Chapter 533 - 487: The Irreversible Sorrow

Chapter 533: Chapter 487: The Irreversible Sorrow

Duraga was frozen in his roaring, lunging posture, but the space around him was instantly "clenched" inward, as if by a giant, invisible hand!

It wasn’t a compression, but an "erasure."

The small cubic space he occupied—along with the roaring Gray Dwarf within it, his armor, the War Axe in his hands, and his burgeoning Life Energy—was like a pencil mark wiped away by an eraser. Silently, cleanly...

Vanished.

In his place, only a patch of "nothingness" remained—absolutely smooth, reflecting a cold light, as if nothing had ever existed there at all.

Galvis’s mouth was open, as if he meant to sing one last note.

But the Laws of "sound" and "vibration" around him were forcibly ripped away, annihilated.

It wasn’t silence. It was the redefinition of his location as a zone where "no fluctuations are permitted."

His vocal cords, his heart, the flow of his blood, even the vibrations of the most minuscule particles that made up his body... everything returned to absolute "stillness."

The poet’s body, like a wax figure that had lost all support, instantly stiffened and solidified.

Then, like the most fragile piece of glassware, it began to erupt with countless fine cracks from within. With a CRASH, it collapsed into a pile of cold, crystalline shards, devoid of all vital color.

All of this happened in the same "instant."

A true "simultaneity" as defined by Yemiga—one with no before or after.

"No!"

Roland’s pupils contracted to pinpricks as a soul-tearing roar erupted from the depths of his being.

The moment Yemiga raised his arm, the [Oath Guardian] vow etched into Roland’s heart ignited like a furnace, roaring to life.

But by then, only Avril remained.

Burning.

His Spiritual Power poured out like a flood from a broken dam. His stamina was instantly drained, the expenditure even touching the very source of his life.

Ignoring the barrier of space, his figure was torn and folded by an unseen force, appearing where Avril had been standing in a near "flash."

He arrived just in time to intercept the force of accelerated "erasure" aimed at the Elf Maiden.

"BZZZT!"

The Law of [Oath Guardian] forcibly intervened, colliding directly with Yemiga’s Authority over time.

An invisible, violent shockwave erupted from the point of contact.

Roland clearly "heard" the bones in his arm groan under the strain. His soul felt as if it had been thrown into a torrent of time and torn apart. Agonizing pain and dizziness nearly consumed him.

But he blocked it.

In the nick of time, he had parried the fatal blow meant for Avril.

"Get away!"

The moment his protection succeeded, Roland’s indestructible will, mixed with boundless rage and grief, erupted from his center as a visible, pale-gold spiritual storm.

This storm was not a physical impact, but a deterrent and expulsion aimed directly at "malice" and "intent to attack."

Yemiga’s figure swayed slightly. A flicker of minute surprise crossed his indifferent eyes, as if he hadn’t expected Roland, on the verge of exhaustion, to still be able to unleash such a pure and powerful guardian will—one that actually managed to briefly interfere with his precise control over that area.

The space around him rippled like disturbed water.

But it was only a momentary interference.

As the aftershocks of the spiritual storm had yet to fully dissipate, as Roland’s vision went black from overexertion and he dropped to one knee, gasping violently, as he desperately looked to his side with blurry eyes, expecting to see Avril’s terrified face...

...what he saw was Avril’s final silhouette, rapidly weathering away and crumbling like a sand sculpture.

And as she turned her head to look at him, her emerald eyes—before they could form any expression—became completely hollow and turned to ash.

"A...vril...?"

Roland knelt on the ground, his outstretched hand passing futilely through the cloud of shimmering dust that had not yet fully dispersed.

He caught nothing.

His violent gasps caught in his throat, turning into a silent spasm.

The agonizing pain from his left arm, twisted and deformed from the block, was nothing compared to the void that had suddenly collapsed in his heart.

Slowly, stiffly, he turned his head.

To his left was the unnervingly smooth "nothingness" left behind where Duraga had vanished.

To his right were the cold, lifeless crystalline shards that were all that remained of Galvis.

And in his arms...

...were only a few wisps of fading dust, carrying the faint, fresh scent of plants and trees, vaguely outlining the Elf Maiden’s final silhouette.

Then they scattered completely into the dead, still air.

Silence.

The grand hall of the Archives returned to its original tidiness and solemnity, as if the fierce battle, the roars of his companions, and their final struggles had all been nothing more than an absurd illusion.

Only Roland—kneeling on the cold floor, his arm twisted, his embrace empty—and the three nearby marks of death symbolizing complete "erasure" cruelly proved that it had all been real.

Despair was no longer an emotion. It had become the air he breathed, the feeling of the ground beneath his feet, the only color left in his vision.

Grief, like a cold tide, submerged all thought and Perception, leaving only his heart, thudding heavily and numbly in his empty chest.

Yemiga slowly lowered his arms as if he had just finished a trivial bit of tidying up.

He looked down at Roland, who was kneeling on the ground as if his very soul had been ripped out. The cold anger in Yemiga’s dark yellow, slitted pupils had already subsided, replaced once more by an inhuman calm.

Looking at Roland, who was lost in silent, cataclysmic grief with unfocused, vacant eyes, the corner of Yemiga’s mouth curved into the faintest of smiles.