Chapter 72

The black flame tentacles crashed down once more, as if to crush the earth into nothingness.

Sprout 12's knees were already broken, his flesh and blood mixed with the soil, but he still held his long blade high, facing the dark shadow that blotted out the sky.

At the moment of impact, the whole world seemed to be frozen in time.

The air froze, the wind faded, leaving only the extreme friction between bones and will.

The avatar's roar exploded in my ears:

"Kneel down!"

However, in the midst of this roar, the light patterns on the long blade suddenly revived, and the heartbeat of the mother tree echoed in the embers.

"...burning...retaliating..."

Sprout 12's eyes suddenly lit up, and he bit off the tip of his tongue, using his blood to activate the last fragments of light within his body.

At that moment, the torrent of black flames pressing down on him was abruptly halted, and the blade rose against the tide!

Boom!!!

The tentacles were cleaved in two, the dark torrent was scattered, and it surged back towards the crack in the avatar's chest.

Countless black spears went out of control in the air, instead transforming into a torrential rain of shadow arrows, which retaliated against its own massive body.

The avatar let out a soul-rending roar, its old wound on its chest was ripped open again, spewing out a torrent of blood mist.

This is the first time—

Sprout 12 did not just defend itself, but instead pushed the attack back.

He hovered in the aftershocks of the storm, his body covered in blood, yet a cold, sharp smile played on his lips:

"...I told you, you are not invincible."

The avatar's chest exploded into a cloud of blood mist under the barrage of Shadow Arrows, the corrosive liquid spilling onto the ground and instantly eroding the entire canyon into a bottomless abyss.

Its face, pieced together from countless eye sockets, convulsed violently, and its tentacles twitched wildly like a collapsing tide.

The next instant, its massive body staggered and retreated heavily backward—even if it was only half a step, the earth shattered with a deafening roar.

That was an unprecedented sight.

For the first time since its arrival, the avatar of the other side of the rift has been forced to retreat on the battlefield.

The surviving front fell silent for a moment, then erupted in heart-wrenching cries.

"It—it's retreating!"

"Not invincible yet!"

Sprout 12 stood in the center of the storm, its body swaying precariously.

His blood had long been corrupted by the black flames, and half of his light veins had been extinguished, yet he still gripped his long blade tightly, his figure standing out like a solitary flag amidst the sea of ​​fire and ruins.

The beam of light from the mother tree's lingering shadow trembled in the distance, yet it still managed to create a patch of pure land, sheltering the remaining life.

That deep, resonant voice echoed once more in the depths of every soul:

"...Hope...has not been extinguished..."

The transformation into a raging roar caused the sky to tremble and black flames to surge once more, but that half-step retreat had already ignited a spark in countless eyes.

For the first time in the war, there was real hope.

The moment the avatar staggered backward, the battlefield fell into an eerie, brief silence.

Light and darkness were locked in a stalemate in the air, as if even the wind was holding its breath.

Just then, a familiar pulse came from the depths of the vortex.

That was not the echo of the mother tree's lingering shadow, but another resonance closer to flesh and blood.

——237.

Amidst the gaps between countless tentacles and black flames, a dazzling burst of fire suddenly erupted.

That is the protagonist who was once swallowed up and thought to have disappeared, now returning from the abyss with a brand new radiance.

His figure pierced through the void, surrounded by intertwined light and dark flames, as if he had undergone some kind of transformation that transcended life and death.

What trailed behind him was not an illusion, but shimmering chains of light that tightly connected him to the afterimage of the mother tree.

"……I'm back."

His voice was deep, yet it resonated within every soul.

Sprout 12 was stunned, her eyes overflowing with bright white tears.

The countless eye sockets of the avatar suddenly contracted, as if it had sensed a real threat.

The sky was reignited at that moment.

Under the protection of the afterimage and with the obsession of Sprout 12, the protagonist finally—returns.

The light chain continues to vibrate in the void, like the world's blood flowing back.

Sprout 12 knelt in the rift, his chest feeling as if it might collapse at any moment, but when he looked up and saw that figure emerge from the firelight, his heart, which was on the verge of being extinguished, was rekindled.

——237, the true return.

He was no longer as frail as before, but carried an indescribable weight and strength.

The spot of light on his forehead burned fiercely, and the light flowing around him was not a single radiance, but a complex network of dark flames.

Behind him, the afterimage of the mother tree transformed into a gigantic silhouette, its branches stretching across the sky, firmly connecting him to the earth.

The avatar let out a piercing roar, and swarms of black flame tentacles surged from the crack in its chest, attempting to extinguish the newly ignited flames.

But just as it pounced, a blinding flame lit up 237's palm.

That wasn't just defense, it was a response.

A torrent of light and darkness surged from his fingertips, instantly resonating with the long blade in Sprout 12's hand.

The two forces converged in the air, transforming into a giant beam of light that stretched to the heavens.

The light pattern is not a single blade, but a barrier like a rune, which carries both attack and protection.

The moment the tentacles collided with the light patterns, they were forcefully pushed back and slammed into the avatar itself.

The roar swept across the entire plain.

The colossal form was forced back half a step, the crack in its chest widened suddenly, and the black flames surged even more wildly.

Sprout 12 staggered to his feet, holding his long blade horizontally at his side, his voice hoarse yet filled with unprecedented determination:

"...This time, we stand side by side."

237 lowered his gaze slightly and nodded in response.

Light and darkness roared behind him, like a flag being raised high.

The storm on the battlefield has not stopped.

But at this moment, the scales of fate began to tip slowly.

A storm of black flames raged, and tentacles and spears rained down from all directions, compressing the entire battlefield into an invisible inferno.

Sprout 12 and 237 stood side by side, blood and light dripping from their wounds, yet converging at their feet to form a bright line.

Those are the "roots" projected from the afterimage of the mother tree, guiding their intertwined powers.

237 raised his hand, and the light spot on his forehead rapidly expanded. Dark flames and blazing white light tore at each other in his arm, but gradually merged into one.

Sprout 12's long blade trembled, and the runes on the blade burned fiercely, as if it were about to set its entire body on fire.

—At that very moment, they simultaneously whispered their vow:

"Born together—killed together!"

The two forces suddenly converged.

The long blade overlapped with the points of light, forming a giant blade that stretched across the heavens and the earth. The blade was wrapped with dual veins of light and darkness, like marks etched by the world itself.

The form roared, and all its eye sockets simultaneously shot out black spears of light, attempting to destroy the formation of this combined attack.

But the giant blade suddenly slashed down.

The roar seemed to tear the entire sky apart.

The blade marks, interwoven with light and darkness, pierced the battlefield, shattering all the black spears and severing the tentacles inch by inch, landing directly on the crack in the avatar's chest.

A blinding burst of light and fire erupted, and for the first time, the avatar's body was truly and deeply cleaved.

The black flames flowed back into its body, emitting a deafening wail.

The storm paused temporarily, leaving only embers dancing in the air.

Sprout 12 and 237 knelt on the ruins, their long blades and lights gradually dimming, yet they stubbornly held on to prevent them from going out.

Their first time—

They truly struck down the incarnation of the other side of the rift with equal force.