Chapter 1348 — Farewell

"This barrier will endure for all ages. It will isolate our planet from this universe full of malice, ending forever the threat of the magic tide. It will also sever the connection between the mortal world and the gods, becoming a great wall between the living world and the deep sea—the gods will never be able to find us... like an infant returning to a safe swaddling cloth, forever and ever..."

Beiyila watched Bertlem before her with slightly widened eyes. For several seconds she said nothing, and then she suddenly spoke: "Do you truly believe this will buy you eternal safety?"

"That is what the Grand Pontiff said, and what those twin elf sisters said as well," Bertlem said in a low voice. "So long as we wrap this planet of ours up carefully, isolate it permanently from the outside universe, and accept only the sun's limited gift of energy, we can build a permanent haven of peace. At least... it can last until the sun above our heads goes out, and that will take many, many years."

Beiyila did not know how to evaluate this mad plan. She simply thought suddenly of another crucial point. "Wait—you said you mean to guide the deep-blue ley-lines into a 'great eruption.' How many people will die in that process?"

"As with the Gondor Empire seven hundred years ago," Bertlem said in a deep voice. "This process is essentially a reenactment of the birth of the Gondor wasteland—and so the entire mortal civilization will be destroyed, all mortal nations will perish, over ninety percent of the living things in the world will go extinct in the process. But some will survive, like us in the Gondor wasteland. Steeped little by little in the deep-blue magic, they will evolve into our likeness... and in the end, adapt to this new world."

Bertlem paused, then said slowly in a low voice: "Our likeness is the future of all things."

"You really have gone mad..." Beiyila's eyes went wide, fixed hard upon the middle-aged man before her. "Turning the entire planet into an environment like the Gondor wasteland, destroying every civilized nation, leaving only scattered mutant freaks like you wandering a wasteland that covers the whole world... what meaning does such a 'haven of peace' have? What meaning does such long-lasting 'protection' have?"

"But at least the living things on this planet will never again face the magic tide and the divine calamity," Bertlem shook his head. "And after long ages, perhaps a further 'evolution' will come. The wandering mutated creatures may build a new civilization, and the wasteland environment may give rise to more forms of life. What seems to you a harsh, despairing environment may be fertile farmland to another kind of creature... Beiyila, do you know? After seven hundred years wandering the Gondor wasteland, I actually find that dark, corrupted land to be rather full of vitality now... Time can change everything."

"But this should not be the fate of the civilized nations, and you have no right to cut off their future for them," Beiyila said, looking into Bertlem's eyes. "If we must face an apocalypse in the end, then we would rather fight to the death. We would rather battle on the field to the very last one, rather face the end in defiance—not have you manufacture a catastrophe, not have you cut off everyone's future under the banner of warding off an enemy, and then in the end hear you say that this is protecting the world of the future."

"...You are quite right. But unfortunately, we who have sunk for so many years in the wasteland can no longer think the way you do," Bertlem's mouth twisted, producing a smile so warped it was nearly hideous. "And that includes me—when the last shred of reason and conscience in me now fades away, I will only find your words naive and sanctimonious."

"Perhaps. That is precisely the sorrow of us all," Beiyila sighed softly. "Let us continue, Bertlem... I now know your true purpose. Now I want to know about those runestones—what is your deployment plan going forward? How many more runestones will you deploy? And if you complete the entire deployment plan... how will you activate them?"

"Our deployment progress... is already more than half done. I do not know the full details of the whole plan, but I think we still need... still need another third of the runestones before the 'taming' of this planet can be achieved," Bertlem's tone was a little hesitant, as though he were contesting with himself for some kind of "control," but in the end his words flowed smoothly again. "The deep-blue ley-lines are extremely complex. You cannot simply dump a large number of runestones into the ley-lines all at once and call the 'quantity' sufficient. The suitable nodes are limited...

"Originally, we had already found nearly enough nodes in the wasteland. Without disturbing the central node, the Deep Blue Well, we could have sent more than ninety percent of the runestones into their designated flows. But then the plan met with a change—the runestones placed in certain nodes were intercepted by the sirens... in the end we had to set our sights beyond the barrier...

"The most important node lies at Mount Mingcen. Deep within that high mountain is buried a natural magic wellspring no lesser than the Deep Blue Well, yet the locals know nothing of it, taking the magic-rich environment around Mount Mingcen merely as a gift from their ancestors...

"The other designated nodes are scattered deep in the mountains of the northern continent, one deployment point in each of two swamps on the border of the Holy Dragon Duchy, three in the eastern extension of the Dark Mountains, one in the Shadow Marsh on the Typhon border, two in the Blue Rock Hills of the southern continent, three in the northwest of the Highland Kingdom...

"Each deployment point requires a different number of runestones—at least one, at most four or five. The runestones can navigate and position themselves within the deep-blue flows, and they begin to move the moment they enter the ley-lines..."

Bertlem's voice gradually grew low, but he kept speaking of everything he knew. Throughout the long telling, Beiyila listened gravely, not missing a single word.

Some time later, Bertlem's voice finally fell completely silent.

As though asleep, he slumped before Beiyila with his head bowed, his body utterly motionless. The memory-entity that retained a conscience seemed to have departed this "body" entirely, leaving behind only an empty husk in its place.

But soon, a new consciousness began to grow in a corner of this husk. The body started to tremble, accompanied by hoarse, rasping breaths, and this body that had been still for so long suddenly raised its head. Its eyes were filled with rage and hatred, the muscle lines of its face twitching and convulsing, and a hoarse, warped voice squeezed out from its throat: "Bei-er-ti..."

Yet the roar managed only a few syllables before it cut off short. The flower field all around, blanketed in pure white blossoms, abruptly began to writhe, and the plants that had looked so lovely and harmless wove themselves into an enormous, gaping maw bristling with fangs, which swallowed Bertlem's already rapidly distorting "body" in a single gulp.

The next second, the flower field was calm again, leaving not a trace behind. Only Beiyila, in her pale green gown, stood quietly where she was, gazing at the sea of flowers swaying gently in the breeze.

"Farewell, Bertlem."