Book 1, Chapter 91 (2/2)
“Hero?” Raymond laughed mockingly, “With a body as weak and frail as mine, how can I become any heroic character? I doubt I’ll be able to cross level 5 as a warrior in my lifetime.”
A faint look of sorrow flit across Valen’s face. “But you still have the gift of magic. It is a great feat to be a level 12 mage at your age, and you’re a scholar of Soremburg on top!”
“You’re not wrong!” Raymond burst out laughing, as if his world had suddenly filled with sunshine.
Though Valen was smiling along with his master, he knew in his heart that what Raymond lacked the most was time. If he couldn’t break through as a warrior, he had less than twenty years left to live. Twenty years was but the blink of an eye in the planar wars. But with the innate flaws in his physique, it would be a miracle for Raymond to achieve any such thing.
In the endless planar wars, with the chaotic and turbulent times, the one cornerstone for a hero to rise was mere survival.
Be it in reality or the void, the fifth layer was always up high in Faust. The islands were far above the level of the city proper, the highest points of their orbits almost reaching the Church of the Eternal Dragon. It would take more than a century to push the Josephs to the fifth layer. Compared to all of history, twenty years was as insignificant as a small flower in a long river.
There wasn’t much land even on the fourth island of the fifth layer, where the valiant emperor of the Sacred Alliance, Bloodthirsty Philip, lived. At a kilometre and a half in diameter it was the biggest of the occupied islands, but it was still difficult to put something as magnificent and vast as the Sacred Alliance’s Imperial Palace into such a small place. Despite prevalent use of spatial magic, a lot of the space needed for gardens had to be given up.
The palace was built into the mountain itself, with the main hall sitting on the top which had been flattened out manually. Every window, every balcony, and every pillar of this seventeen-storey-tall building was adorned with innumerable exquisite carvings. Individually, every part was rich in historical and artistic value, yet when piled together, they did not seem to be in harmony.
When the pale golden light of dawn gradually filled the dining hall of the palace at breakfast, the long table was already filled with light refreshments and wine to whet the appetite. Ten maids stood by the side in attendance, carrying silver trays of food. Several court officials, dressed to the teeth and with wigs on, also stood by in preparation to report the happenings of the day before.
A crisp and melodious bell started to chime in the breakfast hall, and a bird larger than a mountain falcon suspended from a copper stand on the ceiling started to chirp, “All hail the Emperor! All hail the Emperor!”
A door on the other side of the hall opened, and a tall, strong-looking man walked in. He stood over seven feet tall and had a curly blonde wig, his skin glowing like Faust’s sunlight as well. A shiny flush radiated from his cheeks— which trembled as he walked— as well as his moustache that was shaped like a smile. A weaved satin top concealed a shockingly large belly, outlined in gold and secured with a wide golden belt. The belt was embedded with all sorts of gems; the buckle of the belt was even embellished with an Azshara star diamond! This jewel was precious enough to be included as a core component in a level-five rune or legendary item, yet it was being used purely as a powerless ornament on this belt.
This man, who was dressed so extravagantly it was almost amusing, was none other than the supreme emperor of the Sacred Alliance, Bloodthirsty Phillip.
Moving his enormous body to the dining table, he barely managed to squeeze into a chair three times the average size with great effort. Panting roughly, he exclaimed, “The chair became smaller again!”