Chapter 537 - 488: The Desperate Finale

Chapter 537: Chapter 488: The Desperate Finale

Yemiga’s pupils contracted sharply.

Roland said no more. He closed his eyes, as if listening to some sound surging within him.

It was not the whisper of the Gods. It was the roar of an ancient Bronze Dragon, originating from the depths of his bloodline. It was the crackling detonation of cold fury—from having just witnessed his companion’s brutal death, helpless to intervene—now burning madly in his soul. More than anything, it was the violent resonance of the composite sigil forged from the painful Echo of the Son of Divine Remains, a sigil that craved "an end."

"Hrrgh!"

A low, inhuman growl was forced from the depths of Roland’s throat.

He unleashed Mad Soul.

There was no brilliant flash of light, no leakage of Energy.

The first changes occurred within his body.

The veins beneath his skin bulged and writhed like awakening flood dragons, their color rapidly shifting from bluish-purple to a horrifying dark red.

It was not a healthy flush, but the near-suicidal radiance produced when one’s life essence was forcibly ignited, when one’s ocean of Spirit was violently drained and infused into flesh and bone.

His Spiritual Power—the keen Perception and resilient will of a Caster—was no longer a sharp instrument for thought. Instead, it had become the most violent of fuels, forcibly pumped into his boiling blood.

With every life-or-death beat of his heart, it was furiously channeled to every corner of his body.

His Power was soaring.

His muscle fibers groaned, unable to bear the load, yet they erupted with a resilience that far surpassed their limits.

His Agility was skyrocketing.

His reaction speed was pushed to an inhuman level; everything around him seemed to slow to a crawl.

But this was only the beginning.

Primary Burning—blood like Magma.

The temperature of Roland’s skin rose sharply. It turned bright red, and he even began to give off a visible, shimmering heat.

He slowly, ever so slowly, took a single step forward.

THUD!

The stone floor beneath his foot, from just that gentle step, actually dented slightly. The edges of the depression showed scorched, black cracks, as if seared by immense heat.

His sense of pain vanished. His exhaustion vanished. It was as if all the latent injuries and exhaustion from the fierce battle moments before were being forcibly suppressed and mended by his boiling blood.

He was no longer a creature of flesh and blood, but more like an incandescent Iron Golem being forged in the heat of a smithy.

For the first time, Yemiga’s expression became incredibly grave.

He "saw" the chaotic and violent Life Energy within Roland’s body, which was now climbing at an exponential rate.

He also sensed, mixed within that Energy, a hint of "finality" that made him vaguely uneasy.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Yemiga acted.

He raised his right hand toward the approaching Roland and made a grasping motion with his fingers.

"Stripping."

The spell wasn’t aimed at Roland himself, but at the "continuity" of the small patch of space and time surrounding him.

Yemiga intended to temporarily sever Roland’s "connection" to the current Space-Time, banishing him into a turbulent pocket dimension and interrupting his dangerous power escalation.

However, just as the formless power of Space-Time Stripping was about to envelop Roland...

Roland’s eyes, bloodshot from his boiling blood, snapped open.

Deep within his left eye, faint gold and dark red light swirled rapidly.

’Time Trace Weaver’s Engraving Blade.’

He didn’t even swing his sword. He simply flicked the faintly glowing fingers of his left hand through the empty space before him, as if plucking an invisible string.

RIIIP!

It was a sound only Roland and Yemiga could perceive, like fabric being violently torn.

Under the interference of the Engraving Blade, the few key Space-Time Weaving Threads upon which Yemiga’s Stripping power relied were instantly and violently distorted, delayed, and thrown into a brief "logical short-circuit."

The formless, fatal effect of Space-Time Stripping, before it could even fully manifest, dissipated as abruptly as a wave crashing against a reef.

For the first time, an expression bordering on "astonishment" appeared on Yemiga’s face.

He had anticipated that Roland’s new abilities might be enhanced, but he never expected his opponent to be able to so precisely and swiftly interfere with the "foundational channels" through which his Authority was exercised.

This was no longer a clever trick, but on some level...

’The beginnings of a "counter"?’

It was in that single moment of interference and astonishment.

Roland took his second step.

This time, he was faster.

Deeper Burning—a mist of blood arose.

PSSSH!

Fine beads of blood were forced from the surface of his skin by the intense internal pressure and heat. They evaporated instantly, forming a thin yet cohesive dark red mist that wreathed his body.

The blood mist seemed to have a life of its own, pulsing in time with his breath, his heartbeat, and the slightest tremor of his muscles.

His Combat Skills—the muscle memory honed through countless life-and-death battles—were now completely fused with the boiling blood and vaporous mist.

No thought was required, no calculation.

How to swing his sword, where to step, when to unleash his Power, how to seize the perfect moment...

All of it had been reduced to the purest, most lethal combat instinct.

His figure blurred within the blood mist. His movements began to defy logic, possessing a "beauty" that was both perfectly natural and lethally sharp.

He became a blood-red Shadow, surging forward with boiling life and a do-or-die resolve.

The astonishment in Yemiga’s eyes was instantly replaced by absolute calm.

He instantly abandoned any thought of trying to control or influence Avril and the others.

All of his "processing power," all his Concentration, all his Authority now contracted and condensed, focused solely on dealing with the one and only, and most dangerous, "variable" before him.

Yemiga crossed his arms before him. His dark gold hair floated as if in a phantom wind, and the silvery-white light surrounding him abruptly became incredibly solid and dense.

It was no longer the field-controlling, Domain-like pressure from before. Instead, it had condensed around his body into layer after layer of Space-Time barriers that resembled tangible crystal.

Complex Runes flowed across each barrier, distorting light and space, elevating the very concept of "defense" to the level of a Law.

The next moment, from within the blood mist, Roland’s cold, hoarse voice pierced through the layers of barriers like a proclamation from the Death God, striking Yemiga’s consciousness.

"I see..."

"Your future..."

He took his third step. The blood-red shadow accelerated abruptly, leaving a piercing shriek in its wake as it tore through the air.

The cool moonlight on the blade of Bright Moon was now stained with an ominous, turbulent crimson!

"...is today!"

"You die here!"

The instant the last syllable fell, Roland broke through all spatial and temporal distortion, carrying with him the resolute will to sever fate and incinerate the cycle of rebirth.

The blade of Bright Moon, now suffused with searing blood-light and crackling arcs of lightning, transformed into an edge sharp enough to sunder the heavens and the earth...

...and thrust straight at Yemiga!

Where the blade pointed, space wailed and time trembled.

The final, death-defying Chapter, at this moment...

...began with a deafening roar!