The golden sphere, carrying the black dragon's blood, landed in Saria's hands in the distance.
Though the objective of Rhine Lab's mission had been to acquire the black dragon's blood, Saria found no joy in holding it now.
Her eyes were fixed on Garde, pinned beneath the black dragon's claw. His once indomitable body now lay shattered and punctured, like a piece of worn, perforated leather.
"Leave this place!"
Within the golden sphere, Garde's final thought echoed.
Then, the winds vanished.
Neither the scorching winds of the hotlands, nor the blasts from weapons and explosions, nor the gusts stirred by the black dragon's wings—none of it remained. All winds came to a halt at that moment.
The blood Garde had sent exposed Kal'tsit and the others' position. They had been waiting—waiting for the final opportunity to enter the sanctuary.
Misery's Originium Arts had faltered, and the nearest Nightzmora Knights simultaneously turned their gazes toward the group. Yet Kal'tsit seemed oblivious to these imminent threats.
Her attention was fixed elsewhere.
She saw the sands trembling and heard the winds howling as they changed course.
She watched as Garde's body beneath the black dragon's claw began to transform.
A deep, blood-red substance began to flow across Garde's form.
Is this some kind of Originium spell?
Kal'tsit wasn't sure. She had never heard of any spell that only activated when the caster was on the brink of death. Not even the secret arts of Sargon, which she knew extensively, offered any clues as to what Garde was now using.
Fear and awe washed over her.
It felt as though a will—ancient and overwhelming—was awakening within Garde.
Could it be that his body holds the soul of a Feranmut?
Such a thing seemed impossible. Even Ursus' experiments with Collapsals exacted horrific costs on the subjects, often leaving them bound for life to their implanted devices.
But Garde was enduring a beast's soul with nothing but his own flesh and blood?
Some of the Nightzmora Knights—those devoid of consciousness—continued to obey their Khagan's orders, unaffected by Garde's transformation. But the ubiquitous sands of the hotlands slowed their advance.
It was then that a voice, or perhaps a roar, seemed to echo faintly in the ears of all present.
It was the sound of a beast breaking free from its cage, bellowing in madness.
"Nasus!!!"
The alloy floor beneath the black dragon cracked under Garde's growing form, and the winds converged toward him like a storm.
In the hotlands, Carnelian was trying to rally the Lizardman to aid Garde. The young Lizard girl, Raya, wanted to convince her people to fight, but the mere presence of the black dragon rendered her pleas weak and hollow.
Yet deep inside, she believed: if Garde truly was a divine envoy, he would not fall to this grave-keeping beast of ancient civilization. He would rise again and reignite their courage.
Faith, after all, can be more resolute than any wealth or power.
The Lizardman noticed something strange: the previously clear skies above the black dragon were being consumed by gathering clouds. Even the patches of sunlight were swallowed by the encroaching darkness.
From above, the hotlands would appear as though a massive, inverted funnel of black clouds was forming, centered over the ancient city.
Then, the Lizardman saw a beam of light.
A golden pillar of light descended from the heavens, like a great sword piercing the sky.
High above the city, a massive golden silhouette appeared.
The Lizardman fell to their knees, shouting in reverence.
"God Nanani!"
The silhouette was that of a crocodile man figure, but to the Lizardman, it was unmistakably a representation of their kind.
Carnelian gazed up at the sky, stunned.
She couldn't mistake it—the colossal crocodile man figure was none other than Garde. It bore his exact likeness!
In the next instant, however, the golden figure was tainted by a dark crimson surge rising from below, consuming it bit by bit.
A crimson colossus emerged, roaring silently amidst the thunder.
The Lizardman were paralyzed with fear.
"God Nanani is angry!"
Carnelian, understanding full well that the figure was Garde's doing, seized the moment.
"This is your fault!" she scolded. "Your fear of death has angered God Nanani! If you want to quell His wrath, you must fulfill your purpose!"
She gave Raya a subtle glance.
Although impersonating divine will made Raya uneasy, she wanted to help Garde even more.
Besides, if Garde was truly the envoy of God Nanani, then aiding him must be the right choice.
Resolving herself, Raya quickly translated Carnelian's words for the Lizardman.
The Lizardman hesitated briefly.
But their indecision vanished in the next moment when a massive black dragon was flung out of the city like a ragdoll, crashing violently into the fortress walls and leaving a gaping breach.
The sight galvanized them.
"For God Nanani!"
"For Lord Garde!"
"For our homeland!"
The Lizardman, fired up as though injected with adrenaline, charged toward the ancient city.
Terrified of running too slowly and incurring the wrath of their god, the Lizardman charged forward.
In the city.
The black dragon, now missing a finger, found its massive claw firmly gripped by Garde. The once-mighty creature squirmed in his grasp like a trussed-up hen awaiting slaughter.
"I knew it! I knew it!" the black dragon bellowed in frustration, but it was too late for regrets.
Garde's body, initially six meters tall, swelled to nearly match the dragon's size. A crimson tide covered his enormous form, tracing deep red patterns across his body.
With immense strength, the crocodile man shifted positions with the black dragon, ignoring its furious wingbeats. Then, with one massive hand, Garde slammed the dragon into the ground.
The earth trembled.
The colossal impact crushed two mechanical Nightzmoras beneath its weight, scattering their remains.
The dragon, now sprawled on its back, gathered flames in its chest, preparing to unleash a fiery breath.
But before it could release the inferno, Garde delivered a devastating punch, knocking the dragon to the ground and seizing it by the throat. With unrelenting force, he smashed the dragon into the fortified walls of the sanctuary.
Despite the dragon's immense weight, the sanctuary's outer walls showed no signs of buckling. Instead, the impact nearly made the dragon cough blood.
Desperate to escape, the black dragon spread its wings, attempting to take flight. But as it looked up, it saw a towering crocodile man even larger than itself. In his hands was a massive greataxe that had grown to match his size. Garde leapt high into the air and brought the axe down with earth-shaking force.
BOOM!!!
The dull roar echoed through the heavens.
The black dragon narrowly avoided the maddened strike, but the sanctuary wasn't as fortunate.
A terrifying fissure marred the once-indestructible structure—a structure that had endured millennia without a single scratch.
Seeing this, panic gripped the dragon.
Garde can damage the sanctuary?! What kind of monstrous strength is this?
But the dragon was already in dire straits and couldn't afford to dwell on the question.
The enraged crocodile man wasted no time. Pulling his axe free from the sanctuary wall, he raised his massive foot and began kicking the structure with brutal force.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Each kick resounded like the detonation of multi-ton bombs against the sanctuary's walls.
Though the walls held firm, the vibrations were so severe that the dragon couldn't stand idly by.
"Adakrys! Stop this at once!"
The black dragon's duty was to protect the sanctuary of ancient civilization. Despite countless memory rewrites and bodily modifications to adapt to changing environments, it had always taken its work seriously.
Even during a long slumber centuries ago, when a group of Nightzmoras nearly destroyed a relic of ancient civilization, the dragon never shirked its responsibilities.
Now, it sought to intervene, but Garde grabbed it by the neck like a helpless chick and hurled it several kilometers away, slamming it into the city's outer walls.
BOOM! BOOM!
Suddenly, the cannons of the sanctuary's defensive turrets roared to life, unleashing a barrage against Garde. The explosions detonated across his body, but he seemed impervious to pain, raising his axe once more.
CRASH!!!
The indomitable sanctuary now bore another crack.
Through the fissure, Garde's crimson eyes could easily see into the sanctuary's depths, where complex cables entwined around a metallic sphere submerged in nutrient solution.
Seeing this, Kal'tsit couldn't help but shout, "Garde, destroy the terminal inside!"
But Garde didn't acknowledge her command.
Instead, he unleashed a violent blow.
"Watch out!"
Ascalon scooped Kal'tsit out of harm's way, shielding her from the storm of wind created by Garde's axe swing. Despite the distance of several hundred meters, the sheer force of the strike left Ascalon's body stinging.
"This crocodile man has completely lost his mind!"
The winds from Garde's swings carved a kilometer-long gash into the metallic ground—a testament to the ancient city's core infrastructure.
"It seems Garde anticipated this outcome," murmured Saria, clutching the glowing orb of black dragon blood tightly.
He must have known what would happen before unleashing this transformation, she reasoned. Otherwise, he wouldn't have sent her away before the change began.
"This might be the true source of his power," Kal'tsit said calmly, her tone unaffected by Garde's earlier attack on her.
"He's unleashed the strength within himself. I don't know how long it will last, but we must do what we came here to do!"
The Nightzmora Knights were forced to redirect their efforts to halting Garde's onslaught. If they didn't stop him, the sanctuary, no matter how sturdy, would eventually crumble under his relentless attacks.
This was their opportunity!
In the distance, the black dragon contemplated escape. It had no desire to fight the transformed Garde—but it had no choice.
Though the dragon retained its ferocity, it was no fool. Four years ago, after losing to Garde in a previous battle, it knew better than to pick a fight it couldn't win.
But now it had no other options. Even if it couldn't defeat Garde, it had to try. After all, Garde couldn't kill it outright—not immediately, at least.
With a sharp swish, the black dragon accelerated, crossing several kilometers in an instant. The piercing sound of its flight shattered every glass structure in the city.
Garde, locked in battle with the Nightzmora Knights, barely managed to turn before the dragon rammed into him, sending his massive form flying.
At the same time, a scorching blast of fire that had been building up erupted from the black dragon's mouth.
BOOM!
The clash between these two colossal hundred-meter-tall beasts was a spectacle far beyond the realm of human intervention. Even dozens of mechanical Nightzmoras working together could hold off Garde's attacks, but defeating him outright was utterly impossible!
"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Completely abandoning reason and allowing rage to consume him, the crocodile man was utterly unfazed by the pain.
With a furious roar, Garde blocked the black dragon's fire with one hand while gripping his massive greataxe with the other. Then, he hurled the axe forward!
Despite their enormous size, both creatures moved with frightening agility.
The black dragon evaded Garde's axe and, seeing him charging forward, flapped its wings without hesitation, ascending rapidly into the air.
But Garde would not let the dragon have its way.
With incredible strength fueling his terrifying leap, Garde shattered the city streets beneath him as he propelled himself upward. Grabbing the black dragon just as it tried to take flight, he slammed it back into the ground.
With his powerful jaws, Garde clamped down on one of the dragon's wings.
RIP!
The black dragon let out a piercing cry of pain but refused to give in. At point-blank range, it unleashed a fiery explosion between itself and Garde.
BOOM!!!
The flames erupted from the collision between the two beasts, turning a radius of nearly a kilometer into a blazing inferno. Locked in close combat, the two monsters clawed and battered each other mercilessly.
Meanwhile, with Misery's assistance, Kal'tsit and her team finally reached the sanctuary's innermost chamber. ACE and Saria chose to block the entrance while Kal'tsit and Ascalon pressed further inside.
As for Misery, after running so far with the group, he was already utterly exhausted.
"Kal'tsit, you've finally arrived," said a voice.
The Khagan of the plains was not surprised by Kal'tsit's arrival. If anything, he would have been disappointed if she hadn't made it this far.
"Borbaia, it's over," Kal'tsit said calmly, summoning Mon3tr. As long as she destroyed the metal sphere before her, everything would end.
"Kal'tsit, you even remember my name," the Khagan said with a bitter laugh.
"Your name is recorded in history books across many nations. Borbaia, your mistakes, and your achievements have long been chronicled by those who came after you," Kal'tsit replied without hesitation.
"Mon3tr!"
Mon3tr stretched its form and charged toward the metal sphere.
But before it could reach its target, a long spear blocked its path.
Seeing the figure who had appeared, Ascalon's expression turned grim.
Standing guard in the sanctuary's depths was yet another Nightzmora!
"No, Chuluun, they are our guests," Borbaia said, his laughter echoing through the sanctuary's depths.
"Kal'tsit, have you forgotten?"
"I am a Nightzmora. I am the King of Nightzmoras. And here lies the tomb of countless of my kind."
"Now, welcome to my kingdom!"
With a sharp clang, a dagger fell to the ground.
One by one, those present began to collapse. Ascalon was the first to fall, followed by Kal'tsit, then Misery, ACE, and Saria.
In an instant, the Nightzmora's dreamscape enveloped them all.
"Finally, the Adakrys outside. He indeed caused us quite a bit of trouble, but he was still a little too late."
In a corner of the sanctuary, a massive structure resembling a spear slowly rose, radiating a terrifying concentration of energy.
The black dragon, still entangled with Garde, seemed to sense imminent danger. Summoning all its strength, it retreated, even as Garde left a deep, bone-revealing wound on its body.
As Garde turned, a deep blue beam of light shot toward him in an instant, striking his body.
The arm gripping the greataxe dissolved under the beam, and the weapon clattered to the ground. Garde's massive form staggered backward uncontrollably, crashing into the city wall.
The beam pierced through the wall, leaving a gaping hole.
Leaning against the wall, half of Garde's body had been obliterated by the beam.
"Whether beasts or gods, they are but false creations born after the fall of our civilization. In the face of true power, so-called gods are nothing more than ants glimpsing a fragment of the sky from the bottom of a well."
In the sanctuary's depths, the metallic sphere within the nutrient fluid was about to sink into silence once more.
It was time for him to enter the Nightzmora's dreamscape and meet his teacher and her companions.
However, whether it was a trick of the mind or not, the metallic sphere noticed something peculiar—Garde, whose body was mostly destroyed by the laser, twitched ever so slightly.
"Such tenacity!"
The will within the metallic sphere sneered. In the sanctuary's corner, the spear-like structure began charging again.
Though each use consumed a vast amount of energy, as long as it could annihilate the Adakrys before it, any price was worth paying. Energy could always be replenished later.
But the spear-like structure never fired a second shot.
Garde, whose blood had nearly formed a lake, lifted his one remaining arm despite his ghastly condition.
Crack!
An overwhelming pressure bore down on the spear.
Crack, crack!
A dark energy emanating from Garde exerted a crushing force on the weapon.
Boom!
The spear shattered. Even the will within the metallic sphere seemed to falter momentarily.
"I'm starving!"
The crocodile man, reduced to a mere fraction of his original body, clung to life. His remaining blood and flesh barely connected him to the world, yet he did not die.
Raising his gaze, Garde looked toward the black dragon in the distance.
A deep-seated fear crept into the dragon's heart. It wanted to flee, abandoning thoughts of ancient relics and forsaking its duties.
Nothing was more important than its own survival.
But black threads, like surgical sutures, stitched up Garde's missing parts. His body seemed to be reconstructed almost entirely from this dark energy.
An Ascended could easily rebuild their bodies. As long as their souls remained intact, they could revive countless times.
However, in exchange for the overwhelming power he wielded, Garde had sacrificed his reason. All that remained within him now were primal instincts—hunger and the drive to hunt!
The black dragon spread its wings to escape, but Garde pursued without hesitation.
The once-pristine city built by an ancient civilization descended into chaos and ruin.
In the dreamscape, the Khagan of the plains seemed momentarily dazed.
Did he win?
The process had been peculiar, but the result seemed to suggest victory.
What next...
Suddenly, the Khagan realized something was amiss. Kal'tsit was absent from his dreamscape.
How could that be possible?
The remnants of countless Nightzmoras should have dragged anyone into their realm.
Moreover, the Khagan noticed his most trusted guard standing beside him. His consciousness was still trapped within the dreamscape.
"Chuluun!"
"Khagan, we have lost," said the towering knight, gazing at the Khagan, whose body was withering and aging before his eyes.
It felt as if a long Nightzmora was finally drawing to an end.
"No, Chuluun, it's not over!"
"How could it end?"
"I still haven't obtained..."
Reality and dream blurred. No matter how many mechanical guardians or disaster beasts they controlled, the ancient civilization's terminal was fragile.
Just as the creators of these ancient relics had never truly trusted their creations, they had never believed in the intelligence they had designed.
Perhaps not all ancient civilizations were the same, but this one's story was about to reach its conclusion.
In the sanctuary's depths, Kal'tsit opened her eyes. Step by step, she moved forward and picked up Ascalon's fallen dagger.
"Ms. Kal'tsit, you and Mr. Garde now both owe me a favor. No, actually, Garde owes me three now," said a mature voice in Kal'tsit's mind.
"Of course, I wouldn't mind if you exchanged some of your knowledge with me—provided it's worth the price," the voice continued.
"After all, even though the Nightzmoras' originium arts are ancient relics from millennia ago, it was no small effort for my people and me to support you from such a distance."
"Still, witnessing the end of an era firsthand is perhaps reward enough."
Ignoring the voice in her mind, Kal'tsit called out.
"Mon3tr."
Beside her, Mon3tr let out an excited cry and unhesitatingly destroyed the nutrient pod before them, spilling viscous liquid across the floor.
Kal'tsit gazed at the metallic sphere, wrapped in countless cables.
She raised the dagger.
The blade pierced the metallic sphere, and pale blood began to seep from its cracks.
"Farewell, Borbaia."
<+>
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