Chapter 56: The Cup of Blood

In an instant.

Duncan saw the Valkyrie suspended in mid-air with his naked eyes, but as the icy blue, vertically slit dragon eyes gradually faded, the Valkyrie's figure slowly vanished as well.

Only the god's-eye view of the dimensional space could catch a glimpse of her hazy form.

Dragons served as the watershed of the mythic age.

East and West alike were much the same. In A Song of Ice and Fire, there was a scene where the warlocks were previously mere tricksters performing sleight of hand, but the moment the Dragonmother hatched three giant dragons, the warlocks recovered their ancient magical powers. As for the East, if you heard of some Taoist priest performing minor spells, or that a spirit-medium in a certain village was exceptionally accurate, or even if you occasionally caught wind of some ghostly rumor, you would likely dismiss it as mere feudal superstition and baseless gossip.

Yet if one day, you were to witness an oriental dragon winding through rivers and lakes, trust me, only a single thought would dominate your mind:

To hell with it, I'm cultivating immortality!

That was essentially the point. The moment people laid eyes on a dragon was the precise moment myth stepped into reality.

As for other monsters, none could ever rival the monumental impact of a dragon.

From a supernatural perspective, dragons were innate magical creatures, especially during the middle and late mythic ages. A dragon in its own right was the materialization of magic; its very presence would ripple the surrounding winds of magic, ultimately causing supernatural forces to be born of human belief and thought.

The dragon's eyes could perceive the Valkyrie, easily piercing through the phantom disguise of the witch.

"Why was there no ability plundered?"

This was Duncan's greatest puzzle at the moment. After slaying the giant troll, he had acquired two distinct special abilities: the first was a further enhancement of Giant's Strength, and the second was the long-awaited Regeneration.

Yet the Mother of Monsters had bestowed nothing. Duncan had not gained a single special ability.

This hardly seemed to make sense!

Either a sudden bug had occurred within the dimensional space, or this Mother of Monsters was brewing something massive for him. Duncan felt the latter possibility was far higher.

Sure enough.

A faint, uncanny blood-red glow emerged.

On the corpse of the slain witch, the flowing blood began to gather together. Then, her body started to dissolve, as though she were a creature foreign to the real world, disintegrating bit by bit until, finally, an eerie, blood-red chalice manifested within her chest cavity.

--The Chalice of Blood [Legendary Artifact]: A legendary oddity foreign to the material world, condensed from power, desire, and greed, representing the dark and vicious facet of human nature. The Chalice of Blood is not unique; it is a remnant of the Dark Ages, tracing its origins as far back as the era of the Great Flood.

(Amidst the clashes between monotheism and polytheism, many mythical monsters were assimilated and transformed by the dogma of the Church. The dragon was cast as the incarnation and symbol of Satan the Devil, holding different identities across various mythological systems, which endowed them with new monstrous aspects.)

(In the synthesized mythology, both Grendel and the Mother of Monsters were descendants of Cain from the Bible. The new myths brought by missionaries caused the monsters of the Dark Ages to undergo a metamorphosis.)

(Thus was the Chalice of Blood condensed.)

(It was viewed by the Church as the Holy Grail of Satan, wielded exclusively by legends of the netherworld.)

Duncan slowly picked up the chalice, discovering that it still contained something within, and even the Valkyrie in mid-air revealed a trace of yearning.

--Blood of Desire [Legendary Relic]: The Mother of Monsters inherited the ancient, taboo powers of the matriarchal society from the Dark Ages. She held dominion over fragmentary divine laws concerning lust, greed, and procreation, serving as the physical manifestation of fallen human desire.

She was a monster alien to the real world, a lingering remnant from an era before humanity had conceived the notion of "morality."

The blood within the chalice could serve as a foundational element to ascend to demigodhood, corresponding to the divine domains of lust, greed, and procreation. However, by the twilight of the mythic age, its power had been severely depleted, making it impossible to ascend to a true deity through it. Even so, one could attempt to fuse with it to usurp the faith of a fallen deity of polytheism, or replace some minor god as an aspect.

(The age of gods has ended; even the blood within the chalice can only linger in survival.)

Indeed, she had been brewing something massive.

When Duncan entered Avalon amidst the mists, the guardian fairy there had been weakened to the level of three-star silver-gray, whereas the Mother of Monsters before him—likewise not a product of the real world—had somehow managed to maintain the strength of a three-star gold tier.

In an age long past, she might very well have been even more formidable than the guardian fairy of Avalon!

Perhaps she was some fallen evil deity from the primitive religions (witchcraft cults) who had fallen on hard times, eventually degenerating step by step into a monster, becoming the legendary Mother of Monsters.

The suppression exerted by the laws of the material world was terrifyingly absolute.

Duncan's strength within the mythical illusion was nothing short of overwhelming to mortals, capable of casually lifting objects weighing several tons, and with his utmost effort, potentially hoisting tens of tons. This was true giant's strength, the terrifying might of shifting mountains and filling seas as depicted in myths.

"How is this thing used?"

Duncan grasped the Chalice of Blood. It looked like an ordinary goblet with a dark golden sheen. A band of runes encircled the exterior, while the interior was inscribed with an intricate, dark-red, crowned fire dragon, presumably symbolizing Satan.

The Blood of Desire within resembled crystallized blood; it did not slosh, perfectly fused with the chalice, and emitted an intoxicatingly sweet, cloying fragrance of wine.

--"The Chalice of Blood [Legendary Artifact]: Upon activating this item, myth mirrors reality, and the wishes of all living beings manifest as miracles that descend upon the world. All creatures within a certain range break through the boundaries of reality, and those who resonate with the Holy Grail attain this power, transforming into their mythical forms. The duration is determined by the blood within the chalice; once the blood is exhausted, its power vanishes."

(In the Book of Exodus, Moses parted the Red Sea through a divine miracle. This is myth mirroring reality.)

(Most gods are born of belief; this is the materialization of the collective wishes of sentient beings left behind from the Dark Ages, a fragment of divine law condensed over thousands of years.)

Hiss!

Duncan could not help drawing a sharp breath, thinking that this item was terrifyingly powerful indeed.

It essentially possessed two distinct uses. The first was "deification"—though not to the level of a supreme god, but rather on par with ordinary polytheistic demigods. In Europe, there was likely no opportunity for this, as it would most probably be eradicated by the Church. If used in South America or North America, however, it might just be possible to supplant some indigenous tribal deity of the Native Americans, muddle along for another thousand years or so, before eventually being wiped out by the Church all the same.

As for Africa, the deities of Voodooism might also fit the criteria, though who on earth would choose to go make their fortune in Africa?

The Mother of Monsters herself had not fared well, so one could hardly expect the things she left behind to propel someone straight to the heavens.

Beneath the twelve principal gods of ancient Greece, after all, there had been countless lesser deities.

Look at them now?

Not a single hair remained.

Thus, one could not hold excessively high expectations. In primeval times, the Mother of Monsters might have been a fairly potent primitive religious deity, but in the present day, she was merely mediocre.

To be frank, Duncan doubted she could defeat Saint George the Dragon-Slayer, who was likewise rated as three-star gold.

As for the alternative usage, it was "self-detonation"—everyone's power exploding together, with the collective wishes of all living beings causing myth to mirror reality. Using the Chalice of Blood as a medium, a transient descent of myth would be initiated, lasting until the blood within the chalice was completely spent. During this duration, within the affected radius, practically anything might emerge.

Duncan did not even doubt that angels might descend, heroes of myth and legend might resurrect, or even half-gods and demigods might manifest.

He only wondered whether the Chalice of Blood could withstand the strain!

It was merely a medium for myth to mirror reality; he'd rather it didn't just explode outright.

"Store it."

With a thought from Duncan, the Chalice of Blood vanished into thin air, directly absorbed into the dimensional space. Yet it could not be materialized; instead, it was marked on the projection interface, fused with No. 1 mortal avatar as though permanently bound.

It seemed that the entirety of the Mother of Monsters' power had condensed into the Chalice of Blood, which explained why no special abilities had been plundered.

Yet something still felt rather peculiar.

According to the mythology of Beowulf, he had suddenly discovered an ancient sword within the witch's lair, and after slaying the witch with it, the sword had melted away like ice upon his return to the water's surface, leaving behind only the hilt.

This naturally raised suspicions that the Norse pantheon had covertly intervened behind the scenes.

"Avalon in the mists, as it waned, championed the myth of King Arthur."

"The Norse pantheon, in all likelihood, championed the myth of Beowulf as well."

Duncan had essentially relied entirely on his own raw strength to slay the Mother of Monsters, which was why he hadn't caught sight of that magical ancient sword at all.

So I was the only one hacking and slashing with a real blade and genuine effort?!

Verifying this hypothesis was remarkably simple.

Duncan tidied up the battlefield slightly, kicking the witch's dissolved skull to the side, and hoisted her cervical spine with one hand, dragging the tail along with it.

--"Witch's Spine Whip [Legendary Relic]: Upgradable."

This spine was the remaining trophy.

The cervical vertebrae of the Mother of Monsters served as the hilt, the spinal column formed the weighted section of the heavy whip, while the dark golden, metal-like tail functioned as the flexible lash, tipped with a sharp barb at the very end.

Beyond that, there was nothing else left; everything else had thoroughly dissolved.

Duncan marched straight toward the giant troll's lair, which was littered with the thoroughly gnawed bones of cattle, sheep, horses, and humans. There was a small pile of treasures, but meager in quantity, and he failed to find the items he was looking for.

"Where is the Giant's Sword?"

"Dammit, the Norse pantheon really was secretly assisting Beowulf!"

Duncan then headed directly for the witch's lair.

The result was identical.

That magical ancient sword was nowhere to be found. There was only a collection of bizarre odds and ends, alongside human bone carvings suspected to be from ancient all-spirit blood sacrifices. The sole difference was that the Mother of Monsters possessed a larger hoard of treasure—a small mountain of it—though some items were completely worthless.

For Duncan actually spotted "cowrie shell currency" tucked away in a corner—the shell money characteristic of the matriarchal era.

In the medieval epochs, age did not equate to power; if one fell on hard times, a blood-sacrificed deity from the matriarchal era could easily degenerate into a monster lurking in dark corners.

"I knew it!"

"How could a witch's lair just happen to contain an ancient sword capable of slaying her?"

"These fellows are all actors!"

Duncan's greatest harvest was the relic left behind by the witch; the combined treasures of the two monsters amounted to less than the tribute paid by the Saxons.

"It would seem, then, that the legend of King Arthur is likewise a mythical script."

"Merlin placed his bets."

"Avalon in the mists placed its bets as well."

Duncan narrowed his eyes slightly, his palm stroking the vertebrae of the witch as he muttered thoughtfully, "Can I place a bet as well?"

"Can the script unfold according to my will?"

He remembered quite clearly that in one of the futures deduced by causality laws, one of the endings was that King Arthur became his adopted son.

Such a legitimate right of succession was vastly superior to being Uther Pendragon's biological son!

If direct methods failed.

According to the Roman tradition of adopting heirs, he would be the designated legitimate successor to the King of Britain—Duncan.