Karg processed the information.
He gazed towards the lake, once their gateway to power and knowledge, now perhaps a burial ground for countless secrets and terrors. And the " Raven " stood alone in the deepest recesses of that abyss, facing the monster that had nearly destroyed them with a mere glimpse. Silence descended upon the three, broken only by the rustling of the jungle. The relief of surviving the ordeal gradually settled, replaced by a heavy, oppressive sense of helplessness and awe at the battle—a battle they could neither imagine nor intervene in—that took place in an unknowable dimension. "He will win," Saruman suddenly spoke again, breaking the silence.
The prematurely aged young Wizard's voice was not loud, but unusually firm, as if he were convincing himself, or as if he were declaring an impending fact. He turned his head to look at Karg and Lina, his dim yellow eyes gleaming in the night with a kind of world-weary yet unwavering light.
"Why... are you so sure?" Karg couldn't help but ask, even though deep down he hoped it was true.
Saruman gazed at the night sky, as if contemplating some Destiny that transcends the stars, and spoke slowly, each word like a tapping sound in the silent night:
"Because..."
"He's Raven."
"A messenger hovering between end and beginning, the only clear silhouette in the chaotic darkness."
"It is both the burial of the past and the raven that heralds the new dawn."
His voice carried an ancient rhythm, as if he were reciting Prophecy from a lost era.
"If Destiny truly has an end, then the one standing at the end will surely be Chi."
"Therefore, facing that ancient nightmare that has crawled out from its slumber..."
Saruman withdrew his gaze and turned it back to the lifeless lake, his tone resolute and brooking no argument:
"Chi will definitely win."
"After all"
"The pond is the End of All Things, the Raven at the end of Destiny."
As soon as she finished speaking, the jungle seemed to fall silent for a moment. Lina clasped her hands together in front of her chest, lowered her head, and prayed silently. A faint, cool, yet reassuring pulse emanated from the mark on her chest.
"Indeed! Just because he saved us, I must believe in him!"
Karg clenched his fists, then finally lowered his head, offering his simplest faith to the unknown battlefield and to the " Ancient Supreme " who had saved them.
And the soldiers' respect and prayers.
They survived because of the Raven's wings.
At this moment, the wings that shroud Destiny are waging a decisive battle against the oldest nightmare in the deepest darkness of R'lyeh. Whether the prayers from beyond dimensions, like faint starlight, can pierce through the endless madness and darkness and add a sliver of hope for the Raven of the end, no one knows.
All we can do is wait.
"Come on, show me, Cthulhu, let me see your wrath." The wisp of dark green flame at Ian's fingertip faintly reflected his completely different state of mind and appearance at this moment.
The Fantasy Anchor that belonged to the "Dark Emperor" faded away the moment he left the dream and returned to reality, receding like the tide and sinking into the deepest part of his soul.
It becomes a latent quality and source of power, but no longer manifests as a concrete form.
Standing atop the crumbling ruins of R'lyeh is Ian Prince, a Legendary Wizard who emerged from Hogwarts, endured trials, and seized power on the brink of madness to ascend to the highest ranks.
He was no longer clad in the dark and imposing armor of Giant.
Instead, he wore a slightly tattered but still neat dark travel robe, the edges of which were embroidered with fine, almost imperceptible Mithril threads interwoven with the Hogwarts four house crests.
The weapon he held was not a dark blade of light, but an ancient-looking wand with a wood grain that seemed to flow with starlight— the Elder Wand.
This was an extension of his own Magic Power and will, and even more so, a bond between him and his homeland, a world full of "fairy tales" and "possibilities." At this moment, Ian's face still bore the weariness of the dream contest and the rosy glow brought by the devouring of the Fire of the Old Ones, but his eyes had regained the clarity and determination of the indomitable will of a Hogwarts Wizard.
"Boom! Boom!"
Ahead, Cthulhu's true form is rising fully from its slumbering Palace.
The scene transcended the limits of any linguistic description. It was not simply "huge," but its very existence distorted the scale and logic of observation.
Covered in slippery scales and viscous seaweed, its body, seemingly a mixture of rotting flesh and jagged rocks, filled the distant view like a moving, blasphemous mountain range. Countless tentacles, as thick as ancient trees and covered with suckers and wart-like protrusions, spread out from beneath it.
Some of the dark green seawater was stirred up, creating terrifying whirlpools that connected heaven and earth.
Some swayed slowly in the air, each wriggling tearing open the membrane of space to reveal the briefly flickering, chaotic void behind them, filled with a maddening hue.
The enormous wings, folded behind him and seemingly stitched together from rotting leather and bat wing membranes, were not yet fully unfurled, but their shadows already enveloped most of the collapsing R'lyeh City, echoing with the dying cries of countless beings and blasphemous hymns. The most terrifying and soul-chilling scene was the "head" atop this nightmarish creation.
The humanoid outline was blurry and distorted, with indescribable fleshy tentacles twitching around its mouthparts, and above, two eerie green "eyes" burning with cold, malevolent flames.
Like a malevolent star rising from the deepest abyss of the universe.
He was staring intently at Ian. His gaze no longer held only the rage of his dream and hatred for his stolen power, but also a cold, probing intent towards an "anomaly," and... a barely perceptible greed, as if he had discovered some rare "prey" or "delicacy." "No... Master..."
A thought, indescribable by sound, struck directly at the soul level; it was heavy, sticky, and filled with the madness and arrogance accumulated over millions of years.
"Thief... Thief of Flame... Your soul... radiates... a strange light... not pure chaos... nor perfect order... but... a contradictory... sweet... scent of hope?" Cthulhu, though lacking human language, possesses its own. Ian, now Great Old Ones, can understand it.
therefore.
Upon hearing this...
"What does that mean??" Ian was immediately shaken, not by the pressure of the other party's will, but by the information revealed in those words.
"The taste of hope"?
Why would Cthulhu, the ancient god symbolizing ultimate chaos and madness, feel a "sweet" greed for the qualities in his soul that came from Hogwarts and that fairytale world?
There was no time to think it through; the attack had already begun.
The thickest tentacle, its surface flowing with a viscous, foul-smelling fluorescent fluid, struck Silencio from the side like a collapsing pillar of heaven, with a bizarre speed and angle that defied the laws of physics!
"Whoosh! Whoosh!" Before the tentacles even arrived, the sheer physical force they carried caused the air around Ian to explode, and the space around him to slightly cave in. Even more terrifying was the mental pollution emanating from the tentacles themselves; an intense, almost tangible despair and madness attempted to directly flood his mind. " Protego! Maima!"
Ian swiftly tapped his wand, the spell short and powerful. It wasn't just a simple Shield Charm, but a super version enhanced with Legend Magic Power and infused with his understanding of the Laws of Protection.
A semi-transparent spherical shield, its surface shimmering with intricate Ancient Runes and subtle dark green fire patterns, instantly enveloped him. The passive enhancement of the Authority of the Old Ones further improved his ability to deal with Cthulhu.
"Boom!!!"
The tentacle slammed into the shield. An indescribable roar exploded, the shield shook violently, the Ancient Runes flickered wildly, and spiderweb-like cracks even appeared on its surface, but it ultimately did not shatter.
"You're quite strong!"
Ian swayed slightly, his face paling even more, but he didn't retreat a single step.
He clearly felt that the shield not only withstood the physical impact, but also instantly "digested" and "deflected" the large amount of mental pollution attached to it.
This is thanks to the [ Fire of the Old Ones ] authority's certain resistance and understanding of forces of the same origin.
"Not enough!"
Cthulhu's attack didn't stop there. Almost simultaneously with the twitching of its tentacles, a dense, dark green aura spewed from its enormous, writhing mouthparts.
That wasn't poison gas, but a highly concentrated "essence of madness." Wherever it passed, the ruins of R'lyeh twisted and softened, like melting candles, then sprouted eyes and mouths, emitting shrill, mournful laughs. This aura ignored physical barriers, penetrating directly through space! It eroded Ian's soul.
"Chaos is not your privilege!" Ian's eyes sharpened, and his wand drew a complex arc in front of him, not for defense, but for guidance. The 37% of the Authority of the Old Ones within him was actively activated, and he raised his palm upward.
"With stolen fire, build a wall of order—a reversal of chaos!" In his palm, the dark green flame suddenly expanded, transforming into a rotating force.
A circular shield of flames, jet black in the center and dark green at the edges.
"Sizzle!"
The dark green, frenzied energy crashed into the round shield, but instead of exploding, it was like ice and snow thrown into a furnace, being frantically devoured, torn apart, and transformed by the dark green flames!
The dark green on the round shield intensified, even absorbing some of the "tamed" madness, thus strengthening itself. Ian felt the integrity of the authority had increased by a barely perceptible fraction of a percent, and at the same time, his understanding of Cthulhu's form of power deepened. "Ah! So awesome! Hehehehe!"
Ian smiled like Voldemort.
This is the domineering nature of the [ Fire of the Old Ones ], and one of Ian's greatest strengths in daring to confront Cthulhu's true form—it can not only defend against the erosion of the same origin.
It can also be transformed into resources for personal growth.
Of course, this transformation has its limits and risks. Excessive absorption of chaotic essence far beyond control could still lead to its own collapse, but Cthulhu clearly does not possess that power now.
After all, it was a forced awakening.
Less than one-tenth of their strength remained.
"Paradox: Anchoring of Existence!"
Without pausing, Ian cast another spell while holding off the second wave of attacks. This wasn't an attack, but rather a reinforcement of his own existence.
One of the core insights from his Legendary Path— the law of "paradox"—has come to light.
An invisible wave emanated from him, as if establishing an absolute "point" around him.
Ian exists here and now. The blurring of past and future, the erosion of chaotic order, all encounter a kind of logical rejection and negation when they touch this "point".
This is not invincible.
This greatly enhanced his "stability" in the face of Cthulhu, an entity capable of distorting reality and illusion. A more pronounced fluctuation emanated from Cthulhu's consciousness; that chilling greed seemed to intensify. "Contradiction... paradox... an interesting toy... but your 'hope'... that light... makes me crave it even more..."
It didn't seem to be in a hurry to crush Ian immediately; instead, it seemed to be observing, savoring, or even... tempting him?
More tentacles came from all directions, each with different characteristics.
Some were wreathed in black lightning, blasphemous thunder; some dripped acid that corroded spacetime; some became transparent, binding them at the conceptual level. At the same time, Cthulhu's eerie green eyes shone brightly, and two extremely condensed powers became green, malevolent fire rays that seemed capable of burning through the very essence of the soul!
"Sizzle!"
An evil ray of light crisscrossed and shot towards Ian!
Corrupt everything!
"You dare to show off your meager skills in front of me, Master Ian?"
Ian's figure flickered rapidly between the ruins and the gaps between the tentacles. He had mastered the Apparition to an unparalleled degree, and each appearance was accompanied by the waving of his wand.
A blazing white cutting spell was magnified and split, like countless blades of light slashing at the entwined tentacles, leaving deep burn marks on their incredibly tough surface.
Although difficult to cut off, it effectively hinders their movements.
" Aguamenti, a frigid current from the deepest abyss!"
What was summoned was no longer a clear spring, but "extremely cold water" from the concept of magic, carrying the chill of freezing the soul, colliding with the dripping corrosive acid.
"Sizzle!"
They annihilated each other, bursting forth in large plumes of icy mist.
As for those two beams of evil fire...
Ian didn't take the hit head-on; instead, he pointed his wand at a giant rock on the ground covered in blasphemous runes.
" Transfiguration - Concept Endowment: ' Mirror of Reflection '!" The boulder softened and reformed instantly under the incantation, not becoming an ordinary Mirror, but rather being forcibly endowed by Ian with the magical concept of "reflecting specific energy attributes," its surface shimmering with Law of Paradox light.
"Boom!"
The fiery rays struck the mirror, and most of the energy was indeed distorted and deflected, shooting into the sky and vaporizing several large pieces of falling debris. However, the Mirror itself was instantly covered in cracks and then shattered. The concept it possessed could not be maintained for long, especially against an attack of this level. The battle fell into a fierce stalemate.
"What's wrong? You seem so weak?"
" Cthulhu is nothing special!"
With the superb skills of Legendary Wizard, the steadfastness of the Law of Paradox, and the devouring and transformation of the Authority of the Old Ones, Ian skillfully maneuvered through Cthulhu's relentless onslaught, occasionally launching counterattacks. While he couldn't inflict fatal damage, he prevented the Great Old Ones from easily subduing him. Of course, Ian's Magic Power was rapidly depleting, but his will remained unwavering. The towers of Hogwarts, the starlight in the Great Hall, the smiling faces of his companions... those warm memories of the "fairytale" world acted like a beacon in the darkness, providing him with an inexhaustible source of mental resilience and hope. "Delicious! Delicious!"
However.
It is this "light of hope" that seems to be increasingly attracting Cthulhu's attention.