Chapter 533

The intensity of the explosion far exceeded the estimate.

The first round of chain annihilation lasted for a full thirty seconds.

When the air rolled back by the shockwave surged back, and the antimatter blown away came into contact with new matter again.

A second round of even larger explosions followed closely behind.

Then the third round, the fourth round—

Every round of explosions was tearing apart the defenses that the transmutation array had worked so hard to build.

Every round of impact was consuming the mental power that countless Wizards were desperately injecting.

Deep in the camp, those Wizards who were transporting mental power were already as pale as paper.

The sky could no longer see its original color.

There was only the endless pure white destructive light, and the defensive barrier that was torn apart and re-condensed time and time again, struggling to support.

Dionysius stood at the highest point of the command room, his hands clenched tightly.

He was waiting.

In the distance, the coalition camp.

At the top of the Chaos Secret Sect's high tower, several blurred figures were also watching this earth-shattering collision.

"Those lunatics from the Tower of Silence—" one of them muttered to himself, his voice carrying a hint of undisguisable shock, "They really dare to play like this."

"It doesn't matter to them, after all, if they win, the battlefield will be ours." Another person said calmly, "It's not a loss if they lose."

"Heh, let's go, it's time for us to take action too."

The sea of destruction was still expanding crazily.

On the Nuolun Workshop side, all the Wizards who could still maintain consciousness were desperately squeezing their mental power, manipulating the super-wide-area transmutation array, and in those continuous annihilation explosions, supporting one defensive layer after another for the camp.

No one had the energy to pay attention to other directions.

——

And no one noticed that on the other side of this plane, which was being ravaged by the antimatter frenzy, a certain area that had been hidden by heavy phase space was undergoing changes.

The Chaos Secret Sect's trump card moved.

It was a huge hollow hidden deep underground.

Unlike the simple and crude antimatter light ball of the Tower of Silence, the Chaos Secret Sect's arrangement was much more covert.

From the first day of the war, this hollow had been hidden in the interlayer of complex phase space, guarded by three Level 7 Soul-type Wizards in shifts, isolating all possible detection.

Even the Nuolun Workshop's Soul-type Wizards, after paying a huge price, only managed to barely capture one image before having to retreat with serious injuries.

Inside the hollow, there was gray-black mist churning like an ocean.

But the source of that mist was not quite the same as the Nuolun Workshop's previous speculation.

The emotional energy of millions of Wizards was indeed collected.

The fear, despair, and madness generated by billions of cannon fodder units in the slaughter were indeed collected.

But these were just "auxiliary materials."

The real main body was a pitch-black darkness floating in the deepest part of the hollow, shrouded in heavy seals, deep enough to seem to swallow everything.

That pitch-black darkness had no temperature, no energy fluctuations, and not even a sense of presence.

It just floated there quietly, yet it made everyone who saw it feel an irrepressible wail from the depths of their souls.

That was—death itself.

Not the death of a certain life.

But the death of the plane.

This super-large plane that served as a battlefield was itself composed of dozens of abandoned planes spliced together.

When those planes were spliced, life had long been completely extinct, and resources had been completely drained.

In the words of the Wizards, they were already "dead."

But death does not mean absolute void.

The latest technology developed by the Chaos Secret Sect can collect the "wails" generated at the moment of these planes' death—that residual will belonging to the complete end of a world, containing endless sorrow and despair—and convert it into a usable form of energy.

The quality of this "plane death-level" emotional energy far exceeds the emotions of ordinary living beings.

If the emotions of millions of Wizards are a stream, then the wail of a plane's death is an ocean.

And the Chaos Secret Sect collected the deaths of more than a dozen planes on this battlefield.

Deep in that pitch-black darkness, what was churning was the despair of more than a dozen worlds ending.

This is the real killer move that can cause damage to Level 8 Wizards.

Of course, the high-tier Wizards of the Chaos Secret Sect knew very well that the power gathered by the deaths of these dozen planes might only have a relatively weak impact on one of the two Level 8 Wizards of the Nuolun Workshop.

But in the battle of Level 8 Wizards, even a "relatively weak impact" is enough to tip the scales.

In terms of deciding the outcome, it is enough.

"The time has come."

The Level 7 Wizard responsible for controlling the trump card raised his head, sensing the antimatter frenzy still raging in the distance through the obstruction of heavy rock layers and phase space.

All the power of the Nuolun Workshop was concentrated on resisting that sea of destruction.

Every bit of energy of the super-wide-area transmutation array was used to build defenses and transfer explosions.

They had no time to look elsewhere.

"Start transfer."

The order was issued.

That huge hollow that had been hidden for more than a month, along with the gray-black mist inside and the core pitch-black darkness, began to slowly precipitate out of the phase space.

It appeared on the surface of the earth quietly, like a bubble floating up from under the water.

Then, the auxiliary magic arrays already deployed around the hollow lit up at the same time.

The function of those magic arrays was only one: to launch that pitch-black energy that had condensed the wails of the deaths of dozens of planes.

The target was the four "suns" hanging high in the sky.

That was the battlefield of the Level 8 Wizards of both sides.

Four "suns" floated quietly in the high altitude tens of thousands of kilometers away, releasing light and heat sufficient to illuminate the entire plane.

And deep in that light, four figures that ordinary people could not look directly at were playing a game that exceeded conventional understanding.

"Coordinate correction completed, target locked, prepare—launch!"

The gray-black mist churned violently.

That core pitch-black darkness expanded suddenly.

The next instant, a torrent of energy with a diameter of over a thousand meters, purely condensed from the wails of plane deaths, gushed out from that pitch-black darkness!

Wherever it passed, all living beings who sensed it, whether they were constructs still fighting on the battlefield or Wizards in the distant camp, felt an irrepressible despair surge from the bottom of their hearts at the same instant.

That was the wail of more than a dozen worlds ending.

That was the taste belonging to "death" itself.

The abyss-like pitch-black energy torrent, carrying terrifying power capable of making even Level 7 Wizards tremble, rushed straight toward one of the four "suns" in the sky!

"Success!"

Some Wizards of the Chaos Secret Sect couldn't help but show excited expressions on their faces.

However, soon, the expressions on the faces of all the Chaos Secret Sect Wizards froze involuntarily.

Because, just as that black energy was about to rush into the range shrouded in light, it stopped.

It was not slowed down, deflected, or neutralized.

But it stopped completely in a posture that was completely beyond everyone's expectations.

That torrent of death, with a diameter of a thousand meters and capable of affecting the battle situation of Level 8 Wizards, just floated quietly in mid-air, as if time itself had frozen around it.

On the Chaos Secret Sect side, all the Wizards who witnessed this scene were stunned.

"What's going on?!"

"Is there a problem with the magic array?"

"Impossible! All nodes are running normally!"

The Level 7 Wizard responsible for controlling the trump card frowned, his mental power pouring crazily into the magic array, trying to reactivate that pitch-black energy.

However, no matter how he urged it, that torrent of death remained motionless, like an insect frozen in amber.

But soon the people of the Chaos Secret Sect discovered something wrong, because it wasn't just it.

The sea of destruction still raging crazily in the distance—that continuous annihilation frenzy produced by the detonation of two trillion tons of antimatter—also stopped.

All explosions, all impacts, all destructive energy that was spreading, froze at the same instant.

Those antimatter fragments that were blown away, that white light that was being released during the annihilation process, those shockwaves that tore through space—

Everything, everything, was like an image that had been pressed on the pause button, standing still in their respective positions.

On the battlefield, there was dead silence.

On the coalition camp side, everyone was trying their best to rub their eyes, refresh their perception, and restart their detection spells.

"What on earth happened?!"

No one could answer.

And just when all the Wizards of the coalition felt uneasy, something even more terrifying happened.

A spiritual fluctuation, vast to the point of being indescribable, spread out without warning.

The fluctuation had no specific target; it just spread to the entire plane like a tide.

But just the lingering rhyme of this fluctuation was enough to make all living beings who sensed it go dark before their eyes!

That was the instinctive submission and trembling of the soul in front of that vast and boundless spiritual power.

In the camp, countless Wizards below Level 5 collapsed directly to the ground.

Level 6 Wizards barely stabilized their figures, but their faces were as pale as paper.

Level 7 Wizards also felt the insignificance coming from the depths of their souls, like ants looking up at the starry sky, at that instant.

The fluctuation lasted less than three seconds.

But when it dissipated, an indelible cognition remained in everyone's mind—

That was—

Level 8 power!

Although the aura of this power did not touch the fixed laws and could not be immune to the world modification of Level 9.

But in terms of quantity, it had indeed reached Level 8!

Saladin, the current supreme commander of the coalition, was the first to wake up from that trance state.

He was a veteran Level 7 Wizard who had experienced countless plane wars and seen countless powerhouses.

But at this moment, on his usually steady face, there was only a complex expression mixed with shock, bitterness, and deep helplessness.

He paused, and a smile of extreme bitterness appeared at the corner of his mouth: "Lost."

These two words were very light.

But all the high-tier Wizards of the coalition present heard it.

No one refuted.

Because at the moment the terrifying spiritual wave swept through, everyone understood—

This war was already over.

No matter how terrifying the Tower of Silence's antimatter reserves were, no matter how many plane death wails the Chaos Secret Sect had collected, no matter how much of an advantage the coalition forces had in low-tier manpower—

The moment the other side created a new Level 8 combat power and intervened in the battlefield in person, everything lost its meaning.

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