The Record of Unusual Creatures

The nightmare was dissipating.

The Forgotten Abyss, shrouded by Lockmarton’s power of Chaos, gradually broke away from the darkness. The first thing that changed was the core of the epic battle, the throne of the nightmare tyrant—Spiral Hill.

The evening twilight slipped away while the twisted remnants of Spiral Hill disintegrated in silence. Smoke rose from the monsters that emerged from the nightmare like sunlight shining on the morning dew. They became transparent before they disappeared. The storm over the plains had stopped, and the giant pillars of smoke as well as dust collapsed like dreams, releasing little glows up to the sky akin to liberated souls. There was some mysterious debris that shimmered and fell from the sky onto the battlefield, on every soldier and general.

Startled, Calaxus looked at the scene and reached out.

A piece of shimmering debris fell on his palm. It felt warm. As if he heard a whisper of gratitude, he listened carefully and found that it was a hallucination.

The supernatural forces had dissipated, and a ray of light shone on his face.

The rolling clouds in the sky gradually calmed down and dispersed in all directions. The light, absent for a long time, descended from heaven and dispelled the last traces of haze. Light beams shone through the clouds like a waterfall onto the land below.

“The nightmare is over.” A senior church knight took off his blood-stained helmet and held it under his arm. Looking up at the bright sky, he lamented, “It’s really over this time.”

The exhausted soldiers could finally rest. After losing the will that supported them all this while, they dropped to the ground, one after another. Covered with blood and dirt, the weary soldiers looked at each other. They were overjoyed and relieved, wanting to laugh out loud or shout, but they found it too exhausting to do so. All these warriors could do was looking at each other and smiled.

It seemed that Calaxus wanted to lie on the ground, even if it was just for a minute so that he could let himself rest. But he remained on his feet and staggered toward the wardens.

His platinum wand had been destroyed due to overloading. Calaxus could only support himself with a crooked wooden stick now.

Some vague figures were standing in front of the Lord of the Mountains.

Not many warriors of the Spirit Braves Army and Armageddon Army left at the end of their last battle. Many of them fell on the battlefield and paved the way for a peaceful future. When the dawn finally arrived, only a few soldiers were left standing.

Deformed dark creatures, empty and transparent soul warriors, empty armors and battle robes had all gathered in front of the Lord of the Mountains, just as they did in a military parade thousands of years ago.

A skinny old man stood in front of these armies, as if an ordinary elderly, looking up at the Lord of the Mountains.

As if a thought suddenly crossed his mind, Calaxus realized that the pope was no longer a living person in this world but belonged to the army of the dead.

Auguste VII, as avuncular as a father, was dead.

Gordon, the Lord of the mountains, leaned down in front of these warriors and listened carefully to the words of the old pope. After a long while, Gordon, nodding as if he had made a promise, slowly got to this feet.

A beam of light shone from the clouds on the Armageddon Army.

The distorted and mutated limbs dissolved in the light, and the corroded bodies vaporized. As black smoke dissipated, these distorted monsters were restored to their original appearance in soul form. Knights in shiny armor, priests in a sacred white robe, and the standard-bearer recovered. The standard-bearer reverted into a battlefield bishop in battle robe, his hair and beard white, and face resolute. The piece of rag that he tied at his back and fluttered in the air gradually turned into a golden flag with the side portrait of the goddess.

The old pope nodded to this battlefield bishop and then glanced back at Calaxus before turned and walked toward the army of the dead.

The battlefield bishop raised the golden flag in the air and shouted, “About turn!”

“Forward, march!”

The dead marched in synchronous steps toward the light.

Light, which shone down through the clouds, grew more intense and finally became ubiquitous skylight, illuminating the old world in its full glory. The figure of the legion marching in the light gradually disappeared and became one with the twilight.

Ten wardens were standing and watching solemnly as the dead legion departed.

On the battlefield at the rear, the surviving soldiers staggered to their feet and supported each other as they stood and watched their ancestors left.

After the silent farewell, Calaxus looked up emotionally as a staff carved out of bush slowly fell from the air. He let go of the stick in his hand and reached for the staff, from which he could still feel a certain warmth.

“Their last wish is for you to assume the responsibility of the pope.” The voice of the Lord of the Mountains came from above. “The arrival of dawn does not mean the end of everything but the beginning. Someone has to lead the world back on track. Are you willing to take up the responsibility?”

Calaxus clenched the thorny staff in his hand. Earlier, when the old pope looked back at him while turning and walking toward the army of the dead, Calaxus already knew he had to shoulder the responsibility.

The arrival of dawn did not mean the end of everything. Even if the threat of Lockmarton had gone for good and the Tide of Chaos no longer threatened the world, Collow was destined to experience a period of turmoil and hardship. Because in the real world outside, the War of Chaos had raged on for seven years, and the plot of the Cult of Armageddon had caused unimaginable destruction to many kingdoms during the last month of the war. It was a world in ruin, badly needing reconstruction. While the Tides of Chaos were gone and now a memory of the past, Collow had to build a new order. It would be a new order of which people living in this land had never imagined before. Now, someone had to lead.

Calaxus took over this burden but also felt a sense of relief at the same time. The Lord of the Mountains seemed to know what was in Calaxus’s mind. A rumble came from the air and said, “The wardens will return to the world.”

“We will help,” Amid a series of heavy footsteps, Muru’s voice was heard saying. This guardian giant was not one of the wardens and had no idea about the power of the Light of Order, he naturally did not fight alongside the Lord of the Mountains but the Sanctum army. “I believe that Hao Ren has a plan.”

“Hao Ren?” The Lord of the Mountains looked into the sky. The rift that reflected the external universe earlier had disappeared. To prevent the power of Lockmarton from reentering the world, the barrier of the prison system had been closed. Gordon had no idea what was happening on the outside. “I hope everything goes well on the other side.”

“I trust him,” Muru said slowly. “Hao Ren fights no war unprepared. He might appear to be absent-minded at times, but he always has things well-thought out and has never missed.”

Just as Muru’s voice trailed off, a beam of light suddenly flashed across the sky.

This light was different from conventional skylight. It not only brightened up the sky but also tore the space open. The prison security system of Collow was disabled from the outside, and the image of the external universe flashed in the light for a short while, but there were no signs of Lockmarton.

Muru smiled as if he had anticipated it. Pointing at the figure in the light, he said, “Look, he is back.”

“Mr. Landlord!”

“Uncle Ren!”

“Big Boss Cat!”

“Ghsss—biubiu!”

People rushed towards Hao Ren. The first group of people who did so was naturally Hao Ren’s tenants. He greeted these familiar faces as he put Noobie back into the canned bottle, then nodded at Gordon and Calaxus who came up later.

Calaxus hurriedly asked, “Where is Lockmarton?”

“He won’t be coming back again,” Hao Ren said. He opened his Dimensional Pocket and showed them the remnant of Lockmarton’s soul. “This is Lockmaton’s last fragment. It has been deprived of the possibility of resurrection or return in any form as witnessed by another true god.”

Calaxus could not help but close his eyes and draw a ring in front of his chest with his hand. “Thank the goddess.”

Lockmarton may have been expelled from this world, but Calaxus would never get any peace of mind as long as there was no confirmation of his death.

Hao Ren took the opportunity to look around the battlefield.

Those souls had disappeared, and even the foundation of Spiral Hill was gone. Light shining on the plains had driven the smog and shadows away, returning an atmosphere of peace and serenity to the battlefield.

Hao Ren sighed softly, lamenting the end of the nightmare, and the eventual survival of civilizations. He then looked up at the Lord of the Mountains.

“Gordon, how’s the influence of the wardens on the major secular kingdoms?”

“Most people in the earthly kingdoms do not know the existence of the wardens, but the church should have enough influence. The premature withdrawal of the Theocratic troops from the secular kingdom has hurt the standing of the Sanctum, but as long as the truth is revealed, I believe that confidence will be restored.”

“I need your influence,” Hao Ren said to Calaxus. “The world needs to know about the future plans for them and something about the external universe.”