching it bow and leave, Lin Mo slammed the door shut and plopped back down on the bed—he hadn't slept well at all.
He'd had three nightmares that night, each one a battle to protect his chrysanthemum from the old lich, like a TV drama,
and a whole series at that! He'd been woken up twice that night, his long-awaited good sleep completely ruined
. He was covered in a cold sweat from the fright. Lin Mo sighed, wondering if such a young age was already causing him such
severe psychological trauma.
After eating something haphazardly and taking a hot bath, Lin Mo, wearing the white robes the old lich had prepared for the three of them
, stepped out of the room. There was no sound from Catherine and the little girl's room next door; they were probably still asleep. After a moment's thought,
Lin Mo decided not to disturb their sweet dreams and went downstairs alone.
The hall downstairs was still brightly lit, with several bouquets of unknown flowers on the long table, their
delicate fragrance filling the air. Beside the fireplace, a pale-faced middle-aged man in a black mage's robe was reclining
leisurely in a chaise lounge, sipping his morning tea.
Lin Mo was slightly startled. The middle-aged man looked up at him, his eyes flashing with silver fire. Lin Mo immediately
understood; high-ranking liches could change their appearance at will, and his lack of sleep had dulled his senses
.
Schiller raised his glass to Lin Mo, but was surprised to see him looking exhausted and listlessly walking down the stairs.
He put down his glass and asked, "Young colleague, didn't you get a good night's rest last night?"
Lin Mo rolled his eyes helplessly. Who could stand having nightmares all night? He was already
lucky to not have dark circles under his eyes.
Seeing Lin Mo remain silent, Schiller didn't mind at all. He finished the rest of his tea in one gulp, handed the empty cup
to the invisible servant beside him, and elegantly said to Lin Mo, who was nestled in the recliner, half-asleep, "Young colleague
, would you like to visit my library?"
Lin Mo was quite comfortable from the warm fire and was
just about to take a nap when the old lich's words struck him like a thunderbolt. Lin Mo suddenly opened his eyes. A library! This was
the source of a mage's power and wisdom! Every mage had a private library, and a thousand-
year-old monster like Schiller probably had an even more astonishing collection. Perhaps he could find some
secrets unknown to outsiders, sealed away in the long river of history. He jumped up from the chair, his face full of eager anticipation.
"Master Schiller, it would be my honor."
Schiller smiled slightly, took Lin Mo's hand, stepped through the portal, and disappeared into the hall.
On the other side of the door was an even more spacious hall, where rows of bookshelves reaching the ceiling
stood like a forest, stretching as far as the eye could see. They were filled with all kinds of books, and countless invisible servants moved
among them, tidying and cleaning them. The air was filled with the scent of parchment and ink. Lin Mo took a deep
breath, completely absorbed in the ocean of knowledge. This feeling was wonderful.
Seeing Lin Mo's flushed face and excited expression, Schiller wore a smug look and pulled Lin Mo along to introduce
his collection. Soon, the two arrived at a completely different bookshelf.
Unlike the wooden bookshelves next to it, this bookshelf was made of metal and was much larger than the others. Its surface was decorated with
the emblem of the god of literature, Denell. Lin Mo was somewhat puzzled, but the lich next to him was extremely excited. Looking at
the incredibly enthusiastic football hooligan... no... middle-aged man beside him, Lin Mo seemed to understand something. Could it
be that these bookshelves were filled with legendary... martial arts manuals?! At this thought, Lin Mo's eyes immediately
lit up, and he stared at the antique parchment books with a shining face.
Schiller pulled a thick parchment book from the shelf, gently stroking its worn cover
with a tender expression, as if caressing the delicate skin of his lover. Lin Mo, standing beside him, felt a chill run down his spine,
muttering under his breath, "Old pervert."
The old lich seemed lost in some memory. After a while, he sighed softly, reverting
to his frenzied middle-aged man persona, and handed the large book to Lin Mo. Lin Mo's spirits lifted. Here it comes—
the most classic scene in martial arts novels: an unnamed old man, recognizing the protagonist's extraordinary talent and exceptional physique,
imparts unparalleled martial arts skills to him before his death, instructing him on tasks such as protecting world peace, and so on.
"Absolutely dead..." Although this old lich showed no awareness of being a supporting character, and seemed perfectly capable of living until
the end of the world, Lin Mo couldn't care less.
A pair of young, slightly trembling hands solemnly accepted the heavy responsibility from a pair of aged hands.
Lin Mo seemed to already see himself transformed overnight into a powerful archmage, punching the old folks' home in Nanshan and kicking the kindergarten in Beihai,
a harem of harem accumulating virtuosos; he chuckled foolishly, eagerly looking at the large book in his hands
...
Several gilded characters gleamed in the candlelight—"On the Qualities and Self-Cultivation of Actors"
...
What?!
This... This was so different from what he had imagined. The future "pig" was completely bewildered, his
face full of question marks.
The enthusiastic middle-aged man looked at Lin Mo expectantly. Seeing Lin Mo's confusion, he immediately explained, "This is
my most beloved book,
created by some of the most outstanding artists from the Royal Opera House of Netheril 3000 years ago." He reached out and flipped open the black cover, pointing to a few scribbles on the title page. "Look, these are
the autographs of several masters, an absolute collector's edition."
Lin Mo, pale-faced, seemed to understand. Schiller's actions confirmed his guess. He
straightened up, opened his arms, and said with a look of rapture, "That's right. This contains
all the famous plays I've collected from the birth of opera to the present day, from different races and different histories; ah,
opera! You are the crystallization of wisdom, the embodiment of art, the most dazzling jewel in the crown of literature!..."
…
Lin Mo looked at the middle-aged man who had completely forgotten about him and was immersed in the ocean of art. A
black line appeared on his forehead. This was too much of a shock. He hadn't expected this guy to be a literary
youth! No wonder he dressed like a theatrical performer on their first meeting!
…
Lin Mo abandoned the maddening literary youth and wandered alone among the bookshelves. His busy, invisible servants
bowed and retreated upon seeing him. Lin Mo casually pulled a book from the shelf, which introduced the customs and culture of various places in the Forgotten Realms
…
After wandering around for a while, he had only browsed about a third of the bookshelves. Lin Mo couldn't help but marvel at
how rich his collection of books was, despite the old lich's unreliability. It covered everything from all walks of life, even including bedroom arts…
…Did he satisfy his lovers with his hands? Lin Mo's face was full of filth as he secretly hid a few copies of the otherworldly "Playboy"
in his pocket, maliciously speculating in his mind.
Unconsciously, Lin Mo walked deeper into the library. The clamor of the literary youths had faded away.
In the dim candlelight, rows of bookshelves stood quietly, books of all sizes arranged in a pleasing,
mysterious way. Lin Mo unconsciously slowed his steps, as if he might inadvertently awaken
a soul slumbering in the long river of history.
Not far away, between several bookshelves, stood a round desk and a few chairs. A candle
burned quietly on it, illuminating this dim corner. Lin Mo, feeling a little tired, quickly walked over and sat down
in one of the chairs, intending to catch his breath…
On the desk lay an old book. It was more like a notebook than a book, as it was
very thin and lacked any elaborate decoration. The cover was tattered, and the author's name was blurred. After
a careful examination, Lin Mo could only vaguely make out the character "门" (door) at the end.
Lin Mo curiously opened the notebook. The hasty handwriting was still legible. He glanced at
the title, his previously absent-minded expression immediately turning serious. It read—"History of the Gods.
" Suppressing his elation, Lin Mo, as an outsider,
knew too little about this world, especially the gods. This had always been a source of anxiety for him. Now, having finally found the information he needed, Lin Mo immediately
perked up and began reading the notebook word by word, starting to peek into the secrets of the gods of Faer?n…
(The following is the content of the black notebook)
※※※
Unlike mortals, time is not a luxury for gods. This difference is reflected in history:
mortal history is often precise to "the third hour after the festival of the moon," while divine history is often filled with
vague descriptions such as "mid-8th century."
Therefore, in describing the history of the gods, I am forced to use these vague dates extensively, because for many
events, I simply cannot pinpoint the exact year and month.
So, let's begin.
※※※
The Age of Creation: As with the mortal realm, the history of the distant past is impossible to ascertain. What we do know is that the supreme
god Eo created the world, and from light and shadow came Suren and Shar. The two goddesses together gave life to Shantia,
and Shantia, the Earth Mother, is the manifestation of the world of Toril.
The world of Toril began to nurture life, before humanity existed.
Suren and Shar held opposing views, and war inevitably broke out. During the war,
the magical essence of the two goddesses split off and merged into one, giving birth to the Magic Web, whose manifestation is the goddess of magic, Mysriel
.
Subsequently, all the gods were created.
This period can be called the Age of Creation.
※※※
The Pre-Nether Age: We cannot know how long the Age of Creation lasted;
nor can we know how long it took for the gods to form. What we do know is that the earliest creatures to emerge in the world of Toril were not humans
, but lizards. Their highest form was the dragon.
The dragons ruled the land.
An infinite amount of time passed, and the seas turned into fields. The dragons' rule had long since ended, and several other
creatures had emerged in between. Finally, humanity stood at the pinnacle of the world of Toril.
And so, history begins to be written from this moment.
Browsing through any historical timeline, you'll find an interesting phenomenon: the number of "eras"
decreases with age. That is, you'll see that in ancient times,
it was not uncommon for thousands of years to separate one era from another; but in modern times, a few decades or even a decade can be considered an
"era."
The so-called Netherera refers roughly to
the period from the founding of Netheril until its demise, that is, from about 5,000 years ago to about 2,000 years ago. Before this, dragons, murlocs, giants, dwarves, elves,
and others established long-lasting kingdoms, which I will temporarily call the Pre-Netherera.
The Pre-Netherera is essentially an era without historical records. From the perspective of the gods, I believe this was also
a barbaric era. The basic divine order was gradually being established but was not yet complete. New gods were constantly being born,
and gods were constantly being destroyed.
Order had not yet been established.
※※※
Netherera: As mentioned earlier, Netheril was founded about 5,000 years ago. This period is commonly
referred to as the "Netheril Age," undoubtedly due to the glorious Netheril Empire.
However, it must be pointed out that the Netheril Empire did not rule the entire continent; in fact, it did not.
Of course, the Netheril Empire was undoubtedly the most glorious civilization and the most powerful nation at this time, possessing legendary,
omnipotent archmages and the most powerful Nether gods. But we cannot forget that
countless lesser-known nations, city-states, or tribes also existed on the continent.
After the long Founding Age and the pre-Netheril Age, the divine order gradually took shape. Historical records
show that the gods at that time were divided into major pantheons. Besides the most famous Netheril pantheon, there were at least
three other pantheons: the Tarafarik pantheon, the Jihamdas pantheon, and the Kramnet pantheon, and likely also
lesser-known pantheons such as the Anseric pantheon. Of course, there were also elven, dwarven, and halfling pantheons, among others. Elves
, dwarves, and halflings all appeared before humans, and their gods must have existed long before.
Each pantheon was essentially an independent kingdom, and gods with similar divine roles were ubiquitous when compared horizontally
. The Nether pantheon had a war god, and so did the Tarafarian pantheon.
We can assume that other pantheons certainly had war gods or similar deities, though they have now
faded into obscurity—the reason for this obscurity will be explained later. The Nether pantheon
, with its numerous founding gods and the first batch of deities (Surren, Shar, Gagas, Shantia, Mysriel,
etc.), was arguably the most powerful pantheon at this time.
This period, for the gods, was akin to the city-state era of mortals. The supreme gods still reigned, but lacked
real authority; each city-state or vassal state operated independently.
The supreme gods were dissatisfied with this.
Thus, the Nether Empire perished.
※※※
The Fall of Nether: The story of the fall of the Nether Empire sounds more legendary than any bard's tale:
a three-thousand-year-old empire with such a glorious and splendid civilization collapsed in a single day.
People say: an empire is not built in a day.
Now people can say: an empire was destroyed in a day.
Yes, it is truly a legend. Historians have made countless speculations about it, bards have written
countless stories about it, drinkers have talked about it with relish or sighed with regret, and wizards have beat their chests in despair, only regretting that they were born
too late to witness the floating city that soared through the sky.
So, what lies behind the legend?
There was a group of lucky people.
When the empire collapsed, they lived on a floating city—this in itself is not something to be thankful for, because
the probability of dying on a floating city is much higher. The reason they were still alive and thankful was because their city lord was named Shado
.
Shado was not a top figure; among the countless archmages of the Nether Empire, his brilliance
was insignificant, not to mention that he had a teacher, Karthus, whose brilliance eclipsed anyone who approached him.
Shado's academic field was rather niche, or rather, extremely niche. At the time,
he was probably the only one in all of Nether who focused on it—and he was researching it in secret because it was forbidden by law.
He was researching the Shadow Plane.
Shortly before Nether's collapse, he successfully developed a method to
move the entire floating city to the Shadow Plane, away from the Prime Material Plane.
This was his first stroke of luck.
After a period of investigation, he suddenly realized that his prediction was flawed; the floating city had arrived
, but it couldn't return smoothly.
The Shadow Plane was not a scenic or livable place. Shado and his citizens
clearly didn't intend to settle there.
So he hurriedly searched for a way back, which delayed him for some time.
This was his second stroke of luck.
When he finally fixed the problem and successfully moved the floating city back to the Material Plane, he was horrified to discover that
in just ten days to half a month, the Empire had already ceased to exist.
They wanted to know the answer, and the priests of Shar sought guidance from the gods. The Goddess of Shadows sent down an oracle, revealing
the truth.
I must say, this "truth" should be put in quotes because it originates from Shar. Shar doesn't speak
the whole truth; this isn't discrimination, but simply stating facts.
Of course, Shar's words are never entirely lies either.
So, what did Shar say?
Shar said: The archmage Karthus, Shado's teacher, used magic to attempt to steal
the power of the goddess of magic, Mysriel. He failed; the powerful arcane magic caused the magic network to collapse, leading to
the instant destruction of the Nether Empire, which heavily relied on magic. 　　 Now
, I must point out: Shar didn't tell the complete truth. 　　 The complete truth is: Karthus's magic temporarily seized Mysriel's power, but he couldn't control it.

The magic network was brought under control. Magic began to descend into chaos, but it wasn't on the verge of collapse—or, to put it another way, while it
hadn't collapsed yet, it was only a matter of time.
The direct cause of the magic network's collapse was actually the goddess of magic herself.
To escape Karthus's magical control, the goddess committed suicide and reincarnated. She originated from the magic network and was one with it
; as long as the magic network remained intact, she would not die. For other gods, suicide and reincarnation would be absurd,
but for the goddess, it was not impossible.
The goddess successfully reincarnated, but with greatly diminished power. A heroic act of self-sacrifice, admirable and admirable,
proving that women are no less capable than men. Of course, gods are inherently neither male nor female.
The reincarnated goddess changed her name to Mithra, successfully regained control of the magic network, killed Karthus, and restored
order.
But between her suicide and rebirth, there was a brief gap in time; though indeed very brief, it was enough.
In that brief moment, the magic network completely spiraled out of control. The primal magical energy, unrestrained
and uncontrolled, surged forth like a burst dam. The glory of the Nether Empire, almost entirely built on magic—
an advantage that now became a fatal flaw.
The uncivilized villages remained unaffected by the chaos of the magic network; the villagers continued their peaceful rest and work. But in
Nether, countless floating cities fell like meteors, engulfing the land in flames.
The empire had fallen.
※※※
Now I want to ask: how did Karthus, a mortal, manage to briefly control the goddess of magic with a single spell
, forcing her to commit suicide and be reborn? As the goddess of magic, Mysriel certainly had the ability
to sever the magic network before any mortal's magic could take effect, preventing the archmage from casting even half a spell.
Later generations have offered various speculations, the most popular being that the goddess of magic, driven by curiosity, wanted to
see just how powerful the spell was.
Clearly, this interpretation treats the goddess as an idiot, and also treats the most outstanding archmage in history as an idiot.
If Karthus's magic, developed over many years, required him to rely entirely on the curiosity of his opponents for success
, he should have been dead a hundred times over before even earning the title of Archmage.
I cannot pinpoint the force that interfered with the entire process, causing such a devastating blow to the goddess of magic—but I
can point out the consequences of Nether's demise on the world of the gods.
Nether's demise is a legend for mortals, but for the gods, it is a landmark. A landmark
marking the transition from primitive city-state societies to centralized, large empires.
※※※
To understand the significance of Nether's demise for the gods, we must mention some deities.
First is Amanatha, who died.
Oh, some say he's not dead yet, still breathing—but that's irrelevant
; there's not much difference between a vegetative state and a dead person.
As the sun god of Nether's era, Amanatha was undoubtedly one of the most powerful gods, his divine duties encompassing
the most formidable array, including law, order, the sun, and dominion. And he had an equally powerful ally,
the god of death, Jaeger.
Just as Netherworld perished in a single day, the sun god died like a shooting star.
Later generations offered various explanations, but clearly none of them hit the nail on the head—there is only one truth,
but I don't know it. What
I do know is that the sun god fell.
I also know that the supreme god did not choose another deity or mortal to succeed Amannatha, because
he chose two: Ransendal and Tyr.
Ransendal was not a member of the Netherworld pantheon; I think he came from another pantheon. Tyr, on the other hand,
was definitely an outsider.
The sun god's divine authority was dispersed, with the two most important parts belonging to Ransendal and Tyr, who became
new and powerful divine forces.
I don't know how the sun god suddenly became a vegetable, but I do know that in the moments before Netherworld's demise
, he was still the supreme lord of light, and not long after, this god's name existed only in
history textbooks.
※※※
As mentioned earlier, Amannatha's ally was Jaeger.
For those familiar with history, Jaeger will certainly be a familiar name. He withdrew from power at the height of his reign,
willingly and voluntarily dividing his authority into three mortals. These three mortals thus
became two powerful gods and one of medium power. He himself was relegated to a weak god—the worst kind
.
This is the legend.
I will not comment on the legend, because I like Jaeger. I prefer to believe that, as a loyal ally of Amannatha
, Jaeger, seeing the sun god become a vegetable, was overwhelmed with grief and found life meaningless, so he simply retired,
hastily choosing three mortals and dividing his power.
I am willing to believe this.
Although I don't understand why he chose three successors instead of one.
※※※
Misriel's fate has already been explained; the goddess of magic was weakened, and her power was greatly diminished.
So, what about the goddess of magic's allies?
The goddess of magic's closest allies were naturally Suren and Taj; the former was one of her two mothers
(she disliked the other mother, Shar), and the latter was the goddess of fortune.
Suren, as one of the two primordial gods, was also a powerful deity at this time. Taj, however, was merely a lesser god.
After Nether's demise, Suren's power waned, until before the turbulent ages, she had
declined from a powerful god to a lesser one, becoming a servant of Shuna.
As for Taj, she no longer existed; she was dead.
Taj's death was as beautiful as her name—she was killed by Mordorn, the god of decay. After the death of the goddess of fortune,
she split into Tamora and Benshaba.
Incidentally, quite coincidentally, Taj was also an ally of Jag.
※※※
When powerful gods die, either voluntarily abdicate, or gradually weaken, their power is invariably divided.
Scattered, broken apart, a greater number of new deities came into view.
This wasn't all—simultaneously, a great upheaval, so profound in retrospect only a thousand years later,
was quietly unfolding over the long years.
※※※
The Post-Netherear Era: The Post-Netherear Era roughly refers to the approximately one thousand years after the fall of Netherear.
Many things happened during this thousand years. The most famous, but also the most ambiguous, was the
Dawn's Chaos, or the Calamity of Dawn—in short, a great upheaval instigated by the new sun god, Ransendal.
Based on vague and cryptic records, this upheaval likely led to the destruction of at least one pantheon.
As for the Dawn God's intentions, every history book explains that he intended to recreate a new
pantheon.
What new pantheon?
Two thousand years ago in Netherear, humanity knew of a multitude of pantheons; today, there is only one: the
pan-human pantheon. Well, let's leave aside for now the pantheon of elves and dwarves, which is entirely based on family bloodlines.
Unbeknownst to many, the various pantheons quietly merged into one.
The supreme god decreed that within the same pantheon, only one deity could hold the same divine office.
Thus, the previously unrelated gods began their battle.
Garrigos, the war god of the Netheril pantheon;
Tempas, the war god of the Tarafarian pantheon.
Now, there was only one throne for the war god; the victor would reign supreme and rule the wars of the entire continent.
The two war gods began a long battle, and ultimately Tempas emerged victorious. The new war god of the pan-human pantheon
did not annihilate his opponent, perhaps out of respect for warriors. Although Garrigos was defeated,
he managed to survive, becoming a minor god.
Similar situations played out everywhere, and most losers did not have Garrigos's good fortune. I imagine that
humans of this era might have frequently witnessed meteor showers at night, the result of the collapse of destroyed gods.
For example, Tiamat, the five-colored dragon god I mentioned earlier. (Lin Mo carefully flipped through the previous pages
, but unfortunately, those pages were no longer available.) Now he was naturally a member of the pan-human pantheon, but a long time ago
…
a long time ago, he was a member of the Anseric pantheon. And this pantheon was almost completely destroyed—
I don't know which god, or which gods, were the culprits; I'm not a detective. But I know that Tiamat
switched sides and survived to this day.
A new order gradually emerged.
The feudal city-states were destroyed, and their respective administrative systems were streamlined. Now, across the entire continent, the same
position of power is held by only one god, and the Supreme God is the leader of all gods.
The centralized empire was initially completed.
Those high-ranking, or rather, arrogant and domineering—or, to put it more bluntly, the few great lords who most threatened the Supreme
God's position and were subtly forming an alliance—Misriel—oh, now I should
call him Misra—had clearly learned their lesson. (Lin Mo thought with a wicked sense of humor that the Goddess of Magic should be content;
there are those less fortunate than her, who either suffer sudden car accidents and become vegetable-like, or wisely retire on their own, or simply
die. )
The High God was satisfied.
As for the Elven gods, Dwarven gods, and Muhammad gods, they all shared one common
characteristic: they were extremely closely intertwined.
When Tempas defeated Karigos, the Nether gods wouldn't intervene; in fact, many would
cheer or gloat on the sidelines. But if I went to Avandor and randomly killed an Elven god, I would definitely be hunted down
by the entire Elven pantheon. A quick check of the genealogy would reveal that the one who died was most likely the son of Corellon,
the brother of Sahani, the cousin of Elisetrix, and perhaps even had a relationship with Lolth…
Such petty, protective, low-minded pantheons, utterly incapable of understanding the great significance of pantheon fusion
—in short, disharmonious pantheons—the generous and magnanimous High God temporarily disregarded them, allowing them to fend for themselves.
Of course, this wasn't enough, not enough at all.
※※※
The Turbulent Age: The positions of the gods were established, engraved on three stone tablets. I don't understand why they didn't
write the covenant on paper; perhaps they felt stone was more solid and enduring. The Supreme God also promised the gods' positions would be preserved forever
; of course, the gods are immortal.
As it turns out, in the hands of the gods, stone and paper, or immortality and death, made no difference.
Nearly a thousand years passed again.
The Supreme God's rule gradually stabilized, and a new order was successfully established. Finally, one day, the Supreme God summoned all the gods
to the Polaris Camp.
The Supreme God said: Someone stole the three Stone Tablets of Destiny. The Supreme God said:
The three Stone Tablets of Destiny define the power and hierarchy of the gods. Now, some of you are not satisfied with
your current position and want to rise further.
The Supreme God said: Therefore, all of you go to the material world and do not return until you find the three stone tablets.
A saint descended; this is the so-called Turbulent Age.
The stories of this turbulent era, only a little over a decade ago, are familiar to many—though
inevitably exaggerated and distorted in the process of transmission.
I don't intend to recount these stories here. I only want to describe one scene.
The location is Waterdeep, and the actors include Midnight, Eldon, Cyric, the gods, and the grandly appearing Supreme God.
The Supreme God elevates Midnight and Cyric to godhood, filling vacancies—it's worth noting here that Midnight
becomes the new Goddess of Magic. Just how new is this so-called "new" Goddess of Magic?
We'll analyze that later. Let's first look at the Supreme God's subsequent speech.
The Supreme God says: Gods, you occupy divine positions yet remain indifferent to your believers—this is not good.
The Supreme God says: Therefore, from this day forward, we amend the previous rules; the contracts signed in the past are null and void.
The Supreme God crushes the three Tablets of Destiny.
The Supreme God says: From this day forward, there are no longer eternal divine positions. Care for your believers, respond to their prayers,
Fulfill your duties, and know that your fate is now in the hands of mortals. If mortals believe, you exist;
if they do not, you die.
※※※
The notebook abruptly ends here, the following pages missing, leaving only some hastily drawn diagrams.
Lin Mo closes the book, carefully pondering the conflicts and relationships among the gods. He begins to
translate these obscure concepts into something clearer to him: A multinational corporation's boss has
eliminated all departments in Beijing, Shanghai, Nanjing, Guangzhou, etc., establishing a unified China department; the Tokyo and South American departments,
far overseas, will be temporarily ignored.
The company boss says: Previously, each department had an administrative head, but now we only have one China department, no
need for so many administrative heads—therefore, you compete for only one position.
Other positions are similar.
Once all positions in the company were established (although a lot of people had already been laid off during this period), the boss said: "Everyone,
we've implemented some reforms, but don't worry, the underperforming ones have been eliminated. Those currently in their positions are all elites.
I guarantee your benefits will remain unchanged, your salaries will not be reduced, and everything will be according to the previous standards."
Six months to a year later,
the boss gathered the employees and said: "Our system is not motivating enough, and I'm very dissatisfied with it. We
need to reform.
From today onwards, everyone's salary and position will be calculated based on their performance. High performers will receive higher commissions and
bonuses; low performers will be automatically demoted."
The gods were finally completely satisfied.
Lin Mo, reflecting on this history filled with change, turmoil, conflict, conspiracy, and slaughter, sighed softly.
Are gods truly more noble than mortals? At this moment, Lin Mo suddenly thought of a question: Who exactly is the author of this notebook
? How could he know so much about the world of the gods? ...Could it be that unscrupulous old lich?
In the thick fog of history, Lin Mo seemed to see a middle-aged man waving a script, standing
behind the gods, laughing maniacally.
...
In another small drawing room, a beautiful figure sat cross-legged on a chair by the fireplace, her alluring almond-shaped
eyes staring blankly at the leaping flames.
Suddenly, a crack appeared in the space beside the fireplace, then opened up, and a black figure
stepped out.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Catherine,"
the beautiful figure swayed slightly, without turning her head, and said softly.
"Schiller, what exactly do you want?"
The old lich ignored the hostility in her words, straightened his robes, and said leisurely, "
The chief six-armed serpent demon of the Dark Lord has fallen to such a state, and yet he still fell for a mortal. It's truly lamentable."
Catherine suddenly turned her head, a cold glint flashing in her eyes, and said grimly, "You invited me here just to mock me?"
Schiller chuckled, "Beauty. Catherine, you're still the same as before, gentle, understand?
If you want to win over your little lover, you must first learn to be gentle."
Seeing that the beauty before him was about to explode, Schiller stopped laughing, took a breath, and plopped down
in another chair, saying with a grin, "Catherine, I can help you regain your former power."
Catherine's eyes lit up, but she immediately calmed down.
"Conditions."
Schiller slapped his forehead, rolled his eyes, "Hey, hey, don't you know men don't like
women who are smarter than them?"
Seeing that Catherine didn't answer, but just stared at him coldly, Schiller chuckled, then said seriously,
"I want to see your master."
"He hasn't..."
"No, he's back."
...
"Alright, I'll pray to my master."
"And, I want to be your little lover's teacher."
...
Catherine gritted her teeth and said, "Deal."
Schiller laughed, stood up, bowed, and said elegantly, "As you wish, my
lady." Then the black figure gradually disappeared into the air.
After a while, Catherine sighed softly. Suddenly,
Schiller's voice echoed in the empty room again, "Ah, Ms. Catherine, I forgot to tell you something. That book on the table is a
gift for you. I think you'll like it."
Catherine turned around and saw a pink book on the coffee table beside her. Curious, she
picked it up. The cover prominently displayed the words—"How to Improve Your Sexual Skills"
... 　　 "Schiller, you bastard
! 　　 "

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