Chapter 133
The Demon Pot and the Holy Lance
The Knight, hiding in the corner, trembled fearfully. He had never seen such a massive and terrifying demon! The mere impact of its feet on the ground was enough to make the Knight’s entire body go numb!
After escaping from Mr. Thunder, the Knight had been searching for the Holy Lance. His reasoning was simple: compared to Antler Head, he was the weaker party. The Twilight Path was good for prolonging one’s life, while the Path Adaptation excelled at hiding. If he had to choose two dead among the three of them, the Knight believed he would be one of them.
Thus, the only thing he could do was to find the Holy Lance. “Since the Holy Lance could defeat the Giant, it should also be able to defeat Alistair!” Although obtaining the Holy Lance would reveal his location to others… if he could confront Alistair, he wouldn’t fear his attack. If the Holy Lance wasn’t enough to defeat him, he would be caught and killed eventually anyway.
Furthermore, if Antler Head and the Assassin who killed Mr. Dark Clouds sensed the Holy Lance and rushed over, he could try to kill one of them, or have Alistair, who would also be drawn there, eliminate them! He was undoubtedly the weakest among them. Because of this, the Knight held no illusions – a naturally weak individual must adopt the most desperate measures, if there was any chance of victory!
So, the question arose: “Where would the Holy Lance be placed?” The Knight’s thought process could even be described as simple: Since this ritual was constructed by the Silver Crown Dragon and Father Snake, and not by Pillar Gods who favored intelligent beings like Great Philosopher and Hourglass, it meant that the ritual’s puzzle wouldn’t be complicated, and everyone would have a chance to solve it. “If the puzzle is so complex that I can’t figure it out, then others won’t be able to either! The Silver Crown Dragon and Father Snake wouldn’t possibly favor the Path of Balance and Path of Wisdom, so the puzzle must be simple!”
From this perspective, the Knight began to question himself: Intuitively, what should the clue be? He quickly settled on a plan: mentioning the Path of Devotion meant light and fire, which in turn meant a candlestick, and thus, light. Since the target he was searching for was the Holy Lance left by the Apostle of the Path of Devotion, and everything around was dark… then he just needed to head towards the light, and he would be correct! This must be the hint left by the Pillar Gods!
As it turned out, the Knight was indeed on the right track. Following the light, he walked straight and soon reached a brightly lit Giant’s Hall. In the center of the hall was an enormous pot. There was no fire beneath the pot, yet the contents within were constantly boiling. The pot was simmering with a large amount of stew, and quite a few of the stewed vegetables were pushed out by the boiling water and fell onto the ground. The Knight saw eggplants, carrots, onions, corn, cabbage, potatoes, as well as apples and grapes. Food continuously emerged from the pot, becoming more and more abundant, and higher and higher. The pot was constantly simmering, its immense heat making the surrounding air waver and blur. The evaporating steam made the entire room damp and hazy. “This must be the Demon Pot!” the Knight thought.
Just as he was about to move closer to get a better look, he suddenly heard a series of thudding sounds.
“Sigh…”
An incredibly deep, somewhat aged voice echoed, “What exactly is going on…” The voice sounded slightly annoyed. But soon, with a creak, the giant bed gave way, and a pair of red-haired giant feet landed on the ground. The moment he stood up, he was all-encompassing – a colossal shadow was cast down, completely obscuring him. It was as if the sky had collapsed and a behemoth had fallen, momentarily causing the Knight’s legs to weaken. He couldn’t even clearly see the Giant’s face, as the light source was too low. When the Giant stood up, his features became completely dark.
However, even so, the Knight clearly smelled a stench. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but he could distinctly detect the unique odor of a furry beast. So terrified was he that he huddled in the corner, unable to move. Fortunately, the Giant seemed to have poor static vision. Since the Knight didn’t move, he didn’t notice anyone groping their way over. He simply lit a lantern and, barefoot, stomped out of the hall.
Long after the Giant had left, the Knight could still faintly feel the ground vibrating. He didn’t know if it was a hallucination caused by the initial numbness or if it was indeed shaking from a great distance… In any case, it took him a long time to finally recover.
“Can we really kill a Giant like this?” The Knight suddenly became sober. His previous ambition to obtain the Holy Lance and kill the Giant now made him seem like a clown. And the “part of true history” he heard from Dark Clouds made his mood complex – how did the Knights of the Round Table, who were ordinary humans back then, defeat such a powerful army of Giants? Were they too weak? Or were their ancestors too strong?
Regardless, he couldn’t wait here – although the Giant hadn’t seen him when he left, they might discover him upon their return. He took his somewhat numb legs and searched the hall for the Holy Lance. “At least, find a drawer to hide in!” Unknowingly, the Knight had changed his primary objective. After seeing the Giant, he immediately realized that even Alistair couldn’t defeat such a creature. Conversely, if he could hide right under the Giant’s nose, he might survive until the end. As long as he could survive, he might win!
But how ironic. While the Knight was searching for a drawer he could crawl into… he unexpectedly found the location of the Holy Lance. “What is… that?” The Knight looked up and muttered in despair. Although he hadn’t touched it, the Knight could tell at a glance – that was the Holy Lance. It was a golden spear over ten meters long, shaped like a closed umbrella. Its outer ring was densely inscribed with black runes, ancient characters the Knight couldn’t understand. It appeared to be solid. Even shortened to a tenth of its size, he would have trouble lifting it. No wonder only the Holy Lance could shatter the Demon Pot – that Demon Pot, which seemed taller than a human house, would be a ghost if shattered by a human-used spear! A human spear against that Demon Pot was probably like a sewing needle against a large soup pot. Undoubtedly, this was a spear used by Giants. And it was likely that the Giant wielding this spear was even taller and larger than the one who had just gotten out of bed!
“How can a mortal wield that spear?!”
“Do you need help?”
Just then, a low, hoarse voice sounded. Along with a chill, the Knight, whose skin was tight and mind hazy from the terrible heat emanating from the Demon Pot, felt his spirit invigorated. He turned his head and looked in the direction of the voice. Alistair was standing quietly at the entrance of the hall. It was where he had just arrived, not long after the Giant had left. Distant noises had attracted the Giant, and now Alistair reappeared before him…
The Knight suddenly understood – he was probably the last one. “Are you going to kill me?” But what surprised Eivass somewhat was that the Knight instead relaxed and raised his hand, signaling he wouldn’t resist. “Can I say a few words?”
“I’m not going to kill you.” Alistair gazed at him calmly. “You said it yourself – when the final moment arrived, you would cooperate with me and Mr. Gray Hoodie. Now is the final moment. To prevent others from interfering… everyone except the three of us is already dead. Or is it… Mr. Knight, were you just boasting to deceive me back then?”
As he spoke, another person silently emerged from the shadows. He glanced quietly at the Knight and then silently disappeared again. “You’re not dead?!” the Knight blurted out. He had thought that Assassin must be dead! At this moment, he felt a bit dazed – a Fiend, yet so trustworthy. Compared to Antler Head and the others, he was undoubtedly the weaker one. Yet, Alistair was willing to cooperate with him… simply because he had shown him genuine goodwill?
“External identities are irrelevant within the ritual. We are competitors, adversaries, and potential allies… You said that yourself, didn’t you?” Alistair chuckled lowly. “I took you seriously. Didn’t you advise me not to talk to them back then?”
“… So you believed me at that time.” Mr. Knight murmured softly, a warmth spreading through his heart. All the secrets of the Path of Authority, the founding history of Avalon… all of it was a lie, a fabricated history. Now, as a Fiend of the Transcendent Path… Alistair showed him what trustworthiness was. The past and present erroneous perceptions intertwined repeatedly, leaving the Knight momentarily dazed. He didn’t know who he should believe, who was right, and who was just.
“Mr. Alistair,” the Knight couldn’t help but ask, “Are you a good person?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Alistair smiled, not giving an answer. He merely retorted, “Do you care so much about this question? Is a good person always good, and a bad person can never be good? Who defines good and bad? Is it your inner morality? Or the laws of Avalon?”
Hearing Alistair’s answer, the Knight opened his mouth. He was silent for a moment, then suddenly made up his mind. “My name is Barton. People call me ‘Barton the Impatient’.” The “Knight” named Barton said earnestly, “You’ve never hidden your true name. If I continue to address you as ‘Knight’, I will feel guilty. I must at least tell you my surname. Just call me Barton, Mr. Alistair.”
Barton finally couldn’t help but ask, “I have something I want to ask you… How did you step into the Transcendent Path back then? Do you think I have a chance?”
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