Chapter 358: Destruction Prologue (Part 1)

  Clouds denser than those when the Meteor Shower was launched filled the sky, an endless, deathly gray. At this moment, it seemed as if even the sky had died.

  Fear, submission. This was the shared feeling of the thousands on the square, an endless, deathly aura that completely enveloped the senses of all. What arose from the deepest depths of their souls was not the kind of fear that contained hostility or the intent to resist when facing an enemy or a monster. This was an utterly thorough, irresistible fear—the fear of a living being towards an unchangeable rule, a power, the fear of "death" itself.

  The injured and those with weaker constitutions fell silently amidst this aura. All the other people and orcs stood frozen like wooden chickens.

  Within the endless aura, a figure slowly walked out of the Grand Hall of Light. The great hall had already darkened, devoid of the white fluorescence that constantly flowed over all the buildings of The Radiant Citadel. Even the white of the marble itself had become a deathly gray. This person walked out of the great hall, but the entire hall, the entire The Radiant Citadel, was submerged beneath his black shadow.

  With every step he took, the ground beneath his feet began to crack and wither, turning into dregs like charcoal cinders. Only the few people before the great hall could see him clearly. It was as if even the light that shone on him died instantly.

  A face, once handsome and sunny, was now a canvas of deathly indifference. His eyes were a deathly gray, his skin and flesh as lifelessly black as obsidian. A vast, sea-like black aura continuously seeped from his body, spreading outwards. In his hand, he held the hilt of The Black Star, the divine artifact of the Diya Valley.

  This aura had originally been emitted by the sword hilt, but now it spread outwards from his entire body. And it was blacker, denser, heavier. It wasn't that the hilt had become a part of his body, nor that he had become a part of the hilt—the two had completely merged, inseparable.

  But his empty, void-like gaze seemed to see nothing, as if nothing was worth seeing. Yet the direction his eyes were fixed upon was the four people before the great hall: Ethan, Gru, Lancelot, and Pope Magnus, who occupied Adela's body. Before him, although all people, all life, were dust, these few specks of dust were indeed more noteworthy than the others.

  "How is this possible?" The Pope's face was as pale as paper, his usual calm composure completely gone. His body trembled uncontrollably, and he finally fell to his knees. It was not just his body that knelt; in his spirit, there was not even the slightest trace of resistance or the will to flee. These few words were the struggle of all the reason he had left.

  Once the Lich King appears, all Necromancers can only become his slaves. This was the fate Archibald had decreed for all Necromancers. As the price for being able to move freely within The Shadowspire Peaks, every Necromancer's body bore the brand of The Black Star, a brand of fate. Even though he was not Adela himself, even though his soul as Magnus was firm and extraordinary, under the aura accumulated by The Black Star over millions of years, he was no different from an ant.

  "Javi? How could it be him?" Lancelot's face was no better than Adela's. Whether it was Archibald or anyone else, no one had ever seen what it would look like for the so-called world-destroying artifact, The Black Star, to be drawn. But he understood that this was what they were seeing now.

  Talise knelt on the ground, her face covered in cold sweat from the pain. The prosthetic limb on her severed arm had withered and fallen off. The prosthetic that a Cardinal had carefully crafted for her with White Magic at Lancelot's request was now like a vegetable leaf thrown into a furnace under this aura. The aura was spreading from her severed wrist into her body, snuffing out all the life force it touched.

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  "Everyone who can use Light Arrow, attack this person with all your might. Everyone who can use magic, use it." Lancelot's roar rang out. But this time, the Paladin's command no longer had its usual calm and magnanimity; it was somewhat like the hysteria of fear.

  Light Arrow is a rather low-level White Magic. On the square, there were over a thousand people who could use it. Following Lancelot's command, a thousand white ribbons of light shot towards Javi at the entrance of the great hall from different angles. Although many spells dissipated midway due to the distance, the combined light that reached him was still dazzlingly bright.

  But when this light shone on Javi's body, it only caused the black mist around him to ripple slightly before being devoured by the mist. He did not even move a finger. This magic, originally designed to disintegrate undead creatures, had no effect on him whatsoever. The next moment, the mages' fireballs, ice spikes, lightning arrows, and over a hundred spells of various levels all flew towards him as well. But a screen of white light immediately appeared before him, and all the spells that struck it silently dissipated.

  This was not his own power. The one who cast this magical defensive screen was the dozen or so figures behind him. A dozen withered, white-robed elders were slowly walking out of the Grand Hall of Light. Their movements were stiff, and their degree of emaciation varied. Many of them were no different from skeletons. What they had in common was that the soul-flames unique to Wights burned in their eye sockets.

  Lancelot's expression had become extremely ugly, and even his lips were trembling. It wasn't just him; almost everyone who could see this scene had the same reaction. Everyone from The Radiant Citadel recognized these Wights by the appearance of the elders. They were originally the corpses of past Popes, preserved in ice-crystal coffins deep within the great hall.

  And it wasn't just here. The large area of corpses left by Inham on the square was now the most active. The mummies and skeletons were all shakily getting to their feet on their own.

  No one was deliberately using Necromancy. Necromancy itself was created by Archibald based on the aura of The Black Star. This aura itself was the purest, strongest, and highest form of Necromancy. The entire, vast The Radiant Citadel was shrouded under this aura. The former sanctuary of light, the city of faith, was now just a land of death.

  "Run. This is no longer a monster that can be dealt with by men." Before the great hall, Ethan took a deep breath and forced out a few words with difficulty.

  Although he didn't understand why it was Javi who appeared here, who could grasp the hilt of The Black Star, he knew better than anyone what it truly meant to hold that hilt. He had experienced the aura contained within this sword most deeply and empathetically. Whoever could completely control this sword was no longer human.

  He didn't know if it was an illusion, but he seemed to feel that Javi's eyes, which could no longer be said to have a gaze or an expression, were looking at him. A strange scent, different from this aura, flashed within them for a moment. But here and now, he could no longer spare the thought to discern it. He had originally planned to take advantage of the gap when the priests' magic was effective to step forward and see if he could snatch the hilt from Javi's hand. Now, it seemed there was no need to try.

  But just as he spoke these words and was about to turn, he saw a figure charge forward, wrapped in a dazzling light.

  In this dead, gray world, this light was dazzlingly bright, vibrant with life. Even the light of a thousand White Magic spells earlier was not as bright, pure, or powerful as this. This white light was mixed with a vigorous, green aura of life. Although the entire The Radiant Citadel was still shrouded in gray and black, all the black and gray in the path of this figure was dispelled. Like a bright meteor streaking across the night sky, even the thousands of people on the square felt the haze of gloom filling their hearts loosen slightly when they saw this ball of light.

  There was only one person, only one, who could charge out at this moment, and that was Gru.

  He was the only one in this land of death who could still stand ramrod straight, without the slightest hint of decline, completely unaffected by this aura. From the moment Javi's aura appeared, Gru's gaze and attention were fully focused on him. Although he was covered in wounds from Inham's spell, although the power and darkness of this aura were far beyond what a human could resist, the flame in his eyes, the light of his fighting spirit at this moment, was stronger than ever before.

  He did not ask who this was or what this was. He did not need to ask or know. It was as if a voice told him the moment he sensed the existence of this thing, this aura, that this was the enemy.

  Perhaps it was because his life force was too strong. When everyone else was completely daunted by this aura of death, only he had the ability to resist, the ability to muster fighting spirit and hostility, to instinctively feel a sense of revulsion. Perhaps it was because the Leaves of the World Tree he had just used rejected this aura. Perhaps it was for some other reason he himself did not understand. This sudden surge of hostility and fighting spirit was so intense, coming from the deepest depths of his soul.

  Within this surging fighting spirit, there was also a feeling, like the one he had when he was locked in a death struggle with the Paladin Lancelot, of touching his own soul. Half was hostility and fighting spirit, half was the desire to deepen this feeling. He charged towards Javi.

  The white screen of light flashed before Javi again. The dozen or so Wights behind him, acting on instinct, all released magic to protect their deity. These Wights were all top-tier mages in life. Even though the White Magic they had mastered was incompatible with the aura of The Black Star, the combined magical shield they cast was far beyond that of any single mage.

  The white figure, like a meteor burning at its peak, tore across the sky, burning out all the brilliance accumulated over billions of years and crashing towards the giant black hole that devoured everything. The screen of light that had just blocked over a hundred spells was as useless as a paper shield against a cannon under the impact of this power. White and black collided without any hindrance.