Magical Girl's Knight Brother

Chapter 592 Native Gods

The chilling dampness of the Ghost Mist Forest gradually thinned behind them, replaced by the oppressive air that permeated the foot of the massive walls of Crimson Maple City, a mixture of ancient dust, the stench of blood, and something even deeper—a sense of decay. Tang Zijun walked at the front, her head slightly bowed, her nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly.

His extraordinary sense of smell became the key to his tracking at this moment. The complex smells in the air—the fishy smell of soil, the dampness of moss, the weathered smell of bricks and stones, and the faint, dried blood smell that had long since seeped into the depths of the stone's texture—were like countless invisible threads, which he keenly peeled away from the chaos.

Like the most experienced hunter, he followed that most special trajectory, carrying a faint trace of sacredness.

"The bloodstains are more concentrated here... very old, mixed with the smell of dust and other blood." Tang Zijun lowered her voice, her fingers tracing the dark brown, mottled marks on a huge, dark red stone at the base of the city wall. "The concentration increases along this direction; something is chasing the pool."

He cautiously made his way along the base of the towering city wall, whispering messages to Scáthach and Deskol behind him.

Beneath his feet lay soft humus and scattered pebbles, occasionally revealing skeletons, gnawed clean and scattered in shadowy corners, varying in size and twisted in shape, silently testifying to the horrors that had once graced this place. The massive walls cast deep shadows, as if ready to swallow the tiny intruder at any moment. Desk instinctively drew his weapon, though its sole purpose was to bolster his courage. His breathing quickened, each step treading on thin ice, his eyes scanning every corner where danger might lurk.

Tang Zijun's narration continued. "There were congealed stains in the cracks of the bricks...not just blood, but also some kind of...slime? Left by a monster?" His analysis was calm and clear. Suddenly...

Without warning, Tang Zijun raised her hand, making a gesture of absolute stillness!

Scáthach and Deske behind her stopped abruptly, and the atmosphere suddenly became tense.

Tang Zijun slowly squatted down, her fingers groping in an inconspicuous recess at the base of the city wall, half-hidden by moss and fallen leaves.

A few seconds later, he carefully picked up a small, charred, and bent piece of something.

It was a burnt-out matchstick.

The match head was completely charred, and the wooden shaft was mostly burned, turning a twisted, charred black, with a small, unburnt portion remaining at the end. It looked so ordinary, no different from the scattered withered branches and leaves around it, as if some unlucky passerby had left it there while lighting a cigarette, and then buried by rain and mud for a long time. Tang Zijun held it between her fingers, brought it close to her eyes to examine it carefully, and frowned slightly.

Not right.

The appearance of this match exudes an inexplicable sense of incongruity.

"This is..." Desk moved closer, and after seeing it clearly, he murmured in confusion, "A match?"

Just as Tang Zijun was trying to sort out this strange feeling, Scáthach, who had been silent all along, spoke clearly in her cold and ethereal voice, like drops of ice water falling. "There is a faint divine power reaction on this match."

This statement is like a pebble thrown into calm water.

Tang Zijun tightened her grip on the match.

A divine reaction?!

He instantly understood the source of that unease. This was no ordinary match; it carried the lingering aura of the target deity. A wounded, dying god had touched this match before fleeing into the monster's lair in this dead city. It might not point to the god's injury, but rather to some more specific, more perplexing action—why would a god in such a state use a match? For light? For warmth? Or…some kind of ritual? To transmit a message?

"Can you identify its owner?" Tang Zijun turned around and handed the match to Scáthach.

Scáthach gently took the gauntlet with her fingers, silently sensing it for a moment before slowly shaking her head. "...There's nothing I can do. The divine power on it is too weak, and the other party is most likely a native god, not an old friend of mine."

"Native gods?" Tang Zijun frowned. "You mean the gods born in the dream world?"

"Yes, the vast majority of the gods in the Void Mirror are composed of deities born from this world," Scáthach explained. "After several wars of the gods, very few of the original gods came to this world. And after the war with the Great Old Ones, even fewer of the original gods remained. Those still holding divine positions are likely second, third, or even fourth generation gods." The "original" gods Scáthach referred to were naturally the Earth gods who created the dream world. To better resist nightmares and to use all their power, the gods combined all their strength to create the Void Mirror, which is the only divine realm in the dream world.

The gods of Earth brought not only a new world, but also the laws of the real world. When positions became vacant and the power of the laws fell into disorder, new "gods" began to emerge in the dream world.

Tang Zijun didn't understand at first, but after thinking about it, he understood. This was probably the same as the rules of the Reverse World. When the first greedy person in the world was born, it automatically absorbed the power of the Reverse World and became the master of the Reverse World, and also a god.

But after its death, the laws of the reversed world within it returned to the world and were passed down from generation to generation to the God of Mirror Food. Later, after Scáthach killed it, she took over this power. This should be the second and third generation gods that Scáthach mentioned.

However, Tang Zijun was curious about the state in which these new gods born in the dream world appeared, whether the warriors had killed gods like herself, or whether they had received the gods' inheritance before their deaths.

In response to Tang Zijun's doubts, Scáthach slowly explained, "In most cases, new gods are the successors chosen by the old gods before their fall. Some of them are demigods with illustrious war achievements, while others are kings of human empires. But regardless of their status, the power of faith within them is extremely strong. Only such beings can withstand the influence of divinity." "You say this is in most cases, but are there any exceptions?" Tang Zijun pressed.

“In rare cases… those are beyond the control of the gods,” Scáthach recalled. “It is true that we possess various divine attributes, but the laws of this world are not immutable, and human faith will continue to create all sorts of new gods.”

"Just like the original gods of brewing, carving, and food... the power of these laws is not strong, but it is enough to support the birth of a god. And these gods are the three generations of deities later on." Tang Zijun nodded thoughtfully. "I think I understand. In other words, the development of this world is similar to that of the real world. Human faith can still create corresponding gods. It's just that the strength of the power these gods wield is different."

Then, he focused his gaze on the match. "So, we're most likely facing a local deity born from a dream world, right?" "Probably," Scáthach replied, casually tossing the match to the ground. "Let's move on; the opponent might be in danger." Behind her, Deskol carefully picked up the match and put it in his sheepskin pouch. Tang Zijun and Scáthach hadn't hidden their conversation from him, so he overheard everything. However, he couldn't understand what the two were saying, but he thought that was normal; after all, it concerned deities, how could a mere mortal like him understand?

However, he did understand one thing: this match had an extraordinary origin, being a treasure used by a god, and even retaining the god's aura. This might be worthless to others, but to him, a mercenary, it was different. This would be his bragging rights for the rest of his life—it was something a god had personally acknowledged. Tang Zijun and Scáthach didn't pay much attention to Desk's actions; they simply continued their rapid progress along the wall. Desk immediately followed, not daring to stray too far from Tang Zijun and Scáthach. To him, the closer he was to them, the safer he was; if he strayed too far, something might suddenly appear from the surrounding darkness and kill him.