Chapter 488: The Hermit

From the scorching white-hot "sun" came the painful neighing of horses, mixed with unease and fear.

But as the extremely complex and rather mysterious three-dimensional symbol formed from the pale mask fell, the neighing full of unease and fear quickly turned hoarse and dry, like a life gradually heading toward death.

Whether it was the "sun" or the "black hole", they inevitably weakened, cracking open fissures from which fine, pale down grew.

These downy hairs instantly turned into white feathers, their surfaces seemingly soaked in pale yellow oil, turning to ash under the golden scorching light, then torn apart and swallowed by the terrifying gravity of the "black hole".

The scorching white-hot "sun" began to fade bit by bit, its temperature started to drop, and the light it shed grew dim.

Beiernadai looked at the "sun" slowly heading toward death and spoke without a trace of warmth in her eyes:

"This seal is only temporary; you should be able to reclaim the trait from this carriage, right?"

"Of course." Leikeddun lightly nodded.

He reached into the inside of his brown wool coat with his right hand and pulled out a normal-sized playing card; the front of the card showed Russell dressed in tattered clothes, with snow-white hair and beard.

He bent his right index finger and tapped the card face twice.

Clatter!

A sound of illusory things shattering echoed in his ears, and the card in Leikeddun's hand burst forth with a dim, dull glow that was neither bright nor brilliant.

Though this light was not dazzling, even the surrounding fierce sunlight could not conceal it.

The dim light wandered randomly over Leikeddun's body; his form continually twisted, exuding strands of black mist that seemed substantial, sprouting eye after eye; his spirit was passively elevated without limit, and abstract knowledge became tangible power within him.

Leikeddun even momentarily felt he had become the "Hermit", believing himself omnipotent, the essence of all knowledge, the master of all knowledge.

Feelings of madness, chaos, and cruelty spread from him, destabilizing the balance between humanity and divinity, as if he could be overwhelmed at any moment by instinct-driven madness.

Huff~ huff~

He panted heavily, and only after finally finding a balance between sanity and madness, refocusing on himself, did he realize he had lost his human appearance, leaving only a humanoid shape.

The "Sage's Robe" that had been secretly carried was now draped over him; beneath its heavy hood lay no normal face, only a mass of devouring darkness filled with madness, within which a orb of pure light swirled like an indifferent, cold eye.

Around this "eye" drifted specks of dim starlight, tinged with various colors and a hint of warmth, just like his sanity, which could collapse at any moment under the erosion of madness and chaos.

Beneath the black robe, his exposed hands and feet were jet‑black and withered, lacking any luster or vitality, nothing like a living person.

The "Sage's Robe", as if unable to bear such overwhelming power and status, tore into ragged strips that turned into strands of solid black mist.

On the black robe, amidst the floating black mist, and even on his desiccated black limbs, grew eyes that were icy and indifferent.

These eyes were stained with madness, flaunting undisguised malice; they gave an impression of abnormal sanctity and wisdom, yet seemed remarkably cold and devoid of warmth.

Beiernadai gazed solemnly at Leikeddun in this state, feeling a powerful oppressive force from him, and deep down felt an irrepressible urge to draw near and merge with him.

"Hermit!" No, not completely—he now only bears the status and aura of a Hermit, lacking the corresponding authority and power.

Beiernadai took a deep breath, then averted her gaze; as a fellow traveler on the same path, she could sense the madness emanating from him silently eroding her, which, though not severe, she still wished to avoid, since her mental state as an angel was already less than ideal.

Feeling his sanity teetering on the brink, Leikeddun stepped forward without hesitation, his body instantly appearing beside the "sun" that was slowly heading toward death.

His blackened, withered hand reached forward, and instantly a series of complex, illusory symbols condensed around it, swiftly sinking into the "sun" before him, turning into colorless motes of light that wandered within it, eroding the "sun" from within.

They seemed to belong naturally to that "sun", encountering no resistance, as its light grew ever dimmer and began to fragment.

Leikeddun extended his left hand, disregarding space and distance, and directly took hold of the "black hole" that devoured everything.

With a slight exertion of his palm, the "black hole" instantly dissolved into a pure stream of information, which he grasped and condensed into a colorless spear.

Then he made a throwing motion; the spear left his hand and pierced precisely into the "sun" before him.

Neigh!

A shrill, desperate voice rang out; the "sun" utterly lost its shape, becoming two golden steeds scarred and streaked with rust, dragging behind them a rotting, dilapidated golden carriage.

The two horses, no longer divine, showed human‑like fear in their eyes; they did not even glance toward Leikeddun, gathering light on their bodies that turned into a beam of pure, extreme‑intensity white sunlight, bursting out of the death‑shrouded zone and racing opposite to Leikeddun.

Like true light, they moved at extreme speed, reaching the edge of this painted world in an instant.

That pure, extreme‑intensity white sunlight rapidly expanded, becoming an exaggerated, terrifying sun of utmost whiteness and heat.

The painted world truly ignited like paper, burned away, leaving only a flickering dim‑yellow flame that reflected in the eyes of the two horses, as if forged from gold.

The flame was snuffed out by a dark, withered hand; everything that had just happened seemed like a dream, vanishing together with the flame.

Before the two horses pulling the worn‑gold carriage could react, Leikeddun reached out his right hand again and gripped firmly.

On the golden‑cast carriage and horses appeared specks of pallid light, like cracks, as gold flakes continually fell and instantly turned into pure information, which Leikeddun drew into his palm.

Sizzle! Sizzle!

In a chorus of tiny sounds, the golden carriage swiftly shattered into pieces; its gaze and movements seemed slowed countlessfold, making any effective change difficult.

After a moment, the original golden‑cast carriage vanished, leaving only a phantom light‑ball condensed in Leikeddun's hand.

The dim light suddenly rose on Leikeddun and then swiftly retracted; soon the surrounding eyes of frenzied ferocity vanished, and beneath the black robe his normal human form reappeared, though his pale‑blue eyes still retained a hint of madness‑tinged indifference.

Specks of brilliant starlight fell around, bringing a feeling of tranquil peace and a soothing power for the heart.

The madness and cold in Leikeddun's eyes gradually faded; after steadying his mind, he turned his head to Beiernadai beside him and gave a slight nod, saying:

"Thanks for your help; otherwise my condition would surely have deteriorated further."

"I didn't do much; this is compensation for taking the 'Deathknell' relic last time."

As she spoke, Beiernadai glanced at the Hermit card hovering silently before Leikeddun, reached out, and the profane card flew automatically into her hand.

After calmly examining the Hermit card for a moment, she tossed the profane card back before Leikeddun and said:

"Forming a bond with a being of that level imposes a great pressure on your own mental state; the earlier soothing cannot directly restore your sanity—you need time to rest and undergo psychological therapy."

Leikeddun nodded without much expression; before fully recovering his mental state, he could hardly show any expression on his face—cold, indifferent, and mad were his current mental condition.

He silently watched the phantom light‑ball supported in his right hand; having lost the sustenance of high rank power, it began to revert from an information state.

Specks of golden light began to appear, growing more numerous and dense until they covered the whole orb, which became a fist‑sized condensed light cluster, as blinding as the midday sun and still warm to the touch.

Looking at the "Light‑Chaser" trait in his hand, even though his mental state was not great, Leikeddun tugged the corner of his mouth, revealing a smile that seemed devoid of feeling.

Gleaming specks reflected from his eyes flowed outward, tracing out strange, complex symbols that gradually contracted and interlinked into a whole, tightly wrapping the condensed light cluster in his hand and finally forming a metal sphere adorned with intricate patterns, impermeable to wind.

After briefly sealing the "Light‑Chaser" trait in his hand, Leikeddun lifted his gaze to survey the ruined, malformed painted world.

He had no immediate plan to restore the painted world; he simply waved his hand casually, and the surrounding space quickly faded and dimmed, ultimately becoming a thickly colored, mixed‑together oil painting that returned to his grasp.

Having completed half of his goal of coming to the Divine War ruins, he sighed inwardly, Leikeddun lowered his gaze to the sea beneath his feet, not knowing if it was his imagination, he felt that the sunlight around him wasn't as intense as before.

「Night is falling soon; first, return to the Future; I will find your friend in the dream world to ask some questions. 」

Beiernadai spoke in a calm tone; as her voice fell, her body turned into a beam of light formed by countless gathered knowledge, surging toward the direction of the Future.

「God-forsaken Land. 」

「. Enter the God-forsaken Land」

「Here is what you need. 」

The murmuring voice that had been echoing in his ears suddenly became clear, carrying an extremely restrained, intense malice, full of decadence and madness.

Zhenzao woke up? Leikeddun somewhat hesitantly lifted his head to gaze at the all‑golden sky; the deep luster in his eyes faintly flowed, making his vision a bit clearer:

Under sunlight as fierce and bright as noon, a heavy shadow curtain veiled everything; behind the shadow curtain, it seemed as if a crimson eye existed, it gazing upon everything with an extremely restrained madness, gazing upon himself.

The clear murmuring voice in his ears didn't last long; soon it became chaotic again, sometimes meaningless muttering, sometimes somewhat confused Russian.

Leikeddun lowered his eyes expressionlessly, withdrawing his gaze from the sky. It's a bit of a pity; if I understood Russian, that would be nice—barely catching a few words is already my limit; otherwise, hearing his native tongue, Zhenzao, might help him regain some sanity.

Suppressing the restless thoughts in his heart, he gazed at the Future, which had already sailed a distance ahead; he slightly sensed the mark he had left on the ship, then lightly rubbed his fingers together, producing specks of brilliant starlight.

Sparkling azure starlight swiftly gathered ahead, forming a large door adorned with intricate, strange floral patterns; the interior of the door was dim and obscure, but one could faintly make out that it was the deck of the Future.

Stepping upon the condensed, solid starlight, Leikeddun moved his feet forward toward the newly solidified door.

A flash of azure light passed, and Leikeddun's figure appeared directly on the Future.

(End of chapter)