“It seems our idle chat has come to an end.”
Artedinis saw this and could only end the conversation with a sigh of regret, looking up at the ascending vine.
Although it shot straight into the clouds, the tip was still faintly visible because the end of the vine was glowing with a silvery-white flame; that appeared to be the portal leading to the secret realm prison.
After all, what the magic beans opened was merely a secret realm, not a path to the heavens themselves.
There is no such thing as a Heavenly Kingdom on earth. The last one that tried to ascend was the Tower of Babel, which was smashed to pieces by an iron fist—just so you know.
“Rumble—”
Not long after the vine took shape, one thunderous roar after another echoed from above the clouds. The mist was torn apart, and several figures were seen climbing down along the vine that spanned heaven and earth.
No, it would be more accurate to say they were falling, only grabbing onto the vine every so often to cushion their descent.
The moment they pierced through the fog, their forms were illuminated by the sunlight—
They were massive, standing over ten meters tall, with skin the color of dead, ashen-gray rock, weathered by time and covered in cracks.
The giants' bodies were covered in thick skin as rough as bark, and they wore rusted helmets. Their facial features were blurred and indistinct; only a pair of eyes beneath the shadows flickered with a deep, lifeless light.
The giants were draped in tattered armor. What might have once been steel breastplates were now just a few rusted plates hanging off their frames, covered in cracks and gashes, rattling with a harsh metallic screech as they moved.
Although they are called “giants,” they do not actually belong to the category of the “son of man.” In this world, there are very few races that can be called “son of man.”
How does one distinguish them? Faust actually has a simple and clear method.
Anything that makes him stand tall is a son of man; everything else is just a mob monster.
This method of judgment even extended to other fields. Don't ask me which side is good or which side is bad—that is what children do!
The side that makes me stand tall is the good one!
These so-called “giants” before them are a type of monstrous beast. Even though they have a form similar to humans, they are far from being human.
The giants fell from the clouds, cascading down the vine like a rainstorm made of flesh and rusted iron.
Some crashed into the ground upon landing, creating deep pits and stirring up clouds of dust; others were struck by their companions, rolled on the ground, and then struggled to crawl back up.
They held giant iron bars, great axes, or two-handed greatswords, but no matter the weapon, they were all without exception tattered and rusted, stained with black blood that had dried countless years ago.
Because he had already witnessed how terrifyingly massive the 【tower-builder】 among the frost-walkers were, these giants of only ten to twenty meters did not seem so spectacular in Faust's eyes.
But if one must compare, these giants were certainly not weak. At the very least, they were pure warriors, far better than the 【tower-builder】 who were endlessly corrupted by the grail knight even without a pilot.
“Boom, boom, boom—”
Not long after the first batch of giants set foot on the earth, the heavy artillery batteries in the distance opened fire. One explosive shell after another landed precisely on the giants' bodies, shattering rusted armor and rotting flesh alike.
Some giants tried to push forward through the barrage, only to be precisely sniped by nearby Sanctuary monastics using spells, unable to advance even a single step further.
The only hope for survival was to turn and flee toward the endless forest. The firepower of the encirclement network would not reach that far... nor was there any need for it to.
Artedinis gazed at the giants, who were collapsing under the artillery fire and fleeing in a panic, and rubbed her snow-white, delicate chin.
“If one seeks stability, the best approach is to block the gate here, using superior firepower to drive all the fleeing giants into the forest. With the established positions, an imperial legion, and a holy crusade force dispatched by the Sanctuary, it is already more than enough.”
“But we are not here for maximum killing efficiency. These lackluster giants are meaningless. I intend to take the warship inside and hunt for truly valuable prey. How about it? Want to come along?”
In this world, pursuing “efficiency” is a rather boring and utilitarian affair. Any act devoid of drama is destined not to be viewed as a “trial.”
Those who walk the path long to earn merit, and the recognition of merit is not a fully quantifiable performance standard, but rather a matter of feeling and emotion.
Standing here in line to execute ten thousand giants is not worth as much merit as a single weak individual standing tall, fighting bloodily, and breaking through their own limits to slay a single giant.
“Of course.”
Faust agreed without hesitation, and so the warship took on everyone who wished to train in the secret realm prison.
This included several witches, pilgrims of the Sanctuary, and a group of other adventurers who also wanted to participate in the trial.
Afterward, the warship ascended and found the “portal” opened by the magic beans.
It was called a portal, but it was actually a silver lake formed in the air. The warship passed through it and immediately arrived within the secret realm.
The world was inverted; they plunged into the rippling sky-lake, only to emerge from the ground a moment later.
After the warship ascended for a while, everyone began to look down at this secret realm from the deck.
Instantly, the same concept flashed through everyone's minds—decadent and ruined.
The sky had no clouds, no sun, and no stars; there was only an endless expanse of gray-white, like a faded curtain.
The gray, defeated earth was split into countless fissures. There were no rivers, no blades of grass. In the distance, undulating mountain ranges with jagged rocks lay bare like the skeletons of giant beasts.
Ruined, stagnant, as if it were a world forgotten.
One could not even perceive the passage of time. The only sign of life was the giants constantly converging, batch after batch, rushing toward the exit of the secret realm like moths to a flame.
“A foul stench. As a hunting ground, it is a bit too monotonous.”
Irithea draped her dark red cloak over her shoulders, and a pair of fluffy, silver-white wolf ears poked out from the specially made holes in her hood.
“Legend has it that in ancient times, the giants were the leaders of a thousand monstrous beasts and once attempted to enslave all living things, but their hubris invited the wrath of the gods.”
The officer of the holy crusade stepped forward and said:
“Thus, the gods imprisoned all the giants of that time, forcing them to endure eternal torment within their cages.”
These accompanying Sanctuary monastics were different from Sister Helen; they were specialized armed forces.
Armed to the teeth, their heavy armor engraved with runes was bright and pristine, and the silver-and-gold color scheme perfectly displayed a sense of holiness.
He looked at the earth below and said indifferently:
“These giants were originally terrifying monsters, but after enduring such long imprisonment and attrition, their power and wisdom likely have not even a hundredth remaining. Even those giant kings who offended the gods might not have survived.”
No organization knows ancient history better than the Sanctuary; even knowledge that everyone else has forgotten, they can still unearth.
Rate on N.U.
