47 Delayed Judgment (18)

665. 47. Delayed Judgment (18)

Coughing blood, the sorcerer walked inch by inch toward an altar. Darkness surrounded him, without the faintest trace of light; only this eerie stone tower emitted a grim blue glow.

He was injured. Though it was not particularly serious, the energy coiled around his wounds was troublesome. At least for the moment, the sorcerer had no spare attention to deal with it. He had something more important to do.

"Change to another point in time. That isn't difficult." Seraphax heard himself say. "We only need to try again, once or several times. Success is only a matter of sooner or later."

The sorcerer knew that this thought was correct, but he could not agree with it.

The god who had risen from The Emperor's corpse had already turned Its gaze upon Caliban. Before an existence like that, no number of timelines would be of any use.

The transcendence of the gods was the foundation of their existence. These beings stood apart from the material realm. No matter what happened in the mortal world, it could never inflict any true "harm" upon them—at most, it could influence them.

Strictly speaking, even the act of resisting them would only grant them more power. The only ones capable of placing any limits upon them were themselves.

"What are you planning to do?" Seraphax heard himself ask.

The sorcerer reached out, passed his hand through the roaring blue flames atop the altar, and precisely grasped a section of human bone.

It was one of his own ribs, removed centuries before he set foot on Caliban. Only after the meticulous carving and blood offerings of nine sages had it become the artifact it was now. It possessed a glasslike sheen, its surface smooth, while the thousands of characters carved upon