piratefiction Chapter 195 Collapse and...Awakening!
Chapter 195 Collapse and...Awakening!
Chapter 195 Collapse and...Awakening!
The level three archmages in the White Wizard camp gathered together, using their respective methods to sense the situation outside.
Among the members of the Eternal Tower, Monet spoke with a sorrowful, lifeless gaze.
"Aikar—is finished."
Monet's words struck the survivors like a heavy boulder, and suppressed sobs rose intermittently from the crowd.
"Monet! The Tower of Eternity bears full responsibility for what Renkel has done!"
The half-elf's accusation was like a sharp knife, instantly tearing apart the barely maintained surface calm.
"Responsible?"
Monet suddenly raised his head, his previously lifeless eyes flashing with a mixture of grief and indignation, and his voice became hoarse.
"Is this what we wanted to see? Lord Renkel—he—"
He tried to explain, but found that any words were powerless in the face of the ruins before him and the terrifying, pale presence in the distance.
The Tower of Eternity is Renkel's Tower of Eternity; this is an indisputable fact.
"If it's not you, then who is it?!"
The half-elf did not back down; his green eyes burned with anger and lingering fear.
"You were the ones who elevated him to his high position, you were the ones who followed his path! And now? What has he become? A monster that will drag the entire city of Aicar into the abyss!"
"We are victims too!"
Another wizard from the Tower of Eternity stood up excitedly, his tattered white robes stained with mud.
"Our homes are gone, our comrades are dead! We too are struggling to survive!"
"Survival? Through the enemy's mercy?"
The half-elf sneered, pointing to the shadowy figures eyeing him menacingly around him and the dark forest that was faintly visible in the distance.
"Look at our current situation! How are we any different from slaves? This is the path to survival that your Eternal Tower has given us!"
"Then what do you suggest we do?!"
Monet was almost roaring, his voice trembling with excitement.
"Go out there to die? At least—at least we're still alive here!"
"Living like livestock?"
The half-elf's words were sharp and cutting.
"Waiting for a massacre that could come at any moment, or being found by that thing outside and drained dry like they drained their companions from the barrier nodes? Is that what you want?"
The commotion attracted the attention of the Shadow Walker, who was on surveillance.
His cold gaze swept over the group of agitated white wizards, carrying an undisguised warning.
An invisible pressure descended, causing their voices to involuntarily lower, but the hostility and despair in their eyes intensified.
Disagreements have already emerged.
Some people, like Monet, suffer, but consider survival their top priority, even at the cost of humiliation and loss of freedom.
Another group, like the half-elves, could not accept this precarious existence of being dependent on their enemies. They preferred to seek other possibilities, even if the hope was slim, or even to perish together.
This sense of division is quietly spreading among the white wizard survivors.
Trust had already collapsed along with the Tower of Eternity, and now even the last remaining bond of shared suffering is gradually breaking under the pressure of this despair.
They looked at each other, their eyes filled with fear, but also with suspicion and scrutiny.
Who knows if the people around you might betray you to the dark wizards in exchange for better treatment or a vague sense of security?
Or, who might act irrationally out of unbearable frustration, implicating everyone else?
The shadow of the Silent Forest not only shrouded the forest but also seeped deeply into the hearts of every survivor.
Two days later, on the outskirts of the Silent Forest.
Beyond the thick, ink-like barrier of shadows, the soul-freezing paleness was no longer just an ominous backdrop on the distant horizon.
It has arrived.
It was no longer a slow spread, but rather like a silent tsunami, surging in.
The deathly grayness was visibly devouring all color and vitality.
The ancient demon trees at the edge of the forest, with roots that have stood for thousands of years and are deeply embedded in the earth, emitted a tooth-grinding groan the moment they came into contact with that pale area.
Leaves wither, branches die, bark peels away and turns to ashes. The enormous life energy contained within is greedily sucked up by an invisible giant mouth, disappearing in an instant, leaving only an ever-expanding, absolutely empty gray-white area.
The "Treasure of the Abyss" barrier began to fluctuate violently at an unprecedented rate. It was no longer flickering but was flashing wildly, emitting a piercing buzzing sound as if it were about to shatter under the strain.
The wizards maintaining the barrier collapsed in droves, not from exhaustion, but because the terrifying suction of the pale power's rules drained their magic and life force in an instant, turning them to dust before they could even scream.
"Hold on! At all costs!"
Mokamo's roar echoed throughout the entire eastern defense line through magic, but he could also feel that the power of the shadowy land beneath his feet was being rapidly depleted, and the forest was howling in agony.
At the center of the pale flames, Ronker's distorted face seemed to become clearer, and his silent wails now seemed to be mixed with a hint of—pleasure?
It is an instinctive reaction to "abundant food" that is within easy reach.
Countless pale flame tentacles emerged from the sleeves, no longer swaying aimlessly, but like sharks that have smelled blood, they began to target and repeatedly "lick" and strike the shadow barrier.
Each impact dimmed the light of the barrier over a large area, and the wizards responsible for that area fell like wheat being harvested.
Panic spread like wildfire both inside and outside the defenses.
The dark creatures let out desperate roars, squeezing their magic power even harder, and even began to burn their very essence.
The white wizards mixed in with them fell into even more complete chaos.
"Look! It's coming! We'll all die! We'll all become its nourishment!"
The half-elf screamed hysterically, almost breaking free of his restraints and rushing towards the barrier, but was forcibly held down by the shadow walker beside him.
Monet's face was deathly pale, his body trembling uncontrollably, but he gritted his teeth and poured his remaining magic into the node, hissing, "If you don't want to die now—then give it your all!"
Some young white wizards, who had previously displayed a twisted worshipful attitude, knelt on the ground, gazing at the magnificent yet terrifying pale presence outside the barrier. A morbid flush and piety appeared on their faces as they murmured, "He has come—He has come—accept us—"
On the verge of total collapse, the cracks within the White Wizard were magnified to the extreme.
The young wizards, kneeling and murmuring with pious expressions, seemed to have a strange, contagious quality to their whispers.
Amidst the deafening roar of the barrier and the brief screams of their companions before their deaths, this frantic thought of giving up resistance and even yearning to "integrate" actually caused some people whose minds had long been eroded by fear to waver.
"Maybe—he's right—"
A middle-aged witch had unfocused eyes, and her hand, which was channeling magic, trembled slightly.
"What's the point of resistance? In the end, we'll all be swallowed up—why not—why not just let it all end—"
"Shut up!"
Monet suddenly turned his head, his eyes bloodshot, his voice hoarse and distorted from the excessive consumption of magic and extreme mental tension.
"That's destruction! Utter annihilation! Wake up!"
"Sober? Soberly watching yourself burn like firewood?"
Another wizard who had originally supported Monet laughed bitterly, watching yet another node dim down due to the death of its host, the defensive line visibly shrinking.
"We can't hold on much longer! Mochamo's words are just comforting words! We—we're all going to die!"
Though suppressed by the Shadow Walkers, the half-elf let out a sharp, cold laugh: "See! This is the path you've chosen! Either be eaten now, or be disposed of by those shadow scum later! It makes no difference!"
Despair spread like venom among the surviving white wizards.
Some people gave up completely, collapsed to the ground, and waited for the end of the world to come.
Some people, with red eyes, began to scrutinize their companions with malicious glares, especially those they had argued with before, as if searching for an outlet to vent their hatred and fear.
Others subconsciously moved closer to the shadowy figures, seemingly trying to gain a false sense of security by doing so.
Suspicion and self-preservation overwhelmed the last shred of camaraderie.
Meanwhile, the pale flames outside stopped their attack at the last moment, and the face that had originally appeared as Ronker's suddenly turned into a completely unfamiliar face!
"Where am I??"
A bewildered voice came out of his mouth intermittently, but to the people of the Eternal Tower, the voice was as unfamiliar as that face.
"This is—the wizarding world?! Did we succeed—no—we failed—"
As he spoke, the eyes on that face grew clearer and clearer; clearly, He remembered!
"I can't believe it's already been 3000 years—haha, time really flies."
His voice was unmasked, but the message it conveyed sent a chill down everyone's spine.
It's important to know that the Tower of Eternity has only existed for a little over two thousand years!
This sudden turn of events plunged the already chaotic and desperate battlefield into an eerie stillness.
The pale flames ceased their attack, hovering silently in the air, and the destructive suction force vanished abruptly.
Inside and outside the barrier, only the aftershocks of the energy collision and the heavy, bewildered breathing of the survivors remained.
All eyes, whether on the dark side or on the white wizards caught in their infighting, were fixed on that unfamiliar face with suspicion and uncertainty.
The face was not the familiar one that Renkel could still recognize even when distorted, but rather a more ancient one.
Even more indifferent, with an inhuman sense of vicissitude in his appearance.
His gaze quickly shifted from initial confusion to clarity, even carrying a hint of scrutiny and—amusement?
"Three...three thousand years?"
Monet murmured incoherently, his grief and despair temporarily replaced by immense horror.
The half-elf also stopped struggling, his green eyes wide open, his previous anger and resolve frozen by a deeper, unknown chill. He murmured unconsciously, "Older than the Tower of Eternity? What—is it?"
The young white wizards who had been kneeling and murmuring, yearning to "integrate," were also stunned. The fanatical piety on their faces froze, turning into confusion and a hint of barely perceptible fear.
They worship the being that Ronker embodied, representing ultimate destruction and power, rather than this strange consciousness that suddenly appeared and exuded a completely different aura.
"fail?"
A faint voice broke the silence; it was the middle-aged witch whose eyes had been unfocused before. She seemed to have caught the word.
"What failed?"
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