The Dark Tide churned across the heavens as hundreds of millions of players launched a counterattack along the entire front.
Streaks of light filled the sky, crushing wave after wave of Evil Spirits.
A sword gleam charged at the very forefront of the player army, plunging deep into the heart of the darkness.
More than a century of protection had reached its end at this moment. The scene of the Spirit Breath Race taking their own lives within the great formation played over and over in his mind.
The grief pent up in his heart became a fury that would burn everything to ash.
The Sword of Destruction trembled in his palm, like a fierce beast thirsting for blood after breaking free of its restraints.
Wherever its light swept, swathes of void Evil Spirits disintegrated.
He alone cleaved a long rift through the dense black fog.
With every Evil Spirit that perished, pitch-black energy flowed along the blade and into the sword, staining it layer by layer.
The blood-red hue within the purple blade of light grew steadily richer.
When blood-red had occupied the entire interior of the Sword of Destruction, a strand of deep purple slowly spread from its spine, devouring the scarlet bit by bit.
The once-raging sword light began to shed its ferocity, settling into a cold, annihilating might.
At that moment, Little Mage's state of mind aligned with Cang Xuan's all those years ago.
Players on the Forum had always thought the Sword of Protection, Sword of Slaughter, and Sword of Destruction were three different paths.
They could simply choose one to follow.
But now, Little Mage grasped the true meaning of these three forms of sword momentum and understood that they were one long, gradual path.
Protection was the starting point. The stronger the tender