1000 Years Later, Even My Weakest Follower Has Become A Demon King Novel - Chapter 42

Translator: CKtalon
The Eternal Gift was the ancient secret ritual of the Blackwater Kingdom. It needed to construct a miniature Netherworld through extremely rich necromancy magic power to have the executor of the secret ritual and the remnant soul imprint on the ancestor’s corpse resonate.

Spellcasters could either gather those soul imprints to strengthen their Spirit or summon the corpses to rise and become their slaves.

Of course, as the price of controlling this powerful force, the former might suffer the latent risk of ending up with schizophrenia, and the latter might lose control of the corpses because they failed to control their ancestor’s will.

Back when Great Sage Yeats was compiling the Astral Laws, the Undead mages from the Rotten Moon Church in the Blackwater Province hoped to compile the Eternal Gift into the catalog of Undead magic. However, they were ultimately excluded by the first Astral Council because this spell contained too much Moon Realm worship.

Logically speaking, all records of this secret ritual should have been destroyed during the era when the Astral Laws were promoted via the Great Book Burning campaign.

!!

However, one day, Duke Simon brought an ancient copy to the Astral Lighthouse’s guardian.

Duke Simon offered to help the old man, who had been stuck on the precipice of the Legendary stage for many years, enter the Legendary stage by using Moon Realm magic to recreate the Eternal Gift.

“The preparations for the Eternal Gift are almost complete?”

The elder opened his eyes again when he heard Simon’s words. He stared at Duke Simon and asked suspiciously,

“Is it that fast? Shouldn’t the magical power from the Astral World enter Currere along this Astral Lighthouse after the correct celestial cycle is in place? Only then can a magical environment that meets the requirements of the Eternal Gift appear?”

Duke Simon shook his head and said, “That’s too slow. I’ve done the math; the next correct celestial cycle will be this year’s Frost Moon. It will introduce too many variables in between.”

The old man sneered and said, “Are there too many variables, or have you blown your cover?”

Simon replied, “I’ve already said that the Church won’t discover anything here. Their actions have always been under my control, including the movements of the woman sent by the Eighth Order.”

The elder—who was familiar with the efficiency of Thorn City’s intelligence system—involuntarily nodded. Then, he asked in confusion, “Then, what other variables are you worried about?”

“These so-called variables refer to something that can’t be predicted.”

Simon sighed and continued, “You’ve seen the records left behind by the Resound spell, right?”

The old man nodded.

He had seen the records of the gray-haired, silver-eyed magic chanter killing the supervisor sent to the Silverstream Mine by the Duke several times after receiving the news.

Be it the rapid release of Ice Barrier to block the supervisor’s Dragon Lightning Spear or the unknown teleportation spell, they left a deep impression on him.

He estimated that if he encountered that person outside the range of this Astral Lighthouse, the chance of victory was 50-50. In Thorn City, only Sage of Scorching Scars, Vincent, could certainly suppress that person.

Of course, if he could use the power of this Astral Lighthouse to fight, that would be another matter.

“I have. Why?” the old man asked.

“That mage who’s very likely at the Master level seems to have appeared out of thin air. My subordinates can’t find any clues about his origins,” Simon said in frustration.

In this era, be it a formal registration or a heretic, it was very difficult for a powerful magic chanter to hide his identity, let alone find any clues to his identity.

Becoming a magic chanter required a large amount of resources, and it was impossible for there to be no traces of the use of those resources.

It was no wonder he was so anxious.

Threats from the unknown were always the most terrifying.

“But even if you plan on holding the Eternal Gift immediately, how do you plan on resolving the necessary condition that is mana density?” the old man asked.

“Holy Sepulchre. I plan on holding the Eternal Gift in the Holy Sepulchre.”

Duke Simon’s answer widened the old man’s eyes.

The Holy Sepulchre was located under Thorn City’s graveyard. Or rather, Thorn City’s graveyard was built above the Holy Sepulchre. It was the holy land worshiped by generations of the ancient Blackwater Kingdom, and it was also the worship source of the Blackwater Swamp’s ancestors and the dead.

In addition, it likely had the richest undead magic on the Vic Continent.

After all, it was impossible to find a place with so many intact corpses elsewhere.

But to any magic chanter who was familiar with history, it had a different identity.

The location of the Rotten Moon Tide more than a thousand years ago.

The Tide of Undead that had once swept through the entire continent.

Some people had once guessed that the source of the disaster was a failed Eternal Gift.

“No, no, no. This is crazy.”

With this in mind, the old man shook his head repeatedly.

“Moreover, ignoring the risk of holding a secret ritual there, as tower guardian, I can’t leave the Astral Lighthouse.

Regarding this, Simon said very easily, “If it’s only half a day, can’t you get a magic chanter at the same level as you to replace you? I think Vincent will be very willing to help.”

The elder fell silent. He thought for a while before saying, “But it’s still too dangerous to hold this ritual in the Holy Sepulchre. Moreover, don’t tell me you don’t know why Judgment 4, the weapon coveted by the Eighth parish, was left in the Holy Sepulchre?”

Simon naturally knew what he was referring to.

He had been to the Holy Sepulchre more than 20 years ago and learned about the unknown history from the inscriptions in the Holy Sepulchre.

It was ten years after William Kane left when an era of war ensued among the seven kingdoms on the continent.

The Blackwater royal family, which was at a military disadvantage, made a crazy decision—to awaken the wraith of the old king that had once triggered the Rotten Moon Tide and summon the dead to be used as soldiers.

And this plan naturally failed.

Among the fractured Judges, only two people provided a timely response to the Blackwater Kingdom’s request for help in time—the fourth Judge, Black Swordsman Blake, and the last Judge, Jackdaw Coles.

To prevent the Rotten Moon wraith from breaking through the seal, the two Legendary Judges died there. Before dying, Blake used his last breath to seal the wraith under the Holy Sepulchre.

Judgment 4 became his tombstone.

Other than a stone plaque set up by the Judges who arrived later for their former friends, this story was not recorded in history books.

“But more than a thousand years have passed. No matter how strong the wraith is, it should have dissipated,” Simon replied.

However, the old man still shook his head. “Anything except this. I’m able to turn a blind eye to those people in your Mage Hall studying Moon Realm magic…”

“You turned a blind eye because you want to become a member of the Astral Council, and I’m the only person who’s willing and can help you advance to the Legendary domain.”

Simon cut off the old man.

“I’m not negotiating with you. As I’ve said, I’m informing you of your only chance to advance to Legendary.”

…

When Simon was going down the tower, a hazy and constantly changing star in his ether domain suddenly sent him news.

“My arrangements are almost done. As long as the actor appears, the ritual can begin at any time.”

It was the Nightmare Maid speaking to him through an anchor in his soul.

“Me too. Unfortunately, that old coward cherishes his life too much. He only agreed to come out of his turtle shell under my threats,” Simon replied.

“So you ultimately plan on making that tower guardian the fuel for the ritual and not Vincent?” the Nightmare Maid asked through the ether domain.

“You saw that old fellow’s character as well. Other than his bloodline, he’s useless. He consumed countless resources but couldn’t advance to Legendary because of his lack of mental strength tempering. Give the same resources to Vincent and he’s probably already on the cusp of breaking through to the Divine Realm. I don’t think there’s a need to say which one of them is more valuable.”

When Simon went downstairs, he transmitted his thoughts to the Nightmare Maid through the ether domain.

During this period, he accidentally bumped into a mage wearing a simple robe and a hood.

“Sorry,” the person apologized politely in a hoarse voice and made way for him.

“It’s fine.”

Simon didn’t mind too much. He didn’t even look at the person and walked down the stairs.

At this moment, a new message from the Nightmare Maid in the ether domain arrived.

“The problem isn’t the value of the person, but that using him as fuel is equivalent to declaring war on the Astral Council.”

“Then so be it. I did all this to overturn those rules—at least in the Blackwater Swamp. If the world is ruled by such mediocre people, this world will only be pathetic,” Simon replied.

After turning the corner of the last staircase, he finally arrived at the bottom of the lighthouse. He looked at the sunlight outside the door and felt unprecedentedly relaxed.

“A new era is about to begin,” he said.

On the stairs of the lighthouse, the magic chanter who had accidentally bumped into Simon stopped in his tracks. He looked at the runes embedded in the wall and slowly lowered his hood, revealing grayish-white hair.

He stroked the familiar runes and muttered, “Things from the old era really never disappear…”