Deep underground in a certain border city in the southeast corner of the Empire.
A forcibly torn spatial rift had edges that trembled occasionally. It seemed ready to close at any moment under the effect of the world's power, yet it was forcibly maintained in this state by the complex magic array beneath it.
From within the rift, white mist continuously poured out. However, it didn't directly dissipate into the surroundings; instead, it was bound within the magic array. Following the trajectory, it spiraled from top to bottom into a slowly sinking cyclone.
The top of the cyclone was a vast expanse of white, blurring the line of sight. But as the mist sank, that pure white began to differentiate into various colors of magical halos, lingering at the bottom of the cyclone before ultimately breaking free from the restraints and merging into the surrounding environment.
Because of the existence of this magic array, the mana concentration here even far exceeded that of a dungeon.
Beside the magic array, a two-colored slime lay comfortably. It was a full half-person tall, staying motionless in place, quietly absorbing the mana in the air that was so dense it was almost viscous, allowing its body to slowly expand.
It expanded, and expanded, until reaching a certain critical point. With a soft pop, a small, single-colored slime split off from its body and rolled onto the rock.
This cycle repeated endlessly.
The Demon King sat not far away.
Several translucent pseudopods extended from his wrist, gently touching each newborn slime.
With every touch, a weak mental connection would be established.
This kind of mental connection had almost no compulsiveness; at best, it could only serve to transmit will and provide guidance.
However, as a Slime-person—a higher species of slime—he naturally possessed an absolute advantage in commanding these kin.
This level of mental connection was already sufficient.
"As long as there is mana, they can proliferate almost infinitely." Wearing gloves, he gently brushed past this two-colored slime he had picked up by accident. "Even among slimes, your proliferation speed is in a league of its own."
At this moment, a slime flowed out from a tunnel so narrow that not even a goblin could squeeze through, spitting out a piece of rough ore mixed with some kind of gemstone onto the ground.
The Demon King glanced down, nodded slightly, and picked up the rough ore. Mana gathered in his palm, separating and refining it, ultimately turning it into the finished material he needed.
Deep within the cavern, countless slimes were moving in and out of these narrow tunnels, transporting ores, crystal clusters, and various bizarre materials.
On the other side of the cavern, there was a large-scale ritual that was half-drawn.
Mortis's purging operations during this period had indeed caused some trouble for the Demon King's material collection, but ultimately, it was only a minor delaying tactic.
The two masters of the Empire, past and present, were both making preparations for their next meeting.
Suddenly, the Demon King stopped the movements of his hands.
His featureless face slowly turned toward the south. It wasn't a simple turn of the head; rather, his entire upper torso twisted along with it. In that body composed of mucus and nerves, there were no skeletal restraints.
"Latecomers? That direction... should be humans."
The sound of him talking to himself came from a hole in his chest. His tone held no hostility, nor disdain, merely a touch of curiosity.
He folded his arms, a slender pseudopod gently rubbing his smooth chin, striking a thinking posture.
If he had facial features, he would probably be narrowing his eyes slightly right now.
"Although there's a high probability it will be an enemy, however, it's rare to have reached this step. If they fall on the road without being able to glimpse the truth, that would be too much of a pity."
"Heh, let me help you out."
He raised his arm slightly. The movement was very light and slow, yet it tugged at the mana flowing through the entire cavern.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
Seven small magic arrays emerged layer by layer, centered around his arm. Each one rotated at a different speed, and each was engraved with runes so complex they were difficult to distinguish. They nested together, forming a unified whole through the linkage of the Demon King's fluid arm.
Subsequently, the Demon King gave a light tap at the space in front of him.
The mana in the cavern was instantly depleted underneath this point, yet no anomaly appeared. It was merely as if, behind the fabric of the world, something had been plucked...
...
Norwood.
The mana vortex was still expanding.
It could no longer be described as just a storm.
Centered on Ivan high in the sky, a layer of the ground in the entire courtyard had been forcibly shaved off.
Slate paving was pulverized, and soil flew everywhere. Those originally beautiful colonnades and trellises had long disappeared; only the bare rock foundations remained, getting whipped by the gale with loud smacks, cracking line after line.
Gal, Nova, and Night Owl had already retreated far away and were still continuing to back away.
It was only thanks to the fact that this mana vortex wasn't spreading quickly that they had the chance to retreat.
Suddenly, a flurry of hurried footsteps came from ahead, mixed with angry cursing: "Nova! What the hell are you guys doing?!"
A middle-aged man wearing half-plate armor appeared, his face ashen. The badge on his chest indicated his identity—the guard captain of the local Lord.
The group was somewhat acquainted with him and would occasionally grab a drink together in the past, but right now, it was obviously impossible for the middle-aged man to show even a sliver of a good expression.
"Tell him to stop right now! This is fucking Norwood! Are you trying to destroy the city?"
Night Owl rolled her eyes and shrank further into the shadows: "If we had a way to make him stop, why the hell would we be running? Can't you see our own courtyard is ruined?"
"Destroying the city like this, the Lord will not let this go!"
"Oh."
Seeing that the guard captain was so angry he looked ready to march up and hack Night Owl, Nova hurriedly stepped forward: "Lens, there really is no way right now. Prioritize evacuating the civilians!"
"Evacuate my ass! With such a huge commotion, who doesn't know to run? Can't you see I didn't bring a single person with me; they all ran away!"
Nova scratched his head somewhat awkwardly, while Guard Captain Lens seemed to want to give it a try.
He drew his longsword, raising it high above his head. A dazzling radiance of mana condensed upon the blade's edge.
"Slash!"
Following the guard captain's downward swing, the mana on the blade turned into a sharp crescent arc, flying toward Ivan.
Then, it crashed into the outer perimeter of the mana vortex and, just like the other flying sand and rolling stones, was swept inside, disappearing without a trace, failing to serve any purpose whatsoever.
Guard Captain Lens's eyelid twitched violently. Nova and Gal consciously averted their gazes; only Night Owl laughed out loud with a "Pfft" right to his face, making Lens's expression twitch even more.
Just at this moment, a muffled booming sound came from high in the sky, as if a tear had been ripped open in the heavens.
Everyone turned their heads simultaneously.
In the center of the storm, the lightning that had originally been darting everywhere began to converge in the same direction, intertwining directly above Ivan's head to form an increasingly blinding ball of lightning.
That sphere of lightning was no larger than a fist, but the energy contained within it...
At this point, it wasn't just Night Owl and the others who were terrified; even Lin Jun couldn't hold it together anymore.
Mages in this world also have to undergo heavenly tribulation?!
(End of Chapter)
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