Magical Girl's Knight Brother

Chapter 599 Tanya, the Goddess of Merchants

"I...Iluvita?!"

Desk suddenly raised his head, the lingering fear and exhaustion on his face instantly replaced by an extreme shock and disbelief. He cried out in shock, his voice becoming sharp and hoarse from excitement, sounding particularly jarring in the empty and silent underground hall.

This name is not unfamiliar to Desker at all.

In his understanding, Ilúvatar was not some "Starwatcher," but rather a long-forgotten, secret name belonging to the ancient divine age. This name represented one of the great wills symbolized by the brilliant stars in the vast night sky, the supreme star god worshipped and revered by the Church of the Astrolabe, an eternal, mysterious, and sublime being hanging above mortals in the endless firmament, representing the trajectory of destiny and the order of the universe. The origins of the Church of the Astrolabe can be traced back to the intelligent race living on the vast grasslands—the centaurs.

They possess an innate, extraordinary talent that allows them to communicate with the stars. These alien races have long lived in the snow-capped mountains deep in the grasslands, leading a life of isolation from the world.

In their legends and doctrines, every twinkling star in the night sky corresponds to the will of an ancient and powerful god, and together they weave the threads of destiny, guiding the trajectory of all living beings.

Ilúvatar is one of the most noble and powerful names of the Star Gods.

Later, this reverence and faith in the stars gradually spread with the migration of the centaurs and their interactions with other races. The Church of the Astrologers also developed from a niche, alien faith into one of the most influential mainstream churches on the continent. Desk, as a veteran who had spent many years in the mercenary guild, was not a believer in the Church of the Astrologers, but for him, the name was still like other gods—a lofty and unattainable symbol existing in myths and church murals.

Star Gods—what noble and distant beings they are!

The sovereigns reside high in the heavens, overlooking all living beings. Their brilliance shines through the ages, and their will guides the galaxy. They are eternity, order, and the ultimate that mortals can only look up to but can never reach.

And now.

Deep within this filthy, dead city, beneath this cold, dilapidated castle, on the ruins of an altar permeated with the stench of blood and blasphemy, he, Desk, an insignificant mortal mercenary who had just struggled back from the horror of being transformed into a monster, actually witnessed the legendary, incomparably noble Star God himself.

What made his soul tremble even more was that Chi's enormous body, which should have radiated brilliant starlight, was now like shattered glass, covered with terrifying wounds that revealed the bone. The huge, ferocious bone spear that pierced through his chest was like the most vicious curse, pinning Chi firmly to the cold ground. The dark golden divine blood had already solidified, drawing a shocking death totem on the ground.

What stung Desk's eyes most and made his stomach churn again were the dark red, blasphemous hairs that writhed and grew tenaciously around the wound and the bone spear, like living creatures. They greedily sucked up the remaining divine power of the Star God, like maggots gnawing at a sacred remains. What blasphemy!

This extreme contradiction and impact, like an invisible giant hammer, slammed heavily onto Desk's worldview.

His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground with a thud. His eyes were wide open, filled with extreme fear, disbelief, and a heart-wrenching grief at witnessing the suffering of a god.

"Star God... Lady Ilúvatar... How could this be..." He murmured to himself in a daze, his voice broken and fragmented, the scene before him completely overturning his understanding of "gods".

Those lofty stars, could they really fall? That eternal radiance, could it be tainted and severely damaged by such filthy and profane power? "Don't stray too far from me, Desk, you can't withstand this pollution." Scáthach ignored Desk's outburst, her gaze carefully sweeping over every wound on Ilúvatar's body, especially the enormous bone spear piercing through his chest, radiating an ominous dark red light. The bone spear was ancient and ferocious in appearance, its surface engraved with runes filled with primal violence and destructive aura. Looking at this thing gradually awakened a distant pantheon's imprint deep within Scáthach's memory.

"The spear of K'uk'ulkan, the god of sacrifice..." Scáthach's deep voice echoed in the underground hall, tinged with a solemnity after confirmation.

Koccata, a name that may be as faint as a candle in the wind in modern Earth civilization, is a household name in Mayan mythology. This ancient being, holding sacred fire in one hand and a spear in the other, is one of the nine Mayan pantheons, wielding power over sacrifice, war, and rebirth. His existence predates even the Celtic pantheon to which Scáthach belongs, making him a truly ancient being.

However, this confirmation only deepened Scáthach's doubts instead of dispelling them.

During the War of the Gods, although there were occasional frictions between the various pantheons, they should have united against the common enemy, the "Nightmare" that swept the world. Why then did the spear of Kokata, who was of Mayan origin and held a high position, appear here and become the key weapon to kill a star god? Scáthach's thoughts churned like a storm, and a cold rage gathered in her chest.

Just then, Scáthach's body, covered in shadow armor, suddenly stiffened.

Her extremely keen senses were as if touched by a tiny needle prick, and a faint yet uniquely aura of unfamiliar divine energy appeared without warning in a shadowy corner of the underground hall.

This aura did not emanate from the dying Ilúvatar, nor from the writhing pleasures of the filthy realms outside.

Scáthach suddenly turned around, her deep purple gaze instantly tearing through the darkness of that corner.

The shadow power surging around her instantly boiled, and a scarlet shadow spear silently appeared in her hand, its tip pointing directly at the shadow, radiating a chilling killing intent.

"I've been curious about this since earlier," Scáthach said, frowning slightly. "Ilúvatar was on the verge of death; logically, she shouldn't be able to receive the power of faith."

"So, there isn't only one deity here, Chi."

The voice paused slightly, and the shadows seemed to be parted by an invisible force, revealing a small, thin figure slowly emerging from them.

She was a little girl who looked only twelve or thirteen years old.

She had long, slightly messy, beige hair, like newly sprouted wheat, casually draped over her thin shoulders. She wore a drab, patched, and even somewhat tattered coarse cloth dress, and on her feet, a pair of equally worn-out, mud-covered leather boots. Her face was somewhat dirty, but it couldn't hide her exquisite features, especially her eyes—exceptionally clear and bright, as if they contained the sound of countless stars turning and gold coins clinking.

Upon seeing Scáthach's magnificent yet oppressive shadow armor, and especially feeling its profound, pure, and ancient aura of death and shadow authority, he was completely stunned.

In her clear, bright, and peculiar eyes, an intense surprise and wariness flashed across her face. Her small body tensed instinctively, like a frightened little animal, and she even took a small step back, leaning against the cold stone wall.

But soon, the perception that belonged to "god" in her eyes began to operate rapidly.

"This power... such pure shadow..." she murmured, her beige hair swaying slightly with her movements, her dirty little face gradually shifting from wariness to an incredulous realization.

She raised her head, her clear yet unfathomable eyes looking at Scáthach again with a hint of hesitation and probing, her voice trembling slightly with uncertainty.

"You, you are...the Queen of the Land of Shadows, Lady Scáthach?"

Scáthach's deep purple eyes shone through the helmet visor. It wasn't entirely unexpected that the other party could recognize her, after all, her existence was legendary even in the Age of Gods.

But the appearance of such a young god, whose power doesn't seem particularly strong and who even appears somewhat destitute at the scene of the fall of a god in this filthy dead city is itself full of mystery.

Instead of answering the little girl's question directly, she asked her own.

"Name, authority, origin."

Three questions, concise and powerful.

The little girl felt uneasy under Scáthach's scrutinizing and intangible gaze. She subconsciously tugged at a patch on the hem of her tattered clothes, her small brows furrowing slightly as if she were weighing something.

Finally, she seemed to have made up her mind, or rather, before Scáthach's undeniable authority, hiding became pointless. She sighed softly, a sigh carrying a profound weariness and a hint of self-mockery that was completely at odds with her youthful appearance. "...Don't be agitated, sir. I am not your enemy, nor do I pose any threat to you." She shrugged, trying to sound relaxed, but the movement seemed weak on her small frame. "My name is Tanya, this... is my name when I was still human."

She raised her head, met Scáthach's gaze calmly, and spoke clearly.

"As for the divine office... I'd say it's the god of merchants in this generation."

"Hmm...it might be the last generation."