Chapter 4 The Hall of Baptism
Amid the raging storm, Wen Yuyan struggles to open his eyes. Through layers of surging waves, he vaguely sees Eris breaking through the lake—like a newly unleashed beast, cleaving wind and water alike. Yet Yuyan's body keeps sinking, dragged downward as the abyssal darkness slowly devours him.
Again and again, Eris reaches for the azurite pendant swaying wildly in the torrent, but his grasp meets only emptiness. His tears fall like a whale's sorrow, sinking toward the deepest ocean floor. At last, after one final, desperate stretch of his arm, his fingers close around the azurite necklace.
Yuyan's weight feels as though countless ghostly hands are pulling him away. Eris strains with all his strength, but his breathing grows faint. In the end, merciless darkness swallows his consciousness whole.
Half-awake, Yuyan hears the roar of a speedboat cutting across the water, followed by the frantic shouts of rescuers. Lifeguards haul both men onto the deck. Eris regains consciousness and retches up a mouthful of river water. His butler, household servants, and Anna rush forward, faces streaked with tears.
In the rain, Anna's red gown clings elegantly to her figure, her poise reminiscent of the most beautiful princess of the English court. Yet Eris's entire focus remains fixed on the dying Yuyan.
"Young master—you're finally awake…" Butler Smith trembles. "If something were to happen to you, how could I report to Mr. President…"
Meanwhile, Yuyan's soul slips free of his body. Familiar voices drift in and out of his ears. He feels Eris's despair. Eris's hand is still clenched tightly around the pendant—Yuyan's only remaining bond to this world.
"Don't just stand there!" Eris shouts, his hands shaking. "Save my brother!"
"Young master," Smith says softly, "another person's life… is not something we can interfere with."
Eris clenches his jaw and forces himself to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Anna steps closer. "Darling… perhaps I should do this instead?"
Eris shoves her away. "Call an ambulance!"
Amid the noise and chaos, Yuyan is dragged once more into endless darkness.
...
No one knows how long the dragon-shaped magical dreadnought drifts through the vast sea of stars, until it finally nears hundreds of small islands shaped like animals. This is the Third Layer of the Azurite World — the Realm of the Sacred Academies.
Countless academies rise upon the branches of the colossal Glass Tree, each island flying a banner unique to its institution. Time flows slowly here. Scattered glass leaves drift through space, each one carrying a singular divine spell.
Young apprentices crowd along the ship's railings. Azure Dragon, Vermilion Bird, Black Tortoise, White Tiger, and the Sun rise and revolve together, their light refracted through the immense canopy of glass leaves into dazzling colors.
Many of the mud-born children have never seen sunlight in the lower worlds. Now the brilliance burns into their eyes, as though revealing their own glass paradise.
The students line up to disembark. At that moment, demigods raise crystal divine mirrors to record the scene. The blazing flashes force the children to bow their heads one by one. Orian spots a familiar figure among the crowd—a military-uniformed youth watching the mud children. His deep blue eyes gleam with cold detachment, as though witnessing a fate symphony entirely unrelated to himself.
Dust churns beneath the feet of the divine authorities, stinging Orion's eyes and blurring his view of Eris. Beside him, Belly grips his hand tightly and whispers, "Don't look at them. The more you do, the more they'll grind you into the dirt." Then she begins softly singing the nursery rhyme from West Mountain Town.
James steps up beside Eris. "I heard from Vice Principal Nicky—this year the magic slaves won't even pass the entrance trial. They've added a new segment. Code name: Baptism."
Eris chuckles quietly. "A bath? For them, that might truly be harder than climbing to the heavens."
The next instant, a golden feather rune slips into Eris's hand. He lunges into the mud path and drives a punch straight into Orion's chest.
Belly gasps, then explodes in fury. Her palm slams across Eris's face. "You being demigods doesn't give you the right to treat us like dirt!"
Silently, Eris presses the feather into Orion's palm. Moments later, Eris's body is dragged downward by spreading ice crystals into the shifting earth. Fear flashes across his face as his gaze locks onto Orion. Which child cast high-tier magic? Or was it this violet-eyed boy? Yet at that moment, Belly covers her eyes—eyes glowing with the cold light of ice plum blossoms.
Without hesitation, Orion grabs Eris's arm and hauls him free. Almost simultaneously, a group of demigods rush in, beating the children apart. Orion and Belly are not spared.
"Prince Rhys, Angel of the Heavens—please be careful!" they stammer. "Don't let these mud people soil your golden armor." They hurriedly brush the dirt from Rhys's gleaming attire.
Only then does Orion understand: this youth before him is named Rhys. Just one syllable apart—yet worlds apart in status.
Orion carefully tucks the feather into his sleeve and steps into a towering bronze cavern. Above the copper archway are engraved the words: HALL OF BAPTISM
The moment his foot crosses the faintly glowing threshold, an iron gate crashes shut behind him. Laughter, shattered light of the Four Symbols, even the fleeting pity in Eris's eyes—all vanish beyond the barrier.
Inside, the air is bitterly cold, seeping into bone like the suffocating breath of a grave. Children huddle together, shivering and crying, their sobs echoing against the bronze walls. No one knows what fate the demigods have prepared for them.
In the shadows, Orion slowly unfolds the feather, revealing the inscription carved upon it: Nozzle.
His hand trembles. His heart pounds like a war drum. At that moment, Belly's hand slips quietly into his. Orion hears her voice rise in song:
Blow, fierce winds—blow now…
Beneath the golden tree, bright flowers awaken from sorrowful dreams.
Do not be afraid, do not be afraid—
The wandering children are still seeking the way.
Do not cry, do not cry—
They shall grow as tall as the Azurite Tree,
And return once more to their homeland.