Chapter 993: Act 166 – The War Tablet: Dragon Skin XII
White crashed into the luminous cocoon above the central altar of the round hall like a comet. The light of the Book of Mawikarte surged brilliantly above her head, and the fire of anger burned fiercely in her eyes, a black flame blossoming within the golden fire. Brendel was slightly taken aback, realizing she had completely unleashed the power of the ancient evil object, and he solemnly raised his sword. At some point, a massive black scythe had appeared in White’s hand, which struck heavily against the Earth Sword, sending sparks flying everywhere. A black ripple spread from the point of impact between the two weapons, leaving behind crisscrossing grooves on the solid ground, as if a storm had swept through. Medephis’s black robe was torn apart in an instant, with fragments transforming into a flurry of butterflies dancing in the air, revealing the black armor beneath. Andrigraphis’s lace dress under her skirt was also ripped to shreds, both their faces marked with small wounds, their long hair whipping about chaotically like wild grass. Himelam raised the Staff of Mountains, a curved earth shield enveloping her and Baijia, the shield emanating blinding light from every weave of its lines under the pressure of the black shockwave, as if it would shatter at any moment. With a crack, a circular fracture appeared on the walls surrounding the underground round hall.
Brendel and White crossed swords four times in an instant, each clash fragmenting the underground hall further. By the fourth strike, a thunderous crash echoed, and a corner of the round hall suddenly collapsed, countless grains of sand and stones raining down. Himelam’s shield shone brightly before shattering into what seemed like countless scattered crystals, a thin black line spreading from her left shoulder to her right waist, followed by a brilliant spray of blood. The priestess let out a scream as she was propelled backward, landing heavily in Baijia’s arms.
“Himelam!” Baijia’s expression changed, and she hurled an emerald from her right hand, the golden threads within the gem shining brightly before it burst open, forming a crystal shield. The ancient dragon language magic was incredibly powerful, thus it couldn’t be recorded on regular scrolls; aside from special papers, it could only be contained within a stable crystalline structure. Once triggered, the spell would take form instantly. However, the black line swept through, slicing the crystal shield in two, causing the sleeve of the senior sister’s right arm to explode, revealing a bloody line on her fair arm. She gritted her teeth and let out a muffled groan, hastily pulling her hand back to protect the priestess in her arms, but blood flowed profusely, the warm, crystal-clear liquid cascading onto Himelam’s face like a stream.
“Senior sister, take her back to the cellar! You all need to leave!” Brendel commanded. He had fought White four times previously, completely countering her attacks with each sword strike and gaining an advantage in swordsmanship, but her strength was genuinely terrifying, and he felt faintly as though he couldn’t hold his sword; his right hand was starting to feel numb.
Baijia understood that a fight of this magnitude was not something she could participate in, and staying here would only hinder Brendel further. She nodded at him and decisively scooped up the unconscious Himelam, exiting the hall.
At this moment, the golden flames in White’s eyes had been entirely replaced by black fire, a layer of black patterns covering half of her body. Her long hair flowed as if in the wind, as if flames were rising; she had clearly been fully eroded by the power of the Book of Mawikarte. She was originally a true peak powerhouse, and her mastery over the power of the Book far surpassed that of Amann, a worthless fool. After completely accepting the power of this ancient evil object, her actual realm had subtly reached the edge of the sage domain.
Yet such power came at a cost. Brendel knew White’s body was long exhausted, and now she was wholly burning her soul to obtain the power of evil. Once her soul was completely consumed, she would lose her self-awareness forever, falling under the control of the Book of Mawikarte, becoming akin to Amann, a madman.
Brendel couldn’t grasp at all what the blood of the dark god meant for this woman, enabling such a calm person to act in a seemingly insane manner.
However, White seemed to have no intention of wasting words, coldly raising her scythe and slashing at him. Brendel had no choice but to raise his sword to block, activating his Frenzy talent. Although the power of the evil object was fleeting, if he did not give his all, he might not last until White’s soul burned out before being slain instantly. Though he had previously slain the liar witch Merilietra head-on, it had only been through clever means. The witches of Merilietra’s line could create horrifying dreams of reality; in those dreams, they resembled deities, their words becoming law. However, once that dream shattered, they were no different from mortals, and even far inferior to typical elemental realm experts. Merilietra was overly confident, unaware that their sworn enemy Kehua had already discerned their weaknesses, and this generation of witches was far weaker than those of the Dusk War era, which was why Kehua had plotted against them, leading to Merilietra’s unwarranted demise at Brendel’s hands.
White was different; irrespective of schemes, she was a bona fide peak powerhouse. In a direct confrontation, she could decisively suppress Brendel even without the Book of Mawikarte, but bolstered by this ancient evil object, her current strength even surpassed Mephistopheles. Brendel knew that if he did not act with all his might at that moment, he would likely be rendered unable to act at all.
As blades clashed, the entire space emitted a painfully sharp noise, as if glass was shattering. The formerly smooth expanse now revealed bright fissures, extending in all directions, with the surrounding marble columns crumbling. On the north side of the hall was a statue of the sun god Perkin, holding a flaming spear, riding the sun god’s steed and chariot, gazing forward. Suddenly, the head of the statue rolled off its body, and its raised arm broke as well, the body shattering into a pile of rubble. After its collapse, a noticeable fissure appeared in the back of the hall, and the underground round hall could no longer withstand the strain, shaking and collapsing as the dome presented cracking openings like a spider web, with tons of sand and gravel cascading down, followed by large chunks of rock that fell, and finally the entire dome came crashing down, caving in.
To ordinary people, such a collapse underground would be akin to a disaster, but for those remaining in the hall, it was of little concern. Brendel retreated several steps under White’s onslaught, horrified to find her power was still rising. Even activating his Frenzy talent, he was unable to withstand a single blow from her. He felt a vague heaviness in his chest. Being completely overwhelmed in close combat while in a state of Frenzy was an unprecedented experience; even when facing Sibers, Kehua, and Milos in the great glacier, he had never been this desperate.
Before Brendel could steady himself, he witnessed a barely perceptible black line cutting through the falling debris and approaching him—the edge of White’s massive scythe. The pitch-black line seemed to attract all consciousness in the air; Brendel actually saw resilient silver lines of law begin to fracture under this strike, causing the order in that small area to distort, forming a black hole that seemed to devour everything.
This was undoubtedly a power that transcended the peak realm, and it did not belong to any known laws; it was the power of dusk.
Without a doubt, White had burned through her essential elements, thus gaining this extraordinary power from the Book of Mawikarte. It didn’t belong to the laws; it encompassed the laws—it was the ultimate truth of the universe, a type of existential power. It was merely a fleeting radiance, yet enough to shine brilliantly. Brendel felt that all the questions from both his past and this life found answers in that moment, yet the price of this answer was death, and he was now utterly unable to evade it.
“Lord!”
Medephis felt a chill run down his spine at that instant. Without thinking, he spread a pair of black membranous wings and shot toward White, the black sword in his hand ablaze with a fierce fire, the essence of his soul coalescing around him as if tangible. In that moment, he truly grasped the power of elemental manifestation. But White merely cast a cold glance at the vampire faux-female; a wave of black light erupted from the Book of Mawikarte, and before Medephis could react, the wave swept through his lower half. The spiritual shield shattered moments later, and the vampire faux-female let out a scream, bloodied and crashing to the ground.
A shadow landed beside him; it was the vampire princess Andrigraphis. A long bloodstain marked her cheek, and she looked up at White with hatred but said nothing. She swiftly picked up the nearly shattered Medephis and retreated, vanishing at the entrance of the underground round hall.
In just a moment, the spot where Andrigraphis had stood was buried under the collapsing hall, and the underground round hall was from then on lost to history.
Brendel dropped the Earth Sword.
At this level of combat, swordsmanship had lost all meaning. Though his techniques had almost reached the Way, he was still far from sufficient. This was a dialogue between ultimate elements, where only elements could oppose elements. Countless lines of law appeared around him, weaving together the most basic and primal language of this world. Time and space had lost their substantial meaning there, being described as a series of formulas—these ancient and eternal formulas where energy and matter appeared at the two ends of a balance, transforming into one another, giving rise to all laws and causal relations. Past and future seemed to fold into one another, accessible to one another.
These concepts, incomprehensible to ordinary people, harmoniously coexisted and were not at odds within this world. They were unique unto themselves, yet wholly consistent, as if understanding just one would unveil the mysteries of the entire world.
Brendel saw a spreading energy, presented in glaring blackness within this silver-haired world. As this energy advanced, the laws began to shift. Its disorderliness seemed to grow incessantly, about to influence everything in an instant. But Brendel soon found the two strings tied to time and space, weaving through the entire world to form a perfect ring. When he touched these two strings, the energy he occupied spread out instantly, as if it were everywhere in this world. The now and future, the past and present—all became points he could occupy freely.
Brendel exerted all his strength to dodge that dazzling black light. The entire world resonated at that moment, but he soon realized his actions were futile, as all laws began to collapse. The countless possibilities around him collapsed into a single point, and he stood at that ultimate position, a wave of black flooding toward him.
There was no escaping—
Yet suddenly, a figure blocked his path. Brendel’s eyes widened as he recognized it to be the towering form of the undead Roslin. It raised a massive board-like sword, and with a thunderous sound, an overwhelming force surged through the skeletal knight’s body. Both figures were sent crashing backward, falling heavily into the collapsing walls, which subsequently buried them under a torrent of debris, plunging the entire world into darkness.
Brendel coughed softly, his thoughts momentarily halted, but he quickly regained his composure, leaping like a cannonball from the thick soil, resurfacing back to the ground. He shook off the dirt clinging to him, finding the battlefield had drastically changed; the familiar underground hall was utterly gone, leaving only a deep pit. Sunlight converged from all directions, and having only recently grown accustomed to the darkness, he squinted against the brightness. The undead knight Roslin stood at a position mirroring his own, in no better state than he was; its sword was broken in half, its cape tattered and dusty, and a deep wound marred its chest, exposing several broken white ribs, with the dancing flames of its soul laid bare.
The two raised their heads to the sky, where White was almost entirely under the control of the Book of Mawikarte. She bathed in endless black flames, transformed into a figure of fire, as though she might burn out completely at any moment. The only remnants were the unwavering look in her eyes, as if an infinite obsession supported her descent into the abyss yet allowed her to retain a sliver of clarity. Her gaze fixated intently on the black cocoon hovering in the air.
She stretched out her hand, and the light trails entangled around the black cocoon immediately flew toward her, carrying an overwhelming power that even Brendel found haunting. This was the power of the blood of the dark god; when the forces within the dark pearl were fully unleashed, it was utterly breathtaking.
But Brendel and Roslin, despite their intent to seize it, found themselves completely immobilized. The immense pressure radiating from the Book of Mawikarte upon White far exceeded her grasp. Her burning soul resembled a brilliant star nearing the end of its life, concluding everything amid the exceptionally dazzling ejection of energy. In contrast, Amann, who had once manipulated this ancient evil object, seemed like a child toying with a trinket.
This was the power of the saints—
Brendel felt his heart pounding vigorously; nearby, Roslin continued to emit furious roars, but it was all in vain. The blood of the dark god surged rapidly toward White, who was resolutely completing this sacred ritual, indifferent to her impending demise or the complete subjugation by the evil object, as if everything before her was the entirety of the world.
Brendel struggled to shift his gaze and finally noticed another incongruity—a stone tablet floating midair, solitary in its position, entirely indifferent to the chaotic energies dissipating around it.
“There’s still a chance!” Brendel gritted his teeth, inhaling deeply and shouting with all his might: “Medisa!”
In an instant, a portal of light appeared on the battlefield.
