"What in the Six Divines…"

Stepping halfway through the 'cave's' entrance and into the light of the sun, Soren was able to see it all. Statues of unfathomable sizes scattered endlessly throughout the lands. Some were standing upright, caked in thick layers of snow. Others were turned on their sides—fallen over from the push of time itself… Yet, regardless of how long they had been there, their beauty still shined through the cracks. He found it difficult to even look away…

Hearing the commotion, Myrin finally leaned up. His disheveled blonde hair covered his vision as he stretched his limbs against the bright hue of the sun.

"What are you making a fuss about so early in the morning?.."

Hearing this, Soren frowned and pointed at the grand scene before him. "Come look at this."

At first, the Elven Songster was unamused, until he realized what it was that Soren was trying to show him… Then, his jaw dropped.

"Praise the blossoms…"

"Praise the blossoms, indeed." Soren repeated with a chuckle. "Where the hell are we?"

"Statue Town," Myrin said flatly. "That is what many call it today."

"Statue Town?" Soren repeated again. "Such a strange name…"

Myrin nodded, then walked out of the 'cave.' His eyes trailed up—far past the hollowed entrance they found shelter in. It didn't take him long to realize where they were:

A statue. Or more specifically, the head of a statue that had somehow broken off the neck of its original sculpture.

It was a stone figure of a colossal dragon—its wings spread across the open field, casting an ominous shadow in its wake. The dragon head they were resting inside had fallen somewhere near its front legs. Strange runic symbols were inscribed into each of the wyvern's scales, as if to symbolize the power it holds… Despite the erosion, the fear it spread still struck deep into Myrin's core.

"Come take a look," he said to his companion, to which Soren obliged and subsequently became just as surprised…

"I won't lie, this place creeps me out more than whatever we experienced in the Avalon Ruins."

Myrin scoffed, "Even more than that shadowy woman we met in the hall of death?"

Soren's lips twitched slightly, then he chuckled, "Nevermind…"

"Regardless—you definitely are right about this place being creepy. After all, many historians, including Nicholas himself, attribute it as the origin point for most of the miraculous occurrences of the Second Age..."

"The Second Age of Fantasia?" That surprised Soren a bit.

Myrin nodded in confirmation. "Indeed. The Age of Heresy as it is called.

"Following the end of the Avalon Empire and the disappearance of the three Old Gods, the remaining surviving tribes and citadels were left with a world void of any deities… Some historians even call this period the 'Centuries of Horror.' And, they weren't exactly wrong. Corruption spread, famines grew, theft became the norm… An age of lawlessness descended upon the continent unlike anything anyone has seen before… Wars were started over petty squabbles, or just to pass on the time. Some societies even resorted to cannibalism."

The descriptions made Soren frown more and more. Though, he couldn't say it was unexpected. After all, such a scenario was rooted in the very thing that made him hate humanity in the first place: irrationality. The need for an authoritative figure to command order, as if they were nothing more than dogs begging for a leash… He couldn't understand it in the slightest.

Eventually, Myrin continued. "And so, because of the absence of gods, the people began projecting their own imaginations onto the divine. Their desperation caused them to pray to deities of their own creation. Statue Town is a monument to that history.

"Each of these statues is a god conceived by the sculptor themselves… Created in the hopes of invoking a divine blessing. Some of these craftsmen even went mad during the process—obsessing over every detail for decades, sometimes centuries—terrified that even the slightest flaw might draw down a curse instead of favor...

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"If you look over there," Myrin pointed to a distant statue—its bottom half sculpted with exquisite precision, while its top remained a rough, unshaped block of stone. "That one's incomplete. Most likely, the craftsman had no family to inherit the task… They had spent their whole life chasing perfection, only to die with the work unfinished.

"They will never know that their 'god' would be left to crumble here, forgotten—eroded by wind, snow, and time."

As he said this, all Soren could do was stare at these remnants of the past in silence. With each vision, a new story was unfolding before his very eyes. Stories of perseverance, desperation, fervor… Stories of hope and misery intertwined. All of them etched in stone and forever abandoned.

What is it that could have driven them to such lengths? Did the gods truly warrant such respect?

He could not understand it.

Soren had seen just how merciless the gods were. Why else would the supposed 'Flower Maiden' allow Her own worshippers to shun those disallowed from Her kingdom? Why else would the Greenfather, said to be the nurturing hand of all life, ignore the cries of those who wished to help Him in ushering in a new spring? Why else would the Gold-Giver find joy in the disparities of wealth amongst His believers?

The more he observed with his mystic eyes, the more illogical this world became.

And yet, he had no reason to fault them for their belief. After all, if one cannot believe in themselves, they must point that desire elsewhere…

A scribe doesn't interfere. They can only observe and document.

Soren understood these words perfectly.

He was not a benevolent savior. Nor was he a revolutionary hoping to ignite a new yearning for a better future amongst the masses.

To him, these statues were nothing more than another reminder of what he already knew. That the gods should never be trusted.

Aren't I also pretending to be a god? Soren thought. If a lying fraud like me can become one, then there's no hope in believing in any of them.

He couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

He turned to Myrin who was still observing the mysterious idols and smiled:

"What do you think of all of this?"

The Soothing Bard found his question to be rather peculiar. He shrugged with a slight smile:

"Sadness and pity… Nothing more, nothing less. A world without gods… Indeed, such a world would be terrifying. I can't fathom what those poor fools had to go through..."

"I see…" Soren shook his head then observed the remaining statues closely. Out of the entire collection, only a few seemed to have been finished—the rest were left to rot in obscurity, fated to slowly return to the earth that first birthed them.

He couldn't help but wonder… Just how many generations had to dedicate their lives to these meaningless idols until the ones before him were finally complete? Did finishing the task entrusted to them by their predecessors invoke a sense of fulfilment, or dread? Or perhaps a bit of both?

Regardless of the answer, he did at least know of his own emotions on the matter. And that, to a certain degree, was enough.

Out of the remaining finished statues, only two caught his eye.

One resembled a half-naked man with chiseled muscles and abs befitting a god. The man could be seen sleeping peacefully on his back, as if the world around him didn't matter in the slightest. Though, his most unique feature had to be his head resembling that of a wolf, rather than a human.

The other statue depicted a woman clad in a flowing robe—delicately sculpted to obscure what modesty demanded while drawing the eye to where beaty was meant to shine. A magnificent bird perched gracefully to her outstretched arm, and with a serene smile, she welcomed its presence. Her other hand held onto a mysterious staff—one that seemed to breathe life into the sculpted flora blooming at her feet. A single strange bell was attached to its apex.

Are those… He squinted his eyes in realization. But then, Myrin's voice disrupted his thoughts:

"Still, to think we made it all the way to Statue Town… I am not sure if that signifies good luck or not."

Soren turned to him and frowned. "What do you mean?"

The Soothing Bard scratched his hair. "Well… Statue Town is located at the border of the Staterra Empire… We've essentially gone past the demilitarized zone and crossed the entire kingdom itself."

"What?!" Soren's eyes almost fell out. He knew that fate had a hand in moving them closer toward the mountain, but for it to move them that far… He was starting to wonder whether fate was growing impatient.

Those damned orbits…

Just as these thoughts churned in his mind, he heard Myrin call out to him again:

"Soren… I spotted company."

The words made his stomach drop slightly. His mind instantly assumed the worst—either the Blossom Sword Flower or maybe even the Whispering Dream…

But no.

His eyes trailed to where the Elven Songster was looking. Past the first row of ancient statues, three silhouettes could be seen…

No, it was more accurate to say there were two people and what looked to be a domesticated Spirit Beast.

The pair of magi looked at each other for a few moments—exchanging thoughts quickly—then nodded.

"I guess we weren't suffering alone in this harsh cold…"

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