Chapter 1215
Cleansing Seria!
Chapter 1215 Cleansing Seria! (9K+)
[The Court of Blood Crown Ceremony - The Realm of Crowned Suffering] VS [Six Thousand Rebellious Spears - The Weeping Road of Apia]
The two realms collided above the mountain pass.
The corpses, broken blades, shattered bones, and still-wet blood on the ground were simultaneously swept into the air by two opposing domain rules, like a reversed crimson rainstorm, spinning wildly around Angola and the avatar of the thirsty.
【The Court of Blood Crown Ceremony - The Bitter Realm of Crowning】
The mountain ridges became stands, the slopes became steps, and the corpses scattered everywhere became offerings to pave the way. Everyone who could still breathe, whether they were rebels, city-state soldiers, or those already fanatical Red Crown believers, were forcibly pulled into the audience.
Their fear, excitement, pain, hatred, fanaticism, and will to survive all fueled this realm, and in the center of the holy pit, the thirsty one, wearing a red crown, had a serrated blood-red halo behind him expanding in circles.
His field of influence has a very direct effect.
All the blood shed here will flow back to him; all the pain endured here will become the punishment he inflicts on his enemies; all the battles that are seen will be recorded by the Crowned Bitter Realm and then transformed into the authority of the Red Crown.
In other words, the more people watch them fight in this realm, the stronger the Incarnation of the Hungry One becomes.
The "Six Thousand Rebels and the Crying Road to Appiah" unfolded in Angola, however, had a completely different flavor.
It was a road, a road paved with broken guns, chains, bloody footprints, and the bones of slaves, a road that went against the grain.
The moment the domain took shape, the earth beneath Angola stretched infinitely forward, and six thousand rusty spears emerged from the ground, their tips all pointing in the direction of the Red Crown.
Clang clang clang—! !!! !!!
Glug glug~~~~
The two realms began to tear each other apart as soon as they made contact.
The six thousand reverse spears continued to advance, each spear rising from the depths of the domain, piercing through the stands of the holy pit, shattering the blood-soaked steps, and striking the blood-red halo behind the thirsty ones.
boom--
The thirsty man raised his hand and grabbed, and countless blood-red iron hooks immediately surged from the sacred pit beneath his feet.
Iron hooks emerged simultaneously from the ground, the corpses, the stands, and the blood mist, densely wrapping around Angola's limbs, back, and head, trying to nail him into a trophy displayed in the center of the sacred pit.
"Kneel down."
The thirsty being chuckled and spoke, the crimson crown emitting a deep rumble, and the entire Crowned Realm of Suffering began to exert pressure on Angola.
Angolan simply bit off a mouthful of bloody foam, and Spartacus on his back suddenly raised his arm.
Six hundred reverse-shaped guns fell simultaneously.
Boom boom boom boom boom—
The blood hooks were shattered row by row by the spear, along with the crimson crest patterns that had appeared on the ground.
Angolan charged forward, stepping on the shattered, blood-stained trails, as if he were running wildly along a road of rebellion that was constantly unfolding ahead, his speed increasing and his momentum growing stronger.
"Didn't you want to be crowned?"
He slashed at the shoulder of the thirsty being's avatar, the blade tearing through flesh and blood, bringing forth a large patch of scarlet sap.
"I'll chop your lousy crown and head off today!"
The thirsty being, its shoulder slashed open, laughed even more excitedly.
"it is good!"
He punched Angola in the chest with a backhand, and the entire stands of the Crowned World erupted in cheers the moment the punch landed.
Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of virtual spectators roared from all directions, all pouring into this one strike.
Angolan's chest caved in, and he was sent flying backward, crashing through three layers of blood-red stone steps.
But as soon as he landed, Spartacus behind him used a broken spear to brace himself against the ground and forcefully lifted him up from the pool of blood.
He continued walking forward.
One step, two steps, and when the third step landed, all six thousand reverse spears had appeared.
The spears hung behind him, densely packed, like a forest of spears rising against the sky.
The avatar of the thirsty finally narrowed its eyes slightly.
"Oh?"
Angolan gripped the cleaver with both hands, while Spartacus raised his arms behind him at the same time.
In the next instant, six thousand reversed spears began to converge towards the center.
All the gunshots were forcibly compressed into a single, enormous spear at that moment.
The spear was dark red all over, its shaft wrapped with broken chains, but its tip was dazzlingly bright, like a weapon specially crafted to pierce the chest of a god.
Angolan's eyes were bloodshot, and the blood nails inside his skull were vibrating wildly, almost tearing his skull apart from the inside.
"Kill God——"
He roared, and Spartacus, appearing behind him, moved in sync with him, the two becoming one, and threw the spear forward.
"gun!!!"
The spear pierced through the thirsty man's domain, broke through the stands, pierced the holy pit, shattered countless crimson crests, and then, to the horror of all the believers, smashed head-on into the chest of the thirsty man's avatar.
puff-
The spear tip pierced through his back, and for the first time, the thirsty one stopped laughing.
A huge hole was ripped open in his chest, the crimson halo flashed violently, and large cracks appeared throughout the entire Crowned Bitter Realm at that moment.
In a walled city-state of Seria, tens of thousands of Red Crown Priests, Highrider nobles, and loyal followers on the stands of the Holy Pit simultaneously clutched their chests.
The next moment, their bodies exploded from the inside.
Bang—! ! !
Blood spurted into the sky, and the entire city-state resembled a blood sac pierced by an invisible spear. The city walls, palaces, arenas, and altars all collapsed amidst the roar.
The shot from Angola did kill one of the thirsty ones, but that was all. After a brief silence, the thirsty one lowered his head and looked at his pierced chest.
Then he laughed again, the laughter starting low and then growing louder until the entire realm of suffering trembled.
"good very good."
On his chest, flesh was slowly writhing, and the jagged wound was gradually closing up.
"It seems your skills are indeed no less than your verbal skills. That attack just now truly pierced through my avatar."
As he spoke, he slowly reached out and grasped the God-Slaying Spear that was crumbling at his chest.
"Congratulations! You have successfully killed the people of a high-walled city-state. That last strike was clearly delivered to them. All the nobles, priests, cup officials, red-crowned officials, and spectators who believe in me have been nailed to death by your spear."
"Do you feel happy when I say this, since you wish you could kill all the Highmasters of the walled city-states?"
Angolan knelt on the ground, his chest heaving violently.
That shot just now almost drained him of all his strength.
The Spartacus behind him also showed obvious cracks; three of the six broken spear phantoms were broken, and the remaining three were constantly flickering.
The thirsty being continued forward.
With each step taken, crimson tentacles emerged from the ground of the Crowned Bitter Realm.
The ravenous man, now brimming with confidence and a mocking smile, addressed Angola, his desire to share overflowing:
“I’m different from my brothers who are just empty shells with no clear minds. I don’t have a fixed physical body… Well, you might not know what I mean, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t understand. Anyway, there are very few people in this world who can understand.”
"I was truly pleased with your performance today, so let me tell you something else."
“Angola, you cannot defeat me. My spirit resides in the fanaticism of all the rulers of Seria, beneath every gladiatorial pit, and in the heart of every person who sends slaves to the stands, calls suffering glory, and slaughter order.”
"As long as these things remain, as long as those city-states, nobles, priests, and believers remain, I will not truly die."
He approached Angola, his smile tinged with a cruel admiration.
"You just killed me once, but I can do it many more times."
As soon as he finished speaking, crimson tentacles suddenly shot out from under Angola's feet.
Angolan roared and forced himself to his feet. Spartacus swung his fist, shattering all the first tentacles that lunged at him. But more tentacles surged in from all directions.
They then wrapped around his body, and several blood-red tentacles climbed directly onto Spartacus's body, dragging the avatar little by little towards the ground like chains.
Angolan gritted his teeth and struggled, his muscles bulging, the blood nails on his head throbbing wildly.
He forcefully tore off two tentacles, but his power was already exhausted, and the Void Crown was beginning to collapse under the crushing weight of the Crowned Bitter Realm.
Finally, a thick, blood-red tentacle emerged from the ground, wrapped around his chest, and lifted him up.
Spartacus let out a silent roar, his broken fist slamming towards the avatar of the Thirsty One, but the Thirsty One merely raised his hand and pressed down.
click-
The statue, symbolizing rebellion and death-defying struggle, was pierced through the chest, and Angola spat out a mouthful of blood.
The wound on the chest of the ravenous incarnation was still slowly healing, where the hole caused by the god-slaying spear still remained, but the smile of a victor had returned to his face.
He walked up to the Angolan man who was being held by tentacles, and looked up at the man who was hanging in mid-air, covered in blood, yet still staring at him with unwavering determination.
"What a pity. With your talent, if you had a little more time, you might have been able to kill me. You actually have something from the same source as me, but your mother's blessing did not fall on you. You are just a failure."
The thirsty being slowly raised his hand and removed the crimson crown from his head.
As soon as the red crown left his head, all the believers around him let out even more fervent growls, as if they were witnessing a god handing over royal power to the most perfect sacrifice.
"Now, you're mine, and I'll help you make up for the part of your failure."
He carried the red crown and approached Angola step by step.
"I will make you the greatest bloodthirsty king of Seria, and I will use your body to kill all those behind you."
"Then, I will nail your soul to the deepest part of the Crimson Crown, so that you will forever watch everything you love being torn apart by your own hands."
Angolan's bones creaked as the tentacles squeezed him. He hung his head, as if he had no strength left to move. But just as the avatar of the thirsty one approached and was about to place the crimson crown on his head, Angolan suddenly raised his face.
His mouth was split open, and his teeth were full of blood.
Then, he spat a mouthful of saliva mixed with blood and foam hard into the thirsty man's face.
vomit--
The mouthful of blood splattered onto the face of the thirsty avatar, trickling down his sharp teeth and chin.
The Angolan stared at him and cursed, word by word:
"You bastard, you should keep that tattered crown for your own grave."
The thirsty man was not angered by the mouthful of blood.
He even smiled, reached out to wipe the blood and foam from his face, and gently licked his fingertips as if he were tasting some kind of decent sacrificial wine.
"Ah, this is the taste of despair."
Angola: "You're disgusting."
His response was even more direct: crimson tentacles gripped his chest, arms, and legs tightly, squeezing his bones until they creaked.
Despite struggling desperately, even with his shoulder bones twisted out of place and his knees forcibly twisted open by tentacles, he was like a ferocious beast hanging on a butcher's rack, desperately trying to remove his head from under that red crown.
The thirsty ones sensed this struggle, and also sensed something emanating from the depths of the bloody nails.
--fear.
The smiles on the thirsty man's face deepened.
"So you can be afraid too, Angola. I thought you were really as fearless as you said."
"Fear is indeed sweeter than pure battle and death."
Angolan stopped cursing; he just gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, his whole body throbbing violently between the tentacles.
The thirsty man was right; he was indeed afraid, not of death, but of what he would do if he were controlled by the thirsty man.
The crimson crown was getting closer and closer to his head; the serrated edge of the crown had already grazed the ends of his hair. The stinging pain inside felt like countless iron nails sticking to his scalp at the same time, ready to drill into his skull.
The thirsty man approached him, his voice so gentle it was nauseating.
"Don't worry, this thing will be quick—"
Click.
A light, fast, and clean strike, accompanied by the crackling sound of flames, rang out.
The thirsty man's words were cut off mid-air, and he stared in astonishment at his hand... his hand flew away.
It literally flew up; the hand holding the red crown was cleanly severed at the wrist, the cut as smooth as if an invisible line had sliced through it, and the blood even spurted out a beat later.
The severed hand was lifting the red crown and flying upwards.
The next moment, a slender and fair hand steadily caught the red crown.
I don't know when it started, but there was an extra person in the center of the battlefield.
With blond hair and golden eyes, his face was so handsome it was almost unreal. He stood amidst blood, corpses, and crimson mist, yet he was as clean as if he had just stepped out of another reality.
He looked down at the red crown in his hand and turned it around with great interest.
The crimson patterns, enough to corrupt the soul, were trying to climb up his palm, but before they could reach the depths of his skin, they were directly suppressed by a higher level of great spirituality.
click-
A second sword cry rang out.
Metatron, bearing three pairs of wings of light particles, appeared behind his father, who had finished watching the show and was now stepping in to fight.
A white robe unfurled in the blood-red wind, mysterious symbols swirling and glowing on the chest, a blazing crown atop the head, and a longsword burning with sacred flames in each hand.
In the instant the swords clashed, all the crimson tentacles binding Angola were severed.
Angolan plummeted from mid-air, crashing heavily to the ground. Covered in blood, he braced himself against the ground, his chest heaving rapidly, but his eyes were fixed on the man who had suddenly appeared in the center of the battlefield.
Xia Xiu didn't turn around; he simply tossed the crimson crown in his hand.
He looked at the embodiment of the thirsty one.
The flesh at the severed wrist of the latter was writhing wildly, and the sacred pit deep within the domain was also shaking, clearly preparing to take back control of the rules and drag this intruder into the Crowned Suffering Realm.
Xia Xiu simply said:
"Get lost, you disgusting guy."
As soon as he finished speaking, Xia Xiu's crown covered the domain of the thirsty one.
【The Crown Unfolds, A World Out of Control—】
【Great Spiritual Blessing】
【World Bubble - Blessing】
The rules of the Crowned Realm, composed of blood, stands, holy pits, and coronation, were like a newly stretched animal hide, instantly suppressed by higher-level out-of-control parameters.
The next instant, the body of the thirsty being began to malfunction.
[Uncontrolled Parameter Modulation: Flesh and Blood Manipulation - Reversal]
The out-of-control parameters, combined with Lao Xia's flesh manipulation techniques, instantly caused the offspring of the ancient ruler's womb, who was known for manipulating flesh and blood, to explode.
Suddenly, the thirsty man's arm twitched in the opposite direction, the unhealed wound in his chest cavity burst open, his ribs rolled outward like living things, and his flesh wriggled, split, and multiplied uncontrollably, only to ulcerate on its own halfway through the multiplication.
Even more terrifying, his divinity began to deteriorate.
The blood energy that originally flowed along the sacred pit and gathered with believers suddenly went out of control and split halfway. Some of it flowed back into the bodies of the city-state soldiers, some tore open the chests of the priests, and some exploded into blood flowers on the ground.
The thirsty man suddenly knelt down, blood gushing from every part of his body.
After a brief struggle, the thirsty man's body finally collapsed, his chest bulged one last time, and then he exploded with a bang, splashing thick blood all over the ground.
But the next moment, in a distant, high-walled city-state, groups of red-crowned priests and high-rider nobles screamed in agony as their bodies were drained by an invisible force, and a pillar of blood rose into the sky above the entire city-state.
The thirsty are reborn.
His figure reformed in the pillar of blood, his chest wound healed, his severed wrist was reattached, and his serrated fangs closed again. However, the composure he had shown in toying with his prey was gone from his face.
He quickly created distance, and for the first time, a sense of absurdity and fear appeared in his eyes.
No way... this is ridiculous! I actually got blown up in the flesh and blood realm.
He actually lost control of his own flesh and blood, and in such a frustrating and humiliating way, he forcibly lost a fake body.
He just drowned in his own uncontrolled flesh, saliva, pus, and organ secretions. To put it simply, the explosion and chaotic organ battle effects weren't the real cause of his death; the real cause was… drowning in his own saliva!!!
What kind of outrageous and perverse field is this?!
Xia Xiu stood there, his face showing obvious signs of bad luck.
He glanced down at the red crown in his hand, then tossed it aside as if it were something dirty.
The next instant, [The Venerable One - Information of Invulnerability to All Laws] unfolded, and then, the red crown that was still trying to writhe, pollute, and re-call the authority of the Holy Pit was stomped down by him.
click-
The crimson crown shattered, and the afterglow of the blood-red halo exploded beneath his shoes, only to be crushed into ashes by his impenetrable aura.
Xia Xiu raised his eyes, his gaze finally falling on Angola.
Angola was watching him too.
In that instant, the still-painful, bloody nails in his mind seemed to be simultaneously suppressed by some ancient and deeper connection.
He didn't know how to describe that feeling.
It was like someone who never knew where they came from suddenly hearing an echo from the depths of their bloodline amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood; or like a wild beast raised in an arena, chained up with iron chains, seeing its true origin for the first time.
Powerful, unfamiliar, familiar.
"You felt it, didn't you?"
Angola remained silent for a moment.
He tried to stand up, but the clash of their domains had exhausted him. As soon as he tried to exert force with his broken leg, he collapsed back to the ground.
He could only support himself on the ground, looking up at Xia Xiu, his voice so hoarse it was almost unlike his own.
"I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well right now..."
He suddenly stopped talking.
He clearly felt the connection and understood that there must be some undeniable relationship between him and the person in front of him, but for a moment he didn't know what to say.
The situation became a little awkward for a moment, and Angola, who was used to being extremely sarcastic, didn't know what to say.
Xia Xiu, on the other hand, was quite experienced in this. Having collected the Calabash Brothers so many times, he knew exactly how to handle such situations.
"What do you want me to do?"
Angolan paused for a moment, then turned around and looked at his comrades who had fought their way here with him.
They had less than two thousand men left, many of whom could barely stand, yet they still gripped their weapons, staring intently at the high-walled Federation troops on the perimeter.
Then, he looked at the thirsty ones re-forming their bodies in the distance, and the Federal Legion's high walls surrounding the mountains.
Artillery arrays, chariots, flying machines, red-crowned priests, high-riding nobles, and this world rotten to the bone.
Angolan gritted his teeth, his voice low, yet each word seemed to be squeezed out from his chest.
"Please..."
As he said this, it seemed he felt the word was too mild, so he abruptly changed his wording.
"No, please take the innocent people away."
"Then……"
He raised his head, his eyes still bloodshot, but he was clearer than ever before.
"Clean up this fucking shit world!"
Xia Xiu smiled.
"As you wish."
As soon as he finished speaking, the shadow beneath his feet began to writhe. His great spirituality, at that moment, transcended the battlefield, the city-states, the mountains and the deserts, spreading out across the entire plane of Seria.
This is the [Miracle Worker's] view of a mid-level plane.
A great spiritual hand descended from beyond the world, silently pressing down on the surface of the entire decaying planet, and then, along every ley line, every city-state, and every still-breathing soul, began to read the true colors of this world.
And so, Seria changed in Xia Xiu's eyes.
Deserts, mountains, swamps, and walled cities have all shed their material appearances, leaving only countless points of light composed of spiritual information.
These points of light were almost entirely blood-red, but the blood-red color was not pure. More than 90% of them were mixed with blackened oil stains, rotten gold threads, barbs formed from pain, and a layer of frenzied ripples that vibrated repeatedly like cheers from the stands.
Those were people who had been assimilated by [Kasagra].
They may not have personally driven in bloody nails, or knelt before the pit to pray, but as long as they cheered, placed bets, pushed slaves into the arena, and treated the suffering of others as order and entertainment, their souls had already been licked by the thirsty.
Over 90% of the world's population is this color.
They lived to establish city-states, maintain laws, preside over sacrifices, incorporate gladiatorial combat into the social structure, and then, generation after generation, sent others to the sacred pit.
The remaining 10% is completely different.
Their spirituality was also blood-red, but without that cloying filth.
The crimson color resembled a real fire ignited on a battlefield, the hot blood gushing from the wounds of the oppressed as they gritted their teeth and rose up, the anger of refusing to kneel even knowing they would die.
Angola is this color, as are the rebels behind him. In other corners of Seria, many people hidden in mines, ruins, slave sheds, and underground sewers also retain this color.
They are fearful, in pain, and weak, yet they have not taken the suffering of others for granted.
Therefore, they will be saved.
The rest... all gone!!!
【Crown Unfolds - World Modulation Mode——】
The sky above Seria seemed to be covered by a layer of golden light, with countless fine modulated light patterns flowing along the world's boundary, quickly locking onto the 10% of people who had not yet fallen into the assimilation system of the thirsty ones.
Deep in the mine, a slave raised his head.
At the edge of the swamp, a fugitive held a child in his arms.
At the bottom of the abandoned arena, an old gladiator, bound by chains, stares blankly upwards.
On the remote plains, before the Angolan rebels could react, they were enveloped by a gentle yet irresistible great spirituality.
The next moment, they disappeared.
Those who refused to succumb to depravity, including all the rebels who had fought alongside Angola to this day, were all pulled directly from the surface of Seria by Xia Xiu and teleported into the Sword-class frigate suspended high above the orbit.
The entire plane suddenly had a section empty.
On the remote plains, only Xia Xiu, Angolan, the Thirsty Ones, and the city-state legions, Red Crown Priests, and Highrider nobles who had been assimilated by Casagra remained.
Angola was stunned.
He looked back, where his brothers, comrades, family, and the people who had fought their way out of the Holy Pit should have been.
Now, they're all gone.
But he could sense that they were still alive, that they had been taken away, taken away by this man who had suddenly appeared from this dog shit world that was destined to be cleaned up.
The thirsty man's expression finally changed completely.
"What did you do—"
Before he could finish speaking, the writhing shadow beneath Xia Xiu's feet finally revealed the nascent form of a terrifying spiritual army.
Four figures emerged from the shadows. At first, they were all very small, like four girls who shouldn't be on the battlefield, quietly floating behind Xia Xiu.
[Palas] had white hair tied up with a ribbon, his eyes were blank, he held a broken-handled scythe in his hand, and six transparent wings behind him were like holy feathers.
[Judith] floated above the ground, her bell-shaped gown resembling layered bird feathers, and the ribbon with words printed on it moved without wind, the words growing on it on their own.
[Rachel] Her feet didn't touch the ground; silver-white restraints wrapped around her legs, leaving a black and white afterimage trailing behind her, as if she might slide away along a trajectory that no one could catch at any moment.
[Akini] was the quietest, her body as frail as a child's, the edge of her white dress scorched by black flames, her lower body almost turning into a cloud of flames.
Xia Xiu said in a low voice: "Startup sequence - 42".
[Weapons of Civilized Suppression - Defying the Daughter of Heaven - Liberation]
The four figures looked up at the same time. The next moment, their shadows rolled back towards the sky, their forms began to expand rapidly, and the weapons of civilization suppression began to reveal their true forms.
Their sizes grew larger and larger, one thousand meters, five thousand meters...
Four colossal humanoid weapons were fully released from Xia Xiu's shadow, traversing the ground and clouds, and hovering above Seria's orbit.
Each of them was tens of kilometers tall, with six enormous bird wings spread behind them. Their limbs had distinctly alien features: feathered hands and feet, sharp claws, and a lower body that trailed like a snake's tail. In the orbital radiance, they cast shadows that covered the entire continent.
Their faces could not be clearly seen.
All those who tried to observe, record, and understand that face found only a painful blank in their minds.
The four [Daughters Who Defy the Heavens] began to surround Seria.
[Pallas] is on the first orbit, like a slowly moving white calamity moon, while [Judith] hangs higher, her mouth agape, but no sound comes out.
[Rachel] trailed a black and white afterimage, cutting through all possible escape routes along an irregular trajectory; [Arkini], on the other hand, hung quietly in the shadows of the world, black flames dripping from beneath her skirt like sparks about to ignite the soul of the entire planet.
"You were right about something you just said," Xia Xiu suddenly said to the thirsty man.
The thirsty man looked bewildered: "What?"
"You said you're different from your brothers who are just empty shells with no clear minds, and I think that's true."
"After all, they aren't as fortunate as you, being able to consume my domain three times in one go, plus a civilization formatting." Xia Xiu said to the thirsty one who had been trying to make trouble.
The thirsty man looked terrified: "You...who are you...?"
Xia Xiu didn't say much. He stood on the mountain's edge and unleashed the third domain of the day.
【The Crown Unfolds: A World of Frames】
"Now, the world is starting to accelerate."
As soon as she finished speaking, Seria's time frame was forcibly increased.
Above the sky, the sun, like a golden gear being sped up, glides swiftly across the heavens. Then, darkness descends, moonlight sweeps across deserts, poisonous mountains, and corrosive swamps, and then a new day rises once more.
Sunrise, moonset.
Moonrise, sunset.
Light and shadow alternated wildly across the entire planet's surface. The shadows of the high-walled city-states stretched and contracted, and the surface of the river valleys shimmered repeatedly between light and shadow, as if the whole world had become some kind of war record played at an accelerated pace.
Meanwhile, the four civilizations' weapons of suppression began to detour.
The process of civilization formatting, which would normally take a long time, began to spin rapidly under the influence of the Laoxia World Accelerator.
The white [Palas] began to bring about collapse.
In the city-state, the red-crowned priests, the high-rider nobles, and the fanatical believers in the stands of the holy pit walked out of the palace, the military camp and the arena in rows. Their eyes gradually went blank, but their bodies still maintained their forward posture. Even if their feet were worn out and their bones were broken, they continued to follow the white shadow in the sky.
The phantoms of the old believers lined up in the streets, whispering and repeating Pallas's words.
Thus, the entire city-state began to migrate, consume itself, and collapse on its own.
The silent [Judith] brings tranquility to the soul.
Seria's language system began to collapse, and all the organizational chains that relied on the blood battle ritual were crushed to pieces by Judith's silent chant.
[Rachel] crossed the third track.
All the aircraft, underground convoys, noble private ships, and military transport vehicles attempting to escape were forced into a stagnant track the moment they were activated. Fighter jets disintegrated in mid-air, escape trains came to a standstill in the tunnels, and the city-state's escape routes were cut off one by one.
Finally, there is [Argini].
After the pursuit, silence, and blockade were completed, she reached out and ignited the souls that had been devoured by Casagra.
Black flames ignited from the chests of priests, the eye sockets of nobles, and the bones of spectators in the stands. One after another, the gladiatorial pits began to burn from the depths of their foundations, and the blood that had accumulated in the stone bricks for hundreds of years was burned into a layer of gray-black dust.
The sun and moon continue their frantic rotation, and the process of civilization's formatting cannot be stopped.
In the accelerated frame rate world, Seria's system of support for Casagra is gradually crushed by the suppressive weapons of the four civilizations.
The thirsty finally began to feel fear.
"No, you can't do that!!"
He tried to pounce on Xia Xiu, but Xia Xiu only glanced at him casually. The [Frame Rate World] rotated once, and the area where he was located looked like a bad piece of film cut out from the complete world image.
[Great Spiritual Blessing - Frame Drop]
Xia Xiu was right in front of him, but every time he reached out, it felt like he was separated by dozens of time fragments that had been cut off; the four suppressive weapons on the track were clearing out his followers, but every time he looked up, all he saw were afterimages of what had already happened.
He couldn't touch Xia Xiu, nor could he touch the weapons of civilization suppression. He could only be trapped in the frame-dropping area, watching his city-states go out one by one, the holy pits collapse one by one, and the red-crowned priests burn into empty shells batch after batch.
"Stop!"
The thirsty man roared, his voice devoid of any joy for the first time.
This time, it was his turn to be gripped by fear.
“You can’t do this! My mother is Lu-Ksu, and if you do this, she will not let you off the hook.”
The incoherent thirsty one even started threatening Xia Xiu with the womb of the Old Ones, like a frightened little kid.
What a spineless coward! You'd even utter the word "mother" just to survive.
It's possible that the Great Old One's womb is indeed your mother, but it's also highly unlikely that the Great Old One's womb is truly your mother.
He can give birth to you, and He can also put you back in and play with you like a ball. Believing that He is your mother and will come to save you is not as direct as believing that the Four Lords are your father.
“If my offspring is beaten, I will come out to vent his anger. But what about you? Call out to him a few more times and see if he recognizes you as his offspring.”
Xia Xiu replied with a forced smile, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
The ravenous creature, oblivious to everything else due to the frame drops, stammered incoherently to Xia Xiu:
"You... think about the people you just teleported away, and the people you're supposed to protect now. They also have my mark on them. If you keep doing this, you'll kill them too."
Xia Xiu stood outside the frame-dropping area, his golden eyes looking at the thirsty man as if he were looking at a pitiful wretch.
"Is this your last trump card, a meaningless threat?"
He gently raised his hand, and the [Frame Rate World] was adjusted upwards again.
"What you're talking about means nothing to a miracle worker."
【World Bubble: Master Creator】
[World Bubble Blessing - Frame-by-Frame Stitching]
At this moment, inside the Sword-class frigate, those who had been teleported away in advance also had tiny blood-red frames appear on their bodies.
That's the pollution left behind by Casagra.
The painful memory of the bloody nails, the auditory hallucinations of cheers from the holy pit, and the lingering shadows of the gladiatorial rules etched into their souls—all of these were extracted frame by frame from their spiritual information by Xia Xiu.
These corrupted frames were sent back to Seria, dragged into the accelerated frame rate world, and burned along with the Kassagra's Sacred Pit system.
The bloody nails on Angola's body trembled violently at that moment.
Those "polluted frames" that were etched into the marrow and nerves were precisely extracted by Xia Xiu and dragged into the accelerating torrent of the world, allowing them to complete the decay cycle that would normally take a lifetime to torment in a very short time.
The pain and the injuries were still there, but the assimilation that belonged to [Casagra] was being pulled away little by little from the depths of Angola's soul.
Angolan slumped on the mountainside, looking up at the sun and moon spinning wildly, watching the city-state burn to the ground, and watching the bloody divinity that once weighed down the entire Seria slowly lose its roots in the frame-dropping cage.
The body of the thirsty person begins to fade.
His followers were exhausted in the pursuit of [Pallas], rendered speechless in the chanting of [Judith], crashed on the track of [Rachel], and returned to nothingness in the black flames of [Arkind].
He desperately tried to grasp something, but could only grasp fragments of chaotic time.
Xia Xiu's voice faded with the last sunrise, mimicking the Angolan tone, as he addressed the thirsty:
"Hey, Casagra, go back to your mother and drink milk."
Snapped--
With the completion of the civilization formatting process, [Kasagra] exploded.
……
……