Chapter 1605 - 109: The Road Forward

After Bologue and his companions infiltrated the Land of Eternal Night, the main attack led by Fuen and Holt commenced. This time, the Clarks did not defend themselves behind the Fortress of the Morning Wind, but boldly launched an offensive.

Several large ships drifted on the turbulent Angry Sea, carrying neither fully armed soldiers nor many heavy cannons for protection. Instead, they held a group of Condensers performing a ritual, each under Fuen’s guidance, reciting incantations and invoking Ether.

Like the wildfires of stars, one by one, the Ether reactions united, with the fragmented Alchemy Matrixes sequentially connecting and merging. Ultimately, they formed a miraculous creation that surpassed the limits of soul bearing, no longer restricted to the individual—a creation akin to Genesis, a grand total of rituals calling forth disaster.

Amidst the Storm Thunder, Fuen’s eyes blazed like torches, seemingly burning with daylight, yet flickering with the storm.

The Devil’s servants, amid the deranged and evil power, gained Extraordinary Power to drag reality into Hell, hanging one terrifying Extraordinary Disaster after another over the heads of the world.

Disasters have never been the sole power of enemies.

During the century of battles, the Clarks had long glimpsed into the grandeur of the Secret Source, discovering ways to trigger Extraordinary Disasters. This power, although incomparable to the Devil-led forces, was gradually perfected with the advancement of Alchemy Matrix Technology through the ages.

"Sing loudly, everyone!"

Fuen called to the scions of the winds, "This is a war that exists only in history books! Now, we shall reclaim the glory of the Dawn!"

Suddenly, the wild wind receded, replaced by the song that rose amidst the wind, resembling a choir singing against the waves—a sacred, ethereal, and shining hymn.

"It’s truly a historic moment."

On the swaying ship, Holt raised his head to gaze at the blurry figure amid the storm, realizing that through this grand ritual, Fuen’s Ether intensity was still rising. It was as if he would truly transform into the storm itself and smash through the barrier of the Angry Sea.

Returning their view back to the people around him, Holt turned to survey the Condensers behind him. Some were his own squad members, some were the hunters from the fifth group with their Hunter’s Bows, and others were the elite of the Clarks. This was a war for the few; they needed only the elite.

"Everyone, I won’t say any inspiring words. Those words have been said enough."

Holt breathed the damp, cold air, clenching the Iron-Cutting Steel-Slicing Sword in his hand.

The ethereal song lingered in his ears. On the deck of the ship, the black-robed singers looked solemn, like statues unmoving despite the ship’s sway, akin to machines, focused solely on singing aloud.

This is not a metaphor. Amidst the storm, there indeed was a choir, and not just one; every large ship had such a choir. Accompanied by their songs, Ether was guided, wantonly distorting reality.

Holt could see a gigantic storm gathering, like a restrained behemoth roaring in the endless sky, tearing at the thick clouds like tattered flags controlled by the wind. The air trembled under its dominion, uneasily agitated, carrying the salty taste of seawater and the primordial power of nature.

Under the storm’s guidance, the seawater churned and surged, with gigantic waves lifted high by the wind, seemingly ready to be smashed against the hard rocks. The waves crashed against the island shores, thundering deafeningly, majestic as a rainbow.

"We may die here!"

Holt shouted, his voice mixed with thunder, as the storm had already taken shape.

"But!"

Holt raised his blade high, "Our names are destined to be recorded in history!"

What responded to Holt was not a salvo of roars but rather pairs of cold, resolute eyes and a deathly silence, with only the sacred song continuing, singing of the storm’s advance.

Holt turned, directing his sword toward the Angry Sea under the heavy clouds.

He shouted, "We are charging with the storm!"

The storm dragged Holt’s ship, with layers of waves continuously lifting it higher, wave after wave, as the song progressed with each verse, until the storm took its full form, becoming the prologue of doomsday.

Extraordinary Disaster: Song of Wind Fall.

This was the power passed down since the Dawn War, and after a hundred years, it was played once again, facing past foes once more.

The storm, with its enormous body and unstoppable power, destroyed everything in its path mercilessly. Like a rapidly formed Ethereal Vortex Point, it collided with the forces of the Angry Sea, intertwining and entangling their Ether, clashing as if against an invisible barrier, with bizarre extraordinary phenomena flickering incessantly amid the Angry Sea’s dark clouds.

A sharp, shrieking sound came from between the clouds—the Wind-Eroded Birds swarming out, posing a huge threat to the vessels on the endless sea surface. Yet this time, with the storm accompanying, before they could approach the large ship Holt and others were on, the birds were mercilessly annihilated by the storm.

Under the bless of the ritual, Fuen continued to lead the storm forward. Against such unstoppable power, the Night Race could not stop their advance on the sea surface. Even the natural barrier of the Angry Sea was teetering, gradually breached open by the wild winds.

At the moment the gap appeared, Holt could feel the surrounding wind speed suddenly increasing, and the waves became even more restless, as if the whole world were helping them. The ship suddenly accelerated, heading straight toward the gap.