Chapter 275: A Turn for the Worse...?
On the surface, victory seemed within their grasp.
The heroes of the six tribes had been gathered—Mualani, Xilonen, Ororon, Iansan, Kinich, and the newly awakened Chasca. Once the tribes completed their final evacuations, assembled, and took a brief moment to recover, Mavuika could channel the power of these six champions. With their combined strength, she would activate the legendary Divine Throne and wield a power great enough to finally purify the abyssal entity festering in the sky.
And yet, Mavuika, standing beside the roaring Holy Fire, kept her brow tightly furrowed. The relief that should have come with this progress was nowhere to be found.
Just moments ago, she had fully activated her Gnosis, her will briefly merging with the sacred flame. In that instant, as she forcibly expelled the abyssal presence from her domain, her consciousness had pierced the veil between worlds. Her focus had snapped to another location, one intimately connected to the crisis at hand—the Night Kingdom.
What she "saw" there sent a violent tremor through her very being, a chill seeping deep into her bones.
The Night Kingdom, the pure land meant for the peaceful rest of the deceased and the lingering of ancient consciousnesses, had been utterly consumed. It was now a paradise for the Abyss.
Everywhere her spiritual gaze landed, there was no longer a tranquil gloom. Instead, hideous, pulsating clusters of dark-purple crystal jutted from the ground like a planetary cancer, frantically draining all vitality and spirituality from the dimension. A foul, abyssal miasma permeated the realm like a thick, suffocating fog, eroding every inch of the land.
And in the heart of that encroached-upon country, she saw him: the Wayob, the very same ancient spirit Paimon had saved with her Optimization Power, restoring his consciousness.
At this moment, the ancient and benevolent being was emitting a faint yet incredibly resolute light. He had transformed himself into the final sanctuary, gathering all the souls of the Natlan people who remained aware and uncorrupted within the Night Kingdom. He had abandoned all offense, dedicating every last shred of his power and will to constructing a precarious but unyielding spiritual barrier, fiercely resisting the endless, gnawing erosion from the outside.
Attempting to tear apart this final bastion was a colossal, pitch-black demonic dragon. Its body was a mass of dark scales, with patterns like molten lava flowing across its form. It spewed a breath of pure darkness, a torrent that seemed capable of annihilating souls, which slammed against the Wayob's shield again and again.
The barrier fluctuated violently under the onslaught, looking as if it might shatter at any second. Yet, it always managed to stabilize at the last possible moment—a miracle born from the burning will of the Wayob and the countless souls he protected within.
As if sensing this prying gaze from the distant mortal world, the demonic dragon, Gustot, suddenly snapped its head around. Its draconic eyes, burning with pure rage and malice, seemed to pierce through the fabric of space itself, clashing directly with Mavuika's own.
"ROAR—!!!"
A furious, tyrannical bellow, thick with warning, exploded in Mavuika's mind like a peal of thunder.
Her connection to the Night Kingdom was violently severed. Mavuika stumbled back half a step, her face paling as cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
'So that's it...' The realization struck her with the force of a physical blow. This was the real reason Natlan had suffered such a large-scale, organized abyssal invasion so silently.
The Night Kingdom, a ley line nexus deeply connected to Natlan's mortal world, had already fallen without anyone noticing. The Wayob, guardian of souls, was now powerless to do anything but defend. He couldn't provide warnings or assistance to the mortal world as he normally would, not when all his strength was dedicated to protecting the spirits of his people.
The Abyss had exploited this window of silence to launch its full-scale attack so smoothly.
'We can't wait any longer...'The thought was a clear, urgent alarm in her mind.'Every moment we delay, the souls protected in the Night Kingdom face greater danger. The Wayob might not be able to hold on.''We must activate the Divine Throne as soon as possible, gain its power, and resolve this abyssal threat completely!'
The original plan—to wait for everyone to arrive and rest—was now utterly unworkable. Time had become the most precious and unobtainable luxury.
She immediately used the Wind Network Venti had constructed, her urgent voice cutting through the air and into the ears of everyone still on the evacuation routes. "All transferring teams, accelerate! Faster! Reach the Holy Fire Arena at your utmost speed! We have no time to waste!"
Simultaneously, she contacted the five support teams from the Chat Group, briefly explaining the dire situation in the Night Kingdom and the necessity of beginning the ceremony early. Everyone in the group voiced their understanding, and their unwavering support and commitment offered Mavuika a sliver of relief.
She hesitated no longer. Through the Wind Network, she issued the final summons to the six chosen heroes.
"Mualani, Xilonen, Ororon, Iansan, Kinich, Chasca—proceed immediately to the center of the Holy Fire Arena! The final ceremony begins now!"
From different corners of the vast arena, six figures, their wills forged into instruments of determination, began to converge on the roaring, sacred flame.
However, the Abyss would not sit idyly by and watch Natlan mount this crucial counterattack.
Just as the six heroes began to move and Mavuika prepared to guide the ritual, the abyssal entity in the sky—the one that had been driven back above the Crag Pass—seemed to boil with rage. It began an even more frantic assault.
Its black-hole-like core twisted and contracted violently. Then, like a dark goddess scattering blighted seeds, it flung countless meteors burning with dark-purple flames across Natlan's vast lands.
No, those were not ordinary meteors.
When these projectiles, trailing long tails of fire, crashed to the ground, they didn't cause violent explosions. Instead, as if alive, they rapidly took root, expanded, and transformed. In their place stood dark-purple crystalline structures the size of houses, each pulsating like a grotesque heart. They were Abyssal Tumor Stones, each covered in a thick, dark-purple energy shield and radiating an energy far purer and more dangerous than any abyss gate.
The moment these Abyssal Tumor Stones appeared, they acted as both hyper-efficient sources of pollution and monstrous barracks. Not only did they continuously emit a strong, corrosive energy field that distorted the surrounding land and air, but they also ceaselessly spewed forth all manner of Abyss monsters.
Even more terrifying, the energy shield encasing each Tumor Stone was incredibly tough. Ordinary elemental attacks merely caused faint ripples across its surface, unable to shake its foundation. Even the elite warriors of the tribes, attacking with all their might, could not hope to destroy them in a short time.
And as long as the Tumor Stones existed, the monsters would never stop coming.
At the edges of the Holy Fire Arena, some of the more distant areas that had not yet been fully cleared were now under immense pressure as these stones landed. Monsters surged like an endless tide from multiple Tumor Stone nodes, beginning to assault the already strained defensive positions. In some sectors, the lines had already broken.
The situation, which just moments ago had held the promise of imminent victory, had taken a sharp turn for the worse, becoming more precarious than ever before.
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