above the sky

cold, flowing...

The thousand-meter-high cliff top was filled with mist, condensed on the rocks into condensation, and dripped on the top of the old man's forehead.

The slight shock and the cold body sensation made Hilliard, who was about to lose consciousness, regain his sanity.

He fought hard, opened his eyes, and saw one after another thunder slashed down on his side, turning into huge arcs visible to the naked eye, flickering vertically and horizontally in the air.

The old knight raised his head and watched this scene.

The strong light impact brought by the lightning forced the thinking that was about to stop to start, and his eyes gradually changed from lax to bright, and he could truly observe everything in front of him.

A body that has been turned into jet-black coke, and a boy of the white people who fell into a pool of water.

The battle is over.

One is dead, and the other is still breathing.

Subconsciously wanting to get up, Hilliard found that he could no longer control his legs. He reached out and pinched, making sure that the nerves of his legs were intact, but he lacked the strength to lift them.

No... not power.

is life.

"Well, it's really coming to an end."

Although he had a hunch, but determined that he was indeed approaching the limit of his life, Hilliard couldn't help but sigh.

He is not afraid of death. Rather, he felt that he was already dead.

The messenger of death will kill all human beings in turn, firstly to kill his fighting spirit to question the world, secondly to distort his spirit to recognize the world, and finally to age his body to change the world.

As early as decades ago, Hilliard had lost his fighting spirit, his spirit had been dissipated, and his body had become so rotten that it was difficult to move.

And all the great deeds he and the king have done have been distorted, tampered with, cut, and all the disciples and successors left have been wiped out and cleaned up...

Only the remaining half has become as pitiful, pathetic and hateful as it is today.

"Wiggs... you are just a ghost wandering in the past. Although your body is younger than me, your heart has already died."

Closing his eyes, Hilliard didn't know whether his current mood was regret, hatred, or pure emotion.

He just couldn't help but recall those fragments of the past, those bright times, the vigorous shouts of children in the training ground, and the fact that he stood on the stage and hopefully gave pointers and guidance to future successors.

Those who used to laugh are no more, they are all dead.

Only Weggs, and himself.

Everything has disappeared in the wind, like tears in the rain.

- Can I really be considered a living person? Instead of an undead that forcibly stayed in this world and has not dissipated for decades?

Water droplets swiped across the old man's face, but he smiled instead: "What about him."

"At least for now, I'm still alive."

The aging knight stood up slowly.

Everyone knows that sublimators of the third energy level and above can control the body with their own will, bypassing the conduction of all nervous systems, and achieve the direct control of the 'spiritual' on the body.

This technique of reducing the reaction time to '0', the power to control the body with will, is the essence of life psionic energy.

That is, an incredible miracle that erupts from the body of the ego, the will of the ego.

"Ian... what a mess, the seeds of the soma tree..."

Staggering to Ian's side, the old man struggled to move the boy's body behind the rock that could avoid the lightning.

He stretched out his hand, opened Ian's eyelids, observed his pupils, and then gathered the last trace of Originium in the palm of his hand and pressed it against Ian's chest.

"Fortunately, it's not dead."

Noticing that in Ian's eyeballs, the water-colored psionic brilliance was still flickering, not extinguished, and his heart was still beating, the old knight's eyes moved slightly, he breathed a sigh of relief: "The alcohol poison has spread to the whole body and crossed the blood-brain barrier. However, the quality of the source seeds is high, and a large amount of toxic source substances are naturally adsorbed, and the sublimation is still in the liver, and the toxins are removed in time without causing systemic nerve necrosis."

"But the toxic excitatory substances in the brain are difficult to get rid of... If this continues, even if you can live, it will cause permanent sequelae."

After a while of silence, Hilliard shook his head: "Such a smart brain can't be wasted like this."

At this moment, one after another blue-blue fluorescent light rises near the Tutan Cliff.

Because of several consecutive thunders, the Thunder Hunting Jellyfish scattered in the surrounding waters began to gather spontaneously.

The dots of thunder light gathered from all directions. They flickered, flowed, rotated, and weaved interlaced in the dark sea and sky, as if to outline a hazy galaxy under the sky.

Thousands of thunder-hunting jellyfish were supposed to dance around the top of the cliff. They will share their thoughts, souls and brains here, and transmit their wisdom in the dense and almost substantive thunder.

Those bursting arcs and intertwined streamers are all a burst of inspiration, a transmission of information, and the thinking process of the sublimated life form of the 'Thunderhunting Jellyfish Cluster'.

It is with such dances and rituals, as well as the thunder light that traverses the heavens and the earth, that they can become a group of monsters in the true sense.

But today.

This dance of dispersing thunder light stopped.

The minehunting jellyfish, which are densely packed, tumbling in compliance with the water vapor and rain clouds, and lift themselves into the sky with the magnetic field, did not approach their familiar Tutan Cliff.

In contrast, they float around in that direction cautiously, respectfully, even fearfully, reluctant to move forward.

The beasts retreated.

Because at the top of the cliff, an old man is burning his last life.

It seems to be the coercion of a giant dragon, and it seems to be the majestic mountain.

There has never been anything similar since ancient times, and it may not be the same in the future. The sublime who sits on the 'top seat' ignites the glory of himself as a life at the top of the ecological circle walking in the world.

The whole body was burning with a light golden mist of source quality, and the gray traces on the body rapidly expanded and spread.

Hilliard raised his hand, he inserted his hand into the wound in his abdomen without hesitation, and went deep into it without feeling, tearing the flesh and opening the wound, searching for something.

Then, he took out a 'core' flowing with a pure golden halo.

The structure of the inscriptions, which are so dense that it is impossible to see their details at all, flicker and flow on this ever-changing and undulating golden core, and the materialized source breath is bound in the sphere like liquid metal, just like the life itself of the entity. .

With the flickering of the lightning arc, bright colors permeated the top of the cliff.

The golden core seems to be the center of the world.

However, it can be seen.

Above the gold core, there is still a small stream of silver light...

It is a chip, as thin as a cicada's wing, but the complexity of the rune changes on it is thousands of times better than the core.

The extremely dense inscriptions are indefinitely destroyed, just like hundreds of millions of stars are concentrated in this small chip, and the vast galaxy cannot be compared with it.

The light shines on Ian's eyes, because he has fallen into a complete intoxication, and even the teenager is still alive, and he can't make any reaction to it.

But... faintly visible.

In Ian's eyes, what is reflected is not gray, white, blue, purple, not these common colors.

Not even... not gold.

In the psychic brilliance of the water color, the color reflected...

It is endless, just like the radiance of the 'rainbow'!