Chapter 690 - 79: Star Realm

Chapter 690: Chapter 79: Star Realm

Saladin’s voice came from the cocoon, laced with an excitement he couldn’t suppress. "My Lord..."

Sedri spoke as well, his voice trembling. "My Lord..."

...

In the grand hall, the High Priest raised his hand once more.

A silvery-white light poured from his palm, like silken threads, winding around Leander’s body once more.

The light converged on his chest, forming what looked like a woven net.

It spread outward along his blood vessels, seeking traces from three thousand years ago that were buried deep within history.

Then, the light scattered.

Like severed threads, it broke into countless motes of light that drifted silently through the air.

Leander’s breathing quickened. "High Priest, what’s happening?"

The High Priest lowered his arm, the silvery-white light receding from his fingertips.

His brow furrowed slightly.

For the first time, a solemn look appeared in his light gray eyes. "It seems this is the work of both the Shaping Domain and the Society of Truth. They fear our plan’s success, so they’ve laid down interference wherever possible."

"A plan?" Leander’s voice was laced with confusion. "What plan? Three thousand years ago, our ancestors’ power was not enough to defeat the invaders. Why would it be enough three thousand years later?"

The High Priest shook his head. "Of course not. But we can escape."

"Escape?" Leander was stunned.

His gray-blue eyes were filled with utter confusion.

"Escape to where?"

The High Priest looked at him, his voice calm and measured. "Do you know how the Wizard World is connected to ours?"

Leander thought for a moment. "The Dark Land. What they call... the Nightmare World."

The High Priest shook his head. "Not the Nightmare World of today, but the Star Realm of the past."

Leander frowned.

In the legends he’d heard since childhood, the invaders had poured out of a rift.

That rift was called Ephialtes, the place where a Divine Spirit had closed its eyes.

He had never considered what the connection between worlds was like before the rift appeared.

The High Priest’s voice continued, as if he were recounting a long-forgotten tale. "Once, long, long ago—far more ancient than three thousand years, far older even than the time when Divine Spirits walked the earth—crossing between worlds was a feat that took even a Demigod a vast amount of time."

Leander’s pupils constricted slightly.

’A Demigod... That’s a being at the very pinnacle of this world, an immortal second only to the Divine Spirits.’

’If even they had to spend so long to make the journey, just how vast was that distance?’

The High Priest let out a small laugh.

His light gray eyes held an unreadable expression. "Do you have any idea how long that took?"

Leander hesitated before venturing a guess. "Fifty years? A hundred? Five hundred?"

The High Priest shook his head.

"Impossible. We’re talking about a time far longer than three thousand years."

Leander’s mind went blank.

’Longer than three thousand years?’

He had lived for less than twenty years, and his entire ancestral history only went back three thousand.

The High Priest’s voice continued, steady and clear. "Think about it. If we can just detach ourselves from the Nightmare World, given the distance between our world and the Wizard World, they won’t be able to reach us for at least tens of thousands of years."

"Tens of thousands of years..." Leander repeated the number, his voice sounding dazed.

"Tens of thousands of years," the High Priest affirmed with a nod.

"Tens of thousands of years is enough time for us to do many things. Develop, expand, and grow stronger. Or find another path."

Leander fell silent for a moment.

A torrent of thoughts surged through his mind.

Finally, he plucked a single question from the chaos and asked, "And what about after those tens of thousands of years?"

The High Priest looked at him.

There was no evasion in his light gray eyes, no flicker of uncertainty—only a calm ruthlessness. "Either we become so strong that even the Wizard World wouldn’t dare to invade, or we grow weaker and are invaded once more. That is not for us to decide. It will be up to those who come after us."

He paused.

"Or, perhaps, the Wizard World will have destroyed itself by then."

...

「The Kronos Plane.」

Moonlight illuminated a valley.

The valley wasn’t large.

It was surrounded by mountains on three sides, with one side open, resembling a bowl cupped in the palm of a hand.

At the bottom of the bowl lay a cemetery.

But from the cemetery’s center, cracks spiderwebbed outward in every direction, like a torn net.

The orderly tombstones were now crooked, toppled, or shattered into pieces.

In the center of the cemetery, a massive crater had been blasted into the earth.

A dozen or so people dressed in dark Magic Robes stood at the crater’s edge.

Their robes were of a uniform style, the hems embroidered with a circular, silver-gray pattern—the insignia of the Shaping Domain.

Their leader was a middle-aged man with a cold, severe expression.

He stood before an overturned gravestone, kicking at the dirt on its surface with the toe of his boot. A contemptuous smile played on his lips.

"Natives will be natives. Did they really think they could escape using the power of Divine Blood? Wishful thinking. The Empire can imprison even Fifth and Sixth Level Wizards; how could a mere Fifth Level Divine Blood possibly escape the shackles of the Nightmare World?"

A young Wizard beside him chimed in, his voice tinged with scorn.

"Once, the God of Travel felt the distance between worlds was too great for convenient communication. So, he sought out the God of the Mind, and together they built the Star Realm, using the spirits of all living beings as a bridge. Who would have thought that shortening the connection between worlds would not only bring more frequent exchange but also more war? It led to an explosion in technological development—and ultimately, the destruction of the Star Realm."

Another Wizard added, "After the Star Realm was destroyed, the Progenitor of Wizards emerged from the ruins. He collected the remains of all the fallen Divine Spirits and created the Nightmare World."

He shook his head. "I really don’t know where these natives get the nerve to resist us."

The young Wizard sighed. "It’s only because the leader of the Society of Truth is so pig-headed and refuses to cooperate. Otherwise, we would’ve wiped out these natives long ago."

Just as the middle-aged man was about to speak, his brow furrowed, and he whipped his head around to stare into the distance.

Beyond the valley, the silhouette of a city was faintly visible under the moonlight.

The lights on the city walls were dim, melting into the shadows.

Then, specks of light lifted off from the city walls.

One, two, four, eight.

They grew in number, becoming denser and denser, like a swarm of startled fireflies taking flight from the grass and heading toward the valley.

The middle-aged man’s expression changed. "Our pursuers are here."

The young Wizard followed his gaze, his pupils constricting. "Already?"

"Fall back."

The middle-aged man’s decision was instantaneous.

His dark Magic Robe snapped in the night wind as he flew toward the horizon.

The specks of light drew closer. They were the Warriors of the Kronos Plane.

The Warrior at the very front shone the brightest, his light so brilliant it dyed half the sky gold.

His speed was astonishing. In the blink of an eye, he had already closed half the distance.

Without turning back, the middle-aged man raised his right hand, splayed his fingers, and aimed his palm at the approaching Warrior.

A beam of dark purple light shot from his palm.

The beam was silent and as fast as black lightning, striking the Warrior square in the chest.

The Warrior’s body froze in mid-air for an instant. Then, as if an invisible hand were choking him, the golden light enveloping him suddenly died out, and he plummeted from the sky.

But the Warriors behind him did not stop.

They continued their charge, their speed increasing rather than slowing.

The middle-aged man didn’t linger. He retracted his right hand and continued his flight.

The other Wizards followed close behind him.

A dozen dark figures moved swiftly under the moonlight, like a flock of crows.