Lord of Spells from Faerûn

The capital of the City of Glory, the eight spiers of [Pilgalen Palace] stick out from the cliff. The smoke and fluttering flags of Waterdeep lie across the land like a magnificent picture scroll. The peaks on the west side rise from the cliff. Dropping a hundred feet high, the terrain sloped down five hundred feet, forming a barrier guarding the base of the mountain. Under the cliff, a cliff plunges straight into the blue water of the Sword Sea.

A jewel-like path rises from the spire of the Palais Pilgelen to the top of the mountain and disappears into the void. This translucent road does not appear to be solid, but it is quite solid.

This illusory path changes in many ways. The steps were originally amber and pearl-like in color and turned into pure white. But not long after, it changed again, this time into a silvery slope. Every few seconds, it changes into a different shape.

"The Holy Steps of Heaven."

Midnight stared at the void on the cliff and murmured to himself.

The female mage walked into the tower. She knew that this was the only way to go to the holy steps of the Kingdom of Heaven. As early as the establishment of Waterdeep City, there were rumors that the lord of Waterdeep City after establishing the [Pilgalon Palace] , this building has been blessed by the mysterious goddess and has a path to heaven. Now it seems that the rumors may not be false.

After Midnight blessed herself with the [Acceleration Technique], she moved forward quickly and arrived at the top of the tower not long after. Sure enough, she saw Cyric's figure in the distance who had just passed through the top of the tower and was heading towards the Stairway to Heaven.

"Xi! Rui! Ke!!!!" Midnight yelled, holding her neck, her eyes were blood red, and the veins on her neck became bulging due to emotion.

Cyric heard Midnight's cry and wasted no time wondering why she was not dead. The rogue immediately understood that although the mage was injured, she still had the strength to pursue him to the top of the mountain. He reacted immediately and rushed towards the Stairway to Heaven.

Just as Cyric started running, a deep and deep voice sounded from the stairs, "No, stop!" These words were like thunder, echoing over Waterdeep City.

A figure in shining armor appeared on top of the stairs and began to descend. He was nearly ten feet tall and powerfully built. His eyes were melancholy and pitiful, but also faintly cold, hinting at his absolute loyalty to duty. Helm's Sleepless Eye adorns the god's shield.

The war between Waterdeep and the demon folk of Melkor continues, but the appearance of Helm further undermines the defenses of those creatures. On the other hand, the heroic guards and watchmen were also inspired by the appearance of the gods over the city. Many people prayed for the gods' assistance while continuing to kill the defeated monsters.

In Waterdeep City, the tens of thousands of refugees stranded here stopped what they were doing and looked towards the top of the mountain. Thousands of people correctly concluded that the loud voice came from the gods, and moved in the direction of Waterdeep Mountain, hoping to catch a glimpse of the speaker. Others were so frightened by Heim's voice that they sought refuge in basements and cellars. But more residents just stood there, staring in awe at the top of the mountain.

Cyric was different from the residents of Waterdeep City. He was not frightened by the loud voice and continued running towards the Holy Stairs of Heaven. The thief did not think that Heim's order was directed at him. Even if it was true, he would not stop before delivering the stone.

There was also no pause at midnight. Cyric betrayed them all by killing Kelemvor and trying to kill her. The mage didn't care who gave the order to spare his life. She held the dagger in her hand and continued to chase the thief.

Helm met Cyric in front of the stairs and stepped in front of him protectively.

"You can't take this life with you," Heim said, glaring at Midnight.

"You have no right to order me! He must answer for the crimes he committed!" Midnight screamed at the god, slowing her pace but continuing to walk towards Cyric.

"It is not my responsibility to judge him," Heim said firmly.

Cyric looked at Midnight carefully, then walked over to Heim and placed the bag in his hand. "I have found the Tablet of Destiny," the thief said.

Helm accepted the artifacts. "I know who retrieved them," he responded, looking coldly into Cyric's eyes. "So did Io."

"He's lying! Cyric killed a good man and stole those things from us!" A voice came from the distance. It was the Black Staff, and he was brought here by Imrik.

Heim turned his rough and cold face to the legendary mage, "I said, I know who retrieved the slate."

Midnight approached the stairs, her legs weak and overwhelmed. "If you knew Cyric's evil, why did you accept his tablet?" she demanded.

"Because it is not his job to judge," came another strong, booming voice without a trace of anger or pity. "It's not his power either."

The night was torn apart, light enveloped Waterdeep City, and a grand and sacred aura enveloped the entire city.

A figure two feet taller than Heim appeared fifty yards above the stairs. His age could not be discerned from his appearance. He might be twenty years old, or he might be one hundred and twenty years old, but his hair and beard as white as plaster. The face was neither handsome nor ugly, featureless, and would not attract any attention on any street in the kingdom.

But He wears a robe so extraordinary that it would stand out even in the most opulent palaces of Faerûn. It was wrinkled like any fabric, but when Midnight looked at it, it felt like she was staring into the sky. The robe was as dark as an annihilated memory, and was dotted with countless stars and moons. The pattern is arranged in such a way that it is difficult to detect, but it makes the whole garment beautiful and harmonious. Part of the robe is illuminated by swirling light, while another part is balanced by inky tones.

"Your Majesty Io!" Heim called out the other party's identity and lowered his head in prayer.

"Give me the tablet of destiny." Ao ordered.

Heim opened the bag and took out the slate. The two stone slabs looked extremely small and insignificant in the giant hands of the god. Helm brought the slate to Io, then knelt on the steps and waited for the next order.

Io stared at it. In the various kingdoms, countless surviving gods fell into a trance due to Io's call.

"In these," said the God of the Gods, communicating his voice and vision to all the gods, "I record the forces that balance order and chaos."

"I gave them back to you," Cyric said, boldly meeting Io's gaze.

Ao looked at the thief with neither approval nor disapproval in his eyes. "Yes," He said, stacking the slabs together.

"This is their meaning!" The God of the Gods crushed the two stone slabs in his hands and turned them into dust.

Midnight took a step back, thinking that the world was about to collapse, while Cyric watched the dust fall from Io's fingertips, frowning angrily.

Helm jumped to his feet, "Master, what have you done?" the god asked, fear in his voice.

"The Tablets mean nothing," Io told his gods, wherever they were. "I keep it just to remind you that I created the gods for balance, not to satisfy your own purposes. But you actually ignored this and only regarded the slate as a set of rules for playing with style and exaggeration. Childish game! And then stealing the rules when they become no longer convenient..."

"But-" Heim started.

"I know who stole the slate." He waved his hand casually to quiet Heim.