If Dale were to die here, how would the Mother of the Stars treat the Federation?
Given the Mother of the Stars's modus operandi, she most likely won't massacre the Federation's spellcasters—she's not the kind of being bloodthirsty. But she will definitely dissolve the Federation, take control of the Elemental Furnace, bring the Weave under her control, and integrate all magical resources into her Inner Universe.
The spellcasters of the Federation will lose their homeland, their civilization, and their path. They will be scattered across dimensions, becoming insignificant specks of dust in the Inner Universe of the Mother of the Stars.
That is more painful than death.
'But if I surrender...'
When the thought crossed Dale's mind, this time he didn't suppress it.
'If I surrender, the Mother of the Stars might actually give the Federation a chance. Given Her magnanimity, she won't go back on her word. The Federation can continue to exist, and magical civilization can continue to develop, even if we have to accept the Mother of the Stars ' rule. But at least... the spellcasters will still be alive.'
'Only by living can we have a future.'
'When you die, you have nothing left.'
In Dale's mind, one side of the scales began to sink. The thought of surrender grew heavier and heavier.
A faint golden light shone in the eyes of the Goddess of Fate, her almost imperceptible gaze lingering around the Magic Pioneer, influencing her decisions.
Mystra's shriek still echoed in the distance, her torn face filled with despair and rage. Several of the nine Grand Sage had already fallen unconscious due to the backlash from the Weave, while the remaining ones were organizing a final defense, their eyes filled with tragic determination.
Dale looked at them, his heart breaking.
What should I say to them?
Say, "Sorry, we can't win, let's surrender?"
'To say, "For your lives, I chose to submit"?'
Will they understand? Will they forgive me?
'Can I... forgive myself?'
The Mother of the Stars noticed Dale's struggle.
Within the eye formed by the twin nebulae, the two vortexes of creation slowed their rotation somewhat. It neither launched an attack nor urged Dale to make a decision.
He simply stood there quietly, like a mountain, like an abyss, like the entire material universe unfolding before Dale.
wait.
Because the Mother of the Stars knew that this waiting itself was the strongest attack. Every moment of silence weighed more heavily on the scales of Dale's heart, tilting them toward surrender; every breath made Dale realize more clearly that resistance was meaningless, struggle was meaningless, and only submission could ensure the survival of the Federation's spellcasters.
Dale's gaze began to waver.
The wavering was so subtle that almost no one but the Mother of the Stars could perceive it. But Dale knew that His defenses were crumbling, that unwavering belief that had stood for countless ages was now slowly collapsing like a sandcastle under the silent gaze of the Mother of the Stars.
'Maybe...'
'surrender...'
'It's not impossible...'
Dale's lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something.
At this very moment--
A deafening roar, like the first cry at the dawn of the universe, exploded from the deepest reaches of the Void.
That roar was not a sound, not energy, not a law—but a declaration of pure "existence" that transcended all of the above concepts. Every being who heard this roar, no matter how far away or how powerful, instantly perceived one fact: some incredible being was descending.
The sky cracked.
The "sky dome" of the Astral Realm is not the sky in the physical sense, but rather the boundary at the level of laws, a rule barrier at the intersection of the three dimensions of Material Dimension, Fantasy Dimension, and Elemental Dimension. This barrier has existed since the birth of the Astral Realm and has never been shaken by any force.
But at this moment, it cracked.
The rift stretched from one end of the Void to the other, spanning countless light-years. What emerged from the rift was neither darkness nor light, but a primordial energy beyond description, imbued with the aura of the Chaos Sea. The laws contained within that energy were so ancient and so profound that all the Eternal present were momentarily stunned.
Then, a figure stepped out from the crack.
The sheer size of that figure transcended the concept of "size." It radiated Endless Radiance, Radiance neither from the sun nor from the stars, but an ultimate brilliance originating from the deepest reaches of the Chaos Sea, refined and purified through countless eons. Wherever the Radiance shone, fragments of laws remaining in the Void were Purification, chaotic energy tides were calmed, and even the expanding Weave of the Mother of the Stars was slightly contracted by this Radiance.
A surge of power poured forth from Him, as if it could crush the eternal heavens and shatter all realms. That power was not a release of a fighting stance, but simply the natural aftershocks of His standing there—merely the act of "standing there."
His figure gradually solidified, revealing a concrete form.
Lancelot, the Lord of Endless.
His height was no different from that of an ordinary person, but in everyone's perception, he was larger than the Mother of the Stars, heavier than the Chaos Stele, and older than the entire Astral Realm. He wore a simple gray robe, without any decoration, only a few mottled marks left by the erosion of the Chaos Sea's energy. His hair was dark gray, the color of the solidified seawater of the Chaos Sea, long and loose over his shoulders, with a few strands hanging down beside his face, obscuring part of his features.
His eyes were two swirling, chaotic vortexes.
It was not a nebula, nor Black Hole, but the Chaos Sea itself—that absolute realm beyond the Astral Realm, beyond all dimensions, between all existence and non-existence. These two eyes reflected the ebb and flow of the Chaos Sea; each blink was a rise and fall of the tide, each gaze a struggle between chaos and order.
His right hand gripped a longsword, its blade simple and unadorned, save for a murky gem, like a concentrated droplet of the Chaos Sea, embedded in the hilt. The sword bore no runes, no laws, no embellishments, yet all the Eternal present felt an instinctive tremor emanating from it—for the essence of this sword was not a weapon, but "the Termination."
The Lord of Endless's gaze swept across the battlefield, over the Eternal locked in confrontation, over the torn Weave, over the wounded Dale, and over Angley, kneeling before the Mother of the Stars.
Then, His gaze fell upon the Mother of the Stars.
"Earth Mother Goddess."
Lancelot, the Lord of Endless, spoke, his voice hoarse and deep, carrying the Eternity and indescribable resonance of the depths of the Chaos Sea.
"I'm back."
In the Void, there was utter silence.
The Mother of the Stars turned around, her eyes, formed by twin nebulae, meeting the chaotic eye of the Lord of Endless.
Between the two pairs of eyes, space suddenly distorted, the laws vibrated wildly, countless branches appeared in the timeline and then vanished in an instant, cause and effect tangled like a tangled mess and then quickly separated.
The Mother of the Stars remained silent.
But His hand, which was holding the Chaos Stele, tightened slightly.
The Lord of Time's pupils suddenly contracted, and the Time Sword in his hand emitted a piercing hum.
The veil of the Goddess of Fate fluttered violently, and for the first time, a hint of fear appeared in her eyes.
As for Dale, the Magic Pioneer, he recovered from his shock and looked at the being who had returned from the Chaos Sea. The scales in his heart that were tilting towards "surrender" suddenly stopped.
A variable has emerged.