"Your goal should be resurrection, correct? What does this have to do with the
Leilin regarded the sliver of will belonging to the eighth-tier existence before him with an indifferent expression.
"The Weave is divided into three layers. The outermost layer — the Outer Weave — serves as the spell slot通道 for wizards. The Inner Weave is the divine power and faith network of the gods. And the innermost layer is the final seal — the place where the gods sealed away our true will, and also the greatest obstacle to our resurrection..."
The Shadow of
"The core seal?
Leilin's pupils contracted slightly. "In that case, there must be even more 'existence' wills sealed within..."
……
Boom!
After an indeterminate amount of time, the Shadow of Distortion dissipated on its own, and the beast-hide scroll that had been there before vanished without a trace.
After all, it was nothing more than a dead will. Once it had revealed itself, it could not maintain its form for long.
The blockade over the floating city was lifted, revealing Leilin's contemplative expression. "Resurrection, is it? This whole affair seems to be growing bigger and bigger..."
By now, he felt as though he had touched upon the deepest secrets of the ancient Twilight War of the
In the legends of the
Yet even those seventh-tier divine beings who had fallen still possessed the possibility of resurrection — to say nothing of the ancient Law Wizards.
Beings of the eighth tier and the peak of the eighth tier had already begun attempting to harness the power of space-time laws with their own strength. Even if their true bodies perished, their true spirits could still slumber within the river of space-time, awaiting some fateful opportunity for resurrection. They could even leave behind numerous wills and thoughts as contingencies.
In the Divine World — the very battlefield of the great war — this phenomenon was all the more pronounced.
And so, the gods had joined forces to construct the Weave, harnessing the power of the entire world to seal away every scrap of will that could be gathered from fallen wizards at the deepest reaches of the Weave. They had even established the Goddess of the Weave as the prison's warden.
But despite the gods having searched the entire world as thoroughly as they could, there were still those who slipped through the net. The Shadow of Distortion was the largest fish that had escaped.
And now, after untold millennia of scheming, the Shadow of Distortion had finally found the wizard best suited to break the deadlock — Leilin, who had arrived in the Divine World through the technique of Otherworld Reincarnation!
The moment he cast the [Avatar of Karsus], the Goddess of the Weave would instantly fall. And by exploiting the brief window of authority over the Weave, Leilin could tear apart the gods' seal and release the wills of those ancient Law-tier existences!
"The ancient ones who fell here and still retain their wills, awaiting the chance of resurrection — they would be, at minimum, seventh-tier Law Wizards or above..."
Leilin stroked his chin, clucking his tongue in imagination at the prospect.
"Even if they're a group of dead beings without much power, the ways of wizards are far beyond what the gods can predict. In all likelihood, they would recover the bulk of their strength in a very short time — or even fully resurrect. At that point, it would be nothing short of a replay of the ancient Terminal War..."
"Their plan was well devised. And it seems the floating city isn't the only hidden card up their sleeve..."
A hint of a smile curved at the corner of Leilin's lips. "What a pity... they ran into me."
In truth, given the Shadow of Distortion's power over law, it could easily have relied on the will and energy lodged within the beast-hide scroll to covertly exert its distorting influence, subtly guiding Leilin down the path it had laid out.
Unfortunately, even an ancient peak eighth-tier wizard like the Shadow of Distortion could never have known that Leilin possessed the Chip — and that his true body had reached a state so bizarre and unfathomable that he could directly detect its influence, expel it entirely, and seize control of the situation for himself.
Now, whether or not to restart the Terminal War and release the wills of those Law-tier existences — the key to it all rested in Leilin's hands!
The Shadow of Distortion's true body had already perished, and the bulk of its will was sealed within the core of the Weave. Facing Leilin as he was now, it could only resort to bartering and enticement.
Unfortunately, the current Leilin had absolutely no intention of releasing those Law-tier wills.
"Too weak... In my present state, even my true body is only a half-seventh-tier sorcerer. In terms of actual combat strength, I can at most match a seventh-tier Law Wizard. Going up against an eighth-tier existence would be trouble enough just trying to escape, let alone those peak eighth-tier beings..."
Leilin possessed a very clear understanding of his own capabilities.
And right now, the entire Divine World was his playground — why would he share it with anyone else?
Moreover, such a scorched-earth tactic would inevitably provoke a desperate counterattack from the gods. Leilin wasn't so much of a bleeding heart that he would go that far.
"Still... if I grip this too tightly and refuse to budge, there's no guarantee those ancient wizards wouldn't resort to desperate measures out of sheer desperation. I should at least give them a glimmer of hope..."
Leilin's eyes shifted as a plan began to take shape in his mind. And beyond that, keeping the [Avatar of Karsus] under his control served as an important deterrent — proof that he possessed the power to overturn the table at any moment!
Even if his identity were discovered or exposed, he could always drag everyone down with him. Faced with such a threat, it was the gods who would be more afraid.
"But that's only the worst-case scenario... For now, my priority must be apotheosis..."
Leilin pondered silently. He had now gained a clear understanding of his path forward. Although his energy level still placed him at the half-seventh-tier sorcerer stage, once he successfully achieved godhood and drew his true body into this world, he would surely ascend to an entirely new height.
"So right now, I'm at the stage where the theoretical foundation is fully laid, and all that remains is the final infusion of energy?"
Leilin sighed. "It seems the North is a destination I can't avoid. And the spread of faith, along with preparations involving clergy — those are becoming urgently necessary too..."
Seeking apotheosis with a [Legendary] body, without the backing of any existing deity — Leilin's undertaking could only be called madness.
But after having acquired the [Shadow City], Leilin had the confidence to pull it off!
The combination of an Archmage and a floating city was enough to make even true gods tremble!!!
"The situation is urgent — there's no need to return to the
The Shadow City, suspended amid the chaotic void currents, let out a tremendous roar. Like a ten-thousand-ton vessel cutting through ocean waves, it parted the elemental maelstrom and began moving toward a distant direction at a pace that appeared leisurely but was anything but.
……
The North. The edge of the Sapu Valley.
A column of noble cavalry bearing the insignia of a viscount was trotting slowly along the road, escorting a noble couple securely in their center.
On either side of the road stretched two swathes of lush green wheat fields. The stalks had already drawn forth thick, heavy ears of grain. A farmer's calloused hands stroked the wheat tenderly, as though gazing upon a lover, his face full of joyful anticipation for the coming harvest.
For these refugees who had originally come from the North, the life they now led had been hard-won.
Simply surviving the orc catastrophe three years prior had required the blessing of the Goddess of Fortune, and of those who had managed to make it alive to human territory, barely one in a hundred remained. The rest had either starved to death on the roadside or been cut down at the mercy of bandit riders and orc pursuers — some had even become rations.
Even those refugees who survived could not necessarily live in peace. After all, the flood of refugees pouring out of the North had been immense, placing enormous pressure on the territories of every lord.
And the ability of fragmented lords to cope with such a disaster? That was nothing short of a tearful saga.
By contrast, the current lord's benevolence was enough to inspire these refugees to offer him their heartfelt prayers.
"The newly reclaimed farmland has yielded a good harvest. It looks like we'll make it through this winter," the viscountess said with a measured poise. Her gaze did not linger on the farmers who bowed to her as she passed — only a select few lucky souls earned so much as a nod of acknowledgment. She radiated the haughty air of an aristocratic lady, and at the moment she was looking toward her husband beside her.
As for this husband, she felt neither particular satisfaction nor dissatisfaction. After all, it was merely a transaction.
But thankfully, the people from that organization hadn't lied to her — they hadn't married her off to some decrepit old man clinging to his last breath. That was, at least, the best among a string of misfortunes.
The viscountess regarded Tifa, who appeared middle-aged, and let out a deep, relieved sigh.
Recalling what she had endured in the North sent a chill through her. Those savage, brutal orcs had slaughtered her family and servants, and she herself had nearly fallen into their clutches.
Though she had narrowly escaped, she then had to contend with the predatory gazes of greedy, dog-eyed opportunists. Fortunately, through a combination of her own quick wits and a measure of luck, she had managed to preserve her family name and her fief — though this estate was nearly half the size of her original viscounty. The poor viscountess already dared not ask for too much more.
"Next... I must produce a few children as soon as possible..."
The viscountess glanced at her husband, and particularly at the several timid maidservants trailing behind him. A flash of hostility entered her eyes.
Only a lord's wife who had borne a male heir could feel truly secure in her position. Already, quite a number of young women in the territory were looking to attach themselves to the lord in hopes of securing a comfortable life — and among them were no shortage of former noblewomen from the North.
"Indeed... It was costly, but we've finally managed to settle this batch of refugees..."
Tifa had assumed a different appearance. He stood nearly two meters tall, with thick brows and large eyes, radiating a vigorous, masculine presence. His silver hair was slightly curled yet immaculately groomed — the very image of a traditional middle-aged Northern nobleman. The poor viscountess had no idea that if one were to calculate his actual age, Tifa would likely be several years older than her father. Though if measured by the average lifespan of a [Legendary] powerhouse, Tifa was in fact quite young.
But nobles had never concerned themselves much with the matter of age, had they?
"What's wrong, darling?"
The viscountess noticed her husband had fallen into a brief reverie.
"Oh! Nothing at all. You go on ahead. I've sent for the town's jeweler and tailor — we need to pick out the most beautiful and splendid gown for you..."
Tifa pressed a gentle kiss to his wife's hand and then sent her on her way.