Chapter 609: Curtain

Adam fixed his gaze on the sky, and the deep, dark sea reflected in his eyes began to surge; a whimpering wind rose around him, reaching the heavens, a sound that seemed both of reality and of illusion.

Blazing sunlight erupted, drowning and purifying the wind from the spiritual realm; even the surrounding space warped under the fierce light, and the notion of distance became confused.

Under the sun, A Meng's figure silently appeared atop the Ocean steeped in a scent of decay.

Above his head, a gigantic, ancient, mottled stone wall‑clock illusion materialized.

The clock's face was divided into twelve sections, each gray‑white or blue‑black, intermingled yet with clear boundaries, each bearing a different symbol.

Boom! An illusory chime abruptly echoed, and the massive clock illusion's hands moved clockwise two notches.

An indescribable, unseen torrent surged forth, as if spanning ages, swiftly sweeping the entire black Ocean.

A Meng stole time, stole the course of the descent ceremony, propelling the True Creator's arrival forward by a great leap.

Within the black, viscous Ocean, dense shadows flowed silently, and a deep‑red eye flickered behind the heavy veil of gloom.

Darkness, decay, filth, mutation and other uncontrolled auras spread, weaving an inverted massive cross upon the black sea surface.

The sunlight overhead grew fiercer, as if to scorch everything around into ash.

A Meng turned his head toward Adam on the other side, reached up to adjust the monocle over his right eye, and with a wry smile said, "I told you the true body should have come; this is only a second‑tier, sequence‑two clone, it's hard to precisely steal the ceremony's progress, making you go mad and cause the other half of Black Willow's descent onto the Southern Continent."

"Without sufficient opportunity, your true body appearing here is unreasonable."

Adam replied calmly, his tone and demeanor remaining as warm as ever, as if the Storm Lord and the Eternal Blazing Sun's obstruction had not troubled him much.

"Ha, boring." A Meng shook his head with a light sigh, wiped nonexistent sweat from his forehead, and the illusory clock above turned another two notches clockwise.

Boom! A resonant chime rang again, and an unseen torrent surged from the long river of ages, sweeping the surroundings anew.

Crack! Crack! Some illusory shattering sounds came from above; a silvery white bolt of electricity, like a sharp spear, shot out from the Star Realm, moving at near‑limit speed, arriving in an instant above the black Ocean.

Space itself seemed shattered by the strike, emitting overloaded crackling sounds and tearing open dark fissures.

The moment the silvery bolt entered the black Ocean, it bizarrely twisted direction, slanting into the sky.

In Adam's pale‑gold eyes, the deep, dark world was nearly shattered; two streaks of crimson blood ran from his sockets down his cheeks, staining the light‑gold beard that covered half his face.

The gray‑white stone slab he cradled erupted with uncontrolled invisible waves, throwing the decay‑laden Ocean into chaos.

In less than a second, the near‑limit‑speed silvery bolt reversed, crashing toward the black Ocean again.

An unseen, incorporeal "radiance" surged from the void, seemingly composed of countless tangled data streams, continuously converging inward in an illusory form, coalescing into a phantom light sphere.

The phantom sphere acted like a black hole, wielding irresistible gravity, converting surrounding matter into data and pulling them in to devour.

The silvery bolt that surged from the horizon instantly reached above the black Ocean, its path deflected by the pull of the informational black hole.

A fierce electromagnetic storm erupted, shattering all informational structures; the black hole of data collapsed instantly, revealing the true form—a black mass studded with countless eyes.

All the eyes on the massive black mass were tinged with deep‑red veins, as if provoked by the earlier storm; they fixed on the electrified Storm Lord, gazed at it intensely, then shattered into specks of starlight, fading into the sunlight.

The silvery bolt plunged into the black, decay‑filled Ocean; for a moment silvery electric serpents writhed everywhere, enveloping everything and turning the black Ocean into a sheet of silver.

Under the silvery light, the black Ocean evaporated bit by bit, and the auras of shadow, darkness, decay, filth, and mutation dissolved gradually.

A Meng lifted his hand, removed the monocle from his right eye, stared at a new crack on it, and said gravely, "This clone of mine has reached its limit."

When the words fell, his body suddenly disintegrated, turning into pale streaks of light that poured into the cracked monocle, finally vanishing within the silvery bolt. Adam gave a barely perceptible nod at the spot where A Meng disappeared, then brushed his right hand across the gray‑white stone slab he held, and the errant silvery currents around them swiftly subsided.

He gently wiped the blood streak from his cheek, and ethereal light‑gold scales layered onto his body.

Gazing at the figure ahead surrounded by countless currents and storms, Adam sighed lightly:

"Actually, I'd have preferred it if Osekus had come here."

In response, a near‑limit‑speed silvery bolt pierced Adam's body effortlessly, leaving a basketball‑sized charred cavity in his chest.

Adam still wore a warm smile, showing no hint of pain; he calmly watched the silvery bolt strike again, and the deep, dark world reflected in his eyes shattered completely.

Silently, the near‑limit silvery bolt split apart, unable to reform.

Having done all this, Adam's body fractured sideways, turning into countless gray‑white glows that interwove into complex three‑dimensional sigils, flowing into the massive inverted cross perched on the black Ocean churned by silvery currents.

Dark‑red flesh sprouted from within the massive cross, gradually forming an inverted humanoid; one eye was dark‑red, the other light‑gold, each brimming with extreme rationality and madness, starkly discordant.

"After A Meng's two 'thefts', the descent ceremony is now near its end. The Storm Lord, due to his own pride and numerous delays, failed to destroy the ceremony immediately; through Adam's self‑sacrifice the rite was completed, and the True Creator fully descended upon the Southern Continent!"

Leiketon appeared silently, one hand holding a kettle‑shaped wishing lamp, the other gripping a black classical feather pen, reciting like a narrator the script Adam had long written, engraved deep within the spiritual realm.

Encircled by lightning and storm, the Storm Lord's form was but a vague silhouette; it gazed at the seemingly rational True Creator, ultimately taking no further action.

After a tense pause, its voice, laced with deeply suppressed anger, sounded hoarse and low, "You have deceived everyone."

When the words fell, its figure turned into a silvery bolt that shot into the sky, returning to the Storm Abyss in the Star Realm.

In the sky, the blazing sunlight faded, revealing the hidden Crimson Moon and a tranquil night sky.

As the Storm Lord and the Eternal Blazing Sun departed, the gazes watching from the Star Realm or the Spirit Realm also withdrew one by one.

The silhouette that fell upon the cross turned into a dense shadow that spread to Leiketon's side, then coalesced into a male figure clad in a black clerical robe, a silver cross hanging at his chest.

Except for its two eyes, the rest of its body was extremely vague, shrouded in a layer of shadow, seemingly still in self‑contradiction.

Specks of gray‑white glow emerged from its shadow, continuously gathering on its hand, forming a monochrome tome etched with numerous abstract twisted patterns.

Just as it solidified, the tome was thrown at Leiketon, with the speaker saying, "You may keep it yourself, or give it to Helberg, who cooperated with us to finish this drama; this is the proper reward."

"I will slumber deep within the spiritual world, fully mastering the 'Imaginer' path, and before shedding madness, continue to have Sasilier handle affairs on my behalf."

The True Creator's voice layered upon itself, echoing as if reverberating in the ears, bearing deep fatigue and a tightly restrained madness.

Leiketon gave a gentle nod, said no more, and his body instantly became ethereal, breaking into streams of pure data that surged away into the distance.

Having received divinity from Adam and enough ordinary faith, the True Creator's condition improved considerably; it gazed at the place polluted by its own descent, sighed deeply, then stepped forward, crossing into a deep, dark sea.

Outside Berens Port, where Inz Zangweir died, countless tangled pure data streams converged, reconstituting Leiketon's figure.

He glanced at Aierihoge, Kelei'en and the others in conversation, casually tossed 0-08 over, and said, "This belongs to you."

Aierihoge lifted his hand, and 0-08 spontaneously landed in his grasp; his gaze, tinged with nostalgia, examined the black classical feather pen, and a cryptic smile curled his lips.

Under the curious or puzzled eyes of Kelei'en and the others, he pressed his right hand on 0-08, the black classical feather pen fragmenting inch by inch into gray‑white specks that surged into his body.

(End of Chapter)