thefictionvixens Page 616
Page 616
What burned in his pupils was no longer just the initial ferocity of awakening and the majesty of the planet's instinct.
It also incorporates the profound obsession of the "Imposter" that remained after Iskandar's divinity dissolved, the vast rationality of the "God of Magic," and... the domineering will of the "Conqueror King" that has yet to be revealed but has already been integrated into his blood!
This will, a fusion of divinity and dragon soul, is cold and vast, yet carries an unquestionable command that transcends eternity:
To complete what was left undone 16,000 years ago!
Rumble, rumble—! ! !
Albion's massive dragon body began to move forward in a predetermined direction within the foundation of the "temple" of the Son of the Planet!
Its movements are not crawling or flying in the physical sense. Its existence is integrated with the ley lines, the spirit tombs, and even the foundation of the British Isles.
Its "advancement" is the overall displacement and erosion of the entire "living otherworld" in terms of spatial concept!
The earth was forcibly plowed open like soft mud under its will!
The spatial structure, crushed by its own space, emitted a piercing, mournful cry, like glass being run over by a massive ship!
Everything along the way—whether it was the spirit tomb structure that was not yet fully activated, the abandoned relics of the Age of Gods, or the monitoring nodes and defensive fortifications set up by the clock tower—was instantly annihilated like dust under the crushing weight of that bronze behemoth!
Target – The node of the amusement park!
That dreamlike coordinate was painstakingly located by Yvette, the pink-haired enchanter of the Archaeology Department, who, with the precious "peeping" enchantment given to her by Meastia, amidst the deathly silence and spatial turbulence of the Underworld, like a gold digger!
At this moment, this node is no longer a hidden coordinate.
Chapter 646 Satisfaction (4k)
Beneath him was a boiling, churning, scarlet swamp reeking of sulfur and blood; the scorching heat gnawed at his skin like maggots clinging to his bones, seeping through his tattered clothes.
Above them was a torn sky, with molten gold cracks flowing with waterfalls of light that burned the soul, and countless fragments of space falling like burning death stars.
In my ears were the roar of the Albion Dragon, which shook the very foundations of the planet, and the ear-piercing sound of the space structure being crushed by the tyrannical dimensional beings, like billions of panes of glass shattering simultaneously!
Matouike is at the very core of this vortex of destruction.
His burning, azure demonic eyes, like the only stable lighthouse in a storm, pierced through layers of turbulent energy and distorted laws, locking onto the bronze dragon that was launching a tragic charge towards the gates of the Fairy Realm, and the bronze veins within the dragon's body that were throbbing wildly and greedily absorbing the remnants of Iskandar's divinity.
The clamor from the outside world—the collapse of London, the global upheaval, the panic of human civilization, the cognitive tsunami triggered by the mysterious leak—these monstrous waves, powerful enough to overturn the times, are now completely isolated by the more primal and violent destructive storm at the heart of this battlefield.
Information? No.
Communication? It has long been cut off.
Perception? Completely distorted by the clash between the raging planetary power and the remnants of divinity.
He knew nothing about it.
however--
"Generally speaking... I can imagine..."
A chilling, almost cruel thought silently swept through the intricately functioning mind of Matou Ike.
As the Azure Demon Eye precisely captured every energy flow and spatial distortion along Albion's charge path, deep within his mind, like the most sophisticated supercomputer, a model of the possible external scenarios was being constructed simultaneously.
The planetary-level tremor that awakens Albion: a globally synchronized, terrifying spasm beyond geological comprehension. Destructive power index: from city-destroying (local) to continental shelf-level (overall).
The shattering of the inherent barrier and the dissolution of divinity triggered a spillover of turbulent laws, causing a chain reaction that impacted the global network of ley lines. Consequences: Disorder of the magical foundation, collapse of barriers, failure of seals, and rampage of ley line energy.
The Hatteres Command Spell's forced sacrifice triggers a paradoxical and mysterious phenomenon: gods willingly perish, their power merging into the dragon's body.
Its very existence is the ultimate desecration of the "principle of concealment".
Model derivation output:
The mystery was exposed to the world.
no doubt.
This conclusion is cold, absolute, and like an inevitable solution derived from a mathematical formula.
The principle of concealment?
The fragile veil that the Magic Association had painstakingly built over a thousand years with countless sacrifices was not a matter of probability, but an inevitability at the level of physical laws, due to the superposition and resonance of these three world-destroying shockwaves!
The Albion earthquake was a global broadcast on a physical level.
The turbulent flow of laws is a form of global pollution at the energy level.
The sacrifice of gods represents the ultimate subversion of cognition.
The combination of these three factors is like dropping three incredibly powerful cognitive bombs simultaneously onto the calm surface of humanity's collective consciousness! The result is not just ripples, but a cognitive tsunami powerful enough to overwhelm all dams!
Ghosts wander among the ruins.
Fairies frolic in the muddy floodwaters.
Ancient curses will manifest on the crumbling church walls.
Otherworldly shadows lurk between the twisted skyscrapers.
Ordinary eyes will be forced to look directly at those existences that are defined as "non-existent" or "illusions".
Ordinary technology will record images and data that cannot be analyzed using existing theoretical frameworks.
The mundane order will completely collapse in the absolute fear of the unknown.
Panic? That's just the mildest beginning.
What follows will be the collapse of belief systems, the shaking of the foundations of science, the disintegration of social structures, and... a global chaos and war erupting in the struggle for the right to interpret and control the "new reality."
What follows is a reshuffling of the world order.
This conclusion is equally cold and absolute.
The old order—a fragile balance built on the separation of appearance and reality, implicitly dominated by the clock tower and explicitly maintained by the state apparatus—died the moment its mystery was laid bare in the sunlight.
The new era will be a dark forest where the strong prey on the weak.
A bloody stage where all sorts of bizarre creatures emerge from a mysterious leak.
It is a chaotic world in which the old state apparatus collapses under mysterious impact, and emerging forces carve out their own territories on the ruins.
It is a survival battle for the Magic Association, which is forced to step out from behind the scenes and face global hostility and encirclement.
It is a more brutal struggle that transcends national borders, triggered by the competition for resources.
This is a thorough and brutal redistribution that affects every corner of the globe and every social class!
Power, resources, living space, the right to define "truth"... everything will be thrown into this furnace called "mysterious leak" and reforged!
Matou Pond's azure demonic eyes reflected the terrifying radiance that erupted when Albion's massive dragon body crashed into the Fairy Realm's gate, a radiance powerful enough to make the space itself boil.
The dreamlike door was being forcibly pried open wider amidst the dragon's lament and the shrill cries of the Meastia ritual!
The excruciating pain in his eye sockets was like a cold flame, scorching his nerves, yet it also kept his mind unusually clear amidst the absolute agony.
External reshuffling and turmoil are not variables that he needs to worry about.
That was merely the inevitable, grand background music to this planetary upheaval.
It is the dying cry of the old era, and also the growing pains of the new era.
“Is this your purpose, Hartres?” Matou Ike asked.
"To expose a mystery hidden for thousands of years to billions of people with this cataclysmic disaster as the trigger?"
He paused, the sharp pain in his eye socket causing his face to tighten involuntarily, and his voice carried a sense of absurdity:
"Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?"
Faced with this pointed question, Hartres slowly turned his head.
His face, as still as a frozen lake, remained completely expressionless, except for a barely perceptible upward curve at the corner of his mouth, like a glimmer of light passing beneath the ice.
"Exaggeration?"
His voice was eerily calm, piercing through the dragon's roar and the wailing of space, clearly imprinted on Matou Ike's senses.
The tone of the question was as calm as if they were discussing the weather.
"But this result..."
Hartres's gaze swept over Albion, who was forcibly opening the gates of the Fairy Realm, and over the ritual track churning with azure light. It was as if he had pierced through thick layers of rock and seen the mortal world outside, which was mysteriously collapsing and rebuilding.
"...Doesn't this satisfy the needs of 'everyone'?"
"Everyone?" Matou Ike's pupils contracted slightly.
"But wouldn't this result satisfy everyone's needs? Whether it's the Mage's Association, the Holy Church, or any other magical organization..."
As Hartles spoke, he turned his gaze back to Matou Ike, his calm gaze carrying a kind of penetrating insight:
"Even... including you, isn't that the case, Lord Matou?"
Hartles's almost inhuman calm exposition, like a cold scalpel, laid bare the calculations hidden beneath the catastrophe.
“Everyone…” He nodded slightly, the subtle curve of his head seeming to carry a hint of cold mockery.
"Everyone is tacitly condoning this situation in their own way. The only difference is that some are passively drawn in, some actively push for it, and some... are searching for the 'fish' they want in this torrent."
"..."
Matou Ike remained silent for a few seconds, the light in her azure demonic eyes flickering slightly.
He slowly raised his hand, which was unstained by blood and mud, and pressed it forcefully and wearily against his forehead, which was throbbing with pain.
"Hoo..." A heavy sigh escaped from between his fingers, mixed with the smell of blood and sulfur.
"Although... I did suspect that some people in the Clock Tower had an ultimate goal that wasn't just to modify the Spirit Tomb, but rather to open a passage between the inner sea of the star and the surface of the planet, and were willing to take certain risks for it..."
Matouike's voice suddenly turned cold, like ice rubbing together:
"But the things you added without authorization—"
His gaze swept over the last vestiges of divine radiance dissolving into the veins of Albion bronze.
"Isn't this 'exaggeration' a bit... a bit too much?!"
"Is it too much?" he asked, his voice still steady, yet like an ice pick coated in honey. "It's alright, I guess."
His gaze pierced through the boiling spatial turbulence and the falling molten gold waterfall, as if he saw the ruins of London, global panic, and the old order that had completely collapsed in the mysterious leak.
“It was bound to happen…” he said, as if stating a cold, cosmic law.