Claire. The Chalice of Nethershade, or rather the Artifact Spirit of the original Lumyst Chalice.
As if to confirm his suspicion, the man continued, a barely perceptible spark of excitement— hope?—flashing in his eyes.
"If I take into account the nature of that aura... your presence here... and the precise resonance I feel emanating from you..."
At last, certainty settled into his gaze.
"Then there’s no doubt. You’ve earned her support."
Jake chose silence, refusing to give him so much as a nod. The old sage clearly had a heavy pack of truths he’d been carrying.
"On one point, you’re right," the Celestial said, inclining his head slightly—neither hostile nor submissive. "Your power is real. Whether you are the true Jake... or something else entirely is ultimately irrelevant."
His gaze sharpened.
"That blue-black Lumyst of yours—I’ve never encountered anything like it. It’s... fascinating. On the surface, the aura you’re emitting right now barely rivals my own. It feels like level two, maybe three. And yet, its density and intensity are beyond anything a native of this world could produce."
He paused.
"Despite how overwhelming it feels, it’s still low-level. As a Player, you should be oppressed by Twyluxia’s laws. And yet... you aren’t."
He continued, his voice lower.
"Other natives may be ignorant of the World Spirit’s existence—but at my level of cultivation, how could I not sense such an entity? The ground beneath my feet, the sun by day, the moon by night—I constantly feel their diffuse yet vigilant attention, as if I’m being watched."
His expression darkened.
"But recently... those ’eyes’ vanished. That disappearance was only the latest in a long chain of coincidences, reports, anomalies, and discoveries over the past few decades—events that pushed me to secretly investigate the truth."
At that moment, the Celestial’s radiant, vitality-filled aura—still wrapped around Jake like a blinding straitjacket—grew denser, firmer. Not to attack, but to block interference... to ensure that what followed wouldn’t reach unwanted ears.
With a solemnity Jake couldn’t simply brush aside, the leader of the Radiant Conclave—the strongest warrior on the continent—exhaled a sound close to relief, as if shedding an unbearable burden.
"The former Celestials, myself included... the Radiant Conclave as a whole—we’re nothing more than figureheads. Puppets."
"As you and several other foreigners have already suspected, the one who truly rules this continent—who makes every decision shaping its fate—is the Titan Tree, Anthace."
Instead of the shock he seemed to expect, Jake casually dug a finger into his ear and grunted,
"That’s it?"
If the continent hadn’t been literally burning under the emergence of countless underground abominations, it might’ve moved him. Unfortunately, a simple mental scan of the ground was all it took for any halfway competent Player to realize the tree’s roots were acting like a high-speed rail system.
Whether the Celestial was a puppet, innocent, or even an ally didn’t matter. In the end, he was still the one who had chosen to obey Anthace.
Thankfully, the man had enough self-awareness to realize that revelation alone wasn’t nearly enough to earn Jake’s trust. He took another short breath, then spoke with renewed seriousness.
"I can help you restore the Chalice of Lumyst."