Chapter 431 - 413: Corellon Larethian

Chapter 431: Chapter 413: Corellon Larethian

Seeing this, a tidal wave of shock surged through Roland.

’Another new form of divine Authority? No... that’s not right!’

His Perception clearly told him that the aura of Divine Attribute emanating from "Tula" was no jumbled patchwork of fragmented Authorities like the ones before. Instead, it was seamlessly whole, pure to an absolute degree.

It had also risen to a level that made his very soul shudder.

It was an absolute difference in essence, in station—like a firefly to the Bright Moon, a stream to the vast ocean.

’This... is a true God!’

The realization sent a chill down his spine, as if doused with ice water.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he put all his might into his arm, attempting to wrench the Moonlight Longsword free from the hand that held it—a hand that, for all its casualness, contained supreme authority.

But the "Tula" before him seemed to have no intention of immediately challenging Roland.

His fingertips loosened, letting Roland withdraw his blade. With an air of casual grace, He then floated leisurely in mid-air.

His indifferent eyes sized up the wary Roland with great interest as He let out an inscrutable tutting sound.

"Human? No... the blood of a Dragon Descendant boils within you. Heh, interesting."

"And... the mark of Darkness left by that woman, Shire. Hmm? The lingering sunlight of Lodestar? And... this faint trace... is it the scent of Suren?"

As if discovering some great novelty, the corners of "Tula’s" mouth curled into an amused smile.

"Truly... a complex and interesting little fellow. Like a painter’s palette, filled with a multitude of conflicting colors."

"Tula" chuckled, his gaze seeming to pierce through Roland’s very flesh to stare at the tangled web of fate coiled deep within his soul.

"Ordinarily, upon encountering such an interesting ’creation,’ I might have been moved to ’pity’ and bestowed upon you a touch of my ’grace’..."

"To see what sort of delightful... Chaos or Order your peculiar vessel might birth after a new variable was introduced. A pity..."

The amused words had yet to fade when, abruptly, something changed.

"Your Majesty, the Main God!"

A completely different voice rang out—sharp, rushed, and filled with shocked fury and disbelief.

It was the voice of Tula herself.

The voice seemed forced from the depths of a suppressed consciousness, carrying with it the struggle of a soul.

"This isn’t what we agreed to at all! How could you... how could you just occupy my..."

Her question, full of fury and fear, was cut short, as if an invisible giant hand had seized her by the throat.

The amused smile on "Tula’s" face vanished, replaced by an indifference as still as the water in a deep well.

He gave a slight shake of his head, as if swatting away a bothersome fly, and uttered a single, cold word.

"Noisy."

The instant He spoke, "Tula" raised a finger and gently touched the space between His own brows.

There was no flash of light, no burst of Energy, not even a sound.

But in that instant, Roland’s keen Perception clearly registered it: the tremors of Tula’s struggling soul were abruptly extinguished, vanishing without a trace like a candle flame snuffed out by the wind.

It was more than just the silencing of her voice; it was as if her very "existence" as an individual had been forcibly and utterly erased from this mortal shell.

One moment, she was struggling in fury; the next, all was deathly silent.

The body floating in the air was now completely filled by an ancient, vast, and indifferent divine consciousness. Not the slightest trace of "Tula" remained.

After performing this casual yet bone-chilling act, "Tula"—or rather, the being occupying her body—slowly raised His head.

His gaze seemed to pierce through the pale blue [Celestial Curtain Barrier], casting toward a higher, more fundamental dimension, as if meeting the stare of some invisible shackles.

He let out a sigh so faint it was almost inaudible, tinged with a barely perceptible hint of...

Regret.

"To think that, even to this day, the [Root Source Law Binding] that sustains the mortal world... has only revealed such a minuscule fissure?"

"Tula" gently shook His head, seemingly unsatisfied with this result.

He then lowered His eyes, His indifferent gaze once again falling upon Roland, who stood below, still on high alert, not daring to relax for an instant.

He chuckled, the sound carrying clearly across the silent battlefield.

It was both a declaration and a divine oracle.

"There is no need to be so tense, interesting mortal. The one before you is no lowly pretender who merely steals Power."

He paused, then clearly spoke His name.

"I am Corellon Larethian."

The name exploded like a thunderclap in the ears of every Elf.

"Corellon... creator and Guardian of the Elves..."

An elderly Surface Elf Elder was the first to fall trembling to his knees, tears streaming down his aged face in a mixture of rapture and terror at having witnessed a divine miracle.

"No... that’s impossible! By the Spider Queen... is that... is that the Main God who, according to legend, banished the Rose Goddess?"

A Zor Elf cried out in shock, his voice filled with the Chaos and Fear of a collapsing faith.

"The great Weaver of All Things... the origin of the Elf Race..."

More Elves, both Surface and Zor, were plunged into a state of profound shock and turmoil after a moment of dead silence.

For all Elves, the name Corellon transcended simple faith. It was an existence etched into the very source of their bloodlines, like a Law of nature itself.

Ignoring the reverence, Fear, and Chaos stirring among His Elven children below, Corellon’s gaze remained locked on Roland, holding a hint of pure appreciation.