Chapter 636 - 53: Breakthrough to the Golden Core

Chapter 636: Chapter 53: Breakthrough to the Golden Core

But in the end, she never came back.

Murphy looked down at Eleanor, who was sobbing uncontrollably in his arms.

His thirty-six-year-old daughter was curled up in his arms like a child who had just lost her mother, her sobs gut-wrenching.

’No, she *has* lost her mother.’

Thirty-one years ago, Margaret had been trapped in the Sanctuary, only able to meet with her through a puppet.

That separation, though painful, at least held a sliver of hope.

At least through that shell, they could still hear her voice, see her smile.

’But now...’

’...even that shell can no longer move.’

’Margaret is truly dead.’

Murphy’s hand slowly lowered, gently resting on Eleanor’s back.

He didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t know how to comfort her.

He could sunder the void with a single slash, kill the Ironspine Duke—a Third-Level Wizard—and change the very order of the Continent.

But he didn’t know how to tell his daughter that her mother, the woman named Margaret, was truly gone.

He opened his mouth, but his throat felt blocked, and no sound came out.

Eleanor was still crying, her voice hoarse, but she couldn’t stop.

"I miss Mom... I miss her so much..."

she murmured, her voice as faint as a thread about to snap.

"When she left... I... I was so little... I thought... I thought she’d always come back... She said... She said she would come back..."

Murphy’s arms tightened, pulling his daughter closer into his embrace.

"She said... She said she’d come back..."

Eleanor repeated the words, as if talking to herself, or perhaps to someone who could no longer hear.

Murphy closed his eyes.

He couldn’t bring himself to say, "Don’t cry," because he was in just as much pain.

He couldn’t say, "Mom will come back," because she wouldn’t.

And he certainly couldn’t say, "Your mother sacrificed herself to save me," and then accept this life, bought with hers, with a clear conscience.

That was not what a father should do.

He just held his daughter, letting her tears soak his clothes, letting her cries echo in the silent room.

Just then,

time stopped.

Murphy’s consciousness was still steeped in immense grief. His hands holding Eleanor had not loosened, and his daughter’s scalding tears still stained the front of his shirt.

But everything had stopped.

Eleanor’s sobs vanished.

The lights of Taymer Palace outside the window froze.

Even the air seemed to have turned to transparent amber, sealing him within this static moment.

Murphy’s pupils contracted sharply.

Though his body was immobile, his consciousness, his perception, and the Spiritual Sense born from his 120% Dao Transformation Level—a sense that resonated with the world itself—were all blaring warnings at him.

There was someone behind him.

He could sense it.

Less than three meters behind him, there was a person.

A person he knew all too well.

"Eleanor will be fine," a deep, resonant voice said from behind, carrying a commanding sense of calm. "In this frozen time, she feels no pain and perceives nothing amiss. When she wakes, she’ll just think she cried herself to sleep."

Killing intent erupted from Murphy’s eyes, so potent it felt tangible.

Even though his body couldn’t move, even with time at a standstill, that sharp killing intent pierced through the frozen air, stabbing straight at the person behind him.

"Ironspine Duke."

He bit out each word, his voice breaking through the shackles of frozen time, laced with a coldness suppressed to its absolute limit.

From behind, a figure slowly walked forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

It was the Ironspine Duke.

The same tall, imposing, mountain-like figure; the same face that always wore a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze calmly fixed on the frozen night outside the window, as if he were merely visiting an old friend.

"Murphy," he said, turning his head with a slight smile. "How have you been lately?"

Murphy didn’t speak.

He just stared intently at the man before him.

’He clearly remembered.’

’He remembered that battle, remembered his sword interfering with the Duke’s seal, remembered his body—formed of pure radiance—disintegrating under the world’s Law, remembered the final, unwilling roar he had let out.’

’He should be dead.’

’How could he possibly be alive?’

"How are you still alive?"

Murphy finally spoke, his voice as cold as if it had been dredged from a ten-thousand-year-old ice cellar.

Hearing this, the Ironspine Duke let out a soft chuckle.

His laugh carried an indescribable meaning, as if he had expected the question, or perhaps was just used to such reactions.

"That is because," he began slowly, each word perfectly clear, "a Balance Keeper cannot die."

Murphy’s brows furrowed tightly.

"A Balance Keeper?"

The Ironspine Duke nodded. "When you shattered my outer shell and saw my true form, you should have understood. I am no ordinary Wizard, nor am I simply the ’Ironspine Duke.’ I am a Balance Keeper. My very existence is to maintain the balance of this Continent."

He paused, his gaze returning to the window, to the frozen night beyond.

"When the balance is broken, a new Balance Keeper is born. If I die, a new me will appear. As long as I live, I will exist forever. That is the essence of a Balance Keeper."

A cold glint flashed in Murphy’s eyes as he listened.

"What nonsense."

His voice was filled with disdain.

The Ironspine Duke, however, did not get angry.

He simply shook his head, his tone still placid.

"Then, let me put it in terms you’re more familiar with."

He turned to face Murphy, looking him directly in the eyes.