nownovels Chapter 509, Section 518: A Brand New History 2
Chapter 509, Section 518: A Brand New History 2
Chapter 509, Section 518: A Brand New History 2
Kag silently processed the information.
He gazed toward the lake, once their gateway to power and knowledge, now perhaps an abyss burying countless secrets and terrors. And the "Raven" stood alone in the deepest part of that abyss, facing the monster that had nearly destroyed them with just a glimpse.
Silence spread among the three, with only the sounds of the jungle night echoing in their ears. The relief of surviving the ordeal gradually subsided, replaced by a heavy feeling, a fear of being unable to help, and awe of the confrontation that took place in an unknown dimension—a confrontation they could not imagine or interfere with.
"He will definitely win," Saruman suddenly spoke again, breaking the silence.
The prematurely aged young wizard's voice was not loud, but unusually firm, as if he were convincing himself, or as if he were declaring an impending fact. He turned his head to look at Kag and Lina, his dim yellow eyes gleaming in the night with a kind of world-weary yet unwavering light.
"Why are you so sure?" Kag couldn't help but ask, even though deep down he hoped so too.
Saruman gazed at the night sky, as if contemplating some destiny that transcends the stars, and slowly spoke, each word like a tapping sound in the silent night: "Because—"
"He's a raven."
"A messenger hovering between the end and the beginning, the only clear shadow in the chaotic darkness."
"It is the burial of the old days, and also the raven that leads the new dawn."
His voice carried an ancient rhythm, as if he were reciting a prophecy from a lost era.
"If fate truly has an end, then standing at the end will surely be Him."
"So, facing that ancient nightmare that has crawled out from its slumber—"
Saruman withdrew his gaze and turned it back to the lifeless lake, his tone resolute and brooking no doubt: "He will be the victor."
"after all--
—"
"He is the end of all things, the raven at the end of fate."
As soon as she finished speaking, the jungle seemed to fall silent for a moment. Lina clasped her hands together in front of her chest, lowered her head, and prayed silently, a faint, cool, and reassuring pulse emanating from the mark on her chest.
"Indeed! Just because he saved us, I must believe in him!"
Kag clenched his fists, then finally lowered his head, offering his simplest faith to the unknown battlefield and to the "ancient supreme one" who had saved them.
And the soldiers' respect and prayers.
They survived because of the raven's wings.
At this moment, the wings that shroud fate are waging a decisive battle against the oldest nightmare in the deepest darkness of R'lyeh.
A prayer from beyond dimensions, like a faint starlight, can it pierce through endless madness and darkness and add a sliver of hope to the raven of the end?
No one knows.
All we can do is wait.
"Come on, show me, Cthulhu, let me see your wrath." The dark green flame at Ian's fingertip faintly reflected his completely different state of mind and appearance at this moment.
The fantasy anchor belonging to the "Dark Emperor" faded away the moment he left the dream and returned to reality, receding like the tide and sinking into the deepest part of his soul.
It becomes a latent quality and source of power, but no longer manifests as a concrete form.
Standing atop the crumbling ruins of R'lyeh is Ian Prince, a legendary wizard who emerged from Hogwarts, endured trials, and seized power on the brink of madness to ascend to the rank of wizard.
The dark and majestic giant armor that once covered him was no longer on his body.
Instead, he wore a slightly tattered but still neat dark travel robe, the edges of which were embroidered with fine, almost imperceptible mithril threads interwoven with the Hogwarts four house crests.
The weapon he held was not a dark blade of light, but an ancient-looking wand with a wood grain that seemed to flow with starlight—the Elder Wand.
This is an extension of his own magic and will, and even more so, a bond between him and his homeland, a world full of "fairy tales" and "possibilities".
At this moment, Ian's face still bore the weariness of the dream battle and the rosy glow from devouring the old flames, but his eyes had regained the clarity and determination of a Hogwarts wizard, imbued with an indomitable will.
"Boom! Boom!"
Ahead, Cthulhu's true form is rising fully from its slumbering palace.
The scene transcended the limits of any linguistic description. It was not simply "huge," but its very existence distorted the scale and logic of observation.
Covered in slippery scales and viscous seaweed, its body, seemingly a mixture of decaying flesh and monstrous rock, filled the distant view like a mobile, blasphemous mountain range. Countless tentacles, as thick as ancient trees and covered with suckers and wart-like protrusions, spread out from beneath it.
Some of the dark green seawater was stirred up, creating terrifying whirlpools that connected heaven and earth.
Some swayed slowly in the air, each wriggling tearing open the membrane of space to reveal the briefly flickering, chaotic void behind them, filled with a maddening hue.
The pair of enormous wings, folded behind them and seemingly stitched together from rotting leather and bat wing membranes, were not yet fully unfurled, but their shadows already enveloped most of the collapsing city of R'lyeh, echoing with the dying cries of countless beings and blasphemous hymns.
The most terrifying and soul-chilling scene is the "head" atop this nightmarish creation.
The humanoid outline was blurry and distorted, with indescribable fleshy tentacles wriggling around its mouthparts, and above, two eerie green "eyes" burning with cold, malevolent fire.
Like a malevolent star rising from the deepest abyss of the universe.
He was staring intently at Ian. His gaze no longer held merely the rage of his dream and the hatred for his stolen power; it also held a cold, probing intent toward an "anomaly," and—a hint of something barely perceptible…
It was as if they had discovered some rare "prey" or "delicacy" with greed.
"wizard----"
An indescribable thought, striking directly at the soul level, arrived, heavy, sticky, and filled with billions of years of accumulated madness and arrogance.
"Thief—the one who steals fire—your soul—emanates—a strange—not pure chaos—nor perfect order—but—a contradictory—sweet—scent of hope?" Cthulhu, though lacking human language, possesses its own.
Ian, who had become a Great Old One, could understand.
therefore.
Upon hearing this...
"What does that mean??" Ian was immediately shaken, not by the pressure of the other party's thoughts, but by the information revealed in those words.
"The taste of hope"?
Cthulhu, the ancient god symbolizing ultimate chaos and madness, why would he be associated with the Hogwarts spirit within his soul?
Does the quality of that fairytale world give rise to a "sweet" greed?
There was no time to think it through; the attack had already begun.
The thickest tentacle, its surface flowing with a viscous, foul-smelling fluorescent fluid, struck silently from the side like a collapsing pillar of heaven, with a bizarre speed and angle that defied the laws of physics!
"Whoosh! Whoosh!" Before the tentacles even arrived, the pure physical force they carried caused the air around Ian to explode and the space to slightly cave in. Even more terrifying was the mental pollution emanating from the tentacles themselves; an intense, almost tangible despair and madness attempted to directly flood his mind.
"Armor protects you! Maima!"
Ian tapped his wand swiftly, the spell short and powerful. It was not a simple Ironclad Charm, but a super version enhanced with legendary magic and infused with his understanding of the Laws of Protection.
A semi-transparent spherical shield, its surface swirling with intricate magical runes and subtle dark green fire patterns, instantly enveloped him. The passive enhancement from the Ancient Authority made him even better at dealing with Cthulhu.
"boom!!!"
The tentacle slammed into the shield. An indescribable roar exploded, the shield shook violently, the runes flickered wildly, and spiderweb-like cracks even appeared on its surface, but it ultimately did not shatter.
"She's quite strong!"
Ian swayed slightly, his face paled even more, but he did not retreat a single step.
He clearly felt that the shield not only withstood the physical impact, but also instantly "digested" and "deflected" the large amount of mental pollution attached to it.
This is thanks to the Old Flame's authority's resistance to and understanding of forces of the same origin.
"Not enough!"
Cthulhu's attack didn't stop there. Almost simultaneously with the twitching of its tentacles, a dense, dark green aura spewed from its enormous, writhing mouthparts.
That wasn't poison gas, but a highly concentrated "essence of madness." Wherever it passed, the ruins of R'lyeh twisted and softened, like melting candles, then sprouted eyes and mouths, emitting piercing, shrill laughter. This aura ignored physical barriers, penetrating directly through space!
It began to erode Ian's soul.
"Chaos is not your privilege!" Ian's eyes flashed, and his wand drew a complex arc in front of him, not for defense, but for guidance.
The 37% of his former authority was actively activated, and he lifted his palms upwards.
"With stolen fire, build a wall of order—Reversal of Chaos Barrier!" In his palm, the dark green flame suddenly expanded, transforming into a rotating force.
A circular shield of flames, jet black in the center and dark green at the edges.
"Sizzle!"
The dark green, frenzied aura crashed into the round shield, but instead of exploding, it was like ice and snow thrown into a furnace, being frantically devoured, torn apart, and transformed by the dark green flames!
The dark green on the round shield grew even more intense, even absorbing some of the "tamed" madness and strengthening itself. Ian felt that the integrity of the authority seemed to have increased by a mere fraction of a percent, and at the same time, his understanding of Cthulhu's form of power deepened.
"Wow, that was awesome! Hehehehe!"
Ian smiled like Voldemort.
This is the domineering nature of the [Old Flame], and one of Ian's greatest strengths in daring to confront Cthulhu's true form—it can not only defend against the erosion of the same origin.
It can also be transformed into resources for personal growth.
Of course, this transformation has its limits and risks. Excessive absorption of chaotic essence far beyond control could still lead to its own collapse, but Cthulhu clearly does not possess that power now.
After all, it was a forced awakening.
Less than one-tenth of their strength remains.
"Paradox: Anchoring of Existence!"
Ian didn't pause; in the brief moment between the second wave of attacks, another spell was cast. This wasn't an attack, but rather a reinforcement of his own existence.
One of the core insights from his legendary journey—
A paradoxical principle emerges.
An invisible wave emanated from him, as if establishing an absolute "point" around him.
Ian exists here and now. The blurring of past and future, the erosion of chaotic order, all encounter a kind of logical rejection and denial when they touch this "point".
This is not invincible.
This, however, greatly enhanced his "stability" in the face of Cthulhu, an entity capable of distorting reality and illusion. A more pronounced fluctuation emanated from Cthulhu's consciousness; that chilling greed seemed to intensify. "Contradiction—paradox—an interesting toy—but your hope—that light—makes me crave it even more—"
It didn't seem to be in a hurry to crush Ian immediately; instead, it seemed to be observing, savoring, or even—tempting?
More tentacles came from all directions, each with different characteristics.
Some were wreathed in black lightning, blasphemous thunder; some dripped acid that corroded spacetime; some became transparent, binding them at the conceptual level. At the same time, Cthulhu's eerie green eyes shone brightly, two extremely concentrated rays of green, malevolent fire seemingly capable of burning through the very essence of the soul!
"Sizzle!"
An evil ray of light crisscrossed and shot towards Ian!
Corrupt everything!
"You dare to show off your meager skills in front of Master Ian?"
Ian's figure flickered rapidly between the ruins and the gaps between the tentacles. He had mastered the Apparition spell to an unparalleled degree, and each appearance was accompanied by the waving of his wand.
A blazing white cutting spell was magnified and split, like countless light blades slashing at the entwined tentacles, leaving deep burn marks on their incredibly tough surface.
Although difficult to cut off, it effectively hinders their movements.
"Clear water like a spring, a frigid current from the deepest abyss!"
What was summoned was no longer a clear spring, but "extremely cold water" from the concept of magic, carrying the chill of freezing the soul, colliding with the dripping corrosive acid.
"Sizzle!"
They annihilated each other, bursting forth in large plumes of cold mist.
As for those two beams of evil fire...
Ian didn't take the hit head-on; instead, he pointed his wand at a giant rock on the ground covered in blasphemous runes.
"Transfiguration - Concept Endowment - Mirror of Reflection!" The boulder softened and reformed instantly under the incantation, instead of becoming an ordinary mirror.
Instead, it was forcibly endowed with the magical concept of "reflecting specific energy attributes" by Ian, and a faint light of paradoxical laws flowed across its surface.
"Boom!"
The fiery rays struck the mirror, and most of the energy was indeed distorted and deflected, shooting into the sky and vaporizing several large pieces of falling debris. However, the mirror itself was instantly covered in cracks and then shattered. The concept it possessed could not be maintained for long, especially against an attack of this level.
The battle reached a fierce stalemate.
"What's wrong? Why are you so weak?"
"Cthulhu is nothing special!"
With the superb skills of a legendary wizard, the stability of the paradoxical law, and the devouring and transformation of the old authority, Ian maneuvered amidst Cthulhu's storm of attacks, occasionally retaliating. Although he could not inflict fatal damage, he made it difficult for the old ruler to easily subdue him.
Of course, Ian's magic was being depleted at a rapid pace, but his will was as strong as iron. The warm memories of the Hogwarts towers, the starlight in the Great Hall, and the smiling faces of his companions—those memories belonging to the "fairy tale" world—were like a lighthouse in the darkness, providing him with an inexhaustible source of spiritual resilience and hope.
"Delicious! Delicious!"
however.
It is this "light of hope" that seems to be increasingly attracting Cthulhu's attention.