Chapter 688 - 77: Internal and External Scenery

Chapter 688: Chapter 77: Internal and External Scenery

And beside each of them stood a person—clad in a white robe, with long, silver-white hair and a face as youthful as a boy’s.

The High Priest.

Beside every Warrior stood a High Priest.

The exact same face, the exact same smile, the exact same long, silver-white hair.

They stood quietly beside the sleeping Warriors, like Guardians and shepherds.

Leander subconsciously looked at the High Priest who stood before him.

"This is..."

The High Priest’s voice was calm and gentle: "I appear before every person who resolves to sacrifice themselves for the world. Some choose to come with me, while others choose to remain on the battlefield. Those who came are all here."

"Then they... they why are they sleeping?"

The High Priest’s smile was warm: "They are waiting. Waiting for the right moment."

Just as Leander was about to ask another question, his gaze was drawn to the scene in the center of the hall.

A massive projection hovered there.

The scene within it was all too familiar to him—the Sol Line.

The city walls, the fortresses, the places where he had fought, bled, and nearly died.

And in the very center of the image, four figures and a streak of white light were locked in a struggle above the open plains.

It was the four Demigods and the leader of the Society of Truth.

Leander stared at the projection and suddenly said, "The battle between the four Demigods... seems evenly matched. Why are their eyes filled with despair when they don’t seem to be seriously injured?"

He was right.

In the projection, although the four Demigods were being suppressed by Cheris, none of them had any fatal wounds.

Yet their eyes held a despair so palpable that even Leander could see it.

The High Priest’s voice was unhurried: "Because they have already fought."

Leander asked, puzzled, "Fought?"

The High Priest nodded. "Yes. They fought in an erased possibility. In that possibility—the four Demigods lost."

"Lost?" Leander was confused. "But they have no injuries?"

The High Priest sighed. "A loss is still a loss. They lost in another possibility, it just hasn’t overwritten reality."

Leander gritted his teeth. "Then how can we turn the tide of battle?"

The High Priest turned his head to look at him, a trace of approval flashing in his pale gray eyes. "For that, we must rely on our bloodline and our will. We must contact our ancestors from three thousand years ago—the heroes who drank the Divine Blood. Power still remains in their flesh and blood, and their will has not yet fully dissipated. If we can contact them, we can borrow their power for the present and turn the tide of battle."

"My ancestors are buried near my village. That’s the place Mira is guarding."

Leander said, a sudden realization dawning on him.

The High Priest raised a hand, his palm facing Leander’s chest.

A silver-white light surged from his palm, wrapping around Leander’s body like silken threads.

The light swirled, coalesced, and wove together over his chest—as if searching for something, as if connecting to something.

Then, the light dissipated.

The High Priest’s hand fell to his side.

"What’s wrong?" Leander’s voice grew urgent.

The High Priest’s brow furrowed slightly. It was the first time Leander had seen an expression other than a smile on his face. "It seems others from the Wizard World have attacked the cemetery. They won’t allow our plan to succeed either."

Leander’s pupils contracted sharply.

’The village cemetery—the place where my ancestors are buried—has been attacked?’

"Is my village alright?"

The High Priest closed his eyes, opening them a moment later. His expression had returned to its usual faint gentleness. "According to your bloodline connection, it should be fine. The Wizards’ goal is to ruin our plan; they likely don’t have time for anything extraneous."

Leander’s breathing slowly steadied.

"Then what do we do?"

The High Priest said, "Then we’ll change locations. Your ancestors are buried in more than one place."

...

「The Sol Line.」

Time rewound once more.

The sunlight reset, dust swirled in reverse, and the shattered earth mended itself.

Aurelius reverted to his dragon form, Celeine inscribed her runes, Elarius rooted himself in the earth, and Valerius transformed into a giant tortoise.

The four Demigods stood in their respective positions, their stances identical to before.

But their eyes had changed.

It was a bone-deep weariness.

And despair.

They could no longer remember how many times this had happened.

’The tenth time?’

’The twentieth?’

’Or even more?’

Each time they gave it their all. Each time they thought they had succeeded. Each time that Wizard was erased from the world, they would say to themselves: ’It’s over.’

And then time would rewind.

Everything returned to the beginning.

The Wizard reappeared in midair, her jade-green eyes cold, completely unscathed.

"Again," Aurelius’s voice, hoarse and deep, was forced from the dragon’s throat.

Celeine didn’t answer.

She just gritted her teeth, her fingertips tracing through the air, each movement marked by a faint tremor.

Elarius closed his eyes, then opened them again. The roots beneath his feet burrowed a little deeper into the soil.

Valerius huddled inside his tortoise shell. Through a crack, his golden eyes watched the white figure in the sky, his pupils reflecting that cold, emotionless light.

Then time froze.

Dust hung in the air, rubble froze in mid-flight, the wind stopped, and all sound ceased.

The four Demigods simultaneously entered the frozen timeline.

"Now!" Aurelius’s roar erupted in the static void of time.

The dragon’s mouth opened, a torrent of golden-white light surging from deep within its throat.

Before Celeine, twelve lances of ice coalesced at once.

Lava began to churn in Elarius’s throat, and a searing, orange-red light shone from the cracks in his rocky form.

Valerius burst from his tortoise shell, transforming into a golden eagle. He extended his talons, the tips glowing with a Dark Gold light.

Four attacks, from four directions, launched simultaneously.

And then—

Cheris moved.

In frozen time, she moved.

Her eyes shifted, scanning from left to right, taking in all four directions, all four attacks, and all four Demigods.

There was no panic in her jade-green eyes, no fear.

She raised her right hand, fingers spread, palm facing the dragon’s breath Aurelius had unleashed.

A net of pure white light erupted from her palm.

The dragon’s breath slammed into the net and was enveloped.

The golden-white light struggled, tumbled, and contracted within the net, finally compressing into a fist-sized ball of light that lay quietly in the center, like a moth caught in a spider’s web.

Cheris simultaneously raised her left hand, clenching her fingers.

The twelve ice lances Celeine had shot stopped dead in midair.

Cheris flicked a finger.

All twelve ice lances reversed direction at once.

Celeine’s pupils contracted violently.

Cheris’s right hand didn’t stop.

The net closed, enveloping Aurelius’s dragon breath, and she hurled it toward Elarius like a shot put.

The ball of light exploded in midair. The golden-white radiance, carrying immense heat, collided with the lava spewing from Elarius’s throat.

The two forces devoured and annihilated each other with a harsh HISS. White steam billowed out, obscuring half the sky.

When the steam cleared, the lava was gone, and so was the dragon’s breath.

Elarius stood where he was, a wisp of blue smoke rising from his throat.

Cheris’s left hand moved again.

With an outward push of her five fingers, the twelve ice lances shot toward the golden eagle that was Valerius.

The twelve ice lances slammed into Valerius’s body.

One pierced his wing, two broke his left leg, three embedded themselves in his chest, and the remaining six tore straight through his body, trailing a spray of golden blood.

The golden eagle tumbled through the air, feathers scattering, blood spattering.

He struggled to stabilize himself, but the hole in his wing was too large. With every flap, wind escaped through the gap, causing him to plummet toward the ground like a kite with a snapped string.

Cheris said coolly:

"Insects."

"I’ve finally caught you."