In the desolate and lonely wilderness, a terrifying chill erupted like a fountain from the sunken ground, spreading like a spider web across the grass. The season abruptly shifted from late autumn to severe winter, and in a small area, snow fell like goose feathers.
The snow was crimson, as if soaked in fresh blood, filled with a sense of slaughter and extinction.
In the deep pit, amidst the dark red frost, Ronan's face was twisted in agony, his muscles contorted as he plunged his ten fingers deep into the soil before him.
"Hekalto... Frost!"
"Hekalto... Frost!"
Countless sharp, slippery voices screamed frantically in his ears, repeatedly calling the same name, as if countless stones were grinding against a smooth glass surface, driving him to madness.
At this moment, a darkness as thick as oil had occupied most corners of his consciousness.
It was the residual will of Hekalto, surging from the river of time, filled with various tyrannical, evil, cruel, and violent thoughts.
Six pale golden Mental Power Crystals struggled to emit light, layers of shadows wrapping around him, his true self being continuously devoured. "Let go!"
"Embrace greatness."
"You and I should be one."
Whispers echoed, like the low murmur of ancient demons, coercing and tempting him to lower his guard.
"Ha—"
In unspeakable pain, Ronan's eyes turned blood red as he roared and slammed his fist into the ground.
"Boom!"
A terrifying force erupted from his fist, causing the ground within a radius of hundreds of meters to collapse silently, exploding!
A massive wave of soil mixed with frost surged forth, and amidst the blood-red sludge, Ronan's figure uncontrollably began to rise.
At this moment, he resembled an ancient sun of sin, constantly releasing an aura of coldness, slaughter, ominousness, and taboo.
Intense blood light filled the entire sky, and a flock of birds flew overhead, suddenly turning into dark red dust and vanishing without a trace.
Countless tiny corpses of creatures fell from the opened earth, and in this area, no life remained.
Ronan's figure hovered in mid-air, his dark red hair swirling behind him like a living thing.
His face was contorted, hands gripping his head fiercely, fingers digging in, piercing flesh, blood flowing out without his awareness.
Pain! Too much pain!
This agony of having his soul devoured and his will forcibly stripped away surpassed any pain he had ever endured.
He felt as if he had fallen into the jaws of some colossal beast, being gnawed and chewed piece by piece, as if it intended to completely crush and swallow him whole.
The consequences of this forced bloodline fusion were ten times more severe than the last time! Not to mention that Ronan had no time to return to the Silver Magic Ring to use the Holy Blood Tree to purify his bloodline three times and refine it into a Bloodline Crystal.
Even if the Holy Blood Tree were right in front of him, it would likely be ineffective.
This was something he was well aware of, and the entity that now loomed in his consciousness, "He," was clearly aware of it too.
In a daze, Ronan saw a colossal eight-headed serpent outline stretching from the heavens to the earth, becoming clearer before his eyes.
Those pairs of serpent eyes, like the sun and moon, coldly gazed at him.
"He" was waiting.
Waiting for the moment when his will would completely collapse.
This was the "deal" struck between Ronan and "He."
Nothing in this world comes without a cost; in gaining power far beyond oneself, one must naturally pay the corresponding price.
Gradually, the six Mental Power Crystals in his consciousness were completely engulfed by shadows.
The ancient will belonging to "Hekalto" nearly eroded his entire consciousness, and amidst the boundless darkness, Ronan's self-will remained only a flickering spark, at any moment ready to be extinguished.
Under the blood-red dome, in the boundless wilderness, just before the last bit of "light" was about to be swallowed.
Ronan slowly raised his hand, his slender, sharp fingers carving a bloody six-pointed star pattern on his chest.
"Ah, Sarslin... Pop..."
From his trembling lips, he uttered strange and convoluted syllables of a spell.
"For the servant... it is done."
"Together we bear the thorns!"
As the last word was spoken, he suddenly looked up, and the six-pointed star pattern on his chest shone brightly.
In an instant, an invisible and strange power surged from within him.
In his consciousness, it was as if an invisible vortex formed, and the ancient will of "Hekalto," which had nearly occupied his entire consciousness, uncontrollably flowed into the vortex.
At that moment, Ronan seemed to hear "Hekalto" roar in fury.
A smile appeared on his twisted face, and his murky eyes reflected a calmness akin to that after a storm.
He had long known the consequences of trading with the "demon." Therefore, he was not without any backup plan.
By the tranquil autumn lake, a young shepherd lay on the soft, yellowing grass, cradling his beloved lamb.
Without warning, the vast surface of the wild lake abruptly froze, and a terrifying chill surged from the depths of the lake, sweeping over the poor shepherd and his sheep, freezing them all into white ice sculptures before they even had time to react.
In the blink of an eye, the area around the wild lake had turned into a world of ice and snow, as if only this place had entered the harsh winter season.
The terrifying chill continued to accumulate, frost spreading like a flood towards the surrounding areas, threatening to invade the distant forest.
"Boom!"
The frozen lake surface suddenly exploded, a mass of black frost shooting up from the lake's depths.
Rolling frost surged and churned, seemingly hiding some terrible creature within, with faint sounds of roaring and struggling echoing out.
After an unknown amount of time, all sounds ceased.
The black frost slowly dispersed, revealing the shadow of a hundred-meter-long serpent.
This serpent had two heads, with a small bulge between them, its body covered in deep blue, almost black, icy scales, its serpent eyes crimson, exuding an ancient, evil, and tyrannical aura.
".@#￥."
The two-headed serpent coldly gazed in one direction, its mouth uttering ancient and obscure language, as if saying something.
After a moment, it deeply stared into the distance, silently turned, and swam away into the unknown.
All the blood and frost in the world dissipated, and Ronan fell from the sky, landing in the bottomless pit.
"Whoosh—Whoosh—"
He gasped for breath, his fair and well-proportioned body glistening with streams of sweat that flowed down his skin and muscles, but before they could drop, they were frozen into frost by the pervasive chill around him.
It was as if he had just experienced a life-and-death battle.
And indeed, that was the case.
At this moment, Ronan had returned to a normal state, his white hair cascading to the ground, Ithium metal slowly crawling up his body, forming the shape of a Wizard Robe.
Feeling that he had mostly recovered, Ronan slowly stood up.
In his consciousness, the will of "Hekalto" had completely vanished.
One could say that his consciousness had never been as "clean" as it was now.
Compared to the last forced bloodline fusion, which had nearly cost him his life, this time, the backlash seemed to have been much easier to endure.
But only Ronan knew that the reason he could stand here "whole and intact" was merely "drinking poison to quench thirst."
Ronan took a deep breath, recalling his recent actions—
"The Master-Servant Contract of Posilina," which allowed the subordinate to bear the "damage" for the master.
He used this "rule" to have the Ice Crystal Demon Serpent, lying dormant in the icy lake, bear half of the backlash from "Hekalto's" will.
And the reason why "Hekalto's" will had retreated from his body was due to "Hekalto's" own choice.
Consider this: facing a "weakened" and seemingly "unpromising" human body, and a body possessing the pure ancient bloodline of the Ice Crystal Demon Serpent, which one would "Hekalto," being a serpent, choose?
Naturally, the latter would be a hundred times better than the former as a "host."
Ronan effectively "sacrificed" the Ice Crystal Demon Serpent to gain a fleeting "breath of relief."
But this opportunity for relief was also temporary.
"With the existence of the Master-Servant Contract, the resurrected 'Hekalto' will eventually come looking for me again. If I cannot completely eliminate it, the best outcome will be to become 'Hekalto's' 'human servant.'"
The ancient beast overlord, the Frost Multi-headed Serpent's will + the pure ancient Ice Crystal Demon Serpent bloodline.
Combined, who knows what kind of monster would be created?
Thus, Ronan said this method was merely a "drinking poison to quench thirst."
"His will has just revived and has just completed the possession of a body."
At this moment, "Hekalto" was undoubtedly at its most "weakened." To resolve this major trouble, now was the best time.
Ronan's gaze flickered as he sensed the soul imprint connection between himself and the Ice Crystal Demon Serpent, only to find that this connection had become vague and elusive.
He followed his memory straight to the wild lake where he had let the Ice Crystal Demon Serpent lie dormant. Upon arrival, he saw a scene of devastation after the snowstorm.
"Has it run away?"
Ronan was somewhat surprised.
Logically, he should have been the one to flee.
But upon reflection, he only needed to worry about being devoured or enslaved by "Hekalto," while "Hekalto," as an ancient overlord, had much more to consider after its "resurrection."
Enemies, arch-nemeses... who knows if certain terrifying beings that once stood on the same level as "He" would come looking for him following the "scent."
Cunning and patience were also traits of serpents.
"Before 'Hekalto' regains a certain level of strength, it probably won't appear easily."
This "breath of relief" was more ample than he had anticipated.
But for Ronan, was this good news?
"The longer it drags on, the more 'Hekalto' will regain its strength, and the disaster that eventually befalls me... will become increasingly immense and difficult to resist."
Ronan's expression darkened.
Yet he had no solution, only waiting quietly for that day of "judgment" to arrive.
Before that, he would exhaust all efforts to strengthen himself, striving for that faint glimmer of hope.
"Take it one step at a time."
Ronan tightened his robe around him, his gaze deep as he swiftly departed in one direction.
The ruins of Fairy Ancient City.
The entire world seemed to have turned into a boiling pot of chaos.
The roar of spells echoed endlessly, countless wizards fled like headless flies, and nearly every minute, a wizard fell from the sky.
In a certain part of the chaotic scene, Anglie half-concealed in the void, surveyed the surroundings with a look of enjoyment and intoxication on his face.
Suddenly, a figure silently appeared before him.
Dressed in a well-tailored, luxurious outfit, tall and slender, holding a black leather book, exuding an air of mysterious elegance akin to that of a noble scholar.
It was Livicky from the Chaos Secret Society.
Neither Anglie nor Livicky had appeared during the previous joint attack on the rune array.
"What are you still doing here?"
Livicky's expression was cold as he stared at Anglie and spoke icily.
The two seemed like old acquaintances, and if anyone else had witnessed this scene, they would have been greatly astonished.
"You already know that guy named Ronan Damien, don't you?"
"He is one of the experimental subjects that Lord Lin Di Si wants to capture. Now, only you have the means to find him."
Livicky spoke to Anglie in a commanding tone.
Anglie merely glanced at him indifferently before shifting his gaze aside, displaying an attitude of disinterest.
Livicky's expression darkened.
"The previous Crescent Moon has died; no one will support you anymore."
"Don't forget who gave you that half of the Fallen Crow heart inside you."
Livicky's eyes were icy as he threatened with a half-smile, "If Lord Lin Di Si knew about your attitude, what do you think would happen?"
"Shut up."
Before Livicky could finish his sentence, Anglie suddenly interrupted him with a cold remark.
He snorted softly, about to say something more, but saw Anglie casually raise a hand, half of his arm gently disappearing into the void before him.
In an instant, a dense dark purple giant wing seemed to silently sweep across the space between them.
Livicky's face changed dramatically, instinctively retreating, wanting to open the black leather book in his hands.
However, the next moment, his movements came to a complete halt.
"Uh, uh, uh."
Livicky looked down in disbelief, watching as a pale, slender hand "grew" out from his chest.
Between those five fingers, it tightly grasped a blood-soaked heart that was still beating.
His heart.
"This is not the power of the Ancient Fallen Crow."
Livicky stared blankly at Anglie, murmuring.
"You are not Anglie."
"Who exactly are you?"
"You possess such power. Why... did you deliberately lose to Ronan?"
The last few words were left unspoken as the hand that had pierced through Livicky's chest quietly retracted.
With the withdrawal of the hand, Livicky's flesh and blood, including his soul, seemed to be entirely absorbed.
He became like a piece of white paper burned through by flames, easily turning to a pile of black ashes with a gentle breeze.
Only a black leather book, now devoid of its owner, floated alone in the air.
Anglie withdrew his hand from the vanishing void, delicately and greedily consuming the entire heart as if savoring the juice of a ripe fruit.
Finally, he pulled out a clean white silk handkerchief, elegantly wiping his hands and mouth.
"Some fruits are overripe; if not picked in time, they will slowly rot. Some fruits are far from reaching the standard of complete ripeness; now is not the best time to taste them."
"How could you understand this principle?"
Anglie seemed to be explaining to the already deceased Livicky. He casually summoned the black leather book that hovered in the air into his hands.
After flipping through a couple of pages with a bored expression, Anglie tossed it into his space ring.
He looked up, surveying his surroundings.
He muttered to himself.
"The soul fragments lost in the south have been collected; it's time to leave."
He took a gentle step forward but stopped the next second, frowning as he rubbed his forehead.
"Those
who have already died should lie quietly in the earth, letting their bodies decay and become nourishment for those who come after."
"Such a bothersome old fellow."
Anglie soon relaxed his brow, casting one last glance in the direction Ronan had departed, then smiled as he melted into a dense shadow.