A dead end, an unsolvable dead end.
If this matter were told to the world, perhaps people would work together to find a way to solve the problem. But the greater probability was that under the panic of countless people, the Age of Gods would disappear even faster. Before there was a solution, all of them would die.
Britain at this time was like a tightly closed iron house with no exit. Inside the iron house lay many sleeping people. It wouldn't be long before everyone would be suffocated due to lack of oxygen. And Vortigern was the one who had woken up in this situation.
If he shouted and woke people up, what he could bring them was just unnecessary pain before death. If he didn't shout, then even if he ultimately failed, the final end for the people would just be to meet a predetermined death in an ignorant sleep.
To perceive the suffering of fate in ignorance, to abandon his beloved relatives, friends, clansmen, and even everything, and to bear that endless despair and pain alone. This was Vortigern Pendragon, the vile king, the white dragon who devoured and digested the light of despair alone.
After listening to Vortigern's account and experiencing what this white-haired old man had shouldered, Souya's heart was unprecedentedly heavy. At this moment, he had no contempt or disdain for the old man before him, only respect for the one who held the firewood for the crowd, and a pain for the future of this land and the royal power of his queen, Morgan.
He suddenly understood why Vortigern, upon sensing that he was very likely a person of the same kind, had gone to such lengths to win him over. He also understood why he had called him a colleague back then. That was an old man walking on the road, bearing all the loneliness, and the excitement and emotion he felt when he saw that he had a fellow traveler one day.
For a time, both of them fell silent. Their hearts were filled with thousands of thoughts, but in the face of the current situation, they didn't know how to start.
If there are no accidents, besides Merlin, that inhuman nightmare, in all of Britain, there are probably only myself and Vortigern, these two who know everything.
Thinking this, he subconsciously raised his wine cup and drank the liquid in it in one gulp. After a long while, when he raised his head again, his eyes no longer had the luster of a spring. That endless azure was dyed with a deep darkness.
"This tragic ending, can it really not be rewritten?" he asked again. This time, his tone held a clear unwillingness. He was the one who had woken up in the iron house with Vortigern. His love for this land, and for the person he cared about on this land, was no less than Vortigern's. In fact, because he was very clear that his love was too narrow and selfish compared to the former's love for the entire Celtic people and Britain, but precisely because of this, he was even more unwilling, and even more wanted to know the way to change fate.
After all, that was Morgan's ideal, the lifelong pursuit of the one he loved deeply, who was about to become his wife.
As if he had sensed the change in his eyes, Vortigern's gaze at him this time was no longer a turbid amber, but gradually dyed with a faint golden color. He stared at him, his tone calm.
"The ending is destined. We can't rewrite it. But," before he could show a dejected expression, Vortigern's tone instantly changed, making him raise his head again. "We can't change the ending, but we can delay the time of its arrival."
"Delay... time?"
Hearing his words, he was stunned for a moment. But he soon understood what he was saying. "You mean, to temporarily fix the Age of Gods on the surface of Britain? To delay the arrival of its demise?"
"Yes, but what I want is not to 'temporarily' fix the Age of Gods, but to drag it on Britain until all the remnants of the Age of Gods have met the end that should have belonged to them, and only then can it be stopped."
Receiving his affirmative answer, his tone couldn't help but hitch. After a long while, he said with a somewhat hoarse voice, "Can it be done? To retain the Age of Gods to the greatest extent without violating the rules of the world, can such a plan really succeed?"
Faced with his doubts, Vortigern did not give a lengthy explanation, but stood up. "Whether it can be done or not, we only have this one path, this one method. Lamorak, I can feel your affection for my niece. I think you wouldn't want to see her meet that kind of ending alone, and even fall into an even more tragic tragedy because of your inaction."
Hearing his words, he suddenly raised his head and looked at him with fierce eyes. And the latter, as if he hadn't seen it, slowly said, "If you want to avoid all this, then come with me. After you've seen those things, you will understand the feasibility of my path."
After speaking, Vortigern threw a few gold coins on the table and then strode away. His steps were steady, with no intention of turning back, as if he didn't care whether he would follow or not. After all, he had been on this path for a long time. Even if Lamorak had not appeared, he would not have given up.
It wasn't until he had finally returned to his own castle that Vortigern turned his head back. Behind him was Lamorak, wearing black and blue armor. Involuntarily, a smile appeared on the old man's lips.
[You have followed Vortigern to his castle.]
[After entering, you found that this huge black castle was actually empty, and the lights were dim. The only resident was Vortigern himself.]
[Just like the path this old man had chosen, his life was also lonely.]
[Under Vortigern's guidance, you walked into a secret room at the very bottom of the castle. Opening the secret room's door, there was a spiral staircase leading straight down to the depths of the earth.]
[On the steps of the spiral staircase, you felt a desolate taste mixed with the aura of the Age of Gods rushing up.]
[You faintly guessed what was below.]
[After walking down the long and dark spiral staircase, you came to a huge karst cave under Londinium.]
"This is... the underground ley line of Londinium?"
Looking at the countless bizarre, human-blood-vessel-like, and glowing green stalactites around, he suddenly had an epiphany. He subconsciously communicated with the magical energy in his body to try and sense the surroundings. As expected, he sensed the dense magical energy in the air. But when he wanted to try and absorb it, he unexpectedly felt a strange aura from the feedback of the magical energy. That aura was desolate and dead silent, like death, like a ghost.
Under duress, he had to give up that part of the magical energy. Seeing this scene, Vortigern just smiled and then said, "To be precise, it's the underground ley line that connects the whole of Britain. So, is this what you wanted to show me?"
After looking around for a bit, he placed his hand on a nearby stalactite covered in glowing green. After feeling it carefully for a while, he frowned. Although he was not a magus, his lover was Morgan, who had the highest mastery of magic in Britain at the time. Having been influenced by her, his understanding of the basic magical energy of the Age of Gods was sufficient.
"Lord Vortigern, if you want to rely on this ley line to fix the Age of Gods, it seems a bit unrealistic."
He touched the smooth, glowing green pattern on the stalactite and said slowly, "The True Ether in this ley line is already less than one-tenth. In another year or two, it will probably be depleted. It's simply not enough to hold back the entire Age of Gods."
"I know. In the current situation where the True Ether in the air has basically all returned to the Inner Sea of the Planet, it is of course impossible to rely on the ley line to complete the retention of the Age of Gods."
Vortigern smiled and looked at him, his eyes shining with a strange brilliance. "So what I wanted to show you was actually another thing in this cave. Do you know, Lamorak, that this underground ley line actually has another name, 'The Spirit Tomb of Albion'."
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