The building was silent.
A shadow covered Isaac's face as he opened and closed his mouth. He struggled to speak as the story registered in his mind.
Arthur leaned on the chair while silently gazing at the stars.
Xerxus, Amour, and Kalzer didn't know what to say. They were thinking to themselves while wondering how they should respond with.
Since the announcement, everyone has treated NPCs as real humans. However, everyone still treated Legacy Figures as creations of Arthur and Legacy Company.
None of them were crazy enough to believe that humans that died in their world could get resurrected. That was ludicrous, but now, all of their wild fantasies were true.
While Xerxus, Amour, and Kalzer had Godly Legacy Figures, Isaac didn't. Thus, the biggest shock was on him.
These three men looked at thoughtful Isaac and opened their mouths. However, it felt like a large lump blocked their throats, making them unable to utter any words.
'Simo…' Isaac thought with eyes closed, 'Good, gray, and evil Legends… I know what he is.'
'Around 80 years ago, two countries fought. There was a small country with a seemingly zero percent chance of victory. Their opponent was a mighty country with a great army.'
'The outcome seemed clear, and that small country didn't seem to have any hope. But then, a small farmer appeared. He was smaller than his peers, had zero presence, and had a quiet personality.
'However, his skill with a gun was remarkable, something the world hadn't seen before. That single farmer took down over five hundred enemy soldiers, survived aerial bombings, and shot to the face…'
'Then, he woke up in the hospital several weeks after getting shot in the face. Half of his face disfigured, but still fighting spirit burning strong. However, he found out that the war had ended, and their small country survived.
'Then, a few years later, another war was upon their small country. That small farmer again grabbed his gun and was ready to storm into the battlefield. But, his superiors denied and didn't allow the war hero to risk his life any longer.'
'That legendary farmer ended up living a long and healthy life, even outliving the mighty country that attacked them. Then, died out of old age in a nursing home.'
'While meeting you the first time, I honestly didn't know who you were, and I wish I did.'
'I want to hear more stories from you…' Isaac opened his eyes with a new glow.
'Even while being hailed as a hero, I am sure that he is a gray legend. Living his afterlife in dull Asphodel Meadows must have been painful.'
'Now, he chose his path, and I might know what it is.' Isaac smiled peacefully.
Everyone saw the smile on his face, and the tension eased up.
Arthur smiled and stood up, ''All of you, go rest. Tomorrow, we shall begin our journey to the ice castle.''
The four men nodded and retreated to their rooms.
The rooms were small enough to fit a small bed, desk, and wardrobe. There wasn't much room to move.
Isaac lay down on the small bed that was too small for him. His legs dangled over the bed, and the tips of his toes almost touched the carpeted floor.
Swoosh, swoosh!
The snowstorm returned with even stronger vigor. The strong wind breeze rattled the windows and silenced every noise.
Isaac looked at the dark outdoors with a nonchalant expression. The storm made him remember a poem that he once read in school.
''Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and driving o'er the fields. The whited air hides hills, woods, the rivers, and the heaven, veiling the farmhouse at the garden's end…''
…
The following day.
The snowstorm had gone by, and the yellow sunburned strong with light blue sky surrounding it amid fleeting clouds.
Arthur and the rest stepped out of the village under the watchful eyes of the villagers. Their destination didn't seem to be the end of the hill. Instead, they moved up the mountains towards the towering top.
Christian looked out of the frost-covered windows with a thoughtful look. He stood on Village Hall's third floor, which was a massive office. It belonged to him, and it was where he usually stayed when visiting the village.
Now, thoughts continued riddling his mind, which didn't seem to end.
Swoosh.
The door opened swiftly behind him, and panting, Branton appeared while saluting, ''You summoned me, sire?''
''Yes, please retrieve my VR Helmet from the sleigh. I need to enter that world to get some guidance from my master.''
''Yes, sire!'' Branton shouted energetically and left the room. Soon afterward, he returned with the Mythical VR Helmet and placed it gently on the desk.
He then saluted one last time and left the room to continue his duties as Sword Leader.
Christian took the helmet into his arms and positioned it around his head.
''I have so many questions, but only one can answer them. I have to meet my master.'' He pressed the button on the side and turned limp as his consciousness entered a whirling pool.
…
''Hah!'' Christian opened his eyes with a slam and felt warmth engulfing his body. He stood in the middle of a large wooden building with a warm atmosphere.
A small pointy-hatted elf moved around him while carrying a box of items. They opened a door that allowed him to catch a glimpse of an enormous factory-like space.
After the door closed, Christian woke up from his stupor.
''Hohoho, Christian!'' A voice echoed from the second floor, causing Christian to kneel with a humbled look.
An identical-looking elderly man walked down the stairs while rubbing his large belly. He had an eternal grin that made him look gentle and approachable.
''Santa Claus, I have several questions.'' Christian raised his head and looked at his master, Santa Claus.
''Yes, Christian?'' Santa Claus pulled him up and patted his equally broad shoulder. While standing shoulder-to-shoulder, they looked like twin brothers.
''Ever heard of Arthur Welhenheim?'' Christian asked.
''That name does indeed bring memories.'' Santa Claus said while rubbing his fluffy white beard.
''Who is he?''
Santa Claus looked at him and saw the strange glow in Christian's eyes, ''I see… you are thinking of that person, aren't you?''
''Yes, sir…'' Christian replied with a sigh. None of his thoughts could escape his master's watchful eye.
''Well, your thoughts aren't wrong.''
''You mean?!'' Christian's eyes widened like someone was pulling them apart.
''Yes, he is indeed his son.''
''I-Impossible!''
''Is it?'' Santa Claus showed an amused smile while twirling his beard.
''It is impossible! That person is not human, but a god!'' Christian held his chest and felt his beating heart that drummed against his chest.
''Of course, it's not possible with normal means. However, normal doesn't apply to Gods.''
''Incredible…'' Christian looked out of the frost-covered windows and saw the green skies, ''Aether Welhenheim, also known as Primordial God of Light… to think that he was his father.''
