Chapter 154: Chapter 154 - Inside the Black Mass
The long-awaited three days had passed.
Tension had mounted until time itself seemed to hold its breath.
Now, Lucien stood before the Black Mass which looks like a tide of darkness that stretched beyond sight. Placing his hand upon his chest, he sent his voice into the depths of his divine energy core.
"I am about to enter."
Within the inner world, an army beyond reckoning stood assembled. Ranks of soldiers stretched to the horizon of the mini Earth.
The proud banners of Lootwell.
The knightly orders of the Kingdom.
The priests and paladins of the Holy Nation.
The beastmen of the Beast Tribes.
And even the remnants of the Federation.
For the first time in history, the four great powers of the continent had set aside their rivalries and stood united.
Yet unity was fragile without structure. To prevent chaos, Lucien imposed a single condition.
All armies would follow Lukas as Supreme Commander while the priesthood would heed Clara.
Thus the chain of command was clear. Discipline was preserved. And confusion banished.
Reunions stirred the camp. Clara was welcomed by her old colleagues without hesitation. Meanwhile... Elunara who was long exiled for some reason, met again the kin who had once cast her out.
The bitterness of the past lingered but all of them set aside personal griefs, for the coming war demanded nothing less.
King Midas and Pope Augustus on the other hand marveled at the inner world.
Midas’s eyes were wide. "My strength... it grows by the moment. I’m at my peak so I thought I could climb no higher. Yet in this place... my body advances still."
Augustus clasped his hands. He was more dramatic as he realized something beyond his comprehension. "Midas... my lifespan lengthens with each breath. This place is sanctified beyond imagining. If I stayed in this place for a year... my lifespan would extend by 3, no, 5 more years..."
They nodded at each other in awe.
Both of them understood the true value of this place.
In this place, fatigue did not exist. Strength only grew and the flame of will will never dim.
It was not merely a refuge but a forge of war... A perfect staging ground.
Thus, what might have been impossible in the real world became feasible here. To march more than two hundred thousand soldiers across the continent would invite attrition, desertion and ambush. But this place preserved them as if frozen in time.
They could gather without strain, maintain discipline and at a single command... be unleashed upon the Black Mass.
It was no reckless gamble but a calculated strike. Where armies in the past would falter after weeks of campaigning, their army would emerge fresh, coordinated and unbroken... falling upon the monsters in a single overwhelming blow.
They can see it. They would descend as one, bursting forth from Lucien’s core in a sudden and terrible surprise assault. An army of nations, striking as if from the heavens themselves.
The moment had come.
The Black Mass awaited.
And the monsters within would soon learn the weight of unity.
...
Lucien drew in a deep breath.
With a final glance, he made his choice.
He called upon the power of the Origin Fragment and his body was wrapped in its light.
Then without hesitation... He leapt forward, diving into the Black Mass.
There was no clash. There was no resistance. He slipped through as though passing into water.
The world changed in an instant.
And Lucien froze.
What unfolded before his eyes was not simply a place. It was a realm born of corruption. It was vast and unholy and it looks like a dominion where nightmares thrived.
The air was suffused with miasma. Not just a drifting fog but a living shroud that clung to the skin and pressed into the lungs.
It whispered at the edges of thought and it curled into the mind like a serpent seeking purchase. Each breath carried the weight of dread and each exhale felt like surrender to the will of this land.
Yet Lucien alone remained untouched. The fragment of the Origin Core pulsed within him. It shielded him from the venom of the air.
But the same could not be said for those who waited within his divine energy core. If no measure was taken, this thick miasma would mean death.
He stepped forward.
Beneath his feet, the soil was black and slick as though steeped in endless tar. From the ground pulsed veins of crimson light. It threaded outward like arteries in some colossal, slumbering beast.
Lucien narrowed his gaze and channeled divine energy into his eyes. The veil of miasma parted and the horizon opened before him.
It revealed a sight that sent a chill through his spine.
In the distance stretched a landscape both terrible and wondrous. Towers of stone and bone spiraled upward. Their twisted silhouettes clawed toward the heavens.
Some were bent at impossible angles, mocking the laws of reason. The others seemed like they were fused with flesh. Their windows were blinking like eyes and their colossal gates yawned like mouths.
And there...
Rising above all... stood a spire of obsidian. It looks like a monument of dreadful majesty. Its vast surface was engraved with runes that pulsed in rhythm as though the land itself bore a beating heart.
It was profane yet impossibly precise. It’s a work of symmetry so flawless it seemed wrought by divine hands long since fallen to cruelty.
This was not a place of mortals. It was a world undone and remade. A kingdom of monsters where man was trespasser...
Lucien swallowed hard.
He knew without doubt, that the spire was his destination.
The source of the corruption lay within its heart.
And where corruption began... there too, must its end be found.
...
With a gesture, he summoned a flight of Gargoyle Drones. The constructs spread their wings and soared into the gloom. Their eyes recorded all they beheld.
Lucien fell silent. The space inside the Black Mass seemed stretched and distorted. The land unfolded endlessly into darkness.
Lucien remained at the edge, waiting until the drones returned.
He reviewed their visions carefully.
No monsters lurked nearby. The path ahead was, for now, clear.
Only then did Lucien call upon Elias.
The young man stepped forth from the divine core. His hand tightened at his chest as the miasma reached him.
At once, he drew from his belt a black-and-gold pill. He crushed it between his teeth and swallowed. A warmth spread through him, expunging away the corruption in his lungs. His breath steadied.
"Good," Lucien said softly. "The Repelling Pill works as intended."
This precaution had been crafted for all who would march into this place. The pill could not make them immune but it would purge tainted air long enough for them to endure.
Lucien’s eyes settled on Elias.
Elias caught Lucien’s gesture and he nodded.
Lucien finally understood why humanity still endured even amidst the world of ruin revealed in Elunara’s visions.
Elias bore the bloodline of a race from the Big World.
Luminarchs. The Great Pathfinders. People whose very gift was survival.
When Lucien had given him the Essence of the Sun Stone, Elias had awakened his locked skill.
The Path of Dawn.
This skill was no weapon of destruction. It was greater than that.
Where Elias walked, the world itself bent to his will. Roads unfolded where none existed. Safe havens bloomed in lands steeped with death. And light carved corridors through shadow.
If no safe path could be found, he would make one.
Elias pressed a hand to his chest. "Young Lord. I am ready."
Lucien gave him a single nod.
Together they had decided. Elias would map the thinnest currents of miasma, marking routes for both advance and retreat. If disaster fell, his light would be the army’s lifeline.
Elias stepped forward and the world answered. Where his foot touched, a thin thread of light unfurled upon the blackened ground. Only those he chose could see it and through this bond none would ever be lost.
Step by step he walked and weaved trails of light that marked the safe zones amidst the corruption.
When at last he returned, the map of his threads shimmered faintly across the land. They lingered like constellations upon the earth.
Lucien’s lips curved faintly.
"Good work. Return for now. I will summon you again when the time comes..."
Elias bowed deeply as Lucien’s divine energy enveloped him. In an instant, his figure vanished.
Lucien advanced deeper into the Black Mass.
And then... monsters started appearing.
Hulking goblin brutes bent to drink from rivers of ichor that pulsed like veins of shadow. Winged horrors wheeled above. Abominations crawled along cliffs.
Lucien did not falter.
And of course, he would not summon his armies yet. The time was not right.
Instead, he drew his blade and moved with purpose. He no longer fought as he once did. Testing or measuring. Now, every strike was final. He would allow no variables and no escapes.
One by one, the monsters fell beneath his hand.
Above, the Gargoyle Drones circled, recording all. Every movement, every death, every weakness was inscribed into their memory.
When the battle was done, Lucien would share their visions with the army within.
It was not merely to inform them but to prepare them. It’s to let them see the monsters of this place, to understand their nature and to be ready when their own time came.
Inside the divine energy core, the army watched with bated breath. The battle played before them like a revelation.
Their blood burned hot. Their hearts thundered. Their fingers clenched tight around their weapons.
They wanted to descend now and carve their blades into the flesh of the invaders who dared defile their world.