Capítulo 1244: Chapter 136: Completion
The ti dial gradually retreated, back to when Gabriel was still on his way back and Fisher was still talking with Tangze Asuka and Michael.
Below the Fifth Day, at the top of the Fourth Day’s position in a pavilion corridor, the golden short curly-haired Angel, trailing her long white angel robe, had stood there for an unknown amount of ti.
She sat there wantonly on the railing at the edge of the corridor, her legs stretched outside, leisurely and carefree. The surface of the crooked crown on her head reflected the dazzling light falling from the Sun Ring above.
In front of her blue-golden scattered pupils, a dark stream of light flickered, as she smiled, watching Fisher above, waiting for sothing.
Until a Helair, identical to her, slowly appeared at the end of the corridor behind her, Helair—who seed like Air here—finally made another move.
She turned to look, only to see the figure behind her gradually transforming under the enveloping chaotic breath until it completely wiggled into a four-legged standing single-humped cal and then stopped.
Then, the chaos that flowed out bit by bit from the other party re-rged back into the cal’s body, a strand of Helair’s golden long hair quickly fell to the ground.
“Finished?”
“Heh heh~”
“That Little Guy’s power is so easy to mimic, if you want, I can create another body for you… After all, in a sense, you already have a soul.”
“Heh heh~”
Because this cal devoured the Life Gospel Holy Object forged by Sorobato, so soul burst from it onto this cal.
The cal seed to want to speak again as it did earlier, but the result was just a beautiful lody, amusing Helair.
She reached out to touch the head of the cal walking over, and then gently said,
“It’s fine if you don’t want to… The ti has co.”
“Heh heh~”
She smiled, like a snake retracting its tongue, withdrawing her gaze from Fisher, then turned to walk back into the corridor space unnoticed, unvisited by anyone. Her surroundings seed isolated from the entire Holy Land and even the whole world.
Then, as her fingers slightly moved, a twisted, constantly wiggling strange substance surged from her side. This substance seed to possess the purest breath of fate in this world, but due to its unique nature, it had now completely transford into chaos.
Yes, this was the Creation of the True God that no one had found—the Weaver of Destiny.
At this mont, it was hiding from everyone’s gaze, obediently concealed beside Helair.
What did Helair intend to do with it?
In the next second, Helair gently beckoned, and the fluid-like, constantly squirming Weaver spun to her side, beginning to shimr with faint golden light.
In the depths of Helair’s scattered pupils, it seed like darkness that the entire world couldn’t cover was about to overflow. Her smile slowly faded, though her lips still curved, it was filled with indescribable indifference and terror.
She gently breathed towards the Weaver, her emotionless words instantly transforming into aning rather than sound, quickly traversing the Weaver, directly reaching its linked fate,
“Several who hide under the Boundary provided by the Hidden, covering their ears like thieves, several naive and juvenile, believing the lost object doesn’t have an owner, several revered by this world yet extrely timid Gods…”
The ssage conveying sound was extrely covert, like a lodious and indescribable tune flowing in fate, waiting to be heard,
“I am the silent spectator who reads civilization and aning, and also the conductor of song and dance, epic.”
“I gaze perpetually at your destined finale, but before that, I bring two gifts.”
“I bring a Doomsday Prophecy and an Ally.”
Helair slightly smiled, the extrely playful look in her eyes revealed an interest that seed to devour everything. In her eyes, the end of all things had long been engraved,
“The Flas of the soul will first ignite, engulfing everything in the world with the fires of war.”
“Distorted Life will stir up giant waves, erasing the rules upon which living creatures rely.”
“The Fake God from within the Boundary will make the doppelgangers of the thief’s remnants have nowhere to hide, nowhere to turn.”
“The Misconceptions of yours that cannot be eliminated will write epitaphs for you with song.”
The near-cruel words had now beco the conclusion of this world, a tumor, a curse, entwining the future like a bone plague.
Simultaneously, the atmosphere of the whole world began to feel extrely oppressive, above every living creature, every object, every mont, every Death, an indescribable sense of oppression started to linger.
Because, within the deep Spirit Realm of this world, the initially muddy Soul Stream began to beco extrely agitated, as if so more primal thing was drawing them, like an always consistent, ancient rule.
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