Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

Even at the very end, it shines like a candle, illuminating the way.

In the utter darkness of the network, a lonely ship pleads with the watchful lighthouse, its only voice echoing its suffering.

"My king, please help her."

Chapter 775 White Mask

The ice shards leaping under the moonlight were beautiful. The moment they vanished into the air, they drifted away like soft feathers. The parallel icy trails gradually crumbled, and Ivan traversed the darkness like a solitary fish.

The Frost Wanderer hadn't reached his destination; the anomaly ahead forced him to stop. The chilling aura emanating from his spirit head gradually subsided. He tightened the reins and straightened his hat. That hat was a part of his spirit, and although he could control it with a thought, Ivan enjoyed this ritual, especially when facing old friends, as it brought back memories of the past.

"How long has it been since I've seen 'you' like this, Wall?"

The crimson spirit had a solidified lower body, appearing outwardly like a normal human. It had loose, flowing hair, a bare upper body with several cuts across its chest and abdomen, and its face was mostly covered by the falling hair, its exposed right eye gleaming with a dangerous red light. The spirit of Frostwalker Evan was ice-blue, that of Bewitcher Desiri was deep purple, and that of Warrior Seeker Vol was crimson. The unique appearances of these Nathlan servants were enough to make some in Andrei gasp in astonishment.

"Where are you going, Ivan?" Vol's voice was gentle, without the bloodthirstiness of reaping millions of spirits.

"Didn't you see? The whole of Poswa is undergoing a dramatic change. I'm going to Paradise to take Lord Lyle away from this cursed land."

Wall raised his head and noticed the complete darkness around him, the brass moon hanging in the night sky, Posuwa completely asleep, the war and smoke submerged in the darkness, and the ominous aura of the gods everywhere.

“Curse…that’s what you call these powers…” Wall was somewhat dazed, like a patient who had just recovered, his gaze not focused on his friend. “These aren’t curses. Only through long-term coexistence with them can I understand that evil gods are not as ‘evil’ as we imagined.”

Under Ivan's furrowed gaze, Vol spoke slowly.

"Have you ever thought about why people eat when they feel hungry, instead of standing still and starving to death?"

Ivan decided to answer Vol's question seriously. He believed that Vol's mental state still needed to be confirmed. If he had been corrupted by the evil god, then the stain must be removed before the Soul Reaper mistress could take him back.

"It's because of the will to survive. When you're hungry, you eat. Isn't that the natural thing to do?"

Wall chuckled, his bloodshot eyes fixed on his former friend, completely unconcerned by the chill in his gaze.

"Then why do living beings have the will to survive? A natural instinct? A prerequisite for reproduction? It's genes, the 'wisdom' we are born with. Even the blind and foolish are given 'wisdom'."

"You mean..."

"These things that you call 'curses' are the 'wisdom' bestowed upon life by evil gods, transcending shackles, forgetting concepts, retaining only the purest origin, and the 'wisdom' necessary to correct living beings to such 'purity'."

"..." In truth, Ivan wasn't interested in any of this. He didn't care what these dark, dangerous forces were, nor did he care why a former warmonger had become a fanatic here, lecturing him on the philosophy of life. He only cared about one thing: whether Vol remained loyal to Naslan. His spirit was protected by Helena's clan, the Soul Reaper; if he lost that loyalty, then his existence should be revoked.

Ivan tentatively asked, "So you're now quite fond of the evil god? And you want to introduce me to a new master?"

Wall's excitement vanished, as if cooled by the ice and snow brought by Ivan. Wall shrugged and walked onto Ivan's vehicle without a word.

"It was just a whim. Seizing the initiative is a warrior's instinct, and sooner or later Naslan will be like me. Ivan, why do you think these 'wisdoms' beneath the earth appear in the air, forming eternal night?"

"The occultists of the Posuwa dynasty once concentrated all wisdom and all evil in one person, attempting to control the wisdom of the gods with the flesh and blood of mortals. The practice I have undergone is no different from what they have done. The destroyed kingdom and we, whose hearts have been corrupted, all understand that this 'wisdom' will manipulate the covetous ones at will, and their fate has long been sealed."

"God's grace will ultimately return to God."

"Posuwa has welcomed its true master."

"A malice aggregate, a tyrant who wields wisdom."

……

The darkness deepened on this shore; the flames of trauma had been extinguished, and without firelight, vision gradually cleared in the darkness.

The eerie green aurora borealis wove a veil across the sky, and beneath this magnificent curtain of light, skeletons crawled from the earth, breaking the silence with their sinister presence. The rustling of the dead did not provoke a riot; the moving skeletons were not soldiers, but witnesses, those who prayed.

With a clatter, the chains, pulling at the darkness, slowly drifted in from the other side of the sky. What separated the sea of ​​bones was not a majestic icebreaker, but a thin figure, draped in a black robe and wearing a bird-beak mask. Silver chains extended from his wrists and ankles, dragging the apocalypse behind him out of illusion.

A giant, a colossal humanoid figure constructed from withered branches and tentacles, followed step by step the tiny black shadow ahead, bound by four thin chains. Lifeless and puppeteer-like, both the giant and the shadow that pulled it moved mechanically forward, surrounded by skeletons. Each step triggered an earthquake, and ominous black mist erupted from the giant's undulations.

Rosa was crying, her eyes fixed on the dark figure, tears streaming down her face, her trembling lips revealing a terrified smile. Kneeling in the corpse of the [Snake], she could feel her soul screaming.

He gazes at himself, and only at himself.

Those demons who had once surrounded them, like a pack of wolves, were now kneeling on the ground, their convulsing bodies beyond normal. Bone spurs danced on their skin, escaping flesh choked their tracheas, the demons' bodies had betrayed themselves, and their consciousness had long since been sent to the execution ground.

Rosa realized she could think. The anomaly before her was like a thug violently crashing against the doors and windows of her mind and reason. She saw that familiar dark figure distorted like a signal, and the bound giant flowing with black mud.

Who is the main body, and who is the secondary body?

Humans unleash extraordinary potential in times of crisis, and Rosa felt incredibly perilous at that moment. But in the end, only her final sense of responsibility awakened. With willpower, she dragged her numb body, enduring the stinging pain that contorted her face, controlling her lips to open and close, her vocal cords uttering thoughts.

“I… am willing to take full responsibility… I beg you… spare the exiles… everyone else… everything… started because of me, I… I’m so sorry…”

A storm was visibly brewing, the plague and death so thick you could hear it with your breath, and a cacophony of sounds exploded in her head. Rosa collapsed to the ground.

“I promised them I would protect your safety; that’s my commitment. So I won’t control your blood, muscles, bones, or nerves. You will remain mentally alert and able to communicate normally with them until our assistance process is complete.”

The voice was hollow and merciless; Rosa felt as if she were talking to the sky. Panic gripped her mind again, and she knelt down, curling her body into a ball.

Lyle was very dissatisfied with this reaction.

"What do you think I should do? Embrace the phantom's corpse, lament the pain of death, confide our parting at the burial, and unleash my anger on you? Like pressing an ant with your finger, ha ha ha..."

The towering giant grinned menacingly, his terrifying face drawing close to Rosa's.

“I do want to do that. But what do you take me for? I am the Lord of Illusions, the pre-ordained evil god, the most representative necromancer! Nothing can judge their lives; death is just a joke in my hands.”

A green aurora descended, and under the summoning of the spirit spell, the fragments of the phantom reassembled.

“I’ve been thinking about how a harmless group can reproduce and thrive, and in the end, the question came back to me.”

"To become a whole, they constitute 'benevolence,' while I govern malice. I drain the malice that approaches them, turning it into a source of evil, making phantoms a part of me, so that I may be wounded, suffer, rage, and punish." Such special groups do exist, provided the individual leader is powerful enough.

The Soul Reaper system relies on the leader's powerful spirit to bear all responsibilities.

I can do it, I can do it even better than Helena.

The ominous giant seized the glass-like shards, piecing them together piece by piece onto its face. The fragments of the phantom were absorbed into the individual entity of the evil god, becoming a pure white mask imbued with benevolence. Malice poured forth from the holes, flowing down the pristine, curved surface.

[By balancing the phantom's goodwill with the god's malice, the Ominous Giant achieved completeness through equilibrium.]

The chains shattered, and the ominous giant rose from the black mud. Its limbs were like withered wood, its body coiled with tentacles, its mask pristine white, and malice flowed from its hollow core—everything was exactly as the ominous sign foretold in the revelation had foretold. The nascent evil god had grown to its full potential, entering maturity, a divine skeleton, a vessel through which the evil god walked the world.

Do you know how many times I've fantasized about this moment? Lyle

Each time was far less sorrowful than now. Everything was predetermined; we were merely pawns on a game with a predetermined path.

The only way is to reach a higher level.

Drag that sleepy guy down.

Chapter 776 The Tyrant's Paradise

Filling the soul with other consciousnesses is like forcibly inserting a solid tumor into the skull. Handle them gently, peel back the fragile shell, and let them fall like drops of water into the ocean of your mind, a chaotic mass of churning darkness. The nature of the omen prevents you from feeling the sting of a split personality, but every step must be taken with utmost care. These pure drops carrying phantom consciousnesses could be overturned at any moment by the instincts of the evil god.

【Hoo~】The Ominous Giant breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the pure white mask blend into his face, becoming completely one. Using his own spirit as a cradle, he allowed the phantom of death to live forever in his mental network, in the form of other personalities. Waiting for the right time to physically split it, giving the phantom a whole individual, this rebirth was all Lyle could do.

He felt even closer to his people; at this moment, Lyle was one with his entire race. Having seized the consciousness of all the phantoms, his four-lock abilities had reached their peak.

A mental tyrant.

Lyle's plague ability has become even more efficient at penetrating its targets, with the negative status of "mental poison" continuously stacking over time, distorting and interrupting spellcasting effects, removing mental barriers, and fulfilling the prerequisite for mind control. Like a monarch controlling his subjects, he tyrannically dominates everything. Because of the terrifying power of the ominous sign, any intelligent being who glimpses Lyle's mental essence will complete all the conditions for mind control the moment the act of "observation" takes place. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and also the shortcut to mental erosion.

Moving its enormous, inhuman limbs, the black mud washes away evil itself, and the malevolent aura rising from Poswa spontaneously surges into the giant's body. [Lyle] becomes a pump of malice, drawing back the wisdom of God from this land.

As night fell, mottled rust-like pits began to appear on the round moon.

[Mystery], the concept of the Mystic's service, the ancient order of the land of Posuwa, observing the nascent evil god. Humanized joy quietly resonates in the shadows as the chains slide; His scheme is nearing completion.

The Sleeper was sealed away, wisdom extracted from His fragments, these corrupting powers scattered across the earth, guiding his followers to use and refine them. The ancient forces that coexisted with the Sleeper, of course, understood the destiny of the gods. The fragments of the gods will be reclaimed, the slumber will awaken, the covetous will be punished, and all things in the world are governed by rules.

The establishment, development, and destruction of Poswa—all meticulously planned by the mysterious order behind it, using mortal blood to corrupt divine power and achieve the current situation. Now, the wisdom corrupted by its own power will return to the body of the evil god. Through these tiny fragments, a new pact will be secretly forged between the self and the evil god.

The war between the slumbering and the rebellious is about to begin. Whoever emerges victorious will ultimately swallow this malice, this covenant. [Mystery] will encroach upon the supreme god of this planet, becoming his equal, replacing him, and stealing his crown.

No, that will be the moment this contract begins to take effect, and the planet's lord will have to repay my "debt"...

[You're dreaming]

creak—

In the darkness, the gears, spinning wildly with excitement, jammed, sending rusty dust flying and casting shimmering light into the moonlight.

[Mysterious] Looking down, a chain symbolizing a contract connects him to that filthy monster, whose withered claws grip the chain, its head twisted 180 degrees, its white mask facing the moonlight. [Lyle] grinned sinisterly, surging malice passing through the hole, flowing across the corner of his smiling mouth, a terrifying aura locking the concept in the air.

You shouldn't be more perceptive than Bitriton; my disguised moonlight is flawless.

Lyle began to pull the chains, dragging the gear moon down little by little.

In my mental world, the moon should be blood red, because yellow light reminds me of Cassandra, those nights I hate to recall. The blood moon over Andreas is the kind of night I love.

The other end of the chain was covered with thick mud, and black rain dripped down. Lyle's face magnified under Mystic's perception, and the distance between them was shrinking.

Do you think I would ignore you? Ignore the mysterious forces behind the destruction of Poswa, ignore the mastermind behind it all? You want me to replace those monarchs, to become your new contractor, to graft these evils you have led.

Lyle chuckled wickedly, malice overflowing from his mask, his狰狞 face transcending the realm of anger and hatred.

[Andre will shirk all responsibility, let alone this fabricated charge. You underestimate me, underestimate my ability to shift blame.]

[Lyle] exudes a divine nature that is unable to resist jealousy, which intertwines with the malice He has absorbed, climbing up the chains like a pack of hungry wolves, revealing its greed towards the ancient power.

[I've encountered many concepts, but you're the most humane one. Justice, higher physics—all the others behave like cold, impersonal programs. But you, mysterious, you're like a living person. A concept so familiar it disgusts me. Hidden protocols, getting something for nothing, risk transfer… Lyle, you're practically the oldest form of capital.]

Chains bound [Mystic] and [Lyle] together; this was a powerful pact, [Mystic]'s reason for not letting go, but now, it had become [Lyle's] weakness to exploit. The Ominous Giant had reached the moon.

Evil laughed wildly, and surging malice burned on the giant's body. He moved his mask, and everything beneath it transformed into gaping maws that lunged at him.

[For a fair transaction, you have to bleed first!] And Ominous's behavior indicates that he wants to be the one who owes money, and bite the [mystery] to pieces.

As the moonlight faded, the giant who had explored the moon crashed to the ground, creating a thunderous roar that shook the land of Posuwa.

[Lyle] got up, spitting out the dog leash from his mouth. He was holding one end himself, the other empty, connected only to a small piece of power. [Mysterious] finally let go, abandoning the pact with the evil god and His arrangements in Poswa, suffering a small loss. Somewhat regretfully, the Ominous Giant's body gradually absorbed the chains, feeling the power he had extorted.

Malicious Harvesting: [Mystic] studies the powers wielded by malice, stripping living beings of all malice and rendering them into a perpetually harmless, subservient state. This was an ability that evil gods could not originally control, a power that ravaged the very essence of life. Now, it has become [Lyle's] new ability, placed in the groove of the fifth level of the Lock.

Five locks, divine remains.

The vessel of God possesses both destructive and resistant power to divine power, distorting the rules of the world and fulfilling the prerequisite for transcendence. Divine power is, in essence, a concept. This is the source of Lyle's confidence in confronting the concept of "mystery," for at this moment, He is the natural enemy of concepts.

Like wearing a badge, Lyle pinned her authority to the five-lock skill bar.

The power of order and the power of the evil god reacted in a strange way.

Power, Extremes and Balance