Wizard: Stronger through Marriage

Chapter 1294: Chapter 602: Chiming Judgement Initiates (2)

This is the last bastion of the Silver Moon remnant, and the first faint thread of the dawn yet to come!

At this moment, the colossal Elven Star Gnomon at the heart of the great hall once more erupted in searing, dusky-violet brilliance, its core whirling at a speed several times swifter than before.

Shattered Elven ancient-rune sigils snapped and scattered out of the all-pervading Flame, drifting like splinters of broken blades; with every collision they stirred low murmurs from an unseen vale, answering the distant peals of thunder beyond the square, as though heaven and earth were gestating the overture to a new epoch of cataclysm!

All who beheld it held their breath and gazed, watching those incomplete, fractured yet still radiant and peerless emblems assemble into a labyrinthine pattern, within whose myriad details a hidden trajectory flowed and turned.

”Liya,” Cynthia whispered a warning, ”these rune-tracks mark an ancient coordinate of utmost significance, known as the ’Time Chain.’

It binds past to future, yet warns us not to trespass lightly... Too many unspeakable tragedies have unfolded here; this is the final boundary laid down by the gods.”

The air seemed to shudder with her words, an invisible pressure once more spreading into every corner, leaving those who listened almost unable to draw breath.

For a heartbeat, every gaze within the hall converged upon that vast mechanical construct which hovered and spun, ceaselessly casting forth shifting images; all understood in the depths of their hearts: it would become the decisive threshold of the next step, the very dividing line between life and death!

David reached out to touch the chill metal surface; that force streamed directly along his veins into the Chaos holy Flame within his body, clashing in fierce resonance with the redemptive core buried deep in his Soul.

He felt the torrential current of time batter his heart and spirit, as though he stood at the first instant of the Cosmos’ birth billions of years ago, and in the same breath was fused into the endless spiral of history where the heavens contend without cease!

The impact was so violent it nearly drove him to his knees, yet he clenched his teeth and endured, fixing his consciousness firmly upon the journey of exploration now about to unfold above:

”All things arise from destiny ordained. I shall unveil the riddle myself, and with truth forge a new order!”

As his voice faded, he straightened his frame and, before the eyes of all, stepped into the heart of the vast Teleportation Array, woven from stellar rhythms and exuding a dim, cerulean holy radiance.

In an instant, countless torrents of arcane Energy surged together, like the rush of a galaxy pouring down to sweep over heaven, earth, and all things, then devoured his body utterly, leaving only a faint lingering afterglow of the holy Flame of redemption yet unsnuffed...

The hall fell at once into dead stillness; only the Priests’ clasped-hands prayers drifted faintly through the air, while the gathered Guards stood with swords in solemn readiness, shaping with flesh and will an unyielding bulwark behind.

This was a game between faith and fate, and the sole place where a blazing Flame of hope still burned at the farthest end of infinite night!

Night deepened, yet in the far corners of the Silver Moon Royal Court a residual warmth lingered; every shell of flesh, every Soul, was quivering and aflame for the new Chapter about to begin...

Space seemed clenched tight by an invisible giant hand; the light of the stars dimmed in a heartbeat, and David, bearing the holy radiance of redemptive Divinity, slowly dissolved within the halo of dusky blue.

Time and space intertwined and shattered; he was swept into a strange, ancient vortex of time and realm.

His awareness had not yet fully cleared, and already the scenery around him had changed.

When he opened his eyes once more, what met his gaze was a desolate, sundered wilderness; the distant firmament hung low, as though crushed to breathlessness beneath an endless darkness.

The heavens were no clear, star-pricked sky, but a heavy canvas where deep blue and pitch black were woven together, countless hidden currents stirring restlessly, seeming to press this world to its ultimate brink.

Beneath his feet stretched a vast ruin, the last glory of the ancient Wizard Civilization—the Starry Fortress.

The giant walls that once soared into the clouds, inlaid with splendid Array Runes, were now riddled with a thousand wounds, veiled in dust and scorched-black traces. Innumerable broken carvings jutted like maimed fragments of ramparts, creaking softly in the wind, like the final feeble struggle of some ancient life.

In the distance, void storms roiled and tore at the sky, torrents of pitch-dark, ink-like fury sweeping across the firmament to encircle the fortress. Those Demon-like twisted ripples seemed endowed with the power to devour all things; each howl stole away a sliver of the world’s Life Force, filling every living creature beneath heaven with boundless dread.

David stood upon the edge of the ruin, his tall silhouette in the wan afterglow appearing inordinately solitary yet unbending.

He drew a deep breath of the icy air; a layer of blue-white holy Flame surged out from within, small and fragile, yet wondrously beautiful against this end-of-the-world vision.

His gaze, profound and unwavering, fixed upon the void storm on the verge of collapse, poised to devour all; he could not help but sink into thought: what manner of calamity was this, that could drive an entire civilization to annihilation?

Just then, a tread light yet laden with the weight of history came from deep within the ruins.

David turned to look; from the wreckage walked a lone figure—garbed in a tattered Magic Robe yet still bearing a certain grace, his face aged and furrowed with wisdom. He was the last Prophet of the Wizard Civilization’s waning light—Glenn Hill.

Glenn Hill’s eyes were clear as autumn water, yet veiled with a trace of despair and fatigue.

Every step he set upon the ground seemed to carry some unspeakable, crushing tidings. ”You have finally come. I have waited far, far too long.”

His voice was hoarse, yet still held a gravity that could not be ignored. ”This is the place we once took pride in, and the place of our final fall.”

As their gazes met, a feeling that transcended time and space, as if Soul speaking unto Soul, quietly arose.

David inclined his body slightly in respect. ”Honored Prophet, I come from the future. I must learn the truth of this disaster, and I hope to find a way to halt the destruction.”

Glenn Hill nodded. From within the folds of his broad Magic Robe, he drew a yellowed fragment of parchment, its surface crowded with fine Runes that glimmered faintly; this was one of the surviving pages from the Elven secret canon, the Book of the End.

”This is the most precious legacy our civilization has preserved to this day. Only these remain to point the way ahead.”

”The World Anchor,” he said, his voice low, ”the sole immortal relic of creation that can steady warped time-space, and stay Chaos from its wanton cycle of creation and destruction.

Yet now it lies lost in the deepest cracks of the void, guarded by storms of ruin. None dare reach for it lightly, or greater catastrophe will surely be called down...”

His gaze pierced the Mist to join with David’s will in tacit accord. ”You bear redemptive Divinity. Perhaps you alone can draw near the ’World Anchor.’ You are also our final hope!”

The air around them suddenly convulsed, the Earth itself shuddering in time with the tremors of the ages.

This ruin lay strewn with severed veins of Magic Power and ancient rune-stones; each one had once sealed a past splendor, and each was inscribed with a fierce and sorrowful dirge.

As the storm’s howling swept past, an unstable vortex slowly took shape, wrought from shards of stars and crystalline dust of Magic. At its center, a faint, silvery, anchor-shaped sigil glimmered, like a tenuous yet steadfast bond of the Cosmos, filling the heart with awe and dread in equal measure.

”This is the gate to the realm where the ’World Anchor’ lies—the Terminal Domain.” Glenn Hill spoke. ”Only those who truly comprehend the fate they bear and the meaning of their Sacrifice may pass through.

And your Bloodline Meditation Method is the key to crossing this gate.”

At these words, tides surged within David’s heart; yet he also understood that what awaited him was a trial more severe and perilous than any before, testing both the nature of humanity and the edge of power.

But not the slightest hint of retreat showed upon his face; rather, his eyes shone with a resolve bright as the most lucid star beneath the night. ”I am willing to die to guard this land, and I will not allow history to repeat itself!”

Their gazes intertwined into a line of decision that could not be moved; all around them, silence slowly ebbed away, replaced by the roll of distant thunder and the wrathful roar of the storm.

As David and Glenn Hill’s eyes met, time seemed to freeze for a breath, then again surge like dark undertows ceaselessly in motion.

That Starry Fortress, swallowed by void storms, rose far away, casting in the dying light of the sun a shadow long and vast, like a scar on the river of history that could never be effaced.

Glenn Hill slowly drew forth that yellowed page from his breast, his sleeve stirring a trace of dust-like starlight.

His voice, though weary, was firm as some ancient cliff of stone. ”You must understand: this is no simple coincidence, but a pivotal link in the inevitable cycle of history...