bookandnovel Chapter 194 Aikar's Calamity
Chapter 194 Aikar's Calamity
Chapter 194 Aikar's Calamity
The pale calamity of the Blanc Plains did not cease as the prey fled.
The being formed by the fusion of Renkel and the ancient hunger consciousness still greedily sucked up every last bit of energy left on the battlefield, driven by instinct.
The land turned gray and cracked, as if life had been completely drained away.
Even the magical particles permeating the air became thin and dim.
His enormous body, formed of pale flames, rippled slightly, with Ronkel's distorted face appearing and disappearing within it, emitting a silent wail, but it was quickly engulfed by an even larger, purer "hunger".
Regarding the escape from the Silent Forest, He seemed to have only the most primal sense—a relatively "dense" energy source had disappeared, obscured by a shadow that made Him somewhat "uncomfortable".
This "discomfort" temporarily overwhelmed the instinct to track, causing His attention to return to the ruins before Him that were easier to "digest".
But everyone knows that this is only temporary.
Deep within the silent forest, the oppressive atmosphere almost solidified into a tangible form.
The dense canopy blocked out the ominous pale light from the outside world, but the cold, greedy pressure still hung like the Sword of Damocles over the souls of every survivor.
The fugitives, a mix of black and white, were forcibly dispersed and reorganized.
Under the cold watchful eyes of the Shadow Walkers, the original members of the Eternal Tower were inscribed with deeper binding runes and led to the deeper parts of the forest to undertake the most arduous and dangerous tasks, such as digging fortifications and reinforcing barriers.
Their eyes had lost their former brilliance, leaving only numb obedience and fear of an unknown fate.
The collapse of faith is more despairing than physical trauma.
Mochamo appeared in a huge temporary command post formed by living ancient trees.
Several high-ranking members of the Silent Forest, all bearing injuries, were already waiting there with grave expressions. Among them were Lilith, whose aura was somewhat unsteady but whose eyes remained sharp, and Sean, who had the most knowledge of the outside situation and seemed to have invisible spores emanating from his body.
"The loss statistics are in—"
A dark wizard in charge of logistics spoke in a dry voice, his magic crystal projecting alarming numbers and charts.
"The legion has suffered over 60% casualties, with 17 level-3 wizards killed or wounded, and many more severely injured and rendered incapable of fighting—resource consumption—"
Mochamo raised his hand to interrupt him, his voice hoarse and cold: "These numbers are meaningless!"
Our only resources right now are the people outside who are still able to work, and the forest itself.
His gaze shifted to Sean: "That thing—what's changed?"
Sean shook his head slightly: "It is still roaming the plains, devouring everything."
Its energy properties are extremely strange; my spores cannot get too close, or they will be assimilated and absorbed.
But it seems—lacking proactive, intelligent search awareness—more like a mobile natural disaster.
Sean added, his voice like the rubbing of bacteria: "Its devouring territory is slowly expanding. At this rate, in three days at most, the edge will reach the eastern shadow barrier of the forest."
Our barrier—it probably can't withstand that level of erosion for long. It's not a magical attack, but something more primal—plunder.
The command post was deathly silent.
They paid a heavy price, even accepting their mortal enemies, to gain this temporary respite, but the safe period may only last a few days.
"What about Hick?" a high-ranking official couldn't help but ask in a low voice, his tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible anticipation and awe.
Mochamo's eyes suddenly sharpened, even carrying a hint of warning: "Just do what we're supposed to do! As long as we hold on, everything will be alright!"
He then looked around at everyone and said in a resolute tone, "From now on, the Silent Forest will enter a state of maximum survival control."
"First, all resources, including newly recruited labor," will be centrally allocated by command, prioritizing the reinforcement and improvement of the "Abyss's Treasury" barrier to delay the monster's perception and encroachment as much as possible.
"Second, send out all remaining shadow scouts to monitor the thing's movement, and at the same time—explore outwards to find other possible unconsumed areas or energy sources."
"Third," he said, looking at Sean and Lilith, "you two should try to study the properties of that pale energy. Even if you can only find a way to interfere with or circumvent it, it will be a huge victory."
"at last----"
Mochamo's voice lowered.
"Internal monitoring must reach the highest level."
Especially those in white robes—
Fear and despair are the best catalysts, but they can also breed the most foolish madness. Any destabilizing factors should be eliminated on the spot, without seeking permission.
The order was carried out swiftly and silently.
The entire Silent Forest, like a rusty but still tenacious machine, began to operate frantically under the shadow of the apocalypse.
The survivors of the original Eternal Tower were driven, like worker ants, under the supervision of wizards, to pour their magic into every node of the forest without reservation, reinforcing that seemingly thin but only hopeful barrier of shadow.
They were exhausted and desperate, but the will to survive overwhelmed everything.
Occasionally, someone would look up at the faintly visible pale expanse beyond the forest, a chilling fear flashing in their eyes, before they desperately squeezed out what little strength they had left.
The deepest part of the dark canyon.
Hick transformed into a dragon over a large area, hovering silently in the air, with large swathes of black flame constantly surging from his body.
Before him, a scene composed of pure shadows clearly depicted the devastation outside, the bustling activity and despair inside the forest, and even the unconscious movement of that pale being.
A faint, almost imperceptible pale energy was wrapped around his fingertips.
These are samples that Lilith brought back from her adventures.
"Pure 'hunger' — Devouring at the level of rules — Incomplete advancement —"
Hick muttered to himself, his eyes flashing with a cold, inhuman calculating light.
"You really did end up like this, offering the entire Tower of Eternity as a sacrifice, only to become 'its' most clumsy vessel and battery—"
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
The slight smile on his lips reappeared, this time carrying a clear hint of mockery.
"Alright."
"A Level 4 who has lost his mind and acts only on instinct—though troublesome, is much easier to deal with than a truly complete and intelligent Level 4 opponent."
"Fear has been sown, and despair is taking root and sprouting—"
His own light seemed to penetrate through layers of obstacles, revealing the original white wizards toiling in the forest, their hearts filled with fear.
"When external pressure reaches its limit, when the old order is completely shattered, when survival becomes the only need —"
"Only those who were once believers in the light will truly abandon the past and embrace from the depths of their souls the power that allows them to live."
Even the shadows.
He gently waved his hand, dispelling the pale energy, allowing it to be completely swallowed and analyzed by the darkness beneath him.
"Mochamo did a good job. High pressure, order, and a glimmer of hope—this is currently the most effective management method."
"Lilith and Sean—perhaps they can find some interesting patterns in that thing."
His figure slowly disappeared into the deeper darkness, leaving only a whispered message: "Devour, spread—"
"When you have thoroughly cleaned this continent of its old-world traces—"
"That is when a new order is born from ruins and shadows."
"And I am very patient."
""
"When that fellow descends upon the Silent Forest, bringing utter despair to all of Aicar, I will become the savior, the king of all of Aicar!"
The canyon returned to silence, with only endless darkness flowing through it!
The burning black flames resembled a lurking beast, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to rule over the entire city of Aikar.
On the plains of Blanc, the pale flames continued to burn and expand tirelessly.
Within the Silent Forest, the survivors struggle to live one more day under the shadows and oppressive pressure.
The wheels of time are being forcibly pushed toward a future that no one can predict in a cruel and desperate way.
Time seemed to pass incredibly slowly under the pressure of despair, yet it also seemed to pass as fast as it could.
The three-day deadline was like a tightening noose, making it harder to breathe within the Silent Forest with each passing day.
The "Abyss's Lair" barrier on the eastern border, constructed from ancient trees, shadows, and the magic of countless wizards, has become flickering.
Just as Sean had predicted, the pale, devouring domain slowly but irresistibly spread.
It is not an impact or corrosion barrier, but more like a kind of assimilation.
The land, air, and even light outside the barrier quickly lost all "activity," fading into a deathly gray-white, and then silently turning into dust. All the energy contained within was drawn away and flowed into the body of that pale center.
The power of the barrier itself is being continuously and subtly "sucked" away, like an invisible black hole attached to the other side of the barrier, slowly and steadily draining its life force.
The wizards responsible for maintaining the barrier, whether they were natives of the Silent Forest or former prisoners of the Eternal Tower, were all pale-faced and sweating profusely.
They could clearly feel their own magic power rapidly draining away, as well as the chilling hunger emanating from the other side of the barrier that sent shivers down their spines.
"Hold on! Infuse with magic! Quickly!"
A dark wizard captain roared hoarsely, almost pressing his palm against the barrier node, his body trembling slightly from excessive output.
Beside him, a former white wizard with vacant eyes, almost instinctively poured his remaining light magic into it—a power that had once been hostile to the shadows, now ridiculously becoming part of maintaining the shadow barrier.
His magic, once injected into the node, was quickly assimilated and distorted by the shadow energy, becoming mottled and indistinct, yet it still served a supporting function.
The instinct for survival is indeed crushing past beliefs.