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墨書 Inktalez
As the words left Wandering's lips, he raised his arms in a prayer-like gesture, assuming the classic stance of a mage activating a magic circle. A Blue Dragon surged from his body, tracing a parabolic arc as it shot toward the sky a kilometer away. With a thunderous roar, an explosion erupted in the air, shaking the ground beneath. An energy entity, roughly the size of a person, hurtled toward him. Wandering maintained his stance, chanting incantations as a blue chain flew from the massive painting, ensnaring the rapidly approaching energy entity. The chain constricted tightly, wrapping around the entity and causing it to shrink; the chain followed suit until suddenly, the energy entity surged and shattered the chain into dust.
"Everything concentrated is essence," Wandering remarked calmly.
The energy entity chuckled ominously. "You must be Wandering, very strong... Prophet, you fool, quickly stop your magic! He is absorbing Void Energy to transform it into his own power."
"He’s about to die." The Prophet observed that the runes on Wandering's body were glowing intensely—an unmistakable sign that he could bear no more. In less than ten seconds, Wandering would perish.
The Mage sighed. "Though I don't know for sure, I believe if he dares to endure this, there must be a reason."
"Exactly, this is Overload of Despair Power." Wandering's eyes glimmered like runes, and the tattoos covering his body writhed as they brewed with power.
Seizing the opportunity, the Mage lunged toward the magic circle. The Prophet was prepared; six runes flew up and adhered to the Mage's energy form, binding him instantly. Startled and furious, he exclaimed, "You idiot! Let me go!"
The Prophet did not respond but raised his hands toward the Mage, chanting an incantation. The Mage was pulled toward him by immense force. Struggling fiercely, he realized that after numerous battles against formidable foes, he was now at his limit. Panic set in as he shouted, "You're using his power to harm me!"
The Prophet replied serenely, "No, I am using the power of a Demigod to harm you. He just happens to be here; let’s hurt you once more."
"You fool! He's about to strike! When he does, can you escape? Even if you consume me, can you digest it immediately?"
"No," the Prophet sneered. "After I consume you, I will plead for mercy from him." His face twisted into a sinister grin. "Did you really think I believed you? I haven't studied the magic circle you mentioned; I've been focused on how to devour you from the start. I never intended to send you to the Void Realm; this magic circle is not a Void Passage. Wandering, do not attack! Once I have him, you can do as you please with him—but you must promise not to kill me. Otherwise, I'll release him. He is incredibly fast; once he leaves this desert—though he won't reach the Void Domain—he will become a great threat to the Eternal Sphere."
Wandering floated in mid-air, his body shimmering with light like a fearsome deity. The Void Power had ceased flowing to him and was redirected onto the Mage. This was the Prophet's gamble—a chance to seize control of his own fate rather than surrendering it to the judgment of the Mage.
Wandering couldn't help but admire the depth of the Prophet's cunning. He hesitated internally; he understood Zhir's strength well enough. Since Zhir had failed to slay the Mage, who had managed to escape all this way, he felt uncertain about capturing him now. It seemed best to allow the Prophet to take in the Mage, then capture him afterward for lifelong imprisonment. Yet trusting the Prophet was out of question; he would eventually leave. However, compared to the evil of the Mage, the Prophet seemed more benign.
"I agree," Wandering finally nodded.
The Mage, drawing closer to the Prophet in fury, shouted, "You treacherous little man! How dare you scheme against me like this?"
The Prophet retorted, "More than a thousand years ago, wasn't it you who plotted against those who trusted you?"
"I will burn myself out; I won't let you succeed." The energy form of the Mage began to dissipate in fragments as he shouted fiercely.
The Prophet replied calmly, "Foolish. For every bit of energy you lose, your resistance weakens. How could you possibly escape my grasp... Come now." With a roar, the Mage's energy surged toward the Prophet. The Prophet floated off the ground, his eyes wide open as the Mage's energy slowly merged into his Force like thick liquid. Even so, the Mage struggled until the very end, but the disparity in their powers was too great, and ultimately, he was completely absorbed by the Prophet.
Wandering Path said, "I am curious how you plan to sever the Void Power."
The Prophet smiled and switched places with the Giant Bug within the magic circle. The immense Void Power flooded into the Giant Bug's body, which had no preparation or means of resistance and was blown to smithereens. Although the Prophet endured the trials of the magic circle, he managed to evade a thunderous strike.
The Void Vortex vanished, and the energy of the magic circle was depleted. The runes lost their glow and faded into darkness, leaving only the Prophet lying on the ground, gasping for breath.
A Sand Soldier had been standing nearby for several minutes. Once the light of the magic circle disappeared, it scattered into pieces and vanished. Zhir's mission was to guard and eliminate the Mage; other matters were none of his concern. He could not use divine power for his own desires, as that would be a desecration of the divine.
The Prophet lay weakly on the sandy ground, watching as the Sand Soldier disappeared. He considered himself a genius who had calculated everything. Although he couldn't foresee every twist of fate, he understood human nature well. The Mage's treachery, Zhir's indifference, and Wandering's heroic aura—all were within his calculations. Each of these individuals was stronger than him, yet he successfully exploited their weaknesses to achieve his goals. Though Wandering's arrival and outcome were somewhat different from what he had anticipated, he now possessed a powerful source of energy. How many more years could Wandering possibly live?
He was the winner.
The Prophet wanted to laugh but was unable due to pain coursing through his body. Struggling to stand up, he refused to lie down. Wandering watched from a distance without offering assistance or attacking; he merely observed. He could not act against the Prophet; after all, he had not violated any rules. As the leader of hunters, even if no one knew it, there were some things that simply could not be done.
Standing upright and easing his bodily pain, he admired Wandering's expression. Wandering seemed eager to kill him but couldn't because he represented something significant—a milestone figure. The Prophet did not wish to provoke Wandering; just as he prepared to suggest that Wandering capture him, he suddenly noticed something in front of him—a dagger piercing his cheek. This dagger felt familiar; suddenly, a person came to mind...
The Prophet did not continue his thoughts because a whirlwind of daggers had already reduced him—almost devoid of protective Force—to dust as they sliced through him again and again...
Dina landed gracefully, raising her left hand to retrieve her dagger from beside her. Wandering expressed his dissatisfaction: "Dina, you truly lack discretion; attacking someone with no means of resistance—I will report this matter in full to President Buffon for judgment."
Just two people—was there really a need for pretense? Dina sheathed her dagger as Wandering turned to leave. A voice floated back: "You go ahead and meet up with Bufon and the others; I have some matters to attend to in town."
"Understood." Dina departed into the night and rainstorm. The torrential rain washed over the earth, obliterating all traces of blood. The remaining bone fragments would not be recognized as human by anyone; it was even questionable whether anyone would come here at all. As for the magic circle that had lost its power, its runes had been washed away by the heavy rain without leaving any trace behind. No—there were still traces: several Magic Stones that had lost their power had turned into ordinary stones.
In the Royal Tomb, Cui Ming and the others witnessed an extraordinary clash between absolute masters for the first time.
To call them absolute masters was an understatement; if any one of them were to stroll outside, it would be nearly impossible for anyone in the Eternal Sphere to stop them.
The Void Vortex, with a diameter of fifty meters, was bottomless and terrifying like a gateway to hell. Zhir's Golden Force shone like the blazing sun in the sky. When they collided, there was no explosion, but the immense airflow generated from their contact surged outward in all directions, carving eight deep channels into the desert.
The Void Vortex attempted to engulf Zhir, who was only the size of an ordinary person, while Zhir's Sunlight enveloped the Void Vortex. As their fierce battle raged on, the entire area underwent extreme chaotic changes. Suddenly, a hurricane could whip up, water could evaporate in an instant, and clouds of dust could rise dozens of meters high.
Mage had just managed to break free; he knew that the prophet had made arrangements. Zhir appeared in an instant, launching a massive sand wall that soared from beneath Cui Ming and his companions' feet, crashing rapidly toward Mage's Void Vortex. The golden sand wall was incredibly solid; not only could it defend, but it could also attack. Cui Ming and Feng, seasoned veterans, understood well the meaning of "when gods fight, mortals suffer," and immediately turned to flee. They quickly returned to drag Sadin away, who was at a low level for battle.
Mage's energy tendrils burrowed into the sand, breaking through in waves to pursue the three. However, they were not without means to resist; Sadin was the first to be caught. Cui Ming launched a series of special attacks that struck a specific part of the tendrils like axes, severing them one by one. Feng combined his blade with wind, using the hurricane generated by their clash to shred the energy tendrils into dust.
The three ran for six kilometers when suddenly a wall appeared before them—Zhir's doing. They climbed onto the wall to observe the battle.
It was clear that Zhir held an absolute advantage over Mage. The Void Vortex simply could not consume Zhir; Zhir's solar power rapidly depleted Mage's Void Energy. This energy was akin to human strength; as long as the body remained intact, energy could continue to grow but would only reach a certain limit. Zhir's strategy was to exhaust his opponent's strength before delivering a fatal blow.
The three struggled to comprehend this kind of battle; Zhir certainly wouldn’t provide commentary—they could only discern which side had the upper hand. If Cui Ming understood the actual situation, he would have warned Zhir that Mage was playing tricks. Mage knew full well that he couldn't match Zhir's energy yet continued to fight fiercely.
Five minutes later, Zhir’s Sunlight enveloped the now-shrunken Void Vortex. Then sunlight opened wide like a great mouth and swallowed the Void Vortex whole. At that moment, Zhir realized he had fallen into a trap—Mage’s true body was not within the vortex at all. (To be continued.)
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