Shadow Slave-Chapter 1169 Battlefield of the Gods

Mordret was still getting used to the fact that it never got dark in Antarctica. Because of that, the concept of time here was vague and abstract. The landscape itself was not like anything else he had seen in the waking world, and with countless Nightmare Creatures flooding the continent, it was easy to imagine that they were actually in the Dream Realm.

A whole continent of people, pulled into hell.

'No... it's much too early for that...'

The sky was strange, the land was strange, and the beings populating that land were strange.

And yet, wasn't he the strangest one?

'Isn't it nice, to be with family?'

His uncle's wide back was right in front of him.

Saint Madoc was walking across the desolate plain, not at all concerned by the hordes of Nightmare Creatures moving in the distance. A small force of Awakened followed, with Mordret in the lead. They had left their vehicles behind to traverse the last stretch of wilderness on foot, knowing that remaining unseen was more important than remaining safe.

The warriors of Valor were subdued, but full of unshaken resolve. Even surrounded by unspeakable danger, none of them showed the smallest sign of fear. They were ready to face any kind of threat, no matter how dire, and fight any kind of enemy.

Be it abominations or humans.

Mordret, meanwhile, was simply staring at his uncle's back.

How easy would it be to put a sword right through it?

He suppressed a sigh.

Sadly, not easy at all. Not even because of the priceless enchanted armor Whispering Blade was clad in, but simply because Whispering Blade was Whispering Blade.

If any of Mordret's family members were easy to kill, he would not be stuck wearing the cumbersome vessel of Squire Warren for so long.

'There'll come a day...'

They walked forward in silence.

Eventually, the goal of their journey revealed itself. Hidden in the shadow of an abandoned fortress, a Nightmare Gate tore reality apart like a dark scar. The whispers of the Call grew louder and louder as they approached it, and the bones of slain abominations rustled under their feet.

By now, the force brought to Antarctica by his family had explored a lot of Nightmare Gates. They had started with those situated within the siege capitals under the clan's control, and then slowly expanded their search.

This one, however, was rather special. It was the Gate that Knight Shtad had ventured into, and the area of the Dream Realm connected to it hid within itself a precious treasure.

The problem was that this Gate was situated in an extremely dangerous part of Antarctica... it had been dangerous before because of its proximity to Song's territory, and it grew only more dire now because the hunting grounds of the Corrupted Titan that still wandered the continent were slowly shifting in its direction.

That was the reason why the fortified outpost had been abandoned, and why Saint Madoc was personally escorting them to the destination.

Squire Warren and his people - three cohorts of distinguished Awakened warriors - were meant to be the first wave of reinforcements sent to help the Knight secure his prize. Due to the importance of that mission, Whispering Blade was going to transport them across the threshold between the two worlds.

Of course, Mordret had long taken the place of Squire Warren, so...

His uncle studied the eerie rift of the Gate in silence, seemingly unaffected by the maddening pull of the Call, and then turned around.

"Are you ready, Squire?"

The first one to follow the Saint into the Dream Realm would be in the greatest danger. Mordret pretended to be stalwart and resolute as he nodded.

"Always, my lord."

The words tasted revolting on his tongue.

Madoc nodded with approval and offered him his hand.

The world grew bleak.

Then, it disappeared.

For a moment, Mordret found himself in a vast, lightless space between dream and reality.

And then, blinding light flooded his vision.

Unbearable heat assaulted his skin.

The smell of scorching sand flooded his nose.

Slowly, Mordret regained his vision. He felt deeply uncomfortable, because there were very few reflective surfaces in the surrounding area - limited to only his own sight, he felt nearly blind.

Around him was a vast desert.

A blinding disc of an incandescent sun was bathing the tall dunes in a flood of immolating heat. The sands of the desert were flawlessly white, and the azure sky above him was deep and boundless like an ancient ocean, with not a single cloud blemishing its silken expanse.

Somewhere in the distance, inky-black ruins rose from beneath the sand, scattered across the desert like the bones of a half-buried giant.

Hungry horrors hid in the stark shadows of protruding structures.

Mordret frowned, then shifted slightly, hearing sand rustle behind him.

A grotesque creature that seemed to be made of countless claws was already lunging at him... a split second later, however, it was suddenly dismantled, falling apart in the air. It was as if a maelstrom of invisible blades had sliced it apart.

Black blood boiled as it touched the white sand.

Saint Madoc calmly looked at the remains of the Nightmare Creature and turned to Mordret.

"Stay on guard."

Soon, he disappeared.

Mordret was left alone.

With a sigh, he summoned a special Memory to prevent himself from being cooked alive inside the armor and waited with a sword in his hand.

By the time Saint Madoc returned, bringing two more Awakened with him, there was another dead creature laying on the sand.

It took almost an hour to transport all of them to the Dream Realm. Nevertheless, being guided by a Saint was a great boon - they did not have to search for each other in the deadly desert, facing its dangers alone.

Who knew how many would have survived if not for Saint Madoc?

Finally, the last warrior of Valor appeared under the ruthless sun of the desert. Whispering Blade turned to Warren and sighed.

"This is where I leave you, Squire. You will have to rendezvous with Knight Shtad on your own."

Mordret pretended to be hesitant.

"Saint Madoc, my lord... wouldn't it be more prudent for you to join us?"

His uncle shook his head.

"I am too easily tracked in this cursed land. Coming with you would only increase the chances of the Queen of Worms learning about Shtad's mission. Don't worry... if you perform your duty well, I'll join you soon. By then, it would be too late for Song to intervene."

Mordret bowed, deciding that he was in a great mood.

A few minutes later, Saint Madoc was gone. The Awakened were left alone in the unholy desert.

He looked at his companions and gave them a reassuring smile.

"Hold fast, men! We need to proceed to the first marker without delay. If we fail to reach it before nightfall... may gods have mercy on our souls..."

Of course, the gods were long dead - some might have died on this exact battlefield, in fact - so there was no mercy to be found in either of the two worlds.