Chapter 1302 - 606: Ancient God Anchor Truth_2

Chapter 1302: Chapter 606: Ancient God Anchor Truth_2

David fixed his gaze on the projection; those shards of memory fell into the depths of his Mind like stars, yet clearly mirrored the operating mechanism of the Cosmos’s lifeblood.

He gently closed his eyes, feeling the lucent enlightenment born of bloodline merging with arcane: "So the ’World Anchor’ was never a gift from the Creator, but the final prison...

the residue of ancient terror and the struggle against Order."

At the same time, that black-robed figure descended into the void once more.

His steps were unhurried, yet could not conceal the cold cunning that flowed between his brows and eyes.

This time, it was the Pope’s true body, manifest in a shell visible to mortal eyes yet not of mundane flesh; his gaze was as cold as Frosty Winter’s polar night, silently surveying the suffering of all beings, like a judge of fate descending upon the dust of the world.

His voice was steady and heavy with oppression: "You have seen the truth, but this is merely the tip of the iceberg."

The Pope lifted his hand slightly, and a violent force field instantly shrouded the surroundings, twisting space into a peerless lonely island,

"Yog-Sothoth is the source of primordial Chaos at creation. I will fuse the three hearts of ’life, Shadow, and light,’ and with a new Order replace the old shackles."

The Pope’s gaze swept across them all, each glance carrying soul-piercing pain: "What you call guardianship is nothing but an illusion forged by your immense terror of change.

I will fuse the three hearts to open a new epoch, instead of wallowing in the already rotted and decayed old Laws."

His voice gradually rose, like storm waves pounding sheer cliffs: "I am no destroyer—I am a creator! And you... are nothing but lambs blocking my path!"

Hearing this, everyone’s brows knitted tight, but what filled them more was shock and defiance.

In their eyes, this black-robed Pope was no savior, but a great enemy who longed to place all living beings under an iron-blooded dominion, to grind free will into ashes!

Liya clenched her fists; golden Life Runes flared around her, "Free will never bows! We refuse to be your pieces on the board!"

Cynthia’s Longsword swept forth a streak of Frost-cold light; she answered in an icy voice, "Your ambition will be shattered in the end—this is our last line of defense for faith and the future!"

Lucia shook out her silver hair; she stared at the strange arcane ripples reflected from the hourglass, "Time will not forever favor those who seek to control it. We have the power to tear your delusions apart!"

Hill vowed solemnly, "The Holy Knight Order swears to defend the continent’s dignity to the death. We will not allow evil to usurp the crown!" He pointed his sword to the sky, his roar like a tiger’s, shaking all enemies on every side!

David met the Pope’s eyes directly; he held his fist slantwise against his chest as that blue-white holy flame burned on. In his eyes shone steadfast conviction and the certainty of victory.

"We brush away the dust and see the truth; and we use our faith to light the future. Even before the deepest night, we will embrace the dawn."

The air was thick with the reek of gunpowder, but more than that was the surge of resolve and hope, interwoven into a majestic power.

This was not only a clash, but a broad road leading to the chance for a new epoch’s Order, the gravest trial before the storm.

The projection gradually faded, yet those searing, indelible messages were now carved into the deepest place in each person’s heart.

And the secret of the ’World Anchor’ was slowly taking shape in their hands: it was both a prison and a key;

it could both seal and open;

whoever truly mastered it would have the chance to steer the destiny of the entire Multiverse...

David and the others still stood upon that eerie, unfathomable 7th Floor of the Abyss that seemed to devour all substance and time.

Space quivered faintly, as though in the next moment it would shatter into a thousand fragments.

Yet the Pope’s true body did not stop there. He moved forward slowly, each step as if treading upon the fate of the whole Cosmos, carrying an unstoppable pressure.

That black robe hung from him like a nightfall cloak; his ink-dark eyes pierced the void to lock onto David, as if coldly judging all things.

"You have seen what you call ’truth,’ yet still cannot grasp the deeper game of the board."

His voice was low and hoarse, yet carried a shock that tore at the Soul, "The gods are nothing but Reapers sent forth by the Ancient God Yog-Sothoth, agents who use civilizations as chess pieces in a doomed harvest."

The Pope slowly raised his right hand; the black robe billowed in the wind like a vortex churning in endless darkness.

From his palm blossomed a chill, extreme vision twisted and broken, as though countless rises and falls of civilizations and annihilations of races were gathered there.

He went on, "Every so-called creation and decline is but one move in the cyclical game Yog-Sothoth sets in motion.

He uses these agents to seize the current of fate, turning splendor into dust, harvesting fear and despair to fuel his own resurgence."

These words struck their hearts like a desolate bell tolling; on every face surged shock, mingled fury, and unwillingness.

Tears glimmered in Liya’s eyes; she clenched both fists. "So the gods are merely a First Ring in a cruel game that enslaves the people... How can this be tolerated!"

Cynthia tightened her grip on the hilt; the Frost Runes stood erect like blades as she released freezing breath from her fingertips, "We shall never be slaves to any tyranny, nor allow Shadow to devour the dignity of life!"

Lucia’s brows knit; her silver hair fluttered in the faint wind as she cried hoarsely, "Though time is manipulated, free will will never be extinguished. We will tear this false Order apart!"

David stood by the hourglass, his whole body ablaze with holy flame. His gaze was keen and unyielding as he answered without the slightest doubt, "I refuse to become a new agent of any ancient power! I will not let Chaos become shackles, nor will I allow the Cosmos to fall into another vicious cycle!"

His ringing voice echoed, raising surging waves in that warped space.

He clenched his fist suddenly, drawing the blue-white Chaos Core power within him—hot as a star—to its utmost.

As he thrust his hands forward, a vast, violent current of Chaos erupted at once.

The flow swept toward the ’Hourglass of Time’ like a tide; its fierce impact made the space around the device shudder wildly. Countless Runes shattered and scattered; wave after wave of temporal ripples spread like shockwaves.

The entire Maze seemed to undergo drastic changes under this power, constantly reweaving its paths and even briefly collapsing, only to rapidly rebuild into new structures.

The threads of time surged brokenly; every pulse carried a flood of information in which Chaos and Order intertwined, impossible to distinguish true from false.

Hill led the Witch Rider Corps in swift response, cleaving through the Demons’ Shadow ahead with his blade to open a path for David, while shouting, "Everyone, listen up! We must evacuate at once! This Energy is about to trigger an uncontrollable collapse!"

Liya’s whole body blazed with Runes; she swept her arms to shape a Life Shield, wrapping her comrades to withstand the impact.

Cynthia drove her Longsword into the Earth, channeling a Frost Barrier to seal the most perilous routes and block enemy pursuit;

Lucia constantly adjusted the Arcane Array’s balance to provide stable support for their retreat.

The air shrilled with a biting hum—the sharpest scream of space just before it is torn apart;

countless phantoms within the Maze dissolved and vanished; fragments of past memories were swept away like smoke, and certain future possibilities flickered out in an instant.

David felt the core within him surging in fierce response, but he still grit his teeth and held, using his will to draw all his allies together toward the exit.

Beside him, stream after stream of blue-white holy flame coalesced as guardian Spirit Bodies into Shields, protecting each Warrior as they passed through the shifting storm of spacetime at its most perilous moment.

"Don’t cling to this place!" Hill’s voice rose in a ragged shout. "Stand together—we have to live. This brutal war has only just begun."

In the end, the Maze collapsed with a roar into a vortex of boundless void, and they seized the chance to leap into the gate wrought by Lucia’s Teleportation Array, briefly crossing the warped walls of spacetime, wrapped in searing blue light.

In the next instant, they finally escaped that realm of deceitful phantasms and tormenting inner demons.

They returned to the solid ground of the real world.

Yet each face remained grave, for they knew that the truly greater war had only just drawn its curtain...

The Earth quivered faintly; clouds boiled and churned along the horizon, as though forecasting the coming storm that would sweep over all things.