Descent

Two twisted lights, symbolizing two different wills, collided head-on in the void that existed only in concept.

The defensive line lost its efficacy almost instantly. Shackles were broken, blades were shattered, banners were torn, barriers were pierced, foundations were smashed, and even the final support was directly destroyed by the residual will of the evil god.

The outer shell peeled away layer by layer, until finally, only Lynch's consciousness remained, struggling to hold out under the siege of the evil god's vast, ocean-like residual consciousness.

Gloomy, twisted, mad...

As the two consciousnesses gradually became entangled, countless negative emotions rushed over him, nearly swallowing the halo representing the suppressor Lynch's consciousness.

Hold on! Lynch repeatedly encouraged himself in his mind.

This was merely a sliver of consciousness left by the evil god upon the authority. Although it was a grueling struggle for a mortal, it was not without a chance of victory.

I must not lose consciousness before it. As long as I hold out, I can win. Otherwise, even if I have an exceptionally strong will, it will be meaningless.

Then I'll grit my teeth and endure. Let's see if you can match the endurance I built up from drifting in the red fog for thousands of years.

Thus, the void overflowed with brilliant, swirling colors.

Through Lynch's observation using his inspiration, a cold halo faintly outlining the shape of Mordiggian flickered unsteadily, nearly occupying the entire void. Tentacles of cold light had already tightly entangled his consciousness.

Meanwhile, he was left with only a tiny cluster of dim, warm light. Compressed into a corner by the cold light, it bore the relentless impacts, drifting like a small boat in a violent storm—dim, yet obstinately keeping its single speck of light unextinguished.

As his mind repeatedly withstood the impacts, Lynch's consciousness went from tense to numb, and from numb to stiff. In the end, only a shred of clarity remained, listlessly observing the final madness of the authority of disease through his inspiration.

It was a battle of who could hold out until the end, to see... Hm? What was going on?

Just as Lynch's consciousness was teetering on the brink of collapse and the evil god's will was still doing its utmost to ravage him, the void suddenly froze.

It was as if time had suddenly ground to a halt.

At the exact moment he sensed the anomaly, Lady Luna's warning, filled with unprecedented anxiety, echoed from the depths of his consciousness.

【Stop observing! Cut off your inspiration!】

However, his numbed mind caused Lynch's reaction to be a fraction of a second too slow. Before he could act, everything had already happened.

A halo of pure white suddenly burst forth from between the two entangled wills.

The halo was flawlessly white, solemn and majestic, carrying an indescribably holy aura. The moment it erupted, the faint, ethereal sound of holy bells even echoed within Lynch's consciousness.

The instant it appeared, it illuminated the entire void.

There was no process, only the result; the light filled the entire world in a flash.

It was not an attack, but a simple manifestation, a simple existence. Yet, merely because of its presence, the authority of disease—which just a moment ago had crushed all defenses and left Lynch's consciousness in critical danger—now dissolved like ice and snow under a blazing sun. Its twisted colors merely flickered once before vanishing into nothingness under the holy white light. Meanwhile, the halo representing the suppressor was bathed in this holy white light, completely unaffected, unlike the evil god's will.

It seemed an unexpected ally had arrived, instantly killing the powerful enemy. Everything was heading in a positive direction—provided, of course, that Lynch hadn't fully opened his inspiration at this moment to observe this world that transcended mortal comprehension.

But there were no 'what-ifs.' Lynch had maximized his inspiration just moments ago, struggling to comprehend this world.

Thus, the moment the holy white light erupted and instantly wiped out Mordiggian's residual consciousness, an image crashed directly into Lynch's mind.

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

In a painting.

A petite woman dressed in a floor-length robe, her long golden hair held back by an Ouroboros headband, holding a double-headed snake scepter, radiating a holy and noble aura.

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

At this moment, Lynch did not realize how dire the situation was. He was still celebrating her appearance and the dissipation of Mordiggian's residual consciousness. But the instant he saw her figure clearly, everything slid into an uncontrollable abyss.

In the next instant, Lynch felt his consciousness melting away, his mind being assimilated.

He was losing his own existence.

A mortal's will could not bear the radiance of a deity; a mortal's eyes could not gaze directly upon a deity's face.

For that was the truth of the universe, the rules of the world.

Invisible, unknowable—even attempting to comprehend it was an original sin that life could not bear.

To look directly upon the light of truth was to be assimilated by it, merging into one with it.

Even though he had embarked on the path of immortality, Lynch was still a mortal at this moment. In the face of the power of universal laws, all struggles were utterly futile.

Fear erupted from the depths of his heart—the lament of life's instinct before destruction. But fear could not change the reality. His soul was already like a moth to a flame, voluntarily throwing itself into the embrace of truth.

I'm finished!

Despair and powerlessness flooded Lynch's last remaining consciousness. He knew clearly that his journey of immortality had reached its end.

Yet, at his moment of absolute despair, Lynch suddenly felt as though a hand had patted his shoulder.

A shoulder that had no physical form.

Hm?

Before Lynch could comprehend what this meant, accompanied by a familiar crimson light, another figure burst into his consciousness. Standing in front of him, she blocked the holy white light on his behalf.

It was an unfamiliar back.

She was tall and slender, dressed in a dark red, floor-sweeping gown. Her long black hair fell loosely down her back, cascading all the way to her ankles.

Her back was hazy and mysterious, as if draped in gentle moonlight. Every gesture radiated elegance and poise; even though she had rushed forward in the utmost urgency, she did not lose her innate, serene grace.

Yet, for some reason, though it was a back he had never seen before, a profound sense of familiarity welled up in him, as if they had silently faced each other for billions of years.

The moment he was shielded, the melting and assimilation ground to a halt. The crimson moonlight enveloped Lynch, protecting him. At this moment, Lynch felt as if he had returned to those countless ages of the past, bathed in the gentle moonlight, feeling nothing but warmth and serenity.

For a moment, looking at this familiar stranger, Lynch even forgot the despair and fear that had just filled his heart. He stared blankly at the hazy back, his mind a complete void, with only a single thought remaining.

Luna.

【Heh.】

Her soft laughter, as gentle as ever, lingered in Lynch's mind. Through his observation, the hazy figure merely raised her head.

And so, the holy and the crimson—two lights converged in the void.

Yet, the moment they touched, after a flurry of shifting light and shadow, the holy radiance suddenly receded rapidly. The crimson moonlight immediately pursued it, chasing closely behind the holy light. The two flickered several times in the void, and then the holy radiance vanished into thin air, just as abruptly as it had appeared. Within the bizarre void, only the crimson moonlight remained, quietly enveloping the familiar back.

‘To save me, you actually showed yourself, and in front of another deity. Neighbor, thank you.’ When the shifting lights and shadows finally ceased, Lynch silently sent his thoughts through his mind. ‘Will this affect you? Is there any way to remedy this?’

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

Her face was blurry, unresolvable by a mortal. Yet, Lynch could discern that she had raised a finger to her lips, making a mysterious, gentle shushing gesture.

“Do not worry. I am always here.”

In the next instant, everything shattered like a broken mirror. When Lynch opened his eyes again, he found himself standing on the hexagram, staring blankly at the vortex of blood that had already stopped rotating.