The Final Battle Begins

Silent Corridor, Soundless Land. Countless musical note-shaped runes, like luminous, translucent seashells under the sunlight, surged and rolled in waves, propelled by the tides of energy. At the very center of these runes, a tall, slender figure sat quietly in meditation. In a sudden instant, the figure opened his eyes, and seven complex Sound Rune, radiating iridescent light, emerged from his mouth. He rose from the tide of runes, shaking off the crystalline light that covered him. "How much time has passed?" Ronan murmured to himself, sensing the vast amount of knowledge about sound magic that had suddenly appeared in his mind. He had inherited all seven Sound Rune representing the core inheritance of the Echoes of the Past. Now, he could be considered the sole inheritor of the will of the Echoes of the Past. If Ronan wished, he could establish a school of sound magic at any time. Of course, before the problem of the Silence Calamity was completely resolved, doing so would most likely still not prevent him from suffering the same fate as the Echoes of the Past. Ronan checked his Character Panel and calculated that about half a year had passed since he entered this Land of Lost Sound. In the past six months, Ronan had comprehended about two-thirds of the first of the seven core inheritance runes of Echoes of the Past. "That should be enough," Ronan thought, naturally entering the state of [Ancient Mara Body]. Amidst the sounds of bones being swallowed and flesh tearing and growing, Ronan's originally tall body rapidly grew taller, becoming robust and imposing. When his demonic body, over three meters tall and approaching four meters, was fully unfurled, the dark red Dead Sea silently appeared beneath his feet. Ronan lowered his gaze, Sound Rune around him surged towards him. The fluctuations of sound seemed to resonate strangely with the Dead Sea, causing the silent Dead Sea to ripple slightly, with concentric circles spreading across its surface. Within each ripple, dark red strands of Spirit Force swayed and grew. Ronan, amidst the surge of sound, gradually constructed his own Demon Conch Palace. Nineteenth, twentieth, twenty-first. Nine years ago, his [Spiral Palace] had already reached the eighteenth level. Nine years of tempering in the lava of the Fire Leaving Realm, and the fusion of the bloodlines of the Undying Bird and the Primordial Frost Whale, had increased the strength of his physical body many times over. Now, the continued rise of the [Spiral Palace] was as easy and natural as water flowing into a channel. As time passed, more and more Dark Red Threads grew in the Dead Sea, and Ronan's demonic body became increasingly majestic. The bloodstains on his [Innocent Body] showed signs of merging and piecing together during this process, like a broken ancient totem slowly being reassembled. A faint dark red halo emanated from Ronan's skin. As the [Spiral Palace] continued to rise and the threads of his Spirit Force increased, this halo gradually expanded, eventually forming a dense dark red circle, like a gravitational halo surrounding a meteorite. The surrounding void and the Dead Sea twisted and collapsed. "Crack—" As the [Spiral Palace] grew to its thirty-second level, Ronan's demonic body officially broke through the five-meter mark. He opened his eyes amidst a thick, dark red aura, his terrifying aura instantly dispelling everything around him. Bloodstains covered his body in streaks, making him resemble an ancient and terrifying flesh-and-blood mech awakening from its slumber. "Hoo—" Ronan exhaled softly, spitting out another rune. Unlike the seven prismatic runes that always surrounded him, this rune was a deep, obscure black. This was the latter half of the [Spiral Palace], the other half of the rune Ronan had obtained from the Comb-boned Demon Snail, also related to sound magic, which he named [Doomsday Sound]. When the [Doomsday Sound] rune appeared, it disappeared into Ronan's brow along with the seven prismatic runes. In his eyes, countless lines of light seemed to be rapidly recombining, a brand new rune being born. The sound waves surrounding Ronan also disappeared into the Dead Sea beneath his feet at this moment. In an instant, countless strands of Spirit Force growing from the Dead Sea began to converge upwards, Itai flowed from beneath Ronan, weaving together with the strands of Spirit Force in mid-air to form the outline of a colossal object. Ronan narrowed his eyes, watching the massive object take shape, his emotions surging like the Dead Sea itself. From the moment he came into contact with the seven core runes of the Echoes of the Past, Ronan already knew the true purpose of the Prophet Eve bringing him here. The way to guide the Power of the Dead Sea was also through sound, just like the secret technique he had initially comprehended—[The [Demon God Dead Sea Grief Cry]]. He had known this for a long time, but had never had the time to delve into it. The Prophet Eve had shown him a shortcut: the legacy of the Echoes of the Past, which would become a powerful key for Ronan to officially unlock the Power of the Dead Sea! As time passed, a large bell composed of Itai and strands of Spirit Force finally took shape. Its dark gold color was like Itai, and its overall shape resembled an inverted teardrop. The bell's rim was Keen Edge serrated, and three withered finger bones interlocked at the knob, the links engraved with deep red runes resembling the names of the dead. Twisted thorns formed the support of the entire bell, and a misty red light swirled around its body, like a blood-stained shroud. Countless dark red lights flowed across the bell, condensing on its surface into twisted, agonizing, and wailing faces of despair. "It's done." Ronan's eyes flickered, and a new rune, similar to the [Doomsday Sound] yet incorporating the Echoes of the Past's legacy, flashed past deep within his pupils. His flesh-and-blood mecha-like demonic body abruptly rose from the churning Dead Sea, instantly appearing before the death knell, and then slammed a powerful punch into its surface. The inverted teardrop-shaped death knell swayed slightly, without uttering a sound. The next second, however, a dense, almost tangible, deep red halo suddenly expanded out. In an instant, it vanished without a trace. In this desolate, Land of Lost Sound, a destructive force erupted. A crimson halo rapidly expanded, its passage unleashing a sonic boom that seemed to annihilate everything in its path. In the dark sky, a shadow deeper than Black Night was torn apart by the purple light. Anglie stumbled out of the shadows, the shattered pieces returning to his robes like a cloak. "Cough cough—" Anglie coughed lightly, a slightly unnatural flush appearing on his pale face. He squinted, gazing into the distance, where countless purple lights shot out like sharp blades, like a deep purple star rapidly rising. Terrifying power spread like a storm, dispersing the turbidity of the sky, like a blooming, all-purifying purple mushroom cloud. "Bullshit," Anglie spat, seemingly disdainful of the presence within the purple light. He turned and gazed in a certain direction, murmuring softly, "Ronan, it's up to you now..." With that, Anglie transformed into a beam of black light and vanished into the sky in an instant. The deep purple mushroom cloud slowly dissipated, and within the intense purple light swirling like a nebula, a figure emerged. The figure's features were indistinct, only a pair of deep, brilliant eyes, as vast as the starry sky, were discernible. The owner of those eyes glanced in the direction Anglie had gone, then looked away. He looked down at his right hand, where countless purple lights flickered and shimmered, as if a small patch of galaxy had been condensed within it. "Myriad Laws Unification. Cersei, I will make them all come to join you." The figure took a step forward, endless purple light emanating from his body. Wherever the purple light passed, the murky mist and monsters lingering in the sky dissolved. "Don't kill me, don't kill me! Please, Serena, no matter what, I'm still your brother!" In the ruins, a middle-aged man with a full head of blond hair knelt on the ground like a dog, pleading incessantly. Suddenly, a spear that seemed to be carved from an emerald rapidly enlarged in his eyes. The man's body trembled, and before he could react, the spear pierced his brow. He froze on the spot, his lips twitching, his eyes filled with boundless resentment and malice. "You wretched wretch!" "Pfft—" The emerald spear was pulled from the man's head, bringing with it a spray of murky, viscous fluid. A twisted, grotesque soul was torn apart by the arc of light emanating from the spear. Serena grabbed the spear and casually wiped the tip across the man's corpse. Around her lay the bodies of wizards and monsters, frozen or torn apart by green crystals. Serena herself was also wounded; her long hair was soaked with sweat, her armor was covered in spell and weapon scratches, and her cloak was tattered, yet her eyes held an unprecedented calm and resolve. After wiping the spear, Serena gently removed a platinum pendant, roughly cross-shaped, from her neck. She closed her eyes, silently facing the man's corpse for a few seconds, then used the sharp edge of the pendant to cut her palm, scattering the pendant and her blood onto the man's body. Instantly, the man's magnificent armor began to glow, then crumbled into streaks of platinum light that flowed into Serena's body. With the infusion of this power, the damaged parts of Serena's armor rapidly repaired themselves, and the patterns and runes on it began to develop in a more complex and advanced direction. Her figure gradually levitated off the ground, her entire body enveloped in a transparent and holy green light, within which the phantom of the World Tree seemed to be constantly growing. This process continued until Serena, bathed in the green light, was "awakened" by a fluctuation. She suddenly opened her eyes and slowly extinguished the faint light flickering on the surface of a Communication Stone in her hand. "Has it begun?" Serena murmured to herself. The next second, she transformed into a deep green shooting star, rapidly shooting into the sky and disappearing. At the edge of the enormous canyon, the power of magic pulled the rocks to form towering walls. Floating airships shimmering with Light of Runes swam like schools of fish in the sky above the battlefield. Countless deformed and ugly monsters surged out of the sky and the canyon's fissures like a tide, constantly rushing towards the edge of the high walls. The chanting of spells mingled with the deafening roar of explosions, the airship hummed and vibrated, and streaks of multicolored light raged across the sky, showering down wave after wave of blood and flesh. Groups of indistinct black-robed figures hid within the sea of monsters. Wherever they gathered, a giant spore-like nest sat—a bizarre nest that functioned as a tireless monster-making machine. With the constant chanting and the input of various flesh and blood materials from these black-robed figures, a continuous stream of bat-like monsters with membranous wings, multi-headed flying lizards with one horn, and strange black moths sprang forth, constantly expanding the monster army. "Boom!" Across the canyon, a section of the magical wall suddenly collapsed. In an instant, countless ferocious monsters swarmed forward, unleashing a storm of blood and screams. A deluge of spells, shimmering with multicolored light, rained down, tearing countless monsters to shreds, yet still unable to stop the breach in the defensive line from being mercilessly opened and magnified. Just then, a colossal treant with countless golden tentacles suddenly appeared from behind the defensive line. Its massive body, like a thick golden wall, firmly blocked the gap in the defense. Every tentacle it wielded unleashed a violently turbulent wave of magic, tearing apart and crushing countless monsters in its wake. "The Tree of Abundance!" "It's Dolyn, the Tree of Abundance!" A surviving wizard shouted excitedly from the now-stabilized defensive line. Beneath the colossal golden treant's form, a figure gradually emerged. It was an old man dressed in a magnificent white-gold robe, wearing a golden hairband, and holding a golden tree-root staff, exuding an aura of long-held nobility and majesty. The old man's appearance instantly stabilized the previously precarious situation. The call to counterattack sounded from every city wall, and a torrential downpour of spells swiftly annihilated the monster hordes in the sky and on the ground. Nest after nest was destroyed, and the Alliance wizards were beginning to show signs of a counterattack. Just as the situation seemed to be going very well, and some were already prematurely celebrating victory, suddenly, a silvery-white, jagged horizontal line appeared inexplicably in the sky. The line extended rapidly, and many noticed this strange phenomenon. When the jagged line had extended to almost two-thirds of the defensive line, the magnificent wizard Dolyn, who had previously appeared and turned the tide, suddenly changed his expression drastically. "Not good!" His lips trembled as he rapidly chanted a spell. But before he could even complete a full spell, the strange horizontal line quickly expanded upwards and downwards. In an instant, an indescribably terrifying maw appeared out of nowhere between heaven and earth. "Crunch—" With a single bite, the colossal golden treant avatar spanning the canyon and the ornately dressed wizard Dolyn were swallowed whole. Only two bloody legs remained standing in their original positions. "Crunch!" The giant maw opened and closed again, devouring the remaining legs as well. Then, with several more bites, it gnawed at the city wall like a cookie, instantly shattering the entire formidable defensive line. Amidst the shocked and astonished gazes of the many wizards, the lurking monster horde returned, tearing apart the massive defensive line in the blink of an eye, and then rapidly engulfing it. Amidst the crashing of Magic Airship, the collapse of runic spell towers, the explosions of spells, and the screams of the dying, a figure silently appeared from the sky. Bald, red-eyed Gorini, with silver dragon tattoos on his neck and cheeks, wiped his mouth with satisfaction as he muttered to himself, "Cooperating with these lunatics was definitely the wisest decision I've ever made. Following the usual path wouldn't have allowed me to recover to level seven so quickly. After a few more level sevens, I can probably try to retrieve the other sealed body parts one by one." With that, Gorini let out a short burp and then flew off in a satisfied direction.