Night Journey

Chapter 31 Night of Deathly Battle
The blazing fire sword cleaved down, tearing through the swirling mist, shattering Tania's nascent energy, and even splitting her neck, chest, and abdomen.

No blood flowed from the horrific wound; only flames burned continuously, as if Tania's body had transformed into smoldering trees.

Tania's eyes were filled with fear. She raised her broken hand, trying to stop Cirion's advance, but he cleaved it in two with a single sword stroke.

The severed arm lay on the ground, no longer bleeding.

As Cillian took another step forward, attempting to end Tania's life, Tania's wounds extinguished.

The charred flesh disappeared, replaced by dense, rampant, crimson mycelium, like large patches of fleshy growths, which were gradually stitching up Tania's wound.

"Haha, I knew you wouldn't let me die here."

Tania noticed the changes in her body and screamed frantically, "Mother, I have recorded the power of that crimson sun, we will..."

Something is coming.

A hideous and malevolent power, similar to the crimson sun, descended.

A giant hand formed from countless mycelium emerged from the gray mist, grabbed Tania's body, dragged her into the darkness, and disappeared.

Cillian tried to give chase, but the reappearing demons blocked his path. When he had killed all the troublesome creatures, he had nothing left but his severed arm.

On Tania's severed limb, on that pale arm, Cillian saw a tattoo.

A jet-black claw drawn with messy lines.

Then another streak of fire came from afar, rushing wildly along the darkness, encircling the survivors, drawing a huge circle, and trapping everyone inside.

Cillian turned around and saw a familiar figure striding towards him through the raging fire.

"teacher!"

"Cillian said excitedly."

Nunn's return is undoubtedly a shot in the arm.

He walked quickly toward Nunn, then slowly stopped.

The flickering firelight completely illuminated the shadows on Nunn's body, finally allowing everyone to see his current condition.

What a terrible injury it was.

A long, narrow wound sliced ​​open Nunn's head, his scalp turned inside out, one eye was blinded, and there was a thin, long wound on his neck that extended to his chest. If it had been slightly off-center, it would have severed Nunn's head.

He held a sword in his right hand, while his left hand hung limply, several fingers missing. His forearm was covered with honeycomb-like wounds, the dense holes so deep that bone was visible, festering and oozing pus.

These wounds are shocking at first glance, yet not a single drop of blood seeps out. Only a faint, ashen light flickers at the wounds, emanating an eerie aura like smoldering trees.

Cillian looked down and saw that the spreading bloodstains had soaked through Nunn's clothes.

An extremely sharp dagger mercilessly plunged into Nunn's abdomen. Where the blade touched, the flesh and blood did not turn into blazing flames as usual, nor did they emit a faint glow of ashes.

The power of the dagger forcefully suppressed Nunn's source energy transformation, inflicting real physical damage on him.

It pierced deep into flesh, and blood dripped slowly down the sharp blade, making a dull but clear "drip-drop" sound, like the countdown of death, echoing in the silence.

"teacher……"

"There's no need to chase after that stargazer; she's already gone."

Nunn whispered, “The master of the Deathbird is a newly born evil with no records, while the evil that Tania serves, according to my rough perception, should be the fungal mother who has long since gone mad.”

"The evils of Chaos are not a monolithic entity; they frequently attack and kill each other... The followers of the Mother of Fungi seem to be assisting the Deathbird in seizing the Holy Blood of the Torchbearer, but in reality, they are probably trying to obtain more information about the Crimson Sun."

Nunn suddenly fell silent as he spoke, glancing at the surviving crowd, his weary face devoid of any expression.

Are these the only people left?

Cillian took a deep breath and replied, "Yes... I'm sorry, I..."

“You did very well, Cillian.”

Nunn interrupted Cillian, "This disaster is my fault. I'm the one who should blame myself."

"Teacher, we still have a chance."

Cillian explained his plan, "Don't we still have a lot of Soul Essence in reserve? That should be enough to get us through the night."

Nunn shook his head and raised his Boiling Sword, pointing it at the burning wreckage.

"Didn't you notice that the remaining soul essence within the Lighthouse failed to ignite?"

He sighed softly, "Those soul essences have all been corrupted."

The malevolent power summoned by the Deathbird destroyed the Lighthouse of White Cliff Town in one fell swoop.

Under Tania's sacrifice, whenever a townsman dies and is transformed into a terrifying monster, the evils of Chaos let out a satisfied laugh, causing the power of Chaos to permeate the earth.

"This was a premeditated attack; the power of chaos has corrupted everything that can be corrupted."

Cillian was stunned.

Looking down, he realized that the land had completely changed, presenting a strange grayish-white appearance. He used his sword to dig into the soil and found that the roots of plants were rotting, and insects were curled up, devoid of any life.

If someone were to open the warehouse at this time, they would find it filled with a high concentration of gray fog, and the stored soul essence would have long since lost its original properties due to the pollution of chaos.

"Only by burning can the soul essence resist the power of chaos."

Nunn swung his Boiling Sword and severed his own powerless left arm in one fell swoop. To the astonishment of the crowd, he threw the severed limb into the burning wreckage.

He said weakly, "Since this hand is useless anyway, let's burn it one last time."

The severed limbs sizzled as they burned in the flames, followed by a continuous surge of pure white light that pushed away the approaching gray mist.

Tim looked at Nunn's dying appearance, and his eyes welled up with tears, but he knew he had no time to grieve.

"Everyone come here!"

Tim rallied the survivors, and they all moved toward the ruins of the Lighthouse.

Fortunately, Nunn appeared in time. Just as Tim led his team close to the fire, the torch in his hand was completely extinguished.

Mick stayed by the survivors' side, working with Tim to deal with the potential crisis that might erupt next, while Cillian walked towards Nunn and helped up the elderly, crippled body.

“As expected, it’s too difficult for me to maintain White Cliff Town on my own,” Nunn muttered to himself. “Maybe I should have stayed there with Commander Frey and the others. Maybe if it were someone else, they could have revived the Sunflower Clan…”

“No, teacher, you have done more than enough,” Cillian said bitterly.

Without Nuen's arrival, White Cliff Town might have been destroyed by a source energy tide decades ago. And throughout history, countless towns like White Cliff Town have disappeared into the darkness.

Nunn's cloudy eyes gradually cleared, and his confusion and unease disappeared, replaced by a steel-like hardness and coldness.

"This dagger possesses the power of chaos, and it has affected me."

Nunn broke free from his chaotic and self-reproachful fantasies and transformed once again into the familiar figure that Cirion knew.

"It's a bit out of control."

He gritted his teeth, pulled out the dagger stuck in his abdomen, and drew a spray of dark, foul blood.

The dagger clattered to the ground, having exhausted its power and become an ordinary, mundane object.

"Teacher, your injury!" Shirian said anxiously.

"It's alright, it's just that some chaotic pollution is hindering my power."

Nunn glanced at the wound on his abdomen; the flesh was black and rotten, showing a honeycomb-like corrosion pattern, just like his previous severed arm.

He broke free from Cillian's support and warned him.

"Grip your sword tighter!"

After speaking, Nuen once again swung his Boiling Sword, and a gust of burning wind swept past, pushing aside the gray mist and sweeping away the demons. Their figures spontaneously combusted and crumbled into ashes that filled the sky.

But when the foehn wind reached the end of darkness, it seemed to hit an invisible wall and crumbled and dissipated.

The sound of footsteps came.

The Deathbird slowly emerged from the darkness, and like Nunn, he was severely wounded.

A wound extended from the left side of the Deathbird's beak, splitting all the way to his earlobe, almost tearing his entire jaw apart. His right shoulder completely collapsed, and the joints of his entire right hand were twisted and deformed.

A deep sword wound remained on his chest, a fatal blow from Nunn, who had nearly pierced the heart of the Deathbird.

Without any warning, the two drew their swords against each other again.

They were already at their limit, and their speed had decreased significantly compared to before. At least Ciri could track their movements with the naked eye.

The Deathbird summoned endless gray mist, like gusts of cold wind, repeatedly assaulting Nun, but no matter how the wind and rain blew, the flames on Nun's body never went out.

The fog suddenly shifted and surged towards the survivors again. Nunn decisively turned and swung his sword, unleashing a wave of flames to intercept it.

But at that moment, the Deathbird suddenly accelerated toward Nunn, its palm deformed and mutated, its bones proliferating, turning its five fingers into sharp bone spurs.

As the wave of flames cleaved through the mist, the two figures collided.

"How much longer can you hold on, you old man?"

The Deathbird laughed loudly, "If you had given up on these people from the beginning, I might have really died at your hands, but unfortunately, you are a weakling!"

“The Torchbearers were born to illuminate others,” Nunn retorted bluntly. “To become oath-breakers like you is true weakness!”

Before the bone spikes could even touch Nun, they were cleanly severed by the Boiling Sword.

"The beginning of its birth? That's from the last era," the Deathbird said indifferently. "Only old fogies like you cling to the vows of the old days."

The Deathbird suddenly raised its hand, and the ground was covered with a layer of frost, freezing all the ashes floating in the air.

Cillian couldn't discern the exact trajectory of the power; he could only judge its direction and speed by following the spread of the frost.

He was just about to make a move to avoid it when he saw Nunn standing still. He was about to urge him on when he realized that behind Nunn were burning wreckage and survivors.

Once Nunn moves aside, the flames will be extinguished, and the gray fog will engulf everything, leaving no survivors.

Nunn raised his Boiling Sword, and the restless source energy and soul essence clashed with the invisible cold current. The two forces intertwined and confused, triggering a rapidly spreading storm that swept away everything around it.

Although Ciri was not in the area of ​​the clash of forces, he was still affected by the storm and could only stabilize himself by plunging his sword into the ground.

Dozens of seconds later, everything returned to calm. Nunn still stood like a high wall in front of the survivors, keeping the Deathbird outside.

Nunn's towering figure shocked Cillian, but then blood gushed from Nunn's abdomen. Every time he fought back, he was burning away his last remaining life force.

“Teacher, you…”

Before Cillian could finish speaking, Nunn calmly said, "Even if only one person survives, it will be good."

Nuen witnessed the clan's demise and failed to revive it. For nearly a century, the guilt of being the last remaining member had nearly crushed him.

The people of Baiya Town are Nuen's reason for support and his own redemption.

Nunn can die, but he cannot lose.

Raging flames erupted from the dark wound, and Nun once again transformed into the enraged fire demon. Wherever he went, the air distorted due to the intense heat, leaving burning footprints on the ground.

The boiling sword is blazing and its power is brilliant!
Not to be outdone, the Deathbird was enveloped in endless gray mist, forming a cocoon around itself.

Nunn sensed the surge of chaotic power and exclaimed incredulously, "How is this possible... I thought this technique had been forgotten by the world."

"How could that be? In this world, nothing can be completely forgotten, not even the giant god, the Sleeping Lord."

"Besides, you've been stuck here for far too long! You have no idea how the world has changed!"

The surging gray mist suddenly contracted, condensing entirely within the body of the Deathbird. As the chaotic power multiplied, a massive amount of source energy also erupted.

As the gray fog dissipated, Nunn finally saw the Deathbird's true form.

The Deathbird's body underwent a horrifying transformation. Its original human outline was now blurred and indistinguishable. Its skin looked as if it had been scorched and reshaped by fire, covered with crisscrossing black lines. Its bones grew wildly, with sharp bone spurs piercing out from its shoulders and back, gleaming with a chilling light. Its limbs twisted into bizarre arcs, with its joints swollen like tumors, their surfaces covered with sticky mucus.

Forbidden Technique: Threshold Liberation.

This forbidden technique existed since the beginning of the giants' existence. At that time, extraordinary beings could gather a large amount of source energy to briefly break through the barrier between the real world and the spirit world, and even communicate with the Sea of ​​Origin.

Using this method, extraordinary individuals can directly obtain a large amount of source energy from the spirit world and the Sea of ​​Origin for combat in the real world.

However, the price to pay is that if the "wounds" that superhumans tear open in reality cannot be healed immediately, the excess source energy will indiscriminately destroy everything within range and drag them into the spirit world.

After the outbreak of the Dayless Cataclysm, this forbidden technique became even more dangerous.

This time, the superhumans will not only extract a huge amount of source energy, but also bring with them the restless chaotic power. Perhaps before they have even defeated the powerful enemy, they will be lost in the illusion of chaos.

Due to these terrible side effects, this forbidden technique has long been lost in the civilized world. However, for the Chaos believers, the current forbidden technique, Threshold Liberation, is tailor-made for them. It can bring a huge amount of source energy while also stirring up waves of chaos, creating a narrow gray area in the real world for a short time.

Nuen took a deep breath, and wisps of flame rose from his wound, his flesh transforming into a phantom spirit in the intense heat. The flames roared, and Nuen resembled an enraged fire demon.

The Deathbird raised its daggers with both hands, its voice ethereal, "Nuen, you can't save anyone, just as you can't save the Yangkui Clan."

In an instant, the battlefield seemed to be gripped by an invisible and icy giant hand, and the temperature plummeted in an almost violent manner. The biting cold swept over the battlefield like a raging torrent.

In the blink of an eye, the ground was covered by layers of crystalline and thick frost. The ashes that were originally drifting freely in the air were strangely frozen in mid-air, as if a pause button had been pressed.

At the same time, all the sounds seemed to be snatched away by an invisible hand and disappeared into the distance.

A strange cold wave swept over Nunn, and in an instant, he felt more than just the cold.

Stagnation? Slowness?
Nunn couldn't explain this strange feeling either. He only felt his heartbeat gradually slowing down, the flames beginning to burn less intensely, and it seemed as if the movement of everything was coming to a standstill.

The bone blade slashed toward Nunn's throat, and just then, another longsword forcefully pierced through.

"There's me too!"

Ciri roared and swung his sword to block the attack.

A tremendous force struck the blade, chipping away at the edge and spreading the cracks to the rest of the sword. Cillian's hand was ripped open, and his entire arm went numb.

"well done!"

With a low growl from Nunn, the Boiling Sword swept across, slicing open most of the Deathbird's waist and abdomen.

A series of sharp, boiling sounds emanated from the torn wound, as if the sword possessed extreme high temperatures, instantly vaporizing the blood and flesh of the Deathbird.

Do you think this can change your fate?

The Deathbird remained in the forbidden state of Threshold Release, transforming itself into a passage between the real world and the spirit world, allowing a continuous stream of chaotic power to pour into the real world.

Nunn cleaved his waist and abdomen, and also severed the boundary between the two worlds.

A thick gray mist spilled from the Deathbird's wounds, surging and churning up a massive black wave. Even the flames on Nunn's body could not withstand such a high concentration of chaotic power.

Frost crawled all over Nun's body, as if he were wearing a heavy suit of armor, making it difficult for him to move an inch.

Cirien was in a daze, chaos seized the opportunity to enter, and disordered murmurs reveled in his mind.

"It's alright, Cillian!" Nunn encouraged loudly as he trudged on, "Even if it's just you and me, we can still protect everyone!"

Suddenly, he was no longer an elderly man, but rather like a young man, shouting wildly.

"Yes, with the blood of Soflova united, we will be invincible, we will return in triumph!"

The Deathbird drew a blood-soaked bone sword from a thick darkness, igniting a deep, cold flame.

Sever it from the head!

Nunn shattered the ice armor covering his body, swung his boiling sword with all his might, and shouted hoarsely.

"Only we can do it!"

In the past, Nunn's sword strikes would have been as swift as lightning, but now, under the influence of the chaotic power, the blade moved extremely slowly, like a withered old man launching an attack with all his might.

At the same time, this sword strike was not a parry, but a slash aimed directly at the head of the Deathbird.

This is a desperate strike; the Deathbird's bone sword will pierce Núnn's chest, but Núnn also has a chance to decapitate the Deathbird with a single blow.

But this is not a risky move; on the contrary, with Nunn severely injured, it may be the only chance of victory.

Just before the two swords were about to clash, a pair of daggers emerged from the darkness, slashing at the throat of the Deathbird.

It is unclear whether the attacker was too weak or the Deathbird's body was too powerful, but the dagger only pierced the flesh and failed to penetrate it completely.

In the murky darkness, a face covered in blood, yet with a touch of delicate beauty, emerged.

Mick gripped the dagger tightly, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move it any further.

"Mick!"

"Cillian cried out in a trembling voice."

As a mortal, Mick shouldn't be here. He should be with Tim and the others, protecting the other survivors under the protection of the Soulfire.

But he still appeared, like a surprise force going to its death.

Mick looked at Cillian, said nothing, and forced a smile. Ice crystals crawled down his face, freezing along with the blood.

"Bastard!"

The Deathbird cursed loudly, and a sharp tail thorn burst forth from its back, slashing mercilessly horizontally.

The small, thin figure was thrown into the air, split in two, and then fell to the ground. The sound of blood and entrails hitting the ground was like a wet rag being thrown to the ground.

Everything happened so fast. There was no farewell, and no preparation. Mick died right before Cillian's eyes, like a light feather, weightless.

But the deadly battle continues.

Mick's surprise attack bought Nunn time, and Boiling Sword struck the Deathbird's neck first, cutting down along the previous wound, almost splitting the Deathbird's body in two.

Correspondingly, the bone sword pierced through Nunn's chest at that moment, protruding from his spine.

The two figures seemed to be facing each other, yet also seemed to be relying on each other.

Cillian strode forward, attempting to deliver the final blow to the Deathbird, but to his horror he discovered that while he was aware of it, his body was unable to react in time.

It was that strange sense of sluggishness that could even affect one's own consciousness.

Cillian's vision was instantly swallowed by thick darkness, and a vast and boundless silence surged in like a tide, shutting out all the surrounding noise—the exploding roar of fireworks, the mournful howls of demons, and the clanging of swords clashing in the deadly battle—as if the whole world had been muted.

All was silent except for Ciri's faint, heavy breathing, which trailed slowly through the deathly stillness, gradually coming to a halt.

A series of fine, crisp sounds rang out, as frost spread and seeped layer by layer onto Ciri's skin.

Strangely, due to that suffocating sense of sluggishness, Cillian felt no chill at all, and even his perception of the passage of time quietly blurred in the silence.

But Cillian knew perfectly well that he was gradually being solidified into an ice sculpture, and that with just a gentle push from the Deathbird, he would shatter into pieces on the hard ground like a fragile piece of porcelain.

Perhaps before the Deathbird knocks him down, Cillian will suffocate from respiratory failure, or even before that, Cillian's self-awareness will perish in stagnation.

Darkness extinguished all the fires and devoured the last remaining light.

An aged voice resounded, shattering a corner of the darkness.

“Cillian!”

In the surging darkness, a glimmer of light is rapidly colliding, no longer restrained, and burning fiercely.

"Remember these words, they are the Legion's oath, our epitaph for which we die!"

Nunn ignored the bone spur piercing his chest and was indifferent to the passing of his life.

He released the Boiling Sword, letting it plunge into the ground, and raised his hands to tightly grip the head of the Deathbird.

"The gray zone is devoid of daylight, and embers cover the land!"

Nunn shouted the oath that should have been forgotten by the world.

"The torchbearer stands, and the deepest abyss is filled with dread."

The oath, like a magical word, possessed extraordinary power. The thick gray fog boiled and surged, as if it were rapidly evaporating, emitting sharp shrieks.

"Destiny gnaws at the bones, and external gods devour the light."

The Deathbird gripped the bone sword tightly and struggled desperately, but he was too close to Nuen to exert any force. Not to mention, the endless flames emanating from Nuen were burning along the blood and engulfing his body.

As the blazing fire completely enveloped the two, Nunn recited the last part of the oath.

"Bury this mangled body, and I vow to end this long night!"

The moment the oath ended, a distant, furious shout echoed from within the Sea of ​​Origin, followed by strange murmurs and whispers, like countless ghosts whispering in the darkness.

Cillian looked up as if possessed. Although darkness had swallowed all the light, he could vaguely see something taking shape in the sky.

The illusion that Nún had when he bestowed bloodline upon Ciri reappeared: three giants, blotting out the sky, like the highest beings in the world, looking down upon the earth.

Centuries later, the Legion's oath reappeared on the earth, enraging and driving them to madness, vowing to annihilate it.

But Cillian did not give in to this despair.

An incredibly intense emotion erupted within Cillian's heart. He had never felt such rage before, and even the stagnant soul essence within his body reignited.

A loathing for chaos, anger at the tragedy, hatred for all these tragedies...

This was such intoxicating madness that it perfectly pleased the Ouroboros sign, and at this very moment, the long-gestating blessing finally came into its true form.

Blessings are bestowed to nurture all things.

Thus, all things change.

This is because of... hatred, anger, and malice!
In the darkness, Ciri opened his eyes, and a molten golden light appeared in his pupils.

The world is so absurd and crazy.

Not long ago, Baiya Town was holding a celebration, and the townspeople congratulated themselves on becoming torchbearers, bringing food and wine from their homes.

Cillian dances with Ava, hormones simmering in the ambiguity. Perhaps he will kiss her, perhaps she will embrace him.

Yes, tonight should have been filled with laughter and joy, but it turned into a nightmare thanks to the Death Bird's scheme...

The townspeople perished under the claws of Chaos, Tim fought valiantly, Ava witnessed her father's death, and Mick fell in a pool of blood...

Familiar faces, stained with blood, gradually disappeared into the darkness, vanishing without a trace.

Even Nunn, now only dragging his crippled body, knelt down helplessly, as if submitting to Chaos.

That was his teacher, his father. How could he have met such an end?

Cirien charged forward in fury, wielding the swordsmanship Nún had taught him with unprecedented skill. He was determined to reach Nún's side, regardless of the consequences.

Even as his soul essence burned out and his fiery blood cooled, Ciri stubbornly pressed forward until he stood beside Nunn.

“Cillian…”

Nunn struggled to lift his head and look at the battered and bruised Ciri.

Cillian shed tears, but the tears evaporated instantly due to the residual heat on his body, leaving Nunn with only a face contorted with rage.

"Teacher, you're asking me what my dream is?"

Ciri reached out and grabbed the Boiling Sword stuck in the ground. His knuckles tightened suddenly, and in the crimson mist rising from the sword, he saw his own molten gold pupils burning.

"Now I finally see it clearly."

The shriek of the deathbird was stuck in its throat.

He had seen those molten gold eyes, on the highest throne, among the millions of kneeling skeletons, on the holy one he served.

"Blessed..."

The words of the Deathbird were crushed by a roar like an avalanche, and Cillian's vocal cords tore apart with the sound of metal scraping against a rock wall.

"I want to become—"

Flames danced across the blade, creating a sea of ​​fire.

"—A righteous person who punishes evil!"

The moment the sword light cleaved through the darkness, Cillian's arm traced the unfinished arc of Núnn.

"Judge who delivers the verdict!"

The flaming sword pierced the ribs of the Deathbird, and the putrid blood mist boiled into steam in the sword groove, melting the dying body into translucent amber.

"The Fire Sword that Chases Darkness!"

The roars were like raging waves, one after another.

The Deathbird's claws gripped the sword, its knuckles cracking as if it were about to die. But Ciri pressed his entire palm against the blade, his fingers embedding themselves into the spine of the sword like nails driven into the enemy's heart.

Cirien gritted his teeth, his expression ferocious and insane.

"The torches will eventually burn out the long night!"

The moment the sword tip pierced the Deathbird's decaying heart, flames erupted from the wound, and firelight spilled from the gaps in the bones, as if a thousand suns were awakening within its body.

Fireworks soared, dispelling the darkness!
(End of this chapter)