Streams of power, imbued with the terrifying might of the Great Dao, traversed the once dark Astral Realm Void, like countless threads weaving through a black curtain.
Those threads of power displayed different colors—some as fiery as fire, some as cold as frost, some as heavy as mountains, and some as light as the wind. They intertwined, coiled, and wove in the Void, transforming the originally empty Starry Sky into a series of mysterious and profound patterns.
Any one of those patterns is comparable to a true diagram of the Great Dao, condensed by a Main God with a lifetime of effort.
Some patterns are spiraling nebulae, each circle containing the secrets of the transformation of matter and energy; some patterns are crisscrossing geometric matrices, each node representing a convergence point of a law; some patterns are ancient and distant rune sequences, each stroke engraving the entire historical memory of the Astral Realm from its creation to the present day.
Billions of patterns flickered and flowed simultaneously in the Void, transforming this battlefield into a labyrinth of laws filled with deadly beauty.
However, amidst these breathtaking patterns, a completely different force is quietly spreading.
One after another, dark golden power spread out from the Lord of Truth. The power was like a gentle breeze blowing across the sky, lightly passing over everything around without leaving a trace.
It is elusive, seemingly neither existent nor omnipresent, like the first ray of light at dawn, illuminating everything yet leaving one unable to pinpoint its origin.
This power passed through the magnificent patterns of the Great Road, yet the patterns remained motionless; this power swept across the surging River of Space-Time, yet the waters remained calm; this power brushed past the Eternal confronting each other at the edge of the battlefield, yet they did not even sense anything amiss. It spread silently, like an invisible, enormous bubble, encompassing the entire battlefield within its reach.
But the Mother of the Stars sensed it.
The moment that force swept past, a chilling sense of crisis suddenly surged from the depths of His soul.
The feeling was like a venomous snake lurking in deep water suddenly raising its head, or like a pair of unseen eyes in the darkness locking onto His back.
The Mother of the Stars, having fought countless battles, possessed an intuition for danger so acute that it bordered on the ability to foresee the future. At this moment, she had no doubt that something terrible was about to happen.
He turned his head sharply and looked in the direction of the Lord of Truth.
As the dark golden power continued to surge forth, the Lord of Truth before Him underwent an astonishing change without anyone noticing.
The original wide-sleeved robes and soaring, Mage- like attire began to shrink and solidify, transforming the loose robes into the silhouette of close-fitting battle armor.
The armor was a deep silver-gray, covered with countless fine battle patterns, each pattern containing the ultimate intent of slaughter.
The armor covered the Lord of Truth's entire body, with shoulder armor, breastplate, arm armor, and leg armor taking shape in sequence, completely replacing his previous profound and sacred aura with a completely different sense of heroic and extraordinary power.
The face of the Lord of Truth also changed. Its features became more defined and sharper, and the smile at the corner of its mouth changed from calm and indifferent to a wild and flamboyant one.
That is--
Lancelot...
The Mother of the Stars murmured to herself with a solemn expression. Of course, she recognized that face, for, strictly speaking, she had also played a significant role in the growth of this being on the Endless Path.
Even now, seeing Lancelot's face appear on the face of the Lord of Truth, the Mother of the Stars still felt utterly incredulous.
Especially when He looked at that face that belonged entirely to Lancelot, perfectly fused with the towering body of the Lord of Truth, the feeling of "unbelievable" became even more intense.
In the understanding of the Mother of the Stars, even if Logo, Logo, and Gustavo were to merge into one, one would still hold the initiative—one in control and two supporting, a "fusion" model recognized by all common sense. However, the scene before her completely overturned her understanding. Logo, Lancelot, Gustavo could switch control of the body at will, and with such naturalness and fluidity, as if the body itself possessed three independently operating cores, each capable of taking over overall control at any moment.
The path to Eternity is unique to me. This is an inviolable law that remains unchanged from First-Step Eternity to Third-Step Eternity.
Each Eternal's path is unique, exclusive, and self-centered. While the merging of paths is rare, it is not incomprehensible. To allow others to steer one's own path? This is illogical; it would shatter all His understanding of the nature of the Eternity Way.
"Miracle..."
The Mother of the Stars could only utter these two words in the end. She could find no words other than "Miracle" to describe the scene before her.
The scene unfolding before us, even with the characteristics inherent in such Miracle Creation as the Chaos Stele, pales in comparison to the wonder of this moment. Rules and logic seem to have lost their influence upon them, giving them a unique sense of transcendence.
At the very moment the Mother of the Stars was shocked, the Lord of Truth had completely transferred control to Lancelot's hands. The entire atmosphere had undergone a dramatic transformation.
If the previous Lord of Truth was lofty, profound, and sacred, like an insurmountable peak of wisdom, then the Lord of Truth at this moment exudes a sense of overwhelming battle intent, as if he could shake the heavens and the earth, tear apart chaos, and shatter all worlds.
This is Lancelot's true nature. Although he is the Lord of Endless and holds the power of the laws of the boundless Void, the core of his path has always been combat.
Whether it's cultivation or enlightenment, for Lancelot, they are merely means to "make himself stronger so he can fight more satisfying battles."
Close combat, in particular, is something He absolutely loves—the visceral impact of fists and the bloodshed of spears, the ultimate thrill of unleashing one's will and power onto the enemy without reservation through weapons, is something that no ranged supernatural power or law-based attack can match.
At this moment, feeling the terrifying power within the body he controlled— the Great Dao of Chaos surging and roaring through his meridians, the power of Samsara slowly rotating in his core, the Eye of Truth providing unparalleled insight in his brow, and the Spirit Saint Domain continuously supplying primal energy to his shoulders— Lancelot's lips curled into a fanatical smile.
That was Lancelot's laughter, the laughter of a battle maniac.