Chapter 74
After the last glint of the giant blade faded, the world fell into deathly silence.
The entire battlefield seemed to have been emptied of sound, with only the soft thud of falling stone chips audible.
The remains of the avatar did not fall—because it had no corpse at all, only a collapsing black flame phantom.
The phantom twitched intermittently, like a resentful soul howling, but was then crushed into countless fragments by the afterimage beam, gradually turning into nothingness.
The crack in the sky closed again, leaving a lingering streak of light that stretched across the heavens like an unhealed wound.
The mark flickered silently, as if reminding us that the existence on the other side had not been completely extinguished.
...
In the center of the ruins, 237 and Sprout 12 lay side by side.
Their bodies were almost torn apart, and the intertwined forces of light and darkness backfired within them, leaving unfathomable wounds.
The branches and leaves of Sprout 12 are broken, and the blood has dried into black and white patterns.
He turned his head to look at 237 beside him, his smile extremely forced:
"...At least...we made it to the end."
237's chest rose and fell slowly, and only a faint spark remained as the light on his forehead.
He managed to utter, "It's not... over... just... the first step."
A gust of wind swept by, carrying away the remaining slivers of light from their bodies.
The projection of the mother tree's lingering image still floated in the sky, its outline blurred, yet it rumbled softly:
"...The protection...still remains..."
The sound seemed to be responding to their vows, and also to be providing them with a final refuge.
All around, the surviving soldiers finally crawled out of the ruins and looked at the two figures, swaying precariously but still tightly clasped together.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Only tears and embers fell together onto the earth torn apart by war.
The aftershocks of light and darkness surged through his body, and 237's consciousness gradually sank.
The roaring sound gradually faded away until all was completely silent.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer surrounded by charred ruins, but by an endless forest.
The forest was silent, its branches and leaves hanging down like a curtain, and light streamed through the gaps in the branches, scattering across the damp moss.
He paused for a moment before realizing—
These branches and leaves all come from a giant tree whose top is unreachable.
The tree trunk, like the spine of the world, pierces the sky, and its roots extend to the horizon, tightly intertwining with the earth, the ocean, the sky, and even the stars.
This is—
Mother tree.
But it is not a complete existence; it is an illusion.
The tree trunk was covered in cracks, and the light flowed intermittently, like a dying giant struggling to breathe.
237 slowly stretched out her hand, and the faint light in her palm seemed to be called, trembling slightly.
The next instant, a deep, resonant voice echoed from the depths of his soul:
"...You lost child...you have not yet fallen..."
The voice was ancient, yet carried a gentle weight.
It was as if he wasn't giving orders, but rather confirming his presence.
237's throat tightened, and he murmured softly:
"What...am I...?"
Is it a pawn abandoned by darkness, or a misborn child of light?
"Do I... really deserve to exist?"
The lingering shadow of the mother tree did not answer.
Its roots suddenly lit up, extending from its feet and encircling its body.
Countless memories surge within those veins of light:
The brilliance of the nascent starry sea, the catastrophe of the first collision between light and darkness, and the cycle of countless branches and leaves transforming into guardians only to be torn apart.
Finally, all the light pulses converged into a deep, resonant sound:
"...Existence...is itself meaning..."
If you are willing to sever the abyss
Let the roots—burn with you.
As soon as he finished speaking, the light spot on 237's chest suddenly blazed brightly.
It was as if a new "fragment" had been ignited deep within his soul.
The surrounding illusion suddenly trembled, and the branches and leaves shattered into countless pieces of light, which turned into a torrent that poured into his body.
Within his unconscious body, his chest trembled slightly, and the light spot on his forehead reignited—
It is more profound and sharper than before.
The light from the branches and leaves swirled around 237, surging into his chest like a tide.
He felt his heart being entwined by roots, each beat stirring the light veins of the entire illusion.
Suddenly, the earth cracked open, and the roots of the mother tree's afterimage rose into the air, intertwining before him.
They seemed to be trying to take on some form, but they didn't quite settle into a fixed shape.
"...Choose."
The mother tree's heartbeat resounded again in a low voice.
"Will you borrow my shadow, or forge your own blade?"
237 stretched out his trembling hand, and the roots immediately sensed his will.
Light and darkness intertwined and tore at the fingertips, then miraculously merged.
boom--
The roots suddenly solidified, transforming into a long blade.
The sword's blade is woven from light veins and shadows, both transparent and profound, like a fragment drawn from the marrow of the world.
With each breath, the whispers of the fissures and the heartbeat of the mother tree resonated within the blade.
237 held it tightly, his palm burning from the heat, but he didn't let go.
He clearly felt:
This was not a gift from the mother tree, nor was it imposed by the fissure.
Rather, it is proof of one's own existence.
"...So...I can be more than just a vessel."
237 murmured softly, his eyes revealing a sharpness for the first time.
"Since that's the case, then I'll use my own blade to sever your fates!"
The sword rang out like thunder, and the entire illusion shattered instantly.
The lingering shadow of the mother tree gradually transformed into a rain of light, and the last whispered words echoed in his ear:
“…Go…child…this time, don’t back down…”
The next instant, 237's eyes snapped open.
In reality, he had already stood up again, the light on his chest burning fiercely, and in his hand he was holding that weapon—
The Blade of Roots.
The black flame storm is gathering again, its tentacles forming an invisible cage in the sky.
The wound on its chest, though still burning, writhes wildly, as if trying to swallow the wound back into its body.
Sprout 12 knelt in the ruins, her hands gripping the long blade tightly, blood seeping between her fingers.
When he looked up, his pupils suddenly contracted—
A beam of light emerged from the embers.
237.
His body was supported by ashes and light fragments, and the light spot on his chest had merged with the dark flames into a violently pulsating core.
What's most chilling is the root-based blade in his hand—
The interplay of light and shadow patterns resembles the roots of a mother tree surging across the sword, carrying an ancient yet reborn aura.
All the eyes of the avatar turned to him at once, spewing out a thick black storm, their rage surging like a tide.
"...You shouldn't have come back..."
237 did not respond.
He simply raised his long blade, and the blade suddenly burst forth with interwoven two-colored ripples.
The storm forced a gash open.
Sprout 12 gritted his teeth, supported himself with the long blade as he stood up, and smiled at 237.
"So you finally remembered to stand shoulder to shoulder with me?"
237 took a deep breath, a determined look flashing in his eyes.
"This time, it's not a shadow, not a container. It's myself."
boom--
It roared in fury, and all its tentacles slammed down at the same time, like a collapsing sky.
In that instant, Sprout 12 and 237 stood back to back on the ruins.
The Root Blade unleashed an arc of light.
The burning rune blade of Sprout 12 intertwined to form a double trajectory.
The tentacles shattered one after another, and the black flames were forced to swirl backward.
At that moment, the entire battlefield trembled because of their standing side by side.
They are not merely clinging to life.
Instead, it was the first time that they had truly held off the full-scale offensive of the Rift incarnate on equal terms.
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