Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 828 - 769: White Mask

Ice flakes dancing under the moonlight, so beautiful. The moment they disappear into the air is as elegant as light feathers. Parallel icy trails gradually fracture, with Ivan traveling through the darkness like a lone fish.

The Frost Wanderer has not reached his destination, the anomaly ahead forces him to stop. The cold air escaping from the head of his spiritual body gradually settles, he pulls the reins tight, adjusting the hat on his head. That hat is part of his spiritual body, though he could control it with a mere thought, Ivan enjoys this ritualistic feel, especially when facing an old friend, as it makes him nostalgic for the past.

"How long has it been since I last saw you like this, Vaul?"

The blood-red spiritual body has a solid lower half, appearing like a normal human. Strands of loose hair over the shoulders, a bare torso with several slash wounds on the chest and abdomen, most of the face covered by hanging hair, with the exposed right eye emitting a dangerous red glow. The Frost Wanderer Ivan’s spiritual body is ice blue, the Enchanter Dexterous deep purple, and the War Seeker Vaul is blood red, distinct enough to shock some of Andrey’s people in Naslan.

"Where are you headed, Ivan." Vaul’s voice is gentle, devoid of the bloody scent of reaping millions of spiritual bodies.

"Didn’t you see, the whole Posuwa is undergoing drastic changes, I need to go to Paradise, to take His Highness Lyle away from this cursed land."

Vaul lifts his head, noticing the dense darkness surrounding them, the bronze moon dangling in the night sky, Posuwa deeply sunk into slumber, war and gunsmoke also submerged in the darkness, an ominous presence of the gods everywhere.

"Cursed... so that is how you call these powers..." Vaul’s actions are somewhat sluggish, like a newly recovered patient, his gaze no longer on his friend. "These are not curses. Only by coexisting with them for a long time did I understand that the Evil God is not as ’evil’ as we imagined."

Vaul spoke slowly under Ivan’s frowning gaze.

"Have you ever thought, why does a person feel hungry and then eat, instead of just standing there and starving to death?"

Ivan decided to take Vaul’s question seriously, he needed to assess Vaul’s mental state, if he has been corrupted by the Evil God, then he must remove the taint before the Soul Reaver matriarch Helena reclaims him.

"Because of the survival instinct, isn’t it natural to eat when hungry?"

Vaul laughed, his blood-red eye gazing at his former friend, uncaring of the chill in his eyes.

"Then why does life have a survival instinct? Natural instinct? Necessary for reproduction? It’s genetics, the wisdom we are born with. Even the blind fools are granted wisdom."

"You mean..."

"These things you call ’curses’ are the wisdom granted by the Evil God to life, transcending shackles, forgetting principles, preserving only the purest essence, correcting beings to the wisdom necessary for such purity."

"..." Actually, Ivan isn’t interested in all this; he doesn’t care what these dark, dangerous powers really are, nor does he care why a former war madman has become a zealot lecturing him on the philosophy of life here. He is only concerned about one thing, whether Vaul still retains loyalty to Naslan. His spiritual body is protected by the clan of the Soul Reaver Helena, and if he has lost that loyalty, then his existence should also be reclaimed.

Ivan tentatively said: "So you now have a favorable opinion of the Evil God? Want to introduce me to a new master?"

Vaul’s excited demeanor vanished, as if cooled by the snow brought by Ivan, Vaul shrugged and walked onto Ivan’s chariot on his own.

"Just a spur of the moment, seizing the opportunity is a warrior’s instinct, sooner or later Naslan will do the same as me. Ivan, why do you think this ’wisdom’ under the earth appears in the air, forming an eternal night?"

"The pact-makers of the Posuwa Dynasty had once concentrated all wisdom, all sins in one person, attempting to control the divine wisdom with mortal flesh. What I have been through in my training is no different from what they did. The destroyed kingdoms and our corroded souls understand that these ’wisdoms’ toy with aspirants, their fate was predetermined."

"The grace of God, ultimately returns to God."

"Posuwa, welcomed its true master."

"A conglomerate of malice, a tyrant mastering wisdom."

...

The night, on this shore is even more intense, the flames of trauma have extinguished, and without flames, vision gradually becomes clearer in the darkness.

A dismal green aurora weaves into a veil in the sky, under this spectacular light screen, skeletons crawl out of the soil, breaking the silence with their eerie noises. The rustling of the dead does not incite an uproar, the moving skeletons are not soldiers, but witnesses, prayerful.

Clattering, chains stir the night, descending slowly from the heavens, parting the sea of white bones is not a grand icebreaker but a slender figure cloaked in black, wearing a beak mask, with bright silver extending from wrists and ankles.

The chains drag the doom behind from the false illusion.

The giant, constructed of dried branches and tentacles, follows a tiny dark shadow under four slender chains. Under the embrace of skeletons, they move forward mechanically like puppets, whether it be the giant or the shadow pulling it, each step causing an earthquake, with ominous black mist erupting from the fluctuations of the giant.

Rosa is crying, her eyes fixated on that dark shadow, tears streaming down her face, her twitching lips revealing a terrified smile as she kneels within the carcass of the "Serpent", feeling her own soul screaming.

He is staring at himself, solely at himself.

Those surrounding him, once akin to a wolf pack of Demon People, have now collapsed on the ground, their convulsing bodies beyond normal bounds. Bone spurs dance on the skin, stray flesh constricting the windpipe; the Demon People’s bodies have betrayed themselves, and their consciousness has already been executed.

Rosa realizing she can still think, the anomalies in front of her batter against the doors and windows of her mental sanity violently like thugs as she sees the familiar shadow warp like a signal, with the restrained giant oozing black sludge.

Who is the principal, and who is the avatar?

In moments of crisis, humans manifest extraordinary potential; Rosa feels an immense danger within herself at this moment. But what awakens last is only a sense of responsibility. Dragging her numb body through sheer will, bearing the painful distortion of her face, she controls her lips to move, her vocal cords to voice her thoughts.

"I... am willing to take responsibility for everything... I plead... spare the exiles... others... everything... because of me, I... am sorry..." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Visibly, a storm rises, plague and death so dense they can be smelled in the air, a compound voice explodes in the mind, and Rosa bends down.

"I promised them I would protect your safety, this is my promise. Thus, I will not control your blood, muscles, bones, or nerves, you will maintain a mind capable of normal conversation with them until our assistance process is complete."

The voice is replete with a merciless void, Rosa feels like she is talking to the sky. Panic seizes her mind again, she kneels and curls up into a ball.

[Lyle] is dissatisfied with this reaction.

"What do you think I should do, embrace the corpse of an illusion, lament the sorrow brought by death, express farewells during burials and direct rage at you? Just like pressing an ant with a finger, haha..."

The gigantic giant pulls a fierce smile, his terrifying face approaching close to Rosa.

"I really want to do so. But what do you take me for? I am the Master of Illusions, the prepared Evil God, the most representative Spirit Summoner! Nothing can judge their life or death; to me, it’s just a jest in my hand."

Greenish aurora arrives, under the summoning of the Spirit Summoning Skill, fragments of the illusion begin to coalesce anew.

"I’ve been thinking, how can a harmless tribe proliferate and grow strong, and ultimately, this question still returned to my own hand."

"Becoming a whole, they represent ’benevolence’, while I control ill will. Absorbing the ill will that approaches them, becoming a source of malevolence, making the illusion a part of me, absorbing the pain, agony, rage, and punishment." This special tribe exists, as long as the leader is strong enough.

Soul Reaver system, where a strong spiritual body of the leader bears everything.

[I can, can do better than Helena.]

The ominous giant grasps those glass-like fragments, slowly piecing them onto his face, the shards of the illusion being integrated into the individual of the Evil God, forming a pure white mask filled with benevolence. Malevolence gushes out from the holes, trickling down the pristine curves.

[In the balance, benevolence of the illusion and malevolence of the god, the ominous giant achieves completeness.]

The chains shatter, the ominous giant stands up from the black mire. Limbs like dead wood, tentacles entwined on the body, a pure white mask, and malevolence flowing from the void—everything matches the ominous signs foreseen. The juvenile Evil God grows to full maturity, stepping into maturity, the corporeal vessel, the walking Evil God in the world.

[Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about this moment, Lyle?]

[Every time is not as sorrowful as now. Everything has been predestined, we are chess pieces with defined paths.]

[The only way, to step into a higher realm.]

[Drag down that slumbering fellow.]