Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 777 - 776: Shattered Memories

Those chaotic and broken memories seemed to explode like a sudden flash of light in the darkness, illuminating countless shadowy and once-hidden things. Although fragmented and incomplete, a gut intuition surged within Gawain, making him instantly realize what it was—

It was that mysterious voyage record, or rather, a part of the voyage record!

Victoria’s voice dwindled and seemed distant, while Gawain’s consciousness was already immersed in the depths of the dissipating image.

He "saw" an unfamiliar beach, rugged with strange rocks and desolate, with winding cliffs and steep slopes covered with stones stretching from afar. On the other side, the sea gently undulated, waves softly hitting the reefs near the beach, and the glow of dawn was rising from the horizon, sunlight of spectacular color shone on the cliffs and slopes, bathing the entire world in a golden hue.

A huge three-masted ship was anchored on the distant sea, its broad hull covered with magic symbols and mysterious lines. Marks of storms and the ocean showed its affiliation to the Church of Storms. It rested calmly on the gentle surface; the tiny waves could not shake it at all.

Gawain "walked" into this memory, finding himself standing on the beach, surrounded by many shadowy figures—those figures were shrouded in a dim black mist, with indistinct faces. They conversed about the cruise, about the weather; each voice bore a faint sense of familiarity for Gawain, yet he couldn’t recall even a single corresponding name.

It’s as if these names had been completely erased from his subconscious, even though he remembered some memory fragments, he couldn’t reclaim them.

Memories couldn’t be disturbed, altered, and Gawain didn’t know how to turn these shadowy figures into clear forms, so he could only follow the guidance of his memories, continuing to "walk" deeper.

The moment to depart seemed to have arrived.

The beach had, at some unknown time, a small boat for boarding, Gawain and those figures covered in black mist boarded it together, heading toward the distant large ship.

The sun was gradually leaping out from the ocean, the night had nearly completely retreated, and the scenery on the sea became more and more distinct. Yet, even so, the front of the small boat still hung a dimly outlined portable lamp, which seemed unnecessary, swaying at the bow as if dispelling some nonexistent darkness—Gawain’s gaze was involuntarily drawn to that fuzzy lamp, while the conversations around entered his ears:

"...Perhaps this is the ’Son of the Storm’s final voyage...let’s hope everything goes smoothly..."

"It will be smooth, it has the finest Navigating Priest, many Navigating Priests, and the final blessings..."

"But the navigators might also lose themselves in the depths of the ocean...now everyone has lost protection, even the children of the sea."

"It’s fine, something...protecting the priests’ minds, and even if one goes mad...there’s still the next one to replace them."

"What if they all go mad?"

"...Then we only have courage left..."

"Ha, seems like the situation isn’t too bad."

Someone laughed heartily, the laughter carried the expanse and thickness of the sea waves, and Gawain "saw" himself in the memory laughing along. These laughing people rode in the small boat for boarding, facing the dawn’s first rays, as if heading to a feast worth anticipating. Yet a word popped into Gawain’s mind: mortals heading toward death.

After being stunned for a moment, he realized this word wasn’t one he thought of; it came from the deepest memory of Gawain Cecil, a felt impression from seven hundred years ago before boarding that large ship—

Then, the scene shattered, followed by relatively long darkness and complex chaotic light and shadow.

Gawain thought he could only see this, but after a period of darkness, the memory surprisingly continued—

A three-masted ship lay near the coastline; Gawain recognized it as the very ship ready to set sail from the previous memory.

However, compared to its dazzling and majestic appearance at departure, this ship was now in tatters—the magic symbols protecting the hull had dimmed significantly, one mast was snapped in half, the fragmented sails dragged like shrouds outside the ship rails. The mage-blessed wooden deck and hull were riddled with alarming cracks and holes, as though the entire ship was on the verge of disintegration.

It seemed to have endured more than one terrifying storm, the storms shook it precariously. If not for a very weak thin light shield enveloping the hull, blocking the surging seawater and barely maintaining the hull structure, it might have disintegrated and sunk before reaching the coast.

With a flash of sight, Gawain found himself sitting in a small boat again, but this time, the boat had left the large ship, heading toward the coast.

The great sun had set, bright red glaring sunset glow spilled from one side of the cliffs, spreading over the sparkling sea surface, making the waves seem drenched in blood, soaking into hearts.

That dimly outlined portable lamp still hung from the bow, swaying in the sunset as if dispelling some invisible darkness.

Apart from Gawain himself, only three figures remained in the small boat; every other position...was empty.

No one spoke, the atmosphere was oppressively heavy, and as a visitor in the memory, Gawain couldn’t actively break this silence.

It wasn’t until the small boat was nearly ashore that a figure voiced, breaking the silence: "Almost there."

Someone nearby echoed: "Yes, almost there."

"There’s always time for parting," the third figure said, though shadowy, his gaze seemed focused on Gawain, "the situation isn’t too bad, at least you returned alive."

Gawain felt his throat move; overlapping with the memory, he heard familiar yet strange words emerge from "himself": "You all sacrificed greatly."

"...Predictable indeed. Just didn’t expect, upon completely losing protection, the ocean turned out to be such a dangerous place..." another figure said, "As for our sacrifice...don’t dwell on it too much. Compared with us, your sacrifice was equally significant."

Gawain Cecil’s voice resonated deeply and solemnly: "I hope all this is worth it."

The first figure to speak shook his head: "There’s no worthiness or unworthiness, only actions, we are insignificant beings, so perhaps we can only do some insignificant things. But compared to sitting around waiting for death, taking some positive actions are always a bit more meaningful."

Someone nearby teased him: "Ha, ’Philosopher’, you’re forcing such profound words again!"

Yet, the teased shadow, nicknamed the "Philosopher," didn’t reply, seeming already lost in thought.

Afterwards, there was a period of silence, in which the small boat finally reached ashore, and the four of them jumped onto land, momentarily gazing at each other in wordless silence.

This time it was Gawain Cecil who first broke the silence: "Have you thought about what it will turn into afterwards?"

"I can’t think of it now," a figure shook his head, "...it’s already scattered, at least have to... find back... our compatriots in..."

The voices and images in the memory suddenly became fragmented, and the surrounding light also flickered. Gawain knew that this broken memory was finally coming to an end. He tried to concentrate, discerning every syllable he could hear. He heard a vague voice amidst the rumble of the sea waves:

"That wall can still hold for hundreds, even thousands of years... Maybe before that, our descendants will have developed, and what troubles us today may not trouble them."

This was Gawain Cecil’s voice.

Then came those inexplicably familiar, yet nameless voices:

"Hopefully..."

"It’s time to say goodbye. I always feel like I should say something, but I can’t think of what to say."

"Then don’t say anything, after all... everyone will soon forget."

"Yes, in that case, let’s wish each other a safe journey..."

All the voices faded away, the blurred murmurs, the splashing waves, the wind in his ears, all gradually settled into silence. In the rapidly shifting, darkening vision, Gawain saw only a few blurry, disjointed images:

The small boat with the portable lamp returned to the sea surface, heading towards the distant large ship.

The two remaining masts of that ship hoisted their sails, slowly turned around, heading towards the sea bathed in bloody twilight, gradually fading into darkness.

Gawain Cecil turned around, his steps heavy and slow, walking towards the land.

In that direction, it seemed that someone had already come to meet him.

This surging memory ended here.

...

Gawain took a gentle breath, his consciousness returning to the present. He was still sitting in the magic-guided vehicle, already approaching the Cecil Central District, with Victoria, who seemed slightly worried, sitting across from him.

Gawain frowned, the images and sounds still clearly lingering in his mind—in the moment just now, he had entered a bizarre and wondrous state, the surging memories engulfing his consciousness like a semi-waking dream. He was immersed in an immersive scene, yet he hadn’t completely lost touch with reality—he knew he was dazed in the real world for less than a minute, but this moment of daze had already caught Victoria’s attention.

Noticing Gawain had returned to his senses, Victoria couldn’t help but ask, "Your Majesty, are you alright?"

Amber’s figure then appeared on the seat beside Gawain: "Don’t worry, he’s fine, he just gets like this occasionally."

Then she looked at Gawain and also asked, "Are you okay?"

"I suddenly remembered some things..." Gawain waved his hand, indicating he was fine, then slowly said, "Amber, do you remember that I told you I once had a voyage experience, but I forgot all the details."

"Oh, I remember," Amber blinked, "I even helped you investigate the files in this area—unfortunately, nothing came up. It’s from seven hundred years ago, and it might have been a secret mission, leaving no traces."

"I just suddenly remembered something." Gawain said while glancing at Victoria.

"The place you mentioned earlier, the point where the Sacred Dragon Kingdom borders the northeastern part of Cecil... is called Dragon Summoning Gulf."

"It does have that name—originating from the Sacred Dragon Kingdom."

"I left from there by sea back in the day," Gawain exhaled, furrowing his brow tightly, "accompanied by the Sons of the Storm."

This time, even Victoria, who always maintained a calm demeanor, couldn’t suppress her surprise: "What?! Sons of the Storm?!"

"To be precise, it should be the Sons of the Storm who hadn’t yet fallen into darkness," Gawain slowly said, "and I suspect they were also the last batch... In my memory, when they set sail with me, they were already resisting madness."

According to current intelligence, during the confrontation with gods leading to the fall into darkness, there were supposedly three stages of mental states for the Three Great Dark Sects:

At Ancestral Peak, during the ritual before the sect leaders contacted divine knowledge and brought madness back to the mortal world, they were lucid.

After the ritual, the three sects were contaminated by divine knowledge, with members either running into the Gondor wasteland or scattering away, entering a period of madness that lasted for years or longer.

After a spell of madness, some members of the three sects seemed to regain "sanity," regrouping their fellowmen, fully transitioning into dark sects, and executing those "plans" in extreme fanaticism—a process that continues to this day.

According to Gawain’s judgment, those figures he journeyed with in the memories should be Sons of the Storm—and this is corroborated by details of that ship and people’s conversations. Their state... should be transitioning from the first stage to the second.

They were gradually being contaminated by divine knowledge, slowly heading towards madness.

This process should have been very rapid, with many followers taking only an instant to move from the first stage to the second, but those who journeyed with Gawain seemed to hold out longer.

Something protected their minds, helping them temporarily resist the madness.

Suddenly, that hazy, portable lamp hanging on the bow of the ship flashed in Gawain’s mind.