bookbashuk Chapter 459-458: The Revival of the Past 2
Chapter 459-458: The Revival of the Past 2
Chapter 459-458: The Revival of the Past 2
The battle was extremely fierce.
"~, the Faceless Wizard's scepter turned slightly, and the power of his petrifying gaze began to sweep among the many phantoms. The phantoms that were swept away burst like bubbles, but new phantoms were generated elsewhere. Saruman's true form, under the cover of the phantoms, constantly changed positions, while searching for the opponent's weakness."
Its core power lies in its "eyeball"!
Saruman shouted to Kag in the mental link.
Kag understood immediately.
In the instant his petrified gaze was once again diverted by the illusion, he moved. The warrior, like a cheetah poised for battle, charged towards the faceless wizard.
Perhaps because the pollution had been significantly reduced and he had drunk many precious potions, he was extremely fast. With a giant shield protecting him, he transformed into a steel whirlwind.
"Click click click~"
The faceless wizard seemed to sense the threat and turned his scepter towards Kag.
The viscous petrified force field enveloped the area once again.
Kag's charge suddenly slowed down, his legs seemed to sink into an invisible swamp, and grayish-white stone spots even began to appear on his skin.
"Now!" Saruman seized the moment when the other party's attention was drawn, and all the illusions vanished at the same time.
His true form appeared to the side and behind the Faceless Wizard, a point of extreme arcane radiance gathering at the tip of his staff—not a powerful destructive energy, but a highly compressed "magic disintegration ray".
Whoosh!
The slender ray struck the amber "eye" at the top of the scepter with pinpoint accuracy.
With a crisp "crack," spiderweb-like cracks appeared on the eyeball. The petrifying force field that had permeated the hall receded like a tide.
Saruman, panting, dispelled the spell. Kag also shook his head, the stony spots on his skin slowly fading. They had won this wizarding war again.
As always, the consumption is enormous.
but.
It's not that there are no differences at all.
"This place is clearly different from before." The corridor had returned to its original state, as if the hall from before had never existed. But the invisible pressure and Lina's increasingly painful groans reminded them that the crisis was far from over.
"Is the exit somewhere nearby?" Kag silently picked up Lina again. The black lines on his arm seemed to have spread downwards by another finger width during the struggle against the petrifying power. Saruman caught a glimpse of those lines, and a deeper shadow fell over his heart.
obviously.
Kag's idea was still too naive.
Saruman hadn't expected this either.
They were still wandering through the corridor.
The brief victory brought no hope, but instead made the endless corridor even more eerie. Lina's condition worsened; her babbling turned into intermittent, seemingly deep-sea ballads, their ancient and blasphemous tones sending chills down the spines of those who heard them. The scales' coverage expanded.
An abnormal pearly white tinge began to appear around the edges of her eyelids.
Kag continued to carry her silently, but his breathing was noticeably heavier.
"Even with my current abilities, I can't help you suppress the pollution for long. Damn it, could the guy who created this place be more than just a legend?!"
Saruman noticed that a hint of suppressed pain occasionally flashed across his comrade's resolute face. The black lines on his arms and even his neck snaked and spread like living things, their color deepening as if soaked in ink. This was not merely a result of physical exhaustion, but also some kind of pollution emanating from the depths of the corridor.
Or rather, it's the erosion from the source of pollution within Lina.
"Kag, your condition—" Saruman couldn't help but ask, his voice hoarse.
"I'm fine, save Lina first. We must save her!" Kag interrupted him, his tone still firm, but the slight tremor did not escape the wizard's ears.
Just then, the corridor changed again. The eerie carvings on the walls on both sides seemed to come alive, twisting and rotating, guiding the structure of the space. The path beneath their feet softened and became damp, and the salty smell of the sea in the air was so strong it was nauseating. The low, humming that had always been there gradually coalesced into a grand hymn—or rather, a nightmare—that sounded like billions of people chanting underwater.
What lay ahead was no longer a passage, but a sudden, boundless pool of black water.
In the center of the pool sat a figure. He wore a robe made of seaweed, coral, and broken ship planks, his exposed skin showing the bloating and bluish-gray hue of a drowned person. In his hand, instead of a staff, he held a book made of some kind of enormous scales. His lips moved silently, and the grand, maddening hymn originated from him.
"The Singer of the Tides—" Saruman's face paled as he recognized the being from the ancient records. This was a legend far more terrifying than the Faceless Wizard and others from before.
Characters that should only exist in fairy tales.
"Aaaaaaah~"
The other person is chanting.
The nightmare hymn flooded my mind, stirring my reason like cold tentacles.
"Damn it! He's become the glorifier of the unknown creatures slumbering in this place!" Saruman felt a wave of dizziness, countless visions flashing before his eyes: a sunken city, dancing tentacles, a gigantic shadow slumbering beneath the abyss. He had to concentrate all his senses to barely stay conscious.
Kag was more directly affected.
"Pfft~" He groaned, kneeling on one knee, Lina almost slipping off his back. The black markings on his arms and neck suddenly emitted a dark light, throbbing violently as if echoing the nightmare. Pain was clearly written on his face, the torment of his flesh and spirit being doubly eroded.
"Hold your spirits, Kag!" Saruman roared, trying to awaken his comrades with his voice. He slammed his staff on the ground, casting a "Mental Barrier" to try and block out the nightmare. But the barrier, faced with such a powerful mental impact, was like a plank in a storm, teetering on the brink of collapse.
The Tide Singer in the center of the pool slowly raised his head. He had no eyes; instead, his eye sockets contained two swirling, pitch-black vortexes. The scale-covered book in his hand moved without wind, and as it turned, the black pool began to boil. Several tentacles made of murky seawater, each with suckers, suddenly shot out and grabbed at Saruman and Kag.
Saruman waved his staff, firing several arcane missiles to disperse the tentacles that were attacking him. But more tentacles wrapped around Kag and Lina.
"Get out of my way!" Kag roared like a wounded beast, enduring the burning pain from the black markings as he swung his sword to sever several tentacles. But his movements were noticeably slow, and each exertion of force only made the black markings glow brighter.
Saruman knew that if things continued this way, they would all be dragged into madness and then swallowed by this filthy water. The source of that nightmare had to be stopped! He looked at the scaly book, which was undoubtedly the core of the power.
"Kag! Cover me!" Saruman cried resolutely. He abandoned maintaining the fragile mental barrier and instead poured all his magic into his staff. He began chanting a complex and dangerous incantation, preparing to cast a powerful disintegration spell.
The Tide Singer seemed to sense the threat; the pitch of its nightmare suddenly rose, becoming even sharper and more piercing. More tentacles surged from the pool, and at the same time, a thick, mentally toxic mist began to rise from the murky surface.
Kag gritted his teeth, stood before Saruman, and plunged his massive shield into the ground, using his body to form the last line of defense. Tentacles lashed against his shield and armor, producing dull thuds. Black lines had spread to his jawline, and with each block, he let out a suppressed groan of pain, but he did not retreat an inch.
Saruman's incantation reached its crucial moment, and a chilling energy glow gathered at the tip of his staff. Just then, an exceptionally thick tentacle bypassed Kag's defenses and pierced straight for Saruman's back!
At the critical moment, Kag suddenly sidestepped, using his shoulder (the one not holding the shield) to ram the tentacle away, but another tentacle lashed out at his ribs. The sound of armor shattering was clearly audible, and Kag spat out a mouthful of blood, which even had an ominous dark tinge.
"Disintegrate!" Saruman's incantation was finally complete. A slender green ray, like the fingertip of death, pierced through tentacles and mist, striking precisely the Scale Book in the Tide Singer's hand.
There was no loud noise, only a faint hum of matter being completely decomposed and reduced to nothingness. The scale-like book instantly transformed into the most basic particles and vanished.
The grand, agonizing dirge came to an abrupt end.
The Tide Singer let out a silent shriek, and his body, like a melting wax figure, evaporated and vanished along with the black pool. The corridor returned to its original state, leaving only a mess and the lingering stench in the air.
The battle is over.
Saruman stumbled, his magic almost completely depleted. He immediately looked at Kag.
The soldier knelt on the ground.
The greatsword was stuck to his side, supporting his body. He lowered his head, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his ribs and the corners of his mouth. But what was most chilling were the dense black markings on his body.
They were no longer merely spreading, but rather wriggling beneath his skin as if they possessed a life of their own, their black color gleaming, as if connecting to some endless abyss of darkness. Kag's entire face was contorted with extreme pain, sweat mingling with blood as it dripped onto the cold ground.
Young Saruman rushed over, grabbed his comrade's shoulder, his eyes filled with shock, fear, and helplessness. "Kag—"
The scenes of memory are frozen, blurred, and eventually fade away like a faded oil painting.
The azure magical light receded from his fingertips, and the blind Saruman—now clad in pristine white robes, yet no longer able to see any color—silently "gazed" at the void. His wrinkled face was expressionless, as if the harrowing memory he had just experienced was irrelevant to him.
But in that endless dark realm, all he "saw" was the last memory of Kag's face, contorted in agony by the worsening pollution, and the black lines that writhed like living things, devouring the hero's life. In that silent memory, a barely audible sigh seemed to rise.
It has vanished into the dust of history.
The Wizard's Tower, a thousand years later, is as silent as a tomb.
The eerie blue light emanating from the blind Saruman's fingertips had faded, leaving only the dust of memories drifting silently in the air. Those memories of the corridors, the battles, and the pollution were so heavy that they seemed to freeze time itself.
The man in black robes stood in the shadows, like a silent silhouette. His gaze, beneath his hood (if he had eyes), was perhaps fixed intently on his powerful teacher, who had forever lost his sight. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice dry and hoarse, breaking the suffocating stillness: "They—they all died in that ruin, didn't they? The warrior Kag, and that corrupted Lina."
The problem hits the nail on the head, like a dagger chilled to the bone.
Saruman's weathered heart, long accustomed to hiding behind a mask of wisdom and power, seemed to contract slightly at the question. He remained silent for a moment, his wrinkled face expressionless, but his withered fingers, resting on his knees, twitched almost imperceptibly. Finally, he nodded slowly, the movement so subtle as if afraid of disturbing something.
"Yes," his voice was hoarser than usual, like worn sandpaper, "they all failed to leave. But—not at the moment I just showed you."
He paused, his empty eye sockets "gazing" in the direction of the man in black robes, yet it seemed to pierce through him, landing on a more distant past that existed only in his dark vision.
"Let me—slowly catch my breath." The old wizard's voice held a rare hint of weariness, not physical exhaustion, but a weariness that stemmed from the depths of his soul. "I will continue to tell you everything, everything. After all, now that things have come to this, there is no need to hide them any longer."
Upon hearing this, the man in the black robe seemed to stiffen for a moment. The shadow of the hood perfectly concealed all his expressions, only his next words, tinged with a strange tremor, betrayed a certain emotion: "Teacher—you already know?"
Do you know why I keep asking these questions? Do you know what I'm really trying to find out? Do you also know why I'm no longer worried about being tainted by your memories?
This is actually the black-robed man's true feeling.
You can sense it without mind reading.
I'm just afraid.
Saruman did not respond. His blind eyes seemed to see through all illusions, silently "gazing" at the student's face hidden in the shadows. Silence fell once more within the tower, a tacit, undercurrent-filled silence. Past and present intertwined eerily in this silence.
After a long while, Saruman gently waved his hand, the gesture carrying a resigned resolve. At his fingertips, a pale blue magical light shone again, fainter than before, yet more stubborn, like a candle flickering in the wind, determined to burn out the last bit of wax for the truth.
"Keep watching—" he whispered, and the scroll of memory unfolded once more in the void. The young Saruman knelt on the cold ground, Kag's heavy body leaning against him.
The soldier's breath was weak and hot, each inhale accompanied by a hissing sound of blood and foam. The most terrifying thing was not the wound on his ribs, but the black lines that covered his torso, limbs, and even neck.
They are no longer just patterns, but more like living, wriggling dark worms, burrowing and spreading beneath his skin, sucking his life and sanity.
"I can't go on, I'm going to die." Kag's face was contorted with pain, his jaw was clenched, and sweat mixed with blood, soaking his disheveled hair.
at this time.
This mighty warrior's life was already as fragile as a candle flickering in the wind.