Chapter 1500 - 62: Burning Through the High Tower (4)

Flesh shriveled as if the blood had been drained, the torso shattered into countless pieces, like a giant meat grinder hidden in the shadows.

The battle was over.

With the cooperation of multiple parties, the man died just like that, and his ether reaction extinguished; the thousands of tons of illusory creation lost their subsequent support, disintegrating into smoke in mid-air, disappearing without a trace.

Bologue glanced at the ravaged underground dock, then looked at the aurora encircling his arm, gradually losing his grip over them as the light diminished and completely departed from this place.

His gaze slowly moved upward, into the darkness overhead, where Bologue guessed the Aurora Power had returned to its source and taken the news of the man’s death back as well.

"Palmer, Olivia, you two escort The Imperfect away first," Bologue issued the command, then added to Olivia separately, "This is a chance for redemption, don’t let me down."

On the ground, the massive shadow gathered together without external pressure affecting it, allowing Olivia to focus all her energy on relocating the crowd. This time, the shadow slowly began to move toward the outside world.

"After escorting them away, I’ll come to find you." Relying on the whistle, Olivia’s voice echoed in Bologue’s mind.

"What about you? What will you do next?"

Palmer panted heavily; the continuous battles had consumed a large amount of his ether, with droplets of blood dripping from his nose and arms. Just now, to kill that Negative Power User Night Race, Palmer had also spent considerable effort.

Bologue pointed toward the darkness overhead, "Go to meet with the Deputy Director and Holt."

"And also..."

Bologue paused and raised his hand to show Palmer the Crystal Core, "Burn through this tower."

...

The Condensers nervously gazed at the magnificent area before them filled with ether, the Ethereal Furnace expanding and twisting, transforming the entire space into a point of overlap between the Ethereal Realm and the Material Realm. Then, Nesanel and the Duke of Conquest fell deep within, engaging in battle.

They were unsure of the conditions within but could still feel the terrifying ethereal fluctuation. The Condensers, powerless to participate in a battle of such magnitude nor possess any means to change the current situation, could only stand guard as they awaited changes within.

Finally, after hours of sustained silence, faint footsteps emerged from the extraordinary domain ahead, and the Condensers anxiously looked forward, unclear as to who was approaching.

Gradually, a blurry figure appeared in the light, his form becoming increasingly clear, the Condensers discerned his visage.

It was the Duke of Conquest, emerging from the battlefield beyond this worldly realm.

It must have been an unimaginably fierce battle; the Duke of Conquest’s overly ornate robe had burned away, his body was covered in scorched wounds, and his figure hunched, stumbling in his steps.

It was a pyrrhic victory, but nonetheless a triumph.

The Condensers rushed forward, celebrating the Duke of Conquest’s return, but suddenly, the Duke’s knees buckled, and he fell straight to the ground.

"Duke of Conquest!"

Someone exclaimed, hastily surrounding him, trying to lift him up, but in the next moment, everyone froze, refusing to move an inch.

Wisps of black smoke rose from the Duke’s back, upon closer inspection, it was evident that his entire back and nape had burned away completely, leaving only a thin layer of charred remains on top. One might say that, at this moment, the Duke of Conquest was but an emptied corpse, his recent actions merely the instinctive movements of residual flesh.

Joy vanished, leaving only absolute terror and oppressiveness, clutching the throat of everyone present.

Meanwhile, looking back into the extraordinary domain, new heavy and sluggish footsteps sounded again, as someone else emerged from the Ethereal Realm, with their arrival inexplicably raising the surrounding temperature by several degrees.

Who could it be?

While speculations ran wild, a pitch-black object was thrown out, slamming heavily onto the ground, rolling several times before landing at the feet of a Condenser.

It was a human head, and from the pitiable features, the Condensers could identify the deceased’s identity, it was the Legislator Jiru, the great Seeker of Glory Jiru.

With the temperature within the environment soaring, a deep chill simultaneously piled up in the hearts of all present. Within the light, a tall, sturdy figure emerged, bare-bodied, covered in hideous wounds, yet no blood flowed from the wounds, only unceasing flames.

The newcomer seemed to be holding something, and as the scene became clearer, the Condensers realized it was a broken body.

The body had been severed from the chest downward, both arms gone, yet miraculously, this broken body was not yet dead, its chest faintly rising and falling, its charred head wide open in a burst of meaningless wailing.

Both eyes had evaporated completely, ear canals already burnt, fused together; though he did not die, he was better off dead, akin to a trophy, carelessly grasped by the neck, held aloft.

Nesanel hoisted the half-torso of Jos high, as if to flaunt his own achievements, like an intimidation, announcing to everyone the ultimate fate of those who defied fate.