The battle was extremely fierce.
"~, the Faceless Wizard's scepter turned slightly, and the power of his petrifying gaze began to sweep among the many phantoms. The phantoms that were swept away burst like bubbles, but new phantoms were generated elsewhere. Saruman's true form, under the cover of the phantoms, constantly changed positions, while searching for the opponent's weakness."
Its core power lies in its "eyeball"!
Saruman shouted to Karg through the mental link.
Karg understood immediately.
In the instant his petrified gaze was once again lured away by the illusion, he moved. The warrior, like a cheetah poised for action, charged towards the faceless Wizard.
Perhaps because the pollution had been significantly reduced and he had consumed many precious potions, he moved with incredible speed, his giant shield protecting him as he transformed into a steel whirlwind.
"Clang clang clang~"
The faceless Wizard seemed to sense the threat and turned his scepter towards Karg.
The viscous petrified force field enveloped the area once again.
Karg's charge suddenly slowed, his legs seemed to sink into an invisible swamp, and grayish-white stone spots even began to appear on his skin.
"Now!" Saruman seized the moment when the opponent's attention was drawn, and all the illusions vanished at the same time.
His true form appeared to the side and rear of the Faceless Wizard, a point of extreme arcane radiance gathering at the tip of his staff—not a powerful destructive energy, but a highly compressed " Magic Power disintegration ray."
Whoosh!
The slender ray struck precisely the amber "eye" at the top of the scepter.
With a sharp crack, spiderweb-like cracks appeared on the eyeball. The petrifying force field that had permeated the hall receded like a tide.
Saruman, panting, dispelled the spell. Karg also shook his head, the stone spots on his skin slowly fading. They had won this Wizard war again.
As always, the costs are enormous.
but.
It's not that there are no differences at all.
"This place is clearly different from before." The corridor had returned to its original state, as if the hall from before had never existed. But the invisible pressure and Lina's increasingly painful groans reminded them that the crisis was far from over.
"Is the exit somewhere nearby?" Karg silently picked up Lina again. The black lines on his arm seemed to have spread downwards by another finger width during the struggle against the petrifying power. Saruman caught a glimpse of those lines, and a deeper shadow fell over his heart.
It's obvious.
Karg's idea was still too naive.
Saruman hadn't expected this either.
They were still wandering through the corridor.
The brief victory brought no hope, but instead made the Infinite Corridor even more eerie. Lina's condition worsened; her babbling turned into intermittent, seemingly deep-sea ballads, their ancient and blasphemous tones sending chills down the spines of those who heard them. The scales' coverage expanded.
An abnormal pearly white tinge began to appear around the edges of her eyelids.
Karg continued to carry her silently, but his breathing was noticeably heavier.
"Even with my current abilities, I can't help you suppress the pollution for long. Damn it, could the guy who created this place be more than just Legend?!"
Saruman noticed that a hint of suppressed pain occasionally flashed across his comrade's resolute face. The black lines on his arms and even his neck meandered and spread like living things, their color deepening as if soaked in ink. This was not only due to physical exhaustion but also some kind of pollution from the depths of the corridor.
Or rather, it's the erosion from the source of pollution within Lina.
" Karg, your condition—" Saruman couldn't help but ask, his voice hoarse.
"I'm fine, save Lina first. We must save her!" Karg interrupted him, his tone still firm, but the slight tremor did not escape the Wizard's ears.
Just then, the corridor changed again. The eerie carvings on the walls on both sides seemed to come alive, twisting and rotating, guiding the structure of the space. The path beneath their feet softened and became damp, and the salty smell of the sea in the air was so strong it was nauseating. The low hum that had always been there gradually coalesced into a grand hymn, as if billions of people were chanting underwater—or rather, a nightmare.
The path ahead was no longer a passage, but a sudden, boundless pool of black water.
In the center of the pool sat a figure. He wore a robe made of seaweed, coral, and broken ship planks, his exposed skin showing the bloating and bluish-gray hue of a drowned person. In his hand, instead of a staff, he held a book made of some kind of enormous scales. His lips moved silently, and the grand, maddening hymn originated from him.
"The Singer of the Tides—" Saruman's face paled as he recognized the being from the ancient records. This was a legend far more terrifying than the Faceless Wizard and others from before.
Characters that should only exist in fairy tales.
"Aaaaaaah~"
The other person is chanting.
The nightmare hymn flooded my mind, stirring my reason like cold tentacles.
"Damn it! He's become the glorifier of the unknowable creatures slumbering in this place!" Saruman felt a wave of dizziness; countless visions appeared before his eyes: a sunken city, dancing tentacles, enormous shadows slumbering beneath the abyss. He had to concentrate all his senses to barely stay conscious.
Karg was affected more directly.
"Pfft~" He groaned, kneeling on one knee, Lina almost slipping off his back. The black lines on his arms and neck suddenly emitted a dark light, throbbing violently as if echoing the nightmare. Pain was clearly written on his face, the torment of his flesh and spirit being eroded.
"Hold your spirits, Karg!" Saruman roared, trying to awaken his comrades with his voice. He slammed his staff on the ground, casting "Mental Barrier" to try and block out the nightmare. But this barrier, faced with such a powerful Mental Shock, was like a plank in a storm, teetering on the brink of collapse.
The Tide Singer in the center of the pool slowly raised his head. He had no eyes, only two swirling black vortexes in his eye sockets. The scale book in his hand moved without wind, and as it turned, the black pool boiled, and several tentacles made of murky seawater with suckers suddenly stretched out and grabbed at Saruman and Karg.
Saruman waved his staff, firing several arcane missiles to disperse the tentacles that were attacking him. But more tentacles wrapped around Karg and Lina.
"Get out of my way!" Karg roared like a wounded beast, enduring the burning pain from the black markings as he swung his sword to sever several tentacles. But his movements were noticeably slow, and each exertion of force only made the black markings glow brighter.
Saruman knew that if things continued this way, they would all be dragged into madness and then swallowed by this filthy water. The source of the nightmare had to be stopped! He looked at the scaly book, which was undoubtedly the core of the power.
" Karg! Cover me!" Saruman shouted resolutely. He abandoned maintaining the fragile mental barrier and instead poured all his Magic Power into his staff. He began to chant a complex and dangerous incantation, preparing to cast a powerful single-target disintegration spell.
The Tide Chanter seemed to sense the threat; the pitch of its nightmare suddenly rose, becoming sharper and more piercing. More tentacles surged from the pool, and at the same time, a thick, mentally toxic mist began to rise from the murky surface.
Karg gritted his teeth, stood before Saruman, and plunged his massive shield into the ground, using his body to form the last line of defense. Tentacles lashed against his shield and armor, producing dull thuds. Black lines had spread to his jaw, and with each block, he let out a suppressed groan of pain, but he did not retreat an inch.
Saruman's incantation reached its crucial moment, and a terrifying energy light gathered at the tip of his staff. Just then, an exceptionally thick tentacle bypassed Karg's defenses and pierced straight for Saruman's back!
At the critical moment, Karg suddenly turned to the side, using his shoulder (the one not holding the shield) to ram the tentacle away, but another tentacle lashed out at his ribs. The sound of his armor shattering was clearly audible, and Karg spat out a mouthful of blood, which even had an ominous dark tinge.
"Disintegrate!" Saruman's incantation was finally complete. A slender green ray, like the fingertip of Death, pierced through tentacles and mist, striking precisely the scale book in the Tide Singer's hand.
There was no loud noise, only a faint hum of matter being completely decomposed and reduced to nothingness. The scale-like book instantly transformed into the most basic particles and vanished.
The grand, tragic dirge came to an abrupt end.
The Tide Singer let out a silent shriek, and his body, like a melting wax figure, along with the black pool, rapidly evaporated and vanished. The corridor returned to its original state, leaving only a mess on the ground and a lingering stench in the air.
The battle is over.
Saruman stumbled, his Magic Power almost completely depleted. He immediately looked at Karg.
The soldier knelt on the ground.
The greatsword was stuck to his side, supporting his body. He lowered his head, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his ribs and the corners of his mouth. But what was most chilling was the dense black markings on his body.
They were no longer merely spreading, but rather wriggling beneath his skin as if they possessed a life of their own, their black color gleaming as if connected to some endless abyss of darkness. Karg's entire face was contorted with extreme pain, sweat mingling with blood as it dripped onto the cold ground.
Young Saruman rushed over, grabbed his comrade's shoulder, his eyes filled with shock, fear, and helplessness. " Karg— "
The scenes of memory are frozen, blurred, and eventually fade away like a faded oil painting.
The azure magical light receded from his fingertips, and the blind Saruman —now clad in pristine White Robe, yet no longer able to see any color—silently "gazed" at the void. His wrinkled face was expressionless, as if the harrowing memory he had just experienced was irrelevant to him.
But in that endless dark realm, all he "saw" was the last memory of Karg's face, contorted in agony by the worsening pollution, and the black lines that writhed like living things, devouring the hero's life. In that silent memory, a barely audible sigh seemed to rise.
It has vanished into the dust of history.
The Wizard's Tower, a thousand years later, stands as silent as a tomb.
The eerie blue light emanating from the blind Saruman's fingertips had faded, leaving only the dust of memories drifting silently in the air. Those memories of the corridors, the battles, and the pollution were so heavy that they seemed to freeze Time Itself.
The Black Robed Woman stood in the shadows, like a silent silhouette. His gaze, hidden beneath his hood (if he had eyes), was perhaps fixed intently on his powerful teacher, who had forever lost his sight. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice hoarse, breaking the suffocating stillness. "They—they all died in that ruin, didn't they? The warrior Karg, and that corrupted Lina."
The problem hits the nail on the head, like a dagger chilled to the bone.
Saruman's weathered heart, long accustomed to hiding behind a mask of wisdom and power, seemed to contract slightly at the question. He remained silent for a moment, his wrinkled face expressionless, but his withered fingers resting on his knees twitched almost imperceptibly. Finally, he slowly nodded, the movement so subtle as if afraid of disturbing something.
"Yes," his voice was hoarser than usual, like worn sandpaper, "They all failed to leave. But—not at the moment I just showed you."
He paused, his empty eye sockets "gazing" in the direction of the Black Robed Woman, yet it seemed to pierce through him, landing on a more distant past that existed only in his dark vision.
"Let me—slowly catch my breath." The old Wizard's voice held a rare hint of weariness, not physical exhaustion, but a weariness that stemmed from the depths of his soul. "I will continue to tell you everything, everything. After all, now that things have come to this, there's no need to hide them anymore."
Upon hearing this, the Black Robed Woman seemed to stiffen for a moment. The shadow of the hood perfectly concealed all his expressions, only his next words, tinged with a strange tremor, betrayed a certain emotion. "Teacher—you already know?"
Do you know why I keep asking these questions? Do you know what I'm truly trying to find out? Do you also know why I'm no longer worried about being tainted by your memories?
This is actually the Black Robed Woman's true feeling.
You can sense it even without Mind Reading.
I'm just afraid.
Saruman did not respond. His blind eyes seemed to see through all illusions, simply gazing silently at the student's face hidden in the shadows. Silence fell once more within the tower, a tacit, undercurrent-filled silence. Past and present intertwined eerily in this silence.
After a long while, Saruman gently waved his hand, the gesture carrying a resigned resolve. At his fingertips, a pale blue magical light shone again, fainter than before, yet more stubborn, like a candle flickering in the wind, determined to burn out the last bit of wax for the truth.
"Keep watching—" he whispered, and the scroll of memory unfolded once more in the void. The young Saruman knelt on the cold ground, Karg's heavy body leaning against him.
The soldier's breathing was weak and hot, each inhale accompanied by a hissing sound of blood and foam. The most terrifying thing was not the wound on his ribs, but the black lines that covered his torso, limbs, and even neck.
They are no longer just patterns, but more like living, wriggling worms of darkness, burrowing and spreading beneath his skin, sucking away his life and sanity.
"I can't go on, I'm going to die." Karg's face was contorted with pain, his jaw clenched, sweat and blood mingling and soaking his disheveled hair.
at this time.
This mighty warrior's life was now as fragile as a candle flickering in the wind.