Chapter 957

In the same direction as the Vast Void, after the Lightpoint Fortress glowed, another light flared up several days’ distance away, but this light lasted only briefly—easy to miss if you weren’t staring directly at it.

Yet at this moment, neither the Alliance nor the Empire knew how many Star-Reflecting Mirrors were aimed at the Vast Void; many had seen the red crack opening in the direction of the light point.

Suddenly, a fissure split open in the previously empty void—not wide, at most four or five meters across, yet stretching hundreds of millions of meters in length, as intense red light erupted forth.

Like a blade slicing through the void, it revealed just a corner of the colossal fireball hidden within—hundreds of millions of meters still failed to show its full extent.

With a whoosh, the Grand Councilor, already prepared, stepped onto a long line of coffins and slid out through the fissure along with the erupting red light; the crack sealed shut instantly, leaving only lingering heat, as if the fissure had never existed.

The Grand Councilor exhaled, wiping away nonexistent sweat from his face—necromancers don’t sweat; his wrinkled appearance clearly marked him as a necromancer.

Could the Grand Councilor of the Radiant Alliance truly be a necromancer?

“This damn barrier’s too hot—it’s dried me out,” he grumbled, pulling out a large bottle of liquid and squeezing it into the empty space before him.

In the weightless void, the liquid gathered by surface tension into a sphere, its contents slightly cloudy yet brimming with divine aura—it was Sacred Essence Fluid.

The Grand Councilor plunged his hand into the sphere; the fluid immediately, due to surface tension, slowly flowed over his entire body, enveloping him in a thin water membrane.

Within the membrane, the Grand Councilor slowly absorbed the essence; his wrinkled flesh swelled like soaked paper, plumping up; once all the nutrient fluid was absorbed, the necromancer-shaped Grand Councilor transformed into a living elderly human.

While waiting for the nutrient fluid to fully absorb, the Grand Councilor muttered to himself: “This Radiant Holy Water is so useful—I’ll go buy more from the Radiant kid later, but there’s too much impurity in it—all his Radiant will, and cleaning it out is such a hassle.”

“I wonder if he has any Holy Water without will? Maybe I should beat him up and make him produce some without will?” The Grand Councilor mumbled, even calling the Lord of Radiance “kid”—he had no idea how he’d feel if he returned to find the Lord of Radiance already beaten to death.

After regaining vitality, the Grand Councilor inspected the coffins he’d brought out, then reorganized and repacked them, tying the long line into a cluster.

The fissure was too narrow; tying them in a line prevented them from getting stuck inside. Now that he was out, transferring them required a cluster—it was easier to manipulate.

After packing, the Grand Councilor pulled out two staves and planted them before him; with two soft plops, the staves firmly “planted” themselves in the void, slowly glowing.

The Grand Councilor chanted word by word: “With the Void as anchor, let space’s ripples carry me afar; with Will as anchor, let souls be the rope binding us; with the Divine Hammer as anchor, the force inherent in all things, guide me forward—Tenfold Divine Anchors, draw me forward!”

As he finished the incantation, the Grand Councilor yanked the staves hard and roared.

One second, two seconds, three seconds—the Grand Councilor stood upright, puzzled: “Huh? Where’s the Tenfold Divine Hammer?”

“Again! With the Void… draw me forward! Too many words, die!” To strengthen the soul link, he even shouted the phrase the Tenfold Divine Hammer most “loved”—yet still, no response.

The Grand Councilor stared blankly for a long while, then said, worried: “What happened? Where did that damn hammer go? Did something wordy lure it away?”

He wasn’t worried the hammer had been stolen—it had never been subdued even by him; anyone who dared steal it would be lucky not to get crushed flat. Probably some unknown change had severed his connection to it.

If someone truly had tried to steal it, he could only pray they’d take care of themselves—hope they didn’t get crushed flat by the hammer.

Unable to sense the anchor points, he couldn’t launch himself forward. Frustrated, he turned back to the pile of coffins, sighed deeply, retied them into a line, then raised his hand and drew a circle in the air; within it, demonic runes appeared, expanding into a three-meter-diameter magical array.

A blood-red warhorse leapt from the array, its mane flowing, surging with powerful chaotic energy—it was a warhorse entirely composed of chaotic force.

He tied the coffins to the horse’s back, patted its neck, and the chaotic warhorse immediately strode forward through the void, accelerating rapidly.

With each step, the horse’s hooves exploded into bursts of red light, as if it were stepping on beams of radiance.

He had originally been heading toward the Radiant Alliance, but as he rode, the Grand Councilor frowned: “What’s that light point? Why is it so bright?”

After thinking, he altered course, riding the chaotic warhorse and dragging the long line of coffins toward the light point.

…

Along the border of the Fire Empire near the Vast Void, airships slowly entered the Vast Void; their designs were utterly unlike any seen before—each had a figurehead at the bow, all different, all glowing with luminescence.

Only the airship belonging to Ang had no figurehead; Ang and his group crowded into the stern cabin, peering through a small square window to quietly observe these special airships.

Negrilis exclaimed: “Silver Coin, these are the Heroic Spirits Legion you mentioned? They’re putting Heroic Spirits on the front of their airships?”

“Heroic Spirits are manifestations of collective will—where else would you put them?” Anthony said.

Negrilis thought: “That makes sense—I confused Heroic Spirits with deities. Heroic Spirits are rare; the two in my house would fight if placed together. So each airship manifests only one Heroic Spirit?”

Silver Coin said: “Probably. I noticed they train by different professions. You should know more—you’ve got two Heroic Spirits yourself.”

Negrilis sneered: “Those two only know how to fight—I know nothing. At their level, even if each airship manifests a different Heroic Spirit, they couldn’t beat the Deathbringer Undead. Can they even destroy the Deathbringer Legion?”

Negrilis knew better than anyone how powerful Red Star and Truth Cannon were—these two had zero combat capability; they looked cool smashing each other in the Copper Book, but in reality, they couldn’t even let out a “piss.”

Anthony said: “Whether they can destroy them doesn’t matter—just get them fighting. Otherwise, they’ll target the little wraiths. The Deathbringer Legion marches independently and moves fast; we won’t have time to set up. Lure them into the Hammer Realm, let the Holy Spirit Legion ambush them there, then seal the entrance. Wait until they’re done, then come out and scavenge.”