Chapter 483 — Superstitious Woman

[Mount Aeon]

Snow fell heavier now, thick flakes drifting down from dark clouds that seemed to press against the mountain peak.

Agatha Onyx stood beside the statue, her walking stick planted firmly in the snow, her eyes fixed on the spot where her grandson had disappeared.

More than a day had passed since Damian had vanished while bowing.

At first, when she’d felt that strong will radiate from the statue and pull her grandson somewhere else, her heart had nearly stopped in her chest.

’Where did he go?! Is someone else here?! An enemy of the Bloodworths?! Do they know his identity?!’

The thought had hit like a physical blow, panic flooding her system so fast she’d actually staggered.

But after some time, when the initial terror had faded enough for her to think clearly, she’d recognized something in that will.

The feeling had been familiar, like an echo of something she’d known a long time ago.

And then it clicked completely.

’That will... it belonged to Patriarch Desiderius Bloodworth.’

Her eyes had widened, her breath catching.

’Is he... is he alive? Is the Bloodworth God really still breathing somewhere in this world? What in the name of all the laws is going on?’

She’d come here simply to let her grandson pay respects to his elder, to show him the monument that the entire north revered.

Never in her wildest dreams had she expected the statue to actually do something.

But after the recognition had settled and she’d confirmed whose will had taken Damian, the panic had eased.

If Desiderius Bloodworth was involved, her grandson was probably safe.

She’d sent Lily away after that, giving the dragon instructions to bring some ’gifts’ for her grandson.

’It will probably take her a few more days to gather everything and return.’

Agatha’s gaze drifted back to the statue, studying its weathered features.

’Hopefully my grandson will be back by then.’

Her thoughts turned to the statue itself, superstitions of the old world coming in her mind.

’Is it possible that all the worship from the northerners somehow made it come alive? That their faith and reverence gave it will of its own?’

She didn’t know if anything like that was even possible, but...

’It sensed my grandson, so it can probably hear me as well.’

She glanced around at the empty peak, at the snow falling endlessly, at the complete lack of anything interesting to do.

’Let’s give it a try... I’m bored anyway.’

Agatha stopped thinking and moved suddenly, dropping to her knees in front of the statue.

Clap Clap Clap

She clapped her hands together three times, the sound echoing across the silent peak.

Then she pressed her palms together in front of her chest and closed her eyes.

"Oh great Bloodworth God, you have taken thee grandson into your divine presence for reasons this humble servant cannot fathom!"

Her voice carried genuine reverence mixed with theatrical flair.

"Please return him safely to this old woman’s care, for she has traveled far and her bones ache from standing in the cold! Also, if it pleases you, perhaps you could make the weather warmer? And maybe provide some tea? This servant would be most grateful for–"

Whoosh

The sound cut through her prayer like a knife.

Agatha’s eyes snapped open.

And Damian stood directly in front of her, staring at her with the most bewildered expression she’d ever seen.

"..."

The silence stretched for several heartbeats.

Agatha remained frozen in her kneeling position, hands still pressed together, mouth still slightly open from her interrupted prayer.

"Grandma."

Damian’s voice came out carefully, like he was trying very hard not to laugh or cry or both.

"What are you doing?"

"I... I..."

Heat rushed to Agatha’s face, her cheeks flushing red despite the cold.

But she recovered quickly, straightening up with as much dignity as she could manage and brushing snow off her robes.

She looked away, her chin lifting.

"I was paying my respects to the Bloodworth Patriarch, of course. What else would I be doing?"

The mention of the Bloodworth Patriarch made something in Damian’s expression shift, his eyes dimming as the humor drained away.

Agatha looked at his face properly now, seeing the tear tracks clearly and the redness around his eyes.

She opened her mouth to ask what had happened, where that will had taken him, what could have made him cry like this.

But before any words could come out–

Crack Crack

Both their heads snapped toward the statue.

Fissures were spreading across its surface, spiderwebbing out from the center like broken glass.

The stone groaned, the sound echoing across the mountain peak.

And then willpower erupted from it, so strong it made the air vibrate.

The broken sword the statue held began glowing, light pouring from the cracks as the willpower concentrated there.

The stone sword shattered completely, the pieces dissolving into pure energy that twisted and reformed.

In seconds, it had reshaped itself into a small sword necklace that glowed with power.

Whoosh

The necklace floated through the air, drifting toward Damian like it was being carried by invisible hands.

Damian caught it, his fingers closing around the pendant, his eyes fixed on it with an expression too complicated to name.

’Is even the will Grandpa left in the statue helping me?’

The thought carried gratitude and grief tangled together.

He looked back at the statue just as it finished breaking apart completely, the pieces crumbling into dust.

The wind caught the dust immediately, carrying it away in swirling patterns.

And for just a moment, Damian could have sworn he saw a face forming in the dust particles, a kind smile looking at him one last time.

’Goodbye, Grandpa.’ His throat tightened. ’May your soul rest in peace.’

His mind flashed unbidden with images of his grandfather’s breakdown, the tears, the screaming, the grief that had destroyed him from the inside.

’Be patient.’

Damian took a slow breath.

’For now, just focus on growing stronger... Protecting what you have. And when the day finally comes...’

He didn’t finish the thought, but the promise sat heavy in his heart.

His hand tightened around the necklace, feeling the power contained within it.

The object wasn’t just a piece of the statue anymore, it had transformed into something else entirely.

’An artifact.’

Artifacts were objects created by powerful beings who had walked deep enough into the path of laws to imprint their understanding into physical form.

They came in many types, served various purposes, held different levels of power depending on who had made them and how much of their law they’d infused.

Damian had already encountered several throughout his journey.

The cubical artifact that had sent him to that creature portal, the life-saving artifact that had protected Princess Serath’ana and the artifact the elves had used to locate treasures in the human world.

But looking at the necklace in his hand, feeling the power radiating from it, he could tell this artifact was different.

"It seems to be an attack-type artifact."

Agatha’s voice came from beside him, her eyes fixed on the pendant.

"And a very powerful one at that. It probably can’t be used many times, so use it only when you face a life-threatening situation and have no choice left."

She turned to look at Damian directly, her expression becoming serious.

"Grandson, can you tell me what happened? Where were you? Why is your face covered in tears?"

Damian took a deep breath, his fingers still wrapped around the necklace.

And he started talking.

He explained about the soul fragment space, meeting his grandfather’s remnant and everything that happened, except the parts that needed to be hidden.

By the time he finished, both of them were seated in the snow beside where the statue had stood, watching snowflakes fall from the dark sky.