Chapter 363: The Hard Battle
At that moment, silence blanketed the surroundings. Everyone could only hear their own breathing — and from within the pillar of light came faint sounds of a heartbeat and ragged breathing. It was as if a viscous darkness was oozing out from inside.
Suddenly, a wave of dizzying murmurs and chants rang out at once. The blood and resentment that had begun to sink toward the ground all floated back up and seeped into the pillar of light.
The whispers echoed in everyone's ears, and their skin instantly began to rot, oozing yellow pus while countless bloodshot lines appeared in their eyes. Even on Zhou Ning's exposed skin, tiny slick bumps emerged, and neither the Sunwatcher's "Purification" skill nor Ripple energy had any effect.
[Molly Cronin has cast the divine spell: Greater Dispel Magic on you.]
[Molly Cronin has cast the divine spell: Mental Protection on you.]
[Molly Cronin has cast the divine spell: Mindfire on you.]
...
Only after Molly had cast more than four or five divine spells did the tiny bumps finally fade away. Zhou Ning could only move closer to Obelisk the Giant God Soldier, relying on their psychic link to resist the oppressive might emanating from Nyastora.
"Be careful. Nyastora isn't easy to deal with. As an ancient evil god, His divine rank is no lower than that of the Giant God Soldier. He can instantly corrupt and create countless high-tier creatures, easily wiping out this city. If it hadn't been for the use of Divine Descent back then, we might not have been able to seal Him away at all."
Zhou Ning rubbed his temples and nodded silently. He noticed that, at some point, another buff had appeared on him.
[Gaze of the Ancient Evil God: All attributes -50%. Every 60 seconds, perform a Mental Check. Failure results in immediate corruption.]
This debuff was the most terrifying mass curse he had ever encountered. Compared to straightforward physical-type bosses, he found these evil gods far more troublesome. Before even showing themselves, they could halve one's combat power — and a single lapse in focus could lead to corruption and downfall.
"God said, from this day forth, the Sun Goddess shall bless us."
At that moment, the Grand Pontiff of the Ascetic Church, Stuart Crow, had finished his battle. Along with several elderly ascetics with white hair and beards, he hurried to the scene. His face was solemn as he waved his ornate staff and chanted the Words of Light.
As soon as his voice fell, a pure and radiant dawn light descended, enveloping the area and suppressing all the curses. The writhing flesh calmed down immediately.
One of the ascetics raised his staff, forming numerous arrows made purely of holy light. They shot instantly toward the distant pillar of light.
Silent and invisible, the arrows were swallowed whole by the light pillar, producing no effect at all.
No — in fact, the opposite occurred. After devouring the light arrows, the pillar grew even brighter, while the surroundings became darker and more deathly still.
Immediately afterward, a violent gale erupted, accompanied by torrents of blood and resentment gushing from within the light pillar. The endless wind forced everyone backward.
Zhou Ning's bangs fluttered wildly in the sudden storm, while the Giant God Soldier bent its knees slightly, assuming a battle stance.
Then, from within the pillar of light, an enormous shadow emerged — towering, shrouded in wind and blood rain!
The ancient evil god Nyastora had finally descended!
He stood nearly thirty meters tall, his skin crimson, his body wreathed in eternal green demonic flame. As for His face—
Zhou Ning lowered his gaze silently, already prepared. It was the same suffocating sensation he had felt the first time he encountered the Dark Spider Mother, Matalita. Nyastora's face was covered with intricate, mysterious patterns; every inch of His flesh seemed to hold unfathomable information, arranged in impossible configurations — enough to instantly corrupt or even kill any mortal without divinity who dared to look upon Him.
This was the most fundamental rule of occultism: Never gaze directly at a god.
The wind howled at its fiercest. Nyastora raised His hand, and countless drops of blood fell to the ground, producing a violent sizzling sound as they corroded everything they touched.
...
On top of the city wall of Darkland Fortress, beneath a swirl of black smoke, the tall figure of Charles VII stood, his hand resting on the parapet as he gazed coldly toward the Trade District. Compared to the cautious man who once faced Charles VI, he now exuded absolute confidence.
At some unknown point, a faint bluish-purple barrier had silently risen around Darkland Fortress. On either side of Charles VII stood two of Bryston's official demigod-class warriors, dressed in red military uniforms and boots, their expressions respectful. Beside him was his close confidant — the Navy Minister, Todd Ruth, whose family motto was "Temperance."
"Look — the true climax has arrived," Charles VII said, pointing toward Nyastora in the distance. "If no one steps in to stop Him, this city of Darkland may well vanish from history today."
"But unless we join forces with the Ascetic Church and the Earth Goddess Church, we might not be able to stop Him," Todd Ruth said carefully, lowering his head.
"What does that matter?" Charles VII shot him a glance.
"Darkland was built atop the ruins of Abbott City. If the transcendents are the foundation, then ordinary people are the kindling — always ready to burn to keep the world warm."
"Besides, you're underestimating the depth of the two major churches. If they're willing to invoke Divine Descent, or use one of the unknown relics sealed within their cathedrals, defeating Nyastora isn't impossible."
As the situation settled toward its inevitable conclusion, Charles VII seemed to grow talkative, digressing slightly. "Do you know why I chose to cooperate with the Alchemy Society of Life and the Curse God Cult, creating this situation?"
Todd Ruth quickly shook his head.
"Because my teacher told me from a young age about the greatness of alchemy. In his words, alchemy is the transaction between mortals and gods — where anything is possible." Charles VII's tone grew distant and wistful.
"And when I grew older, my teacher told me another story: In the ancient Kingdom of Farlik, there was once a king who possessed everything — wealth, fame, and power. But at the height of his glory, he was assassinated under the arrangement of the gods."
"My father was there listening, too. He told me then: 'This teaches us one thing — kings do not abdicate. Kings die only in their sleep. To remain king, one must handle the transcendents and the divine properly.'"
"But I wondered even then — was my teacher telling me that the only way to avoid being threatened by so-called gods and transcendents is to become one myself? To restrain the supernatural as much as possible?"
"So, naturally, that's what I did. Once the ritual is complete, I'll ascend as a man-made god, beyond the reach of any threat. The 'Honesty' of the Aiden family and the 'Pride' of the Lambert family, whom I had the Quiet Council eliminate, will serve as the fuel for my apotheosis."
"And as for this thing you've been so curious about…"
Charles VII gestured toward the bluish-purple barrier before them. "This is my teacher's greatest gift to me — something that allows ordinary people to no longer fear the transcendents. Soon, it may even be mass-produced. Within its range, reality is strengthened, and the supernatural is suppressed. A single platoon of soldiers with flintlock guns could face transcendents as if they were merely faster, stronger humans."
Todd Ruth, himself a transcendent, quietly wiped the sweat from his forehead and lowered his head even further.
But just then, Charles VII noticed the young man standing on the blue monster's shoulder lift his head — and a cold, piercing gaze swept toward him.
...
Meanwhile, as each drop of blood struck the ground, it transformed into hideous beasts of flesh and blood that lunged at the surrounding people. Countless wailing spirits and phantoms flew about, screaming in shrill tones that filled the air with chaos.
Stuart Crow drew in a deep breath and gripped his staff tightly. Judging from their aura alone, the beasts of flesh before him were no weaker than transcendent beings — some even reached higher tiers. What made it worse was that these abominations could split apart.
In less than ten seconds, over a dozen more transcendent-level beasts had appeared.
If this continued unchecked, Darkland could be reduced to ruins — perhaps even the world itself might fall.
"God said, the enemy must be judged."
Stuart raised his staff and pointed it toward Nyastora.
Due to the drop in mental strength, Zhou Ning could feel the Giant God Soldier's aura weakening. He withdrew his gaze from Charles VII, controlled the Giant God Soldier to smash a charging beast into powder with one punch — and between his fingers, another card appeared, beginning to materialize.