In a fleeting instant, Anmora absorbed an overwhelming influx of information.
It was the "Divine Realm," a magical system comparable to the Root System, perhaps even more flawless.
In her dreams, Anmora had glimpsed the latest experimental iteration of the Root System—a massive, colossal magical framework. With billions of magical nodes, it constructed pathways connecting the consciousness spaces of every Emerald Spear mage. Its immense screens, cascading with torrents of data, could perceive changes across the entire continent in mere moments.
By comparison, the Divine Realm system was minuscule. Housed within the collar around her neck, it connected solely to Anmora's consciousness space. It lacked any apparent external connections. Anmora had no idea how the Divine Realm captured external information or how it would release energy into the world.
Judging from its initialization sequence, the Divine Realm seemed little different from standard magical systems. It verified identity, imported data, established a platform, and prepared for spellcasting.
Since the communication occurred within her consciousness, even the most deliberate and tranquil of words passed within a fraction of a second. In this brief moment, Anmora heard the Divine Realm speak in a serene, hymn-like tone:
"Malevolence flows within the darkness; murderous intent lies in the hearts of the fallen."
"A humanoid entity with threatening intent has been detected. Your Divine Realm has initiated self-defense protocols. Calculating defensive measures…"
"Calculation complete. Tactical-grade magical formula 'Blinding Light' is ready. It will neutralize all threats in 0.01 seconds."
Blinding Light was not an offensive spell. It emitted a burst of intense light, creating a visual disruption—more often used for illumination or signaling than combat. However, the Divine Realm deemed this spell sufficient for enabling Anmora's efficient escape.
Time, which had felt frozen, began to flow once more. Anmora's mind involuntarily constructed the magical formula for Blinding Light. Once completed, the Divine Realm deployed the spell, and her spellcasting system activated. A burst of intense light exploded between her and the assassin.
Anmora instinctively closed her eyes, narrowly avoiding blindness.
Moments later, she felt warm, sticky liquid on her face. Opening her eyes cautiously, she saw Old Bart plunging the military dagger into the assassin's skull. The assassin's body tilted forward, collapsing onto Anmora and pinning her beneath its weight. Blood and brain matter spilled over her, soaking her clothing.
Stunned, her expression momentarily vacant, Anmora heard the Divine Realm's calm and soothing voice once more:
"All sin in this world shall dissolve in the radiance of your light."
"Threat unit's vital signs detected as terminated. Self-defense is now deactivated. Divine Realm is operating in optimal condition; all remains under your control."
May all be under your control. All remains under your control.
These two lines of golden, ancient text hovered on the consciousness platform meant for constructing magical formulas. Anmora strained to ignore them, but they persisted, refusing to fade. She realized that this consciousness platform was not entirely a product of her own self-awareness; something external had intruded upon it.
Magical systems are always supposed to be mere auxiliary tools. The consciousness platform connected to a mage's awareness reflects only what the mage is actively thinking. This foundational principle is unquestionable. However, Anmora discovered that the Divine Realm system operated differently. It activated defenses autonomously, controlled her consciousness to construct the Blinding Light magical formula, and forcibly altered the appearance of her consciousness platform.
The Divine Realm did not align entirely with Anmora's self-awareness. It followed its own logical rules for judgment.
This was a deeply unsettling issue—perhaps even more terrifying than the missing Black Obsidian Ring.
"It's over now…" Old Bart bent down, moving the corpse aside. He embraced Anmora tightly, his voice trembling with relief. "Child, you're safe now."
Anmora, however, had been lost in her thoughts, barely registering Old Bart or the heavy corpse lying next to her.
She could not comprehend how Mengel had created something like the Divine Realm. It was akin to cutting off one person's head and implanting another's. Using a magical system to alter a mage's self-awareness violated the most basic principles of magical ethics—it was fundamentally wrong.
Anmora recalled Mengel's haunting words:
"You are my goddess."
"Can you hear the voices of heaven?"
"Come to hell with me."
"I offer everything to you, as long as you promise to die by my hand."
Anmora clutched her head in anguish, suppressing the overwhelming urge to tear off the collar and strip it from her skin. "Damn it, damn it, damn it… that madman…"
The Divine Realm wasn't a magical system for human use. It was a brainwashing tool—Mengel's device to create a god.
"Are you okay?" Old Bart grabbed her wrists, preventing her from harming herself. "That guy is dead. Calm down."
Yes, yes, he's dead… Joseph Mengel was dead!
It's fine. She was still young, with plenty of time ahead to rid herself of the shadows this dead man had cast over her life. Calm down, she told herself, just as she had done for so many years before. Don't let the devil take root in your heart. Magical technology was always advancing. While Mengel had managed to surpass his era, he could never outpace future innovators by too much.
She could join the most advanced magical corps, learn cutting-edge magic, and slowly find a way to minimize the effects of the Divine Realm. Eventually, she could attempt to strip those magical constructs from her entirely.
Yes, that was it. There was nothing to fear—it was just a dead man and his lingering relic.
Anmora felt ice-cold. Brain matter, blood, and sweat had soaked through her clothes, and the biting wind made her shiver uncontrollably. But the chill also cleared her chaotic thoughts. She looked up at Old Bart, her face pale and haggard, as though she had become an entirely different person.
"It's over now, it's over…" Old Bart was clearly shaken, repeating the words like a mantra to comfort her.
"I know," Anmora rasped, her voice hoarse and trembling. "Thank you."
Relieved to hear her speak, Old Bart sighed. "Come on, let's keep moving east. Hope isn't far now."
"Mm." Anmora tried to push herself up, but the fractures in her body seemed to all flare up at once. She collapsed back onto the ground, unable to move.
Old Bart stepped forward to lift her, but she stopped him.
"No, moving me carelessly could displace the fractures." She winced as she fought for breath, working to keep her body as flat as possible. "Oh, heavens… Make a stretcher, please."
This time, Old Bart didn't scoff at her detailed request. He returned to the cart and grabbed some of the dismantled boards, carefully sliding Anmora onto a makeshift stretcher. His military experience showed as he efficiently crafted the stretcher and lifted it with ease—Anmora's lightweight frame made it manageable for one person to carry.
He also found some wooden planks and sticks amidst the ruins to secure her fractured bones as best as he could.
"Multiple fractures, likely internal bleeding as well. You need medical attention, and it can't wait," Old Bart said gravely. "And your clothes—those need to be changed."
Anmora was acutely aware of the metallic taste in her throat—internal bleeding was certain, with at least five fractures across her body. As much as she loathed being covered in brain matter, she couldn't risk changing clothes. Any movement might drive the broken bones into her organs.
"Just get to where there are people," Anmora urged, her tone strained.
Old Bart draped a blanket over her, but the added weight nearly made her cough up blood. He noticed her worsening pallor and added firmly, "You need to stay warm. If you catch a cold and develop a fever of forty degrees, there'll be no saving you."
The cart had almost everything—except medicine.
"And don't go too fast; I'm worried your bones might fall apart," Old Bart said as he climbed onto the cart and flicked the reins. The black horse trotted forward at a slow, deliberate pace.
Anmora winced from the jolting of the cart and begrudgingly agreed. "They already have."
"You're lucky to be alive. I thought he was going to strangle you, but then he froze," Old Bart said, his tone a mix of relief and lingering fear. "I didn't even think; I just scrambled off the cart, grabbed the military dagger from the ground, and drove it right into his head! That dagger is something else—what did you call it? A Haimer dagger, right? It went straight through his skull, right out of his left eye socket!"
"Spare me the details," Anmora muttered, struggling to keep the blood rising in her throat from spilling out. "Did you notice anything else when he froze? Like… a flash of light?"
"What light?" Old Bart frowned, confused.
Anmora groaned, her discomfort intensifying. "Never mind."
The "Dazzle" spell hadn't visibly manifested. Ordinarily, it would have appeared as a bright flash to disorient the target. In this case, while it effectively disrupted the assassin's vision, there had been no actual light.
A successfully cast spell typically follows several steps before affecting a target.
First, the Dazzle spell's light would need to hit the enemy's retina, triggering a neural response that relayed the perception of a "bright flash" to their brain. The brain would then instruct the eyes to close, completing the process. However, the Divine Realm system bypassed the first step entirely. Instead, it directly implanted the sensation of a "bright flash" into both Anmora's and the target's nervous systems, compelling the reaction to close their eyes.
In other words, even if Anmora hadn't actively constructed the spell, the Divine Realm could have independently rendered the assassin blind.
The realization that the Divine Realm system could function entirely independently of a magic caster depressed Anmora even more. Mengel had evidently reached a pinnacle of magical innovation far beyond what anyone else in this era could achieve.
At least the fact that she had illegally used a military-grade magical system remained undiscovered.
In a dire situation, that was the only comfort she could cling to. While Old Bart knew she understood a great deal about magical theory, that didn't mean she could freely use magic in front of him.
Magical knowledge was tightly controlled by the military. Military-grade magical systems were classified weapons, and magicians who used them were required to pledge loyalty and assume significant risks and responsibilities. Leading developers of these systems were confined for life to the Sky Fortress. The empire strictly limited public access to basic, civilian-grade magical systems and spells, and using magic outside these constraints constituted a serious crime. Even military magicians required authorization from superiors to use offensive spells, and unauthorized use resulted in severe consequences.
Old Bart was a kind-hearted man, but he was also an imperial citizen, with an ingrained sense of duty as a former soldier. Anmora couldn't risk blatantly using magic without authorization in his presence. If he reported her, her next few decades would be spent behind bars.
And Old Bart was undoubtedly the type who would turn in an unauthorized magic user out of a sense of justice…