Chapter 743: Chapter 379: Secret Technique—[Mara’s Death Sea—Lament of Sorrow]!
The spell that Casimodo had been preparing for a long time somewhat surprised Ronan.
Desecrating Moonlight, with power beyond the normal Level 5 Middle Stage, brought a slight sting to Ronan’s brow as the Dead Sea before him stirred once more.
Ronan’s eyes narrowed slightly, inhaling deeply. With the Instinct Grip’s support, the Momentum Spear’s eight blades resonated in unison, drawing forth a great force. Golden Titanium infused it as he faced the direction from which the dazzling arrows were shot.
"Boom!"
One white, one black, one dazzling, one fiery.
As if two stars collided, the magic shockwave erupted instantly in the void, stirring up layer upon layer of storms. The energy turbulence plowed the ground, effortlessly tearing apart the bodies of several Fourth-tier Demons, creating gashes filled with blood and flesh.
Everyone on the scene was closely watching the center of the energy explosion. When the swirling dust settled, Casimodo, still in bow-drawing posture, was stunned behind his Purple Crystal Mask, his hands loosening out of shock, nearly dropping the silver longbow that shimmered with starlight.
"How... possible?"
In the collision’s center, Ronan stood cloaked in Titanium, with sixteen pairs of magnificent golden eagle wings stretching eminently from his back, his black hair wildly dancing like flames, black patterns fluctuating across his body.
He gripped the spear single-handedly, with a tide of black and deep crimson aura surging around him, one hand extended forward, five fingers tightly gripping a feather carved as if from crystal.
The feather was exquisite, densely populated with runes on the surface, resembling a peerless work of art.
Yet now, it was filled with cracks and shattered into countless crystal fragments with a gentle pinch from Ronan’s fingers.
"Still... lacking somewhat."
Ronan inhaled softly, his whole figure suddenly turned blurry, fading and disappearing.
Simultaneously, on the battlefield’s other end, Casimodo appeared as facing a formidable enemy, retreating rapidly.
Ronan stood before him, motionless below, yet his body silently mirrored every movement, maintaining a standing-overlook posture.
"Casimodo..."
Ronan spoke calmly.
The other’s eyes trembled briefly, and the next second...
"Boom! Crack crack—"
A giant shadow-like hand tore through Casimodo’s layers of force field energy, smacking hard upon his face, instantly shattering the Purple Crystal Mask.
As Ronan retrieved his hand, Casimodo’s entire face caved inwardly, blood dripping steadily from his chin, his body trembling, slowly sliding to his knees.
Behind him, a group of Black Moon Wizards stared at Ronan with indescribable looks, scattering swiftly like frightened insects.
"Whew—"
A surge of hot air approached from behind, with a vast incandescent Fire Python plunging from the sky towards Ronan, accompanied by a massive eagle formed from countless Deep Blue Wind Blades and several other Fifth-rank Magic spells.
Ronan slightly raised his head, casually lifting his long spear, sweeping it horizontally, the spear tip cutting a vast crescent-shaped black arc.
Engulfing the massive swath of approaching spells.
Ronan’s figure followed closely, charging towards the fiery vortex of the gaping Fire Python overhead.
"Pop—"
Sounded like a bubble being popped, and in the blink of an eye, Ronan pierced through the massive Fire Python, its head exploded, scattering into countless flames.
Having penetrated the Fire Python, Ronan swiftly located the shadow of the person behind it.
The signature magic robe of the Spirit Lake Flame School, short hair, crimson eyes, with a faint frenzy flickering.
The Son of Spirit Lake Flames, Carnel.
Carnel was known as the "Tyrant" in the Flame School, yet now facing Ronan, his expression was panicked, nervously retreating like a fleeing soldier.
Ronan’s form unfurled, slowly raising the Eight-blade Spear, about to pierce through Carnel and nail him in the void.
At that moment, a shout suddenly echoed in his ear.
"Salanqi!"
Ronan slightly turned his gaze, seeing Urian, whom he subdued earlier, staring at him with venomous eyes, clenching his teeth, shouting hoarsely, with a fanatical hue on his face.
"Salanqi!"
"Salanqi!"
More shouts rose, all from the Witch Heart Hall’s wizards, who stared at Ronan as though the four words contained some magical power, giving them the strength to rise again.
Ronan frowned slightly, puzzled, suddenly feeling an icy sensation and oppressive dread.
It was as if his fingers touched an icy sharp string, plucking hard, causing a forced cut in his flesh.
"Hum—"
Struck by the strange sensation, under the Instinct Grip’s support, Ronan, driven by instinct, twisted his body sharply, thrusting his long spear fiercely towards a spot in the void ahead.
From that void, intense dark energy seeped quickly like water, pooling into a large patch, followed by a pair of emaciated hands from the pitch-black waters, silently advancing with an enormous, slender scythe towards him.
The spear collided with the scythe, mysteriously making no sound as though penetrating through each other.
"Boom!"
Suddenly, Ronan’s figure burst apart, transforming into countless light silver rays scattering.
Reappearing in another spot of the void.
Ronan’s expression was peculiar, still maintaining the standing-with-spear posture.
Yet he raised a hand, gently stroking his left cheek where a clear blood trace slowly appeared.
"Now it gets interesting..."
Ronan lowered his hand, his eyes calm, scanning towards a specific location.
There, a tall, imposing figure stood alone.
The figure wore a gorgeously-styled black long robe, looking valiant, precisely the Level 5 Wizard Ronan previously forcefully flung from the throne at the Witch Heart Hall.
The only one in the field with a strength reaching the Level 5 Late Stage as a Great Wizard.
Now, his expression was icy, his pupils eerily splitting into three irises, behind him, altar-like phantoms appeared and vanished intermittently, radiating a terrifying, inexplicable aura.
On one altar stood a tattered robe, wielding a giant scythe, a blurred ghostly figure.
"Are they calling for you? Are you Salanqi?"
Ronan looked at the man in front of him, starting to find a bit of the feeling he had when he first crossed swords with Thomas.
No.
It should be even more intense than that time.
After all, Thomas, as the commander of Tangista’s First Legion, always fought him with a playful attitude.
But the man in front of him was different.
His intent to kill Ronan was as cold as ice!
The brave man did not respond, only forming seals with his hands, and softly uttering the syllables of a spell from his mouth.
The sound of the spell seemed to come from a distant netherworld, falling into the ear as if countless sharp little hands were frantically scratching at the eardrum.
As the eerie magical waves were released, the man’s three eyes lit up, emitting a strange, ghostly light.
The blurred ghostly figure holding a giant scythe on the altar behind him abruptly disappeared.
In an instant, the bone-chilling sense of dread surged once more in Ronan’s heart.
Ronan’s eyes suddenly brightened, advancing instead of retreating. Under the Instinct Grip, he wielded the Momentum Spear, with sixteen pairs of golden wings spread out, seeming like a seer as he swept his spear towards a certain position to his side.
The vanished blurry ghost appeared precisely there, its black giant scythe cutting, separating from Ronan’s spear with a touch.
"Hoo—"
A blend of sinister cold and thick blazing aura intermingled, forming an indescribable, terrifying wind, sweeping around the battlefield.
Where it passed, some voids were corroded and decayed, others were twisted and melted.
This is certainly an unspeakably weird battle. As the acknowledged king of this generation in the Witch Heart Hall, Salanqi is the only terrifying entity who has reached the late stage of Level 5 and could even push to Level 6.
He summoned the ghostly figure worshiped on that eerie magical altar, and fought alongside Ronan, their spears and scythes clashing repeatedly, yet no sound was made from beginning to end.
Everyone fell silent, almost holding their breaths, fixating on this battle.
Ronan felt a long-awaited excitement.
Salanqi’s magic incorporated the essences of both the Dark Department and the Undead Series, exuding an aura of a powerful ancient legacy, it was bizarre and fierce beyond anything Ronan had ever seen before.
He could constantly feel the pressure of the edge of death.
This sensation provoked the power of the Dead Sea, hidden within the ancient power rune deep within Ronan.
Ronan’s close combat system had two breakthroughs urgently awaited.
One was the Master Level Proficiency achievement in Ascetic Body Refinement.
The other was the black Dead Sea power brought by the ancient power.
Previously, when entangled by shadow tendrils, he felt the opportunity for breakthroughs in both aspects, but the pressure was insufficient.
Now, in the battle against Salanqi, the Level 5 king of Witch Heart Hall, the pressure he longed for suddenly surged.
Although the breakthrough in Ascetic Body Refinement seemed to show no signs of progress, during the battle, the power of rule control under Instinct Grip continually pried, while the black Dead Sea power was constantly unearthed.
"Just a bit more, just a bit more..."
Ronan unleashed Mirror Flower Water Moon’s magical clones, battling the elusive blurred ghost, guarding against the terrifying giant scythe that could slash from any angle at any moment.
Before his eyes, within his body, the once dormant Dead Sea churned more and more intensely.
Feedback into his body, the ancient runes etched on his Eight-blade Spear in his hand lit up more and more scarlet, the black aura surrounding him roiling with large swathes of dark crimson.
"Tear—"
Ronan’s eyes were as if soaked in blood. Suddenly, the sixteen pairs of golden wings on his back closed tightly together, forcibly enduring a slash from the blurry ghost’s giant scythe, recklessly thrusting a spear towards the distant Salanqi controlling the ghost.
Salanqi’s three eyes spun rapidly, strange black veins suddenly appearing densely on his cheeks and neck.
With the utterance of a bizarre syllable, another strange altar emerged from the imaginary altar shadows behind him, wherein a robust figure brandishing a massive chopper lifted a massive black tide, slashing down towards Ronan head-on.
"Clack clack—"
The long narrow giant scythe closely followed, the terrifying dark undead blades from the front and back, forming a pincers maneuver as if to cleave Ronan completely in two.
Countless black and ghostly blue forbidden arc lightning fell from the sky, the entire battlefield seemed to plunge into a netherworld ghost mansion.
And standing there in the air, backed by ancient altars, Salanqi was the king who ruled over this ghostly realm.
In a flash, everyone’s eyes erupted with brilliant light, seemingly eager to see the scene of Ronan’s defeat and death unfolding.
At this moment, the pressure Ronan sought also reached a certain peak.
Under the terrifying life-and-death pressure’s stimulation, the primitive instinctual force called out, his inner Dead Sea seemed to reach a boiling point.
Boundless dark red surged from the depths of the pitch-black Dead Sea, the crimson waves roaring fiercely, faintly....
Ronan seemed to hear the voices of countless resentful souls buried at the bottom of the Dead Sea, crying and wailing through the ages.
Ronan’s form abruptly halted.
The Golden Titanium Armor on him shattered and peeled under the front and back opposing forbidden forces’ pressure.
He held his spear, head slightly lowered.
Inhale, then suddenly raised his head, revealing a pair of scarlet eyes soaked in fresh blood.
"Hoo—"
In the next moment, all the black ancient power rune tattoos on Ronan turned red, and the black aura surrounding him entirely transformed into a deeper, more viscous dark red, like semi-coagulated blood plasma.
Countless dark red arc flashes burst forth from Ronan’s body, releasing an ultimate vast, desolate, and majestic aura.
Ronan lightly raised the dark red spear in his hand, as if followed by a massive surging dark red Dead Sea behind him.
Emitting a terrifying aura exceeding that of ordinary Forbidden Magic Domains.
"Secret Technique—[Mara’s Death Sea—Lament’s Cry]!"
"Boom!"
.....
The fourth update, totaling over 15,000 words, asking for monthly tickets, thank you thank you