A blazing white torrent of life force surged through Ronan's body like molten lava, flooding every inch of his skin, muscles, and veins. Amidst the lava, cold, sharp "grains" rolled continuously.
Ronan felt his body being torn apart, destroyed, and melted under these intense forces of heat and cold, only to be reshaped again!
The slippery, sticky whispers that had been murmuring in his ears suddenly amplified, like countless sharp metals scraping frantically against smooth glass.
"They" screamed hysterically into Ronan's ears: "Frost... Hecarto Frost!... Hecarto!... Hecarto!!"
The thick ice on the Lake of No Thoughts shattered, unleashing a torrent of violent, cruel, and savage thoughts from its depths.
Ronan's once-proud steadfast will was swiftly eroded and occupied by another incomplete, ancient, majestic, and evil will.
His consciousness plunged into chaos, oscillating between clarity and confusion.
"...Hecarto!... Hecarto!!"
"Hecarto!!"
The name repeated endlessly in his ears.
His head throbbed as if splitting apart, the voices tormenting him to madness.
Who am I?
Who is Hecarto?
Countless voices roared within his mind, the imprint of Ronan Damien seemingly fading away, his past memories dissolving rapidly.
Finally, the myriad voices converged into one—
"Hecarto is I!"
Ronan quietly opened his eyes.
In the center of his dark blue and pure white interwoven eyes, the vertical slit suddenly widened, releasing a crimson light a hundred times purer than blood.
A deep, hoarse voice reverberated from his chest and throat, as if descending from ancient times, humming in resonance.
"I am... Hecarto."
In the name of frost...
At the same time, within the soon-to-collapse independent space.
All the black-robed wizards of the Resurrection Society stared with bewilderment at the same point, including the most powerful, the Dark Leader.
It was a gigantic orb of light, surrounded by countless dark blue and pure white lightning.
An indescribable ancient, heavy, frigid aura emanated from the orb, gradually permeating the entire space.
Every heart was gripped by an inexplicable unease, instinctively warning them to flee immediately, yet reason deemed it absurd and baseless.
This contradiction left everyone uneasy, the crowd inexplicably restless.
"Dark Leader..."
Someone whispered softly.
The Dark Leader, standing mid-air, raised his hand, then slowly retrieved a colorful ram horn mask from beneath his robe.
The mask had a handle at the bottom. Holding it, the Dark Leader chanted a strange, low incantation.
Soon, strands of terrifying rune energy emanated from the mask.
Dark light flickered in the hollow eye sockets, and the twisted upward ram horns gradually extended black energy blades from their tips.
The blades were etched with intricate, strange runes, their aura silently devouring everything around, subtly collapsing the space towards the enigmatic ram horn mask.
Holding the mask like a massive, bizarre two-handed sword, the Dark Leader lifted it with calm composure, the black energy blades slicing the void with corrosive traces, accelerating the space's collapse.
Just as he was about to strike...
Suddenly, the entire space seemed to freeze, time halting.
An indescribable, ancient, evil, majestic will quietly descended.
All the black-robed wizards wore expressions of sheer terror, their mental waves and bodies trembling uncontrollably.
The massive orb of dark blue and pure white lightning silently split open, revealing an extraordinarily grotesque yet mesmerizing form—
A towering figure over three meters tall, covered in dark blue scales, surrounded by swirling black-blue frost, its face eerily beautiful yet alien.
Its face bore a pair of crimson slit eyes, strange protrusions on its forehead, and long, narrow markings on its cheeks, resembling runes symbolizing frost and ominousness.
Dark blue hair floated silently around it, like countless tiny ice serpents, encircling and adorning it.
The collapse caused by the ram horn black sword instantly vanished, overshadowed by this figure.
The dawn light shone from the distant horizon, bathing the figure in a scene of indescribable, evil yet magnificent beauty.
The Dark Leader stared at the mesmerizing figure before him, the two locked in silent gaze.
After a moment, he seemed to break from his trance, calmly resuming the interrupted motion.
The rune sword, brimming with terrifying power, descended slowly, countless black rays interwoven, reaching the figure's head in a blink despite appearing slow.
Yet facing this dreadful attack, the figure made no move to evade or retreat.
It merely looked up and...
Smiled silently.
The serpent-scaled mouth widened to the ears, revealing sharp, white teeth.
Combined with those pure crimson slit eyes, it exuded an unspeakable eeriness and terror.
"Crack—"
A sudden shattering noise.
In the independent space, the invisible transparent void fractured like a broken mirror.
Two figures seated in their places abruptly rose, scanning their surroundings.
"The spatial restriction is near collapse..."
Archido spoke softly.
"Whoosh—"
Caroni exhaled deeply, powerful mental waves emanating from him.
His rugged features grew more severe, a faint silver metallic sheen blooming between his naturally hanging fingers.
"These Resurrection Society... scoundrels."
The two spoke no more, but their fierce, icy killing intent surged outward like rising tides.
Behind them, Orion, his complexion restored, slowly opened his eyes, his expression resolute and calm, ready for battle.
"Crack, crack, crack—"
In the blood-scented space, silver-white cracks appeared amidst the scarlet.
Within a massive vortex of blood mist, a grotesque flesh monster abruptly opened its eyes.
On its deformed, monstrous body, countless bizarre eyes of varying sizes had grown.
Rufus rose silently, observing the cracking space around him, slowly lifting his right hand.
In its seven or eight-fingered, skinless hand lay a delicate, beautiful woman's head.
Rufus looked skyward, glimpsing the outlines of several massive luminous orbs entangled like suns.
"Now... you have nowhere to hide."
"A rare feast indeed."
"Pop!"
Rufus clenched his fingers, the woman's head bursting in his palm, splattering blood on his face.
Rufus extended a slender, crimson tongue, licking the droplets of blood from his lips, speaking softly, "What anticipation."
The impending collapse of the spatial "prison" reached every independent space. The battle among the dawn-level wizard elites in the sky seemed to be nearing its end, casting down viscous magic energy that created pools of molten rock, toxic swamps, and thunderous craters on the ground and in the void.
The black-robed members of the Resurrection Society began retreating one by one, realizing their advantage was fading, and soon, it would be time for their revenge and counterattack.
It felt like a century of waiting, or perhaps just a few breaths.
Without warning, countless divided independent spaces shattered simultaneously.
The full view of the competition venue reappeared on the Goblin Plains.
"Boom, boom, boom—"
Cold, powerful mental forces surged one after another, brimming with murderous intent towards the Resurrection Society.
But before these long-confined wizards could retaliate, their attention was utterly captured by the scene unfolding before them.
—
At the center of the dueling platform, a figure in a formidable black robe was surrounded by countless rune waves, holding high a bizarre ram horn sword, poised to strike.
Yet before the ram horn sword could descend, the figure was pierced by a form entwined in dark blue frost.
"Shhh—"
The golden, round sun leapt from the horizon, casting endless golden light across the land.
Everyone squinted involuntarily.
They saw the black-robed swordsman fall like a stone from the air, behind him a mesmerizing, slender figure bathed in the radiant dawn, silently roaring to the heavens.
In that moment, ancient nobility and frost watched over them...
Every heart wavered, momentarily lost in trance.
"Boom!"
The sky erupted with a furious roar, spell chants amplified to the extreme, drowning out all other sounds.
Blinding light burst from above.
Every wizard lost sight, their mental will trembling slightly.
This was the power of dawn.
As the blinding light gradually faded, everyone regained their sight.
Yet the eerie, menacing figure that had filled their vision was nowhere to be seen.
In the sky, only the Thunder, Crystal, and Blood Suns remained suspended, their light seemingly dimmed compared to before.
Below, black-robed figures of the Resurrection Society swiftly retreated.
But under the illumination of the three dawn suns, they seemed to have nowhere to hide.
After a brief silence, someone snapped back to reality.
Immediately, a chase ensued among the wizards...
"Crack—"
In a miniature secret realm space, Bennigo, busy at the lab bench, suddenly halted.
He turned, picking up a simple silver hourglass used for timing.
A crack split the hourglass, silver sand spilling out.
Bennigo gazed at the hourglass, his eyes flickering, an inexplicable unease growing within him.
"Is it the gray elf bloodline's prophetic talent?"
Bennigo picked up his notes, jotting down some data and information thoughtfully.
He paced before the lab bench, inspecting Fiona's sealed ice coffin closely, finding no anomaly.
Bennigo exited the secret realm, stepping out from behind the waterfall concealing its entrance, momentarily stunned.
The once-empty valley was now covered in a thin layer of frost, with a massive ice crystal serpent coiled within, gazing at him intently.
"Is it you?"
The ice crystal serpent glanced at Bennigo, then returned its gaze skyward, hissing anxiously.
As Bennigo frowned, a powerful, ancient, majestic, evil will suddenly descended upon the valley.
In the next second, a figure rapidly enlarged in Bennigo's vision. Recognizing the figure's face, Bennigo's pupils contracted sharply.
Dark blue hair cascaded like a waterfall, a serpentine body covered in scales, with ominous markings on its cheeks...
The whole figure exuded an aura of nobility, antiquity, and malevolence.
The figure descended like lightning into the valley, stomping forcefully on the ice crystal serpent's head.
The enormous ice crystal serpent immediately lowered its body, emitting a defiant hiss.
"A vile kin bloodline... do you dare to defy me?"
A deep, raspy voice, like countless shards of ice grinding together, echoed.
The dark blue-haired figure stood on the ice crystal serpent's head, gazing coldly down until the bloodline's inherent pressure compelled submission.
Through the black-blue frost clouds surrounding the figure, Bennigo glimpsed a wickedly handsome face, vaguely familiar.
"D-Damien?"
Bennigo blurted, his voice drawing the figure's gaze, crimson slit eyes locking onto him.
Under that gaze, Bennigo felt an overwhelming urge to kneel immediately.
The figure approached Bennigo, each step leaving a rune-like dark blue frost mark in the void.
As the figure neared, an oceanic chill enveloped Bennigo, his throat and heart seemingly gripped by icy, invisible hands.
"Thud—"
Bennigo dropped to one knee, his complexion paling rapidly, his blood seemingly frozen, halting its flow.
In that moment, he felt an unprecedented threat of death, an ominous cloud enveloping him.
"Roar!"
Bennigo let out a defiant growl, weak mental waves sparking, but under that crushing cold, his struggle was like a pebble in a storm.
Just as Bennigo thought he would perish, the figure abruptly halted.
"Heh—heh—"
Raspy, labored breaths.
Bennigo looked up, seeing the tall, slender figure's shoulders heaving, pain and struggle etched on his face.
Those slit eyes opened, alternating between clarity and violent ferocity.
He extended a hand to Bennigo, urging in a hoarse voice.
"Bennigo, quickly... prepare the second bloodline purification ritual!"
The icy pressure vanished unnoticed, freeing Bennigo from death's grip. Seeing the figure's pained struggle, a realization dawned.
"Bloodline will devourment?!"
A heavy expression settled on Bennigo's face, wasting no words, he turned and swiftly entered the secret realm.
Moments later, he emerged with a five-meter-tall, lush tree bathed in mysterious red light—the Sacred Blood Tree.
At the sight of the figure, the Sacred Blood Tree's branches and leaves quivered eagerly, sprouting countless crimson tendrils reaching for the figure.
But as the tendrils touched the black-blue frost cloud around the figure, they instantly froze, shattering.
"Damien, restrain your power... don't yield to It!"
Bennigo's eyes flickered urgently, speaking quickly.
The figure, eyes tightly shut, let out a low growl, biting his lip, blue and red blood trickling down.
The frost cloud around him churned violently, gradually drawing into his body like smoke.
The Sacred Blood Tree's tendrils finally adhered to him, wrapping him layer by layer, weaving into a massive blood cocoon.
Within, the struggle between two wills became increasingly clear.
One ancient and evil, filled with destruction and savagery.
The other clear and calm, like a stream under autumn sunlight.
But the latter, under the former's pressure, rapidly weakened, seemingly being devoured.
Every tendril on the entwining blood cocoon glowed with mysterious rune patterns, drawing...
The ancient evil aura swiftly receded.
Yet the Sacred Blood Tree's glow dimmed rapidly, the tree visibly wilting, countless leaves falling...
With just one extraction, the young Sacred Blood Tree nearly expended all its power.
Without hesitation, Bennigo retrieved numerous potions, prepared and unprepared, pouring them over the Sacred Blood Tree.
Once the bottles were emptied, he cut his wrists, letting his blood flow freely.
But even this wasn't enough, the blood cocoon began trembling, as if something was about to burst forth.
Blood loss left Bennigo pale, swaying, yet he seemed oblivious, frowning intensely, his gaze scanning the scene.
Suddenly, his gaze fixed on the nearby ice crystal serpent, which returned a cold look.
Bennigo's eyes flickered, speaking in a low tone.
"I know your relationship, you resent him, seeking to escape his control."
"But if you think this is a good opportunity, you're gravely mistaken."
"If his will is entirely consumed by the ancient frost hydra bloodline... then you'll truly never rise again!"
"Roar—"
The ice crystal serpent growled irritably, seemingly dismissive of Bennigo's words.
Bennigo met its gaze calmly.
After an indeterminate time, seeing the Sacred Blood Tree's cocoon starting to crack, finally...
The ice crystal serpent wavered, hissing reluctantly as it slowly slithered over.
With the serpent's blood supporting, the Sacred Blood Tree's power barely held.
Bennigo's eyes relaxed, but when they returned to the cocoon, shadows of concern covered them again.
He understood Ronan's condition, mentioned in the bloodline transplantation notes given to him.
It was the backlash from a failed forced bloodline fusion.
A struggle between self-will and bloodline will, with the victor gaining control of the body.
A minor misstep could lead to self-will being devoured, transforming into a mindless monster driven by instinct.
With ordinary beast bloodlines, it might be manageable; after all, Ronan had consumed six bottles of "Murphy's Kiss," his willpower astonishing even Bennigo.
But rooted within him was the unprecedented ancient frost hydra bloodline.
Once awakened, even a fragment of its ancient will posed unimaginable dangers.
"Damien..."
Bennigo watched the cocoon, murmuring complexly, "I'll do my best, but the rest... is up to you."
With that, Bennigo took a healing potion from his bag, swallowing it.
Then, expressionless, he slashed his wrist again, letting the blood flow faster...
The Goblin Plains incident shook a significant portion of the South.
The Ancient Witch Resurrection Society.
A name long forgotten by many resurfaced in the minds of all Southern wizards.
To seize the shattered World Stone, the Resurrection Society unleashed its hidden power, shocking everyone with the extent of its infiltration into Southern wizard factions.
In the Goblin Plains battle, a chief of the Sakiels family from Molten Lake, and the head wizard of the Thorn Palace, both dawn-level wizards, rebelled. Under the combined suppression of the Thunder Council's Speaker and other dawn-level wizards, one escaped, the other perished.
In return, a dawn-level wizard from the Black Mire fell, a Crimson Tower dawn-level wizard was severely injured, and the newly discovered shattered World Stone from the ancient Mirror Court was lost at a great cost.
Below the dawn level.
Under Anglair's lead, twenty-three second-level and above wizards from the Black Mire rebelled; Thunder Council's top genius Jupiter was gravely injured; all but the top genius Rufus of the Crimson Tower perished; the Sakiels lineage of Molten Lake fully rebelled, ancient Inferno Blood sowing chaos; Thorn Palace plunged into turmoil, wizard blood staining the thorn forest.
The top genius competition held by the six major wizard factions on the Goblin Plains drew out the Resurrection Society's hidden forces.
A large-scale upheaval in the Southern wizard world began to unfold.
One month later, Silver Ring, First Tower.
Not abandoned, just health issues, slowly adjusting, ready for a long haul. Apologies.