The Sun Codex

Three days later, Auguste. Cassius remained coiled upon the mountain peak where he had rested before, steadying his newly attained realm, taking stock of the power gained from his advancement, and casually studying the Infernal Core he had carved from Zariel's chest. Suddenly, an urgent transmission interrupted his experiments. "Your Majesty, we have found something... extraordinary at the Sun God Tower." Trump's magical projection materialized before Cassius. A rare mixture of nervous tension and excitement was painted across the ogre's hideous face. As Trump's superior for all these years, Cassius could guess what he had uncovered from his expression alone. A deity. Nowadays, only something tied to the gods could make the Empire's current Chief Minister lose his composure to such a degree and reach out with an emergency contact. "I'll be right there," Cassius answered with utter brevity. Shimmering light rippled across the red dragon's scales. His immense frame shrank rapidly, dissolving into billowing white vapor, within which a tall humanoid silhouette emerged. As the smoke cleared over a few short seconds, the mountain-sized red dragon resolved into a noble young man with crimson hair and golden eyes—Cassius in his humanoid form. "Better to be cautious. Calling Auguste the center of the world right now wouldn't be an exaggeration; who knows how many eyes are watching it from the shadows." Cassius shook his head, offering a wry, self-deprecating smile. To avoid drawing attention, he had deliberately assumed humanoid form—a spell he hadn't cast in so long that even he felt a bit rusty. Light flashed through his pale gold irises as space warped in an instant. A portal of blazing flames flared before him, and without hesitation, he stepped through. *Whoosh—* In the next heartbeat, Cassius arrived at the summit of the Tower of the Eternal Sun God, directly above the Sun Disk. The surrounding chamber was lavishly decorated, resplendent with gold and jewels, yet felt strangely vacant. Aside from Trump, no one else was present, and Trump's hands clutched a golden scroll with a tight grip. "Master, you've finally arrived!" Seeing the Emperor appear, Trump hurried forward in excitement and knelt reverently at his feet. Because Cassius in human guise was far shorter than an ogre, Trump had deliberately cast Reduce on himself, shrinking down to less than two meters in height. Cassius gave him a detached glance and bade, "Rise. No one else has seen this, I trust?" Trump scrambled to his feet, cautiously presenting the scroll as he answered, "Reporting to Master, I dismissed all irrelevant personnel and kept not even a single guard at my side. I also cast Divination Fog, so not even a ninth-tier divination spell could easily pry in. "Furthermore, I swear upon my soul that I only read the first portion of this scroll; I harbor not the slightest covetous thought..." "Good. You were thorough." Cassius gave a slight nod and took the scroll. Trump tactfully retreated a few paces and added, "Rest assured, Master, I have given strict orders to the perimeter guards. Anyone who dares intrude without leave will be executed on the spot!" Only after Trump stepped back did Cassius unroll the parchment. The very first line that met his eyes took him by surprise, finally making clear why Trump had summoned him in such haste. The Sun Codex —Aragorn I, Emperor of Fadlan New Calendar Year 1753, Night of Falling Stars I had a fierce quarrel with the Grand Patriarch. He believes we should not use the power bestowed by the Sun God to expand our territory. Yet I countered him: we Fadlanians were born children of the sun, and all the light in this world should rightfully belong to us. The Grand Patriarch and I parted on bitter terms. ... New Calendar Year 1759, Starless Night The expeditionary force we dispatched brought back an ancient Netherese tome from the ruins. From its pages, I discovered an astounding secret. It turns out gods are not born divine. Even the lofty Sun God, revered by countless millions, was once flesh and blood—no different from us. A presumption bordering on sacrilege has taken root in my mind: Could I replace him and become a deity myself? ... New Calendar Year 1762, Month of Withered Wheat Scouts from the far north brought back stone tablets left behind by Karsus. From them, I witnessed the truth behind the death of the first Goddess of Magic and the collapse of the Weave. Yet it revealed an even more critical truth: gods can die. Impossible though it may seem, a deity can indeed be slain by a mortal. "Gods are not eternal; they are thieves of time." ... New Calendar Year 1773, Dry Season, Cloudless After more than a decade of searching, the Archmage of the Arcane Legion brought me the final tablet of Karsus, granting me the complete Rite of Apotheosis. Yet the Grand Patriarch of the Church of Amaunator came before me, warning that I must not let power blind my sight. Laughable. The gods imprison mortals within the Material Plane, greedily hoarding peerless might for themselves, while these foolish lapdogs continue to defend their so-called lord... So, months later, I killed him, cut out his heart, and used Karsus's secret art to blind the Sun God's gaze. Sure enough, I proved once again: gods are neither omniscient nor omnipotent. ... New Calendar Year 1778, Night of the Full Moon I will not be like Karsus, the "God of a Moment," who perished after briefly tasting divine authority. That was utter folly. I shall become an eternal god, and my empire an everlasting realm. I will construct three Sun God Towers. The foolish Church of Amaunator believes I have finally surrendered to their faith, blind to the fact that these towers will become my faith anchors, stepping stones along my ascent to godhood. ... New Calendar Year 1785, Frost Month The rite is about to commence, and my preparations are complete. I fashioned the Grand Patriarch's heart into an artifact; I trust my beloved deity will relish this "offering." I gouged out the left eyes of a thousand blind souls born at daybreak, crafting them into the "Crown of Eclipsed Eyes" to fulfill this blasphemous ritual against the sun. Yet when I ordered an empire-wide manhunt for the blind born at sunrise, the commander of the Imperial Guard, whom I held in high regard, showed hesitation. So I took his head. As expected, these mortals cannot fathom my grand ambition. ... New Calendar Year 1786, Hour of the Blazing Sun *(The handwriting is frantic, marred by scorch marks)* I have prepared everything! He cannot win. He says godslayers are destined to become decaying gravestones. He says the night is merely the blink of His eyes. He says my name is being inscribed on the far side of every star in His blood... Impossible! Another lie meant to deceive mortals! I shall live forever! Now, I can never turn back. *(The final line is repeatedly smeared over, faintly discernible: "I am the Sun")* ... "So that was the old emperor's obsession—to supplant Amaunator and become the eternal Sun God. "A pity his mortal life was too short. A century of striving could never rival the millennia of foundation built by another. In the end, he too became nothing more than a 'God of a Moment.'" Having carefully read through the codex, Cassius sighed, moved by deep sentiment. Yet he soon gathered and organized the crucial information recorded in the scroll—this was hardly a diary; it was practically a comprehensive godslaying manual. Within moments, Cassius extracted the following key points: 1. Ascending to godhood requires seizing a divine spark. 2. At least one hundred thousand devout believers and three holy sites are needed to sustain one's divine rank as anchors of faith; otherwise, one will unravel just as Karsus did. 3. A suitable vessel of law is required to contain the newly made god's authority; otherwise, one risks detonating on the spot like Aragorn I. 4. Apotheosis requires conducting simultaneous rituals across three holy sites, using the power of faith to elevate oneself and ignite the divine fire. At the same time, the altars must be drenched with blasphemous blood, bolstered by incantations from the tablets of Karsus, and inscribed with the true god's name to wrest away their divine domain. Contemplating the compiled notes, Cassius fell into deep thought. *The ritual isn't overly prohibitive. For me, the other requirements are within reach.* *The catch is... the incantations for apotheosis were split into three parts, housed separately in three Sun God Towers, and the complete method of ascension is almost certainly buried within Fadlan's 'Holy City.'* Only by unifying all of Fadlan could one acquire the complete path to godhood. This was likely the old emperor's contingency—only his most outstanding heir could inherit his will. Unfortunately, fate had other ideas. The long-shattered old emperor could never have anticipated that a red dragon would cut in midway through and hijack his legacy outright. "Heh, no wonder those three kings were willing to contest the Holy City at any cost. So they caught sight of the hope for apotheosis." Cassius chuckled with mild derision. At the same time, Cassius astutely noted that seizing a divine seat came at a steep price. The first cost was divine pollution. Those who failed would likely disperse on the spot or even mutate into an abomination. Aragorn I's raving, deranged state before the ritual had most likely been the result of divine contamination. The second risk was backlash from universal law. The divine fire would flow in reverse and incinerate the host, scattering their soul into nothingness. The third risk was encirclement by the gods. Almost every newly ascended deity had to endure a pantheonic war, to say nothing of a potent divine seat like the Sun God—countless deities would surely covet such a coveted throne. Cassius carefully stowed the golden scroll away, then stepped to the tower's edge, gazing out from above upon the boundless land. "Still... even with only a shred of survival, I won't let such an opportunity slip away lightly." He clenched his fists, his pale gold irises shimmering in the sunlight. "Everything that belonged to the Fadlan Empire shall belong to the Cinder Empire." ... "Master, someone wishes to see you." Beneath the Sun God Tower, Trump had waited for some time and held out a sheet of parchment. Still mulling over the old emperor's codex, Cassius didn't even raise his head, asking offhandedly, "Who?" "I don't know." "Even you couldn't discern their identity?" Cassius finally took note, lifting his gaze to the parchment in Trump's hands. The parchment was yellowed and aged, marked by faint spatters of dried blood, yet strangely enough—there wasn't a single word written on it. "He looks like an ordinary mortal with nothing peculiar about him. Even the results from divination spells showed the same..." "Heh, the Weave can deceive. As long as one's spellcasting prowess is great enough, weaving a lie is child's play." Cassius's interest was piqued at last. Stroking his chin, he asked, "What else did he tell you? He couldn't have just dropped off a blank sheet of paper and fled." "He didn't, but..." The ogre lowered his head, shame, humiliation, and fury tangling across his brutish face. Cassius had rarely seen such a rich array of emotions on him. After a brief silence, Trump gritted his teeth and hissed resentfully, "Master, that insolent wretch claimed to be... your future superior. "He also said that if you do not come, he will surely make you pay a bitter price." By the end, Trump's voice dripped with murderous intent, looking ready to grind his own teeth to dust and swallow them. "Oh?" "Such audacity exists?" Light flickered in Cassius's eyes. His curiosity was well and truly hooked. Trump dropped to his knees with a thud, growling in acute embarrassment, "Master, this is an insult to your person! And it is my dereliction of duty to allow such a thing right under my nose! Please rest assured, I will investigate his identity through the night and teach him that the Empire's dignity cannot be trampled!" "A future superior..." Cassius lowered his eyelids, sinking into thought. Such a title, such methods, and such... brazen disregard, treating Trump, a legendary powerhouse, as nothing more than a dull, frail plaything. In merely a moment, Cassius had a fair guess as to the visitor's identity, and his heart sank slightly. At that thought, Cassius waved a hand. "Step down. No need to investigate further." Assuming the Emperor was displeased, Trump pleaded hurriedly, "Master, please grant me another chance, I will surely—" Cassius took the parchment from Trump's hands and said evenly, "If I am not mistaken, given that person's station, if he intends to hide, even I likely wouldn't be able to ferret him out." "Even you...?" Hearing Cassius's words, Trump's heart gave a violent lurch. Stunned, he dared not say another word. Cassius unfolded the parchment. As expected, bloody writing surfaced across its face—words invisible to anyone but him. *The Withered Rose Tavern.* ... The Withered Rose Tavern was located within the Empire's borders, tucked away in a remote corner of Blackstone Keep. Renowned far and wide for the seductive dances performed by its drow elf dancers, it was a cherished favorite among bards. Business was perpetually booming. Local patrons aside, travelers journeyed vast distances from abroad solely to gaze upon the alluring dances of the drow. "Bravo! Well danced!" "Another one!" Emboldened by alcohol, the patrons' faces flushed red with excitement. Their roars were loud enough to blow off the roof, and paper notes fluttered through the air like confetti. At that moment, not a soul noticed a lean, goatee-sporting man who had appeared in a dark corner of the tavern. He picked an empty seat and sat in silence, leaning upon a black walking cane with an exceptionally indolent posture, seemingly waiting for something. His pitch-black eyes were fathomlessly deep, glimmering with a faint, eerie light in the shadows.