The Fire of the Old Ones.
One of the defining characteristics of Raven is plunder.
Even in dreams.
It also allows Ian to plunder real power—yes, it's just that unreasonable. The characteristics brought by higher-dimensional life are as unsolvable as the corruption of Cthulhu, and even more domineering and unreasonable.
certainly.
Because his own strength was only Legend, it was quite difficult for Ian to wield this authority. However, he eventually succeeded in wielding it and began his plundering. No matter how difficult it was, it did not affect the fact that this authority did indeed work.
"Come here...!" Dark Tiga grunted. Maintaining this composite force field and forcibly "capturing" the Fire of the Old Ones consumed far more energy than he had imagined. Unstable energy ripples began to appear on his dark body.
But he gritted his teeth, his eyes gleaming with a wild and excited light!
"Eat!"
Ian suddenly slammed his arms together inward!
The force field vortex contracted rapidly, and the miniature spacetime rift suddenly closed like a bear trap!
"Puff!"
A soft sound.
That wisp of dark red " Fire of the Old Ones," imbued with the essence of the Great Old Ones, was successfully and forcibly "stripped" from Cthulhu's attack. Then, at the instant the spacetime rift closed, it was enveloped by the Power of the Raven and dragged into Dark Tiga's body. More precisely, it was dragged into the " Raven " imprint, which was closely connected to his soul and served as the core of his power!
"Ugh!!!"
An indescribable pain instantly engulfed Ian's entire body. Although the Fire of the Old Ones was only a wisp, its essence was too profound, and the information and will it contained were too ancient and insane. Even though it was enveloped by the Power of the Raven, the impact it brought was like pressing a red-hot iron directly into the deepest part of his soul! His Dark Tiga form trembled violently, and the dark energy on his body surface churned like boiling water, with the dark red stripes flickering erratically! It even began to transform into a deeper, more ominous dark purple!
The energy core on his chest was flashing wildly.
It's about to explode!
However, the consumption and absorption are indeed taking place!
"Aaaaaah!"
The moment the Fire of the Old Ones were "taken away," Cthulhu let out an unprecedented, furious, and incredulous scream, as if its most sensitive spot had been touched!
The entire dream interlayer completely collapsed under its rage!
It revealed the boundless, pure, insane abyss of darkness below! Countless even larger and more terrifying shadows writhed within it! As if something far more dreadful was being utterly awakened!
But Ian couldn't care less about any of that now.
He is waging the most dangerous tug-of-war with the last Fire of the Old Ones within him!
The Power of the Raven raged wildly, attempting to "digest," "transform," and "tame" it, while the Fire of the Old Ones retaliated fiercely, eroding and attempting to corrupt everything!
" Tiga is the true Dark Emperor!"
Ian uses fantasy to stabilize his perception.
It's not confrontation, it's not exclusion.
Rather, it was a kind of... instinctive "hunger".
Dark Tiga, how did he become the emperor of darkness? It wasn't just because of his power, but also because of his characteristic of transforming and devouring—turning the power of his enemies into his own.
What is the essence of this " Fire of the Old Ones "? It is the manifestation of Cthulhu's will and power in a dream, the purest and most primordial chaotic energy. While undeniably corrosive, its power is undeniable. When the instinct to "devour" encounters this ultimate, "powerful" energy... a miracle. "That's how I win!"
Ian felt the bone-chilling "sense of being wiped" suddenly pause for a moment, and then a completely different "sense of fullness," faint yet real, rose from the deepest part of his energy core. It was not a simple increase in power, but more like something completely new had been forcibly imprinted on the "blueprint" of his existence.
The nascent form of a "mark" that originally did not belong to him.
Cthulhu's will, the vast consciousness that permeated the entire dream, trembled violently. It was like someone enjoying warm water when suddenly being stung very lightly by a poisonous insect lurking at the bottom. It wasn't excruciating pain, but a shock and absurdity far exceeding that pain, followed by an eruption of fury from being wounded by an ant.
"How... could... this... be... possible...?!!"
An indescribable roar of will swept through the dream, the rotting flesh of stars fell in torrents, and the colossal rocks of R'lyeh trembled violently. It frantically urged the Fire of the Old Ones, unleashing even more flames and a more concentrated corrosive power, like a green tsunami of billions of tons, crashing towards the dark figure from all directions. It wanted to immediately, instantly, utterly crush this worm that dared, this insect that had actually managed to "steal" the essence of its power, into nothingness beyond nothingness. However, something even more enraging happened.
The Fire of the Old Ones, like a tsunami, engulfed Ian, but the anticipated complete assimilation did not occur. The dark figure flickered and shone in the flames powerful enough to incinerate stars, yet it never disappeared.
On the contrary, that initial, faint "sucking" sensation diminished after the first successful attempt.
It seems... I've gotten used to it.
The energy core of Dark Tiga, that dark vortex, spun a little faster. The Fire of the Old Ones that surged in continued their frenzied erosion, but at the same time, a small portion, upon contact with the front line, was always captured, torn apart, stripped of its will by a more domineering and greedy "darkness," and then swallowed up.
The speed is still very slow, negligible relative to the total amount of flames pouring in. But it is proceeding.
It is indeed underway.
"I knew it! Tiga is the one who fights Cthulhu! Ultraman never lies!"
Ian's consciousness was pulled back from the brink of dissipation by this newfound sense of "fulfillment," characterized by its coldness and frenzy. He "looked" at his energy core, where, against the originally pure, dark background, a tiny, flickering Mars of indescribable color had appeared. It didn't belong to him, yet it was undeniably under his "control," becoming part of his power, and was helping him "digest" more of its kind.
I believe this is Ultraman's reward.
The " Fantasy Anchor " that Ian chose triggered the deepest rule of its own existence when faced with this particular form of destructive energy.
The Dark Emperor, devouring and transforming everything.
Cthulhu's rage reached its boiling point. The dream began to churn. The phantom of R'lyeh melted, the stars screamed in agony. It couldn't understand, couldn't accept! This was its dream! Its domain! Its power! How dare a lowly, fleeting consciousness?! How dare it resist, even... steal it?!
"Aaaaaah!"
Fury fueled an even greater power.
No longer a simple flame, but the dream itself has begun to transform into a weapon. The folds of space become cutting blades, the fragments of time become corrosive poison, and the purely conceptual "madness" and "despair" coalesce into a tangible black rainstorm that pours down. It will stop at nothing to erase this anomaly.
But this is precisely what it has fallen into a deeper trap that it is unaware of.
The more power poured in, the higher the concentration of the Fire of the Old Ones became, forcing the initial, feeble adaptation process of Dark Tiga's core to accelerate. It was like a worm that could only digest small amounts of toxins being suddenly immersed in a sea of poison; it would either die instantly or... on the verge of death, evolve the corresponding digestive enzymes at an astonishing speed.
"I want more!"
Ian was enduring unspeakable pain. Every surge of power was torture to the very foundation of his being, and every wisp of the Fire of the Old Ones he absorbed was like swallowing molten iron into his soul.
But his "anchor point" was more solid than ever before.
The image of the Dark Emperor grew clearer in the midst of suffering—would an emperor succumb to power? An emperor only conquers power! Conquer, then possess! With unwavering resolve.
The absorption rate was passively and exponentially increasing. From a wisp, to a strand, and then to a small burst... In the core of darkness, the tiny Mars began to grow, becoming a cluster of flames. The color of the flames gradually stabilized, presenting a deep, dark green that seemed to contain infinite madness.
only.
At this moment, the dark green was confined within the framework of dark energy, pulsating obediently, becoming part of Ian's power, and even taking the initiative, beginning to more efficiently "prey" on the surrounding flames of the same origin.
"This can't be done!"
The Great Old Ones are also highly intelligent beings.
so.
They realized the situation was getting increasingly wrong.
Cthulhu finally felt fear.
It was a wake-up call that went beyond anger; it realized that the power it had poured out had not only failed to crush its opponent, but was like feeding a bottomless abyss.
The other party's absorption speed is getting faster and smoother.
Initially, it required a difficult process of peeling away the will, but now, the dark energy seems to have become familiar with the "taste" of the Fire of the Old Ones, and can even draw some nourishment from it to transform into a more condensed and powerful darkness.
The figure of the Giant.
Under the relentless onslaught of power, it not only did not dim but became even more solid, and dangerous dark green patterns began to flow within the eerie light on its surface.
The dark red glow of the color timer on his chest also carried a hint of eerie green.
This is an unsolvable loop.
It attacks, he absorbs. It is angry, he adapts. It is afraid... he grows.
There will come a moment.
The other party will completely devour you.
Cthulhu would absolutely not allow such a thing to happen.
then.
Cthulhu made his decision.
The dream will no longer be maintained.
This leads to a chain reaction.
"Clang clang clang~"
Dreams groaned under the strain of this struggle between the two.
The dream's boulder began to crumble, and the illusory starry sky was riddled with cracks. Ian could sense that the "Eternal Slumber" force, which bound Cthulhu's true form and formed the cornerstone of this dream, was becoming unstable due to the intense internal conflict and high-frequency energy output.
at the same time.
The Fire of the Old Ones within him had coalesced into streams, surging through the river of dark energy. A new, nascent "authority," transcending all his previous understanding, was taking shape deep within his soul.
That was the power of "erosion," "assimilation," and "chaos," yet he forcibly controlled it through "darkness," "devouring," and "order. "Ian was no longer merely passively absorbing; he began to actively "seize" it.
"A new Proof of Legend."
Dark Tiga raised his hand, palm facing the omnipresent, angry, and fearful will. A miniature vortex, interwoven with dark green and ghostly black, formed in his palm.
In an instant, the Fire of the Old Ones of the entire dream, as if iron filings had encountered a magnet, suddenly paused, and then began to surge uncontrollably towards that vortex like rivers flowing into the sea!
It's not erosion, it's plunder! It's devouring!
Ian didn't even leave Cthulhu a dream!
"Inconsistent!!!"
Cthulhu's will let out a deafening scream, a cry a mixture of extreme rage, boundless fear, and hysterical madness. It felt the power of its dream, the essence it had extended, being frantically drained! That insignificant being, that abominable thief! It actually wanted to... take everything from it?!
This exceeded its tolerance limit.
To remain asleep means the possibility of being completely drained, and even for this aberrant "digestor" to reach its true form through the connection of power—impossible! Absolutely not!
Just as Ian was about to absorb the last remaining Fire of the Old Ones in the dream, Cthulhu made his decision.
It chose to... force itself to wake up.
It wasn't a natural awakening, but rather a desperate break from that eternal slumber at the cost of tearing apart parts of its own dream essence and enduring immense backlash! "BOOM!!!!"
There was no sound, but a deafening crash more terrifying than any sound exploded in Ian's perception. The entire dream of Cthulhu was like a glass ball shattered by a hammer!
It instantly disintegrated!
"Crack, crack!" The dreamlike scene, everything, was transformed into billions of constantly spinning fragments, shimmering with a maddening hue! Space itself was collapsing, and the turbulent flow of time was like sharp shards of glass flying everywhere.
That immense, suffocating will of the Great Old Ones receded like the tide, rapidly shrinking and receding, carrying with it endless rage and pain. Ian, or rather, the form of Dark Tiga, could no longer maintain itself in the complete collapse of this dream. The Fantasy Anchor faded rapidly after losing its target and environment.
"Damn it! I haven't devoured enough yet! This is what I deserve! I've suffered for so long before this is my time to reap the rewards! Don't be so ungrateful, you alien monster!"
Ian cursed. He was gripped by an irresistible sense of being thrown off balance, plummeting violently from the shattering, disappearing dimensional rift. "Can't take it!! Damn it! Can't accept defeat!"
Ian felt as if he had passed through a long tunnel of screams and chaotic colors, and the next moment a heavy feeling returned. A cold, hard touch, carrying the smell of the sea and ancient dust, came from beneath him.
He suddenly opened his eyes.
It was no longer the perspective of Dark Tiga. It was the eyes of a human. What he saw was a damp, black, massive stone ceiling covered with strange, non-Euclidean geometric reliefs, extremely high and distant, shrouded in a thick, almost living green mist. Beneath him was the same material of the ground, with sticky liquid seeping from the cracks. He had returned. He had returned to his real body.
Moreover, he wasn't in that mysterious space—that space had collapsed—he was in R'lyeh, the sunken city, somewhere in the place where Cthulhu slumbered.
A violent wave of dizziness and exhaustion washed over me, as if my soul had been torn apart and then brutally stitched back together.
But then, a completely new, violent power, yet deeply imprinted with his personal mark, erupted from the very depths of his soul! Buzz
An invisible wave emanated from him, causing the surrounding rubble to rustle. That was undeniable authority, gestating within Ian's body. The system.
A reminder was also issued again.