"Is that you!"
The gathered darkness writhes violently, scattering into seven towering, colossal shadows that hold up the heavens and the earth. Countless gazes fall from above, like spotlights, focusing on Bologue.
They have already given their answer.
"The Devil cannot interfere in the Material Realm... because they do not exist in the Material Realm at all," Bologue mutters to himself, "Because you, like the Secret Source, reside within this Ethereal Realm."
As if responding to Bologue, the towering shadows rge once more, a dark umbilical cord darts at lightning speed. Bologue tries to evade it, but when he moves his body, he finds he’s already ensnared by this cord.
Umbilical cord.
On Bologue’s abdon, a dark cord similarly snaps into position.
The shadows aren’t trying to capture Bologue; Bologue was already in their clutches. Now, all they need to do is reconnect Bologue’s cord.
The two cords swiftly converge, intertwining and becoming one.
Mad, rampant power invades Bologue’s body along the cord, and in an instant, Bologue sees a frenzied vision of overlapping, flickering images, like a prophetic dream of countless dark and despairing futures.
His own future.
The Alchemy Matrix is completely torn apart, with solid concrete poured over his body.
Bologue sees himself losing all his strength, cast into the deep sea, with millions of pascals of pressure pressing upon the stone coffin. In the abyssal darkness of the deep sea, Bologue dies and returns countless tis, until the day the sea dries up, he can be relieved.
"Ha... Ha..."
Bologue gasps in agony, another fate arrives: it is the churning lava, the scorching magma envelops Bologue’s body, and he dies and lives again, the cycle of revival delays infinitely.
One tragic end after another appears before Bologue, telling him that eternal life is no Blessing but the ticket to Bologue’s eternal tornt.
"Bologue... Bologue..."
Several voices call out to him, Bologue raises his hand to grasp the cord, his palm feeling the large swathes of warm tar.
The sound of flowing water echoes slowly, tidal waves of tar overflow from beneath the shadows, covering the vast Icefield, concealing the blazing white light, along with the countless black shadows under the ice, within the Sea of Descent.
Bologue tries to struggle, but he becos incredibly weak, like he’s lost all his strength. He falls to his knees, along with the retraction of the cord, he’s slowly dragged toward the end of the shadows, where a bloodthirsty maw awaits to feast.
A trail composed of tar is left on the ground, Bologue’s face presses against the ice, the bone-chilling cold penetrating into the depths of his soul.
Bologue no longer has the ability to resist any of this, he finds himself unexpectedly producing a sense of despair.
"I’m really sorry..."
Bologue murmurs, the Ethereal Realm is far more dangerous than he imagined, and now that his projection is complete, the hundreds of eyes can actually harm him.
Now Bologue no longer expects the Astronaut’s rescue, if his guess is correct, the Astronaut will also be part of this imnse shadow.
Devil.
These endless shadows are the true projection of Devils within the Ethereal Realm; as for the Devils Bologue sees in the Material Realm, they are rely the compressed, infinitely weakened essence of their power.
The Devils are imprisoned in this desolate Ethereal Realm, they wish to truly step into the Material Realm, rather than acting rely as vehicles, not to ntion being limited to their own territories.
Bologue becos more desperate than ever, he wants to bring this intelligence back to the Material Realm, to warn the Order Bureau, but now he can do nothing, only watch as he gradually imrses into the shadows.
Truly saddening.
Bologue might be the first to touch this secret in countless past millennia.
Bologue knows the reason why.
It is extrely difficult to perceive the existence within the Ethereal Realm, each Condenser’s frequency of reaching the Ethereal Realm is limited, only during the ascension ceremony can they briefly touch it, directly limiting each Condenser’s exploration of the Ethereal Realm.
Besides the limit of frequency, there is also a restriction on forming a complete projection within the Ethereal Realm.
The most basic requirent is a vast soul, enough to free oneself from the Sea of Descent; to possess such a vast soul, at least requires Tier One as a Negative Power User.
However, not all Negative Power Users possess a uniformly vast soul, not to ntion, not all Condensers can ascend to be Negative Power Users, further limiting the exploration frequency.
Ether concentration.
Over the past years, the concentration of Ether was far lower than the era Bologue occupies, don’t even ntion the advancent of the Alchemy Matrix.
Only in this era where Ether concentration rapidly rises, where Alchemy Matrix flourishes, in this era where Bologue returns from the Black Prison, exploring the Ethereal Realm becos a possibility.
As if destined, Bologue will recognize the secret of the Ethereal Realm in this era.
Like layers of shackles, as though so force cleverly crafted these nurous limitations to prevent Condensers from recognizing the Ethereal Realm.
What secret do they ultimately want to hide, Bologue can no longer know. He frantically reaches out, trying to grasp sothing to stop the cord’s drag, but besides fine snow dust, Bologue can’t grasp anything.
His fingernails can’t hold onto the smooth ice surface, Bologue can only pound wildly until the darkness gradually envelops him...
Until a strand of blazing white light illuminates Bologue’s eyes.
Bologue caught it, he caught sothing incredibly delicate.
Holding onto hope, Bologue lifted his head, looking at the light clutched in his hand.
It is a ribbon ford of countless luminous threads extending from the blazing white storm; like strands of hair, they coil around Bologue’s arm, and like they possess Life Force, they continue crawling along Bologue’s arm until the strands encircle most of Bologue’s body.
Umbilical cords from the Devil.
Tangling from the Secret Source.
Umbilical cord and tangling.
These two conceptual words linked in the unseen, they both have real projections within the Ethereal Realm as well.
While shadows pull at Bologue, the eternally silent Secret Source extends a helping hand, the extending tangling grabs Bologue.
Like a tug-of-war, light and dark struggle, Bologue’s body straightens, an irresistible pain arises from deep within his soul, he feels like he’s about to be torn in two.
The blazing white tsunami descends, illuminating more frozen figures on the ice, and then Bologue realizes one thing.
This is a completely pitch-black world, the shadows are the true Sovereign, while this blazing white storm seems more like an intruder, dissipating the darkness with its light, protecting the Sea of Descent.
The darkness stretches on, enveloping everything.
The deep, distant low moan sounds, a rusted, heavy anchor breaks through the darkness, like a teor crashing towards the Icefield. Along with the deafening roar, the anchor strikes between Bologue and the shadows, severing the connection of the cord to Bologue.
The pulling force from the shadows disappears, the tangling quickly retrieves Bologue, he has no power to resist, directly dragged into the blazing white storm.
aningless roaring and howling rise from the shadows, anwhile the anchor drags back into the darkness, scornful words echo within the Ethereal Realm.
"Blind and foolish beasts..."
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