King of Titans and Dragons
Chapter 126 - 126 121 Damaged Equipment

Chapter 126: Chapter 121: Damaged Equipment Chapter 126: Chapter 121: Damaged Equipment “Ascend to godhood?” The Swordsman looked down, falling silent.

“For you humans, ascending to godhood is the best choice, becoming a deity is the best outcome,” said the Elven Elder Salvador indifferently, “Don’t dream of walking the Path to Epic. As a human, you don’t have that privilege. To pursue it forcefully would turn you into a pile of dry bones. Don’t waste the life essence that the Eternal Tree of Life has replenished for you.”

“Waste? I can offer something of equal value to compensate for the losses you incurred healing me,” said the Swordsman as he lifted his head. He was a man who had slain an Ancient Red Dragon. While he was not exactly wealthy, he wasn’t far off either.

“Compensate our losses?” The Elven Elder chuckled and asked the Swordsman, “With what will you compensate?”

“I have plenty of resources stored in my Space Ring,” said the Swordsman, glancing at the Elf Elder. Now he was dressed in coarse clothes made of plant fiber, not his original shabby hemp garments. His original set of clothing had been replaced entirely.

“You might as well keep those resources for yourself!” Upon seeing the Swordsman’s gaze, the Elven Elder subtly shook his head, a trace of pity on his face, and gave a gentle shake to his Magic Staff. “Besides, the cost of healing you has already been paid for by the Titan.”

Subtle space waves then emerged, followed by a badly damaged cluster of grey clothing, a torn pair of boots, a belt broken into two pieces, a deep-blue long sword covered with cracks, and a pile of strangely shaped metal scraps.

“What’s this?” The sight of the supposed “garbage” teleported in front of him by the Elven Elder rendered the typically placid Swordsman speechless.

“These all belong to you, none are missing. Seeing the Swordsman’s darkening face, the Elven Elder added, “When I sent you into the heart of the Eternal Tree of Life, I removed these from you. I couldn’t let you bring irrelevant items into the Eternal Tree. Moreover, these items were already in this condition when I took them off you.”

“…” With a silent nod to the Elven Elder’s words, Swordsman Ron carefully examined the deep-blue long sword filled with cracks, his other hand gently touching the cracks. Muria noticed that whenever Ron’s fingers brushed against these cracks, his arm slightly trembled. This was his faithful companion, his sword.

“The Magic Array inscription on it was damaged, but the sword body is made of Legendary Metal, it can be melted and reforged,” said the Elven Elder Salvador consolingly.

If the Magic Staff, seen as a treasure, was marked by battle and destroyed, it would be unthinkable to the Elven Elder. To a mage, the Magic Staff is as dear to him as his life itself. The sword, to a Swordsman, is part and parcel of his life.

“Indeed, a broken sword can be reforged,” responded Swordsman Ron, seemingly to confirm the Elf Elder’s words as well as to comfort himself.

After saying this, Swordsman Ron placed the long sword, which seemed as if it could shatter into pieces at any moment, on his knee, and then took up the torn bloody cloth. Upon touching it, his frown deepened.

“Human, if I am not mistaken, is this clothing called ‘Abraham’s Blessing’? It’s a relic left behind by the wise man Abraham,” said the Elven Elder, a trace of regret in his eyes as he looked at the spoiled cloth.

“Yes, I got it from a sage,” the Swordsman Ron confirmed, fondling the torn, bloody cloth.

“A relic of a wise man!” Muria’s eyes widened as he stared at the torn cloth in the Swordsman’s hand. He couldn’t believe such a piece of trash could be linked to a wise man.

Anything connected with the words “wise man” would be a treasure, without exception. Moreover, this enchanted relic, named “Abraham’s Blessing,” is well documented in the Dragon Race’s heritage memory. As it is marked prominently, it is fresh in Muria’s memory.

Abraham’s Blessing, a piece of Legendary Armor. For warriors, mages, sorcerers, druids… all professions, all races can wear it. The only restriction is that the wearers must be from the Good Camp.

To many beings, this restriction was like no restriction at all. Just for these reasons, Muria knew the rarity of this robe. Wearing it undoubtedly provided the user with an almost indestructible defense mechanism.

But the first time Muria saw such an exquisite treasure, it was, unfortunately, damaged and discarded. Worse still, it seemed that it was damaged by the Legendary Titan, Yaxibeien.

“They did destroy a relic of a wise man,” confirmed the Swordsman. The Elven Elder cursed, “What…savagery to destroy even a relic left by a wise man. Do they know what this symbolizes?”

Seeing the trembling elder, Muria couldn’t help but nod, agreeing that the clan’s prospective Epic had been too ruthless. After all, he wrecked an entire set of Legendary Armor used for defense.

“Indeed, completely savage and violent,” said Muria, feeling quite a significant pain for his loss. The first piece of Legendary Armor he would come across was in a destroyed state, something he couldn’t bear to see.

“What are you complaining about?” snapped the Elven Elder, Salvador, as he glared at Muria.

“A piece of Legendary Armor just…vanished,” Muria lamented.

“The deed was done by your Titan race!”, said the handsome golden-haired Elf irritably.

“Can it be repaired?”, Muria asked, looking at the torn clothing in the Swordsman’s hand. Though the clothing had nothing to do with him, he still felt a pang of loss.

“It can be repaired.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” the Elven Elder threw a glance at Muria, “as long as you can find the first owner of this clothing, and get him to take action.”

“The first owner?” Muria was taken aback, “You mean the wise man of legend, Abraham!”

“Yes. Although the name is ‘Abraham’s Blessing’, according to ancient records, this robe was made by the wise man for daily use. Therefore, if you can find the wise man, restoring the robe would be very simple.”

“Elder, you must be joking,” smiled Muria awkwardly. “The wise man has been missing for tens of thousands of years. Even if I found him, such a being would not necessarily pay me any heed.”

“He will notice you,” the Elven Elder replied indifferently. “Even an ant will be treated equally by the wise man. After all, you are far more significant than an ant.”

“Uh!” Muria was rendered speechless by the elegant elder Elf.