Manifestation

Two masses of twisted light, each representing a distinct will, collided head-on within a void that existed only in concept.

The defensive line lost its effectiveness almost instantly. Restraints were broken, blades snapped, banners torn, barriers pierced, and the foundation shattered. Even the final point of reliance was destroyed by the residual will of the evil god.

The outer shell peeled away layer by layer, leaving only Lynch’s consciousness struggling to persist while surrounded by the vast, oceanic remnants of the evil god’s consciousness.

Cold, twisted, and insane...

As the two consciousnesses gradually entangled, countless negative emotions surged forward, nearly swallowing the halo of light that represented Lynch, the suppressor.

Hold on! Lynch encouraged himself repeatedly within his consciousness.

This was merely a remnant of the evil god’s consciousness lingering upon its authority. While it was difficult for a mortal to oppose, it was not without a chance of victory.

He must not lose clarity before it. If he could only persist, he would win; otherwise, even his superior will would be meaningless.

Then he would just have to grit his teeth and endure. He would let it see the resilience he had cultivated while floating in the red fog for thousands of years.

And so, the void shimmered with flowing light.

In Lynch’s observation via inspiration, the cold halo representing the image of Mordiggian flickered unsteadily, nearly occupying the entire void. Tentacles formed from cold light had already tightly entangled his consciousness.

He was left with only a small, dim patch of warm light, compressed into a corner by the cold radiance. It was buffeted repeatedly by the cold light, drifting like a small boat in a storm—dim and lusterless, yet maintaining a single point of light that refused to be extinguished.

As his consciousness endured the repeated impacts, Lynch’s state shifted from tension to numbness, and from numbness to rigidity. By the end, only a sliver of clarity remained, dully observing the final madness of the disease authority through his inspiration.

He was simply waiting to see who could last until the end. He was waiting to... Hmm? What was happening?

Just as Lynch’s consciousness was teetering on the brink of collapse and the evil god’s will was still struggling to ravage everything, the void suddenly paused.

It was as if time had suddenly stood still.

The moment he felt this anomaly, a prompt from Lady Luna, filled with unprecedented urgency, echoed in the depths of his consciousness.

【Stop observing. Sever your inspiration.】

However, his numbed spirit caused Lynch’s reaction to be a beat too slow. Before he could take action, it had already happened.

A halo of pure white light suddenly erupted from between the two entangled wills.

The halo was flawless and solemn, carrying an indescribable, holy aura. At the moment it burst forth, a faint, holy sound of bells even resonated within Lynch’s consciousness.

As soon as it appeared, it illuminated the entire void.

There was no process, only the result; the light instantly flooded the entire world.

It was not an attack, but a simple appearance—a simple existence. Yet, merely because of its presence, the disease authority that had crushed all defenses and endangered Lynch’s consciousness a moment ago now vanished like snow melting under the scorching sun. The twisted radiance merely flickered once before dissolving under the illumination of the holy white light. Meanwhile, the halo representing the suppressor remained soaked within this holy light, unaffected like the evil god’s will.

It seemed an unexpected helper had arrived, instantly killing the powerful enemy. Everything was moving in a positive direction, provided that Lynch had not been observing this world beyond mortal comprehension with his inspiration fully opened at that very moment.

However, there were no 'ifs'. Lynch had maximized his inspiration just moments before, striving to understand this world.

And so, when the holy white light erupted and the residual consciousness of Mordiggian was instantly wiped away, an image rushed directly into Lynch’s consciousness.

The figure was somewhat familiar; he had seen it not long ago.

In a painting.

A petite woman wearing a robe that trailed to the ground, her golden hair bound by an Ouroboros headband. She held a double-headed snake scepter, her entire being radiating a holy and noble aura.

One of the twelve major gods, Fiona, the Lord of Suffering and Pain.

At that moment, Lynch did not realize how serious the situation was. He was still rejoicing that her appearance had caused the residual consciousness of Mordiggian to dissipate. But the instant he clearly perceived her image, everything slid into an irrecoverable abyss.

The next moment, Lynch felt his consciousness dissolving and his spirit being assimilated.

He was losing the existence of his own self.

A mortal’s will could not bear the radiance of a god; a mortal’s gaze could not look directly upon a god’s countenance.

For that was the truth of the universe; that was the rule of the world.

Invisible, unknowable—even attempting to understand it was an original sin that no life could withstand.

To look directly upon the radiance of truth was to be assimilated by that truth and fused into one with it.

Even having embarked on the path of immortality, Lynch was still a mortal at this time. Faced with the power of the rules, all struggle was pale and powerless.

Fear erupted from the bottom of his heart—the lament of a living instinct before destruction. But fear could not change the reality; his soul was already like a moth to a flame, spontaneously casting itself into the embrace of truth.

It’s over!

Despair and powerlessness filled the last remnants of Lynch’s consciousness. He knew clearly that his journey of immortality had reached a dead end.

Yet, at the moment of deepest despair, Lynch suddenly felt as if a hand had patted his shoulder.

A shoulder without substance.

Hmm?

Before Lynch could understand what this meant, accompanied by a familiar crimson light, another figure intruded into his consciousness, standing before him and blocking the holy white light on his behalf.

It was an unfamiliar back.

The figure was tall and slender, dressed in a dark red gown that trailed on the ground. Long black hair cascaded down her back, dragging all the way to her ankles.

The figure was hazy and mysterious, as if draped in the gentle moonlight. Every movement was elegant and dignified. Even in her most urgent posture as she blocked the path ahead, she did not lose her inherent quiet grace.

Yet, for some reason, despite this being a back he had never seen before, a sense of familiarity welled up spontaneously, as if the two had faced each other in silence for billions of years.

As he was shielded, the dissolution and assimilation stopped immediately. The crimson moonlight wrapped around him as if protecting him. At this moment, Lynch felt as if he had returned to those countless years of the past, soaked in the gentle moonlight, feeling only warmth and peace.

For a time, looking at this familiar stranger, Lynch even forgot the despair and fear that had filled his heart just moments ago. He stared blankly at the hazy figure, his consciousness a blank slate, with only one thought remaining.

Luna.

【Hmph.】

The soft laughter was as gentle as ever, lingering in Lynch’s mind. In his observation, the hazy figure simply lifted her head.

And so, the holy and the crimson—two rays of light intersected within the void.

But the moment they touched, after a series of flickering light and shadows, the holy radiance suddenly retreated rapidly, while the crimson moonlight immediately followed, pursuing the light of holiness. The two clashed in the void several times, and then the holy radiance abruptly vanished into thin air, just as suddenly as it had appeared. Within the eerie void, only the crimson moonlight remained, quietly enveloping the familiar figure.

'To save me, you actually revealed yourself, and in front of another god. Neighbor, thank you.' As the light and shadows finally settled, Lynch finally sent his thoughts silently in his mind. 'Will this have any effect on you? Is there any way to remedy this?'

There was no answer, but the familiar figure slowly turned around.

Her features were blurred, beyond the comprehension of a mortal, but Lynch could distinguish that she raised a finger to her lips, mysteriously making a soft shushing sound.

"Do not worry, I have always been here."

The next moment, everything shattered like a broken mirror. When Lynch opened his eyes again, he found himself standing on the hexagram, staring blankly at the blood vortex that had stopped spinning.