newbobooks Chapter 485, Page 494: The Broken Cycle 4
Chapter 485, Page 494: The Broken Cycle 4
Chapter 485, Page 494: The Broken Cycle 4
cough.
To put it nicely, it's archaeology.
To put it bluntly, Saruman and his group's actions were indeed tomb raiding.
of course.
Regardless.
Saruman embraced all things and indeed forged his own path.
Even though only a tiny bit of magic was used, the spikes pierced the force field, but their power was completely destroyed, leaving only a tiny hole in Saruman's gray robe.
It didn't even touch the skin.
Saruman's left hand did not stop "grabbing" the nebula's light and mist.
He seemed to have calculated everything.
At this moment, the out-of-control light mist was guided over and silently covered the black-robed man who was momentarily stunned due to the failed surprise attack!
"Your tactical awareness is excellent, using the magical fluctuations and distractions caused by your opponent breaking your spells to launch a surprise attack." Saruman slowly turned around to face the somewhat disheveled black-robed man, who was slightly shrouded in the nebula-like mist he had guided towards him. "However, you rely too much on specific routines and innate abilities."
"You've overlooked a potential hidden advantage your opponent might possess, such as more sophisticated energy manipulation and neutralization techniques. This ripple field works by transforming point-like attack energy into a diffuse, area-like spread through high-frequency vibrations, then guiding it in a harmless direction. You need a broader approach to counter this."
Saruman does indeed have the air of a highly skilled, elderly master.
"Whoosh whoosh whoosh~"
The man in black robes stood amidst the dissipating nebula-like mist, panting heavily and drenched in sweat. The continuous high-intensity spellcasting, the constant dismantling of his tactical maneuvers, and the immense mental pressure had pushed him to his limit. He felt his magic power was nearly depleted, and a burning pain emanated from the mutated parts of his body.
That's a sign of overspending.
Before the incident, the teacher was truly too strong. Even when suppressing his power to a level lower than his own, even without launching an attack, his profound understanding of magic, absolute control over the rhythm of battle, and seemingly all-knowing wisdom left him feeling deeply powerless.
"Is it really impossible to harm the teacher in the slightest? Not even to make him move a single step? Or to leave the slightest, insignificant mark?"
No! The man in black robes abruptly raised his head, an indomitable flame burning in his vertical pupils. His teacher had taught him that a wizard's power lay in his mind!
He cannot rely solely on magic and strength!
The man in the black robes frantically recalled every detail of the battle, every word of his teacher's comments, the environment of the underground chamber, and everything he possessed—whether orthodox magic,
Ancient incantations, forbidden arts, or—the unique abilities bestowed upon this corrupted body.
An extremely risky, even somewhat crazy, idea suddenly flashed into view, like a spark ignited in the darkness!
He slowly lowered his wand, as if he had given up due to exhaustion. His body was slightly hunched, and his breathing became heavier.
Saruman watched him quietly, neither urging him nor letting his guard down, but like the most patient mentor, waiting for his student's final effort or choice.
Just then, the man in black robes moved!
Instead of raising his wand, he slammed it into the ground beneath his feet! Not to cast a spell, but to use it as a sturdy anchor!
At the same time, he let out a low roar, his muscles bulged, and the blood vessels beneath his gray-green scales bulged. He poured the last remaining magic power in his body, along with the violent and corrosive alien energy brought by the contamination of R'lyeh, recklessly into his legs!
This is not magic; it is a pure, magically enhanced physical outburst!
He hurtled toward Saruman like an arrow released from a bow—no, like a boulder launched from a catapult—with a speed that defied all the norms of wizard combat, a purely physical, linear, and brutally powerful force!
In the instant of his sprint, the magic gem at the tip of his wand, which had been in a semi-activated state, was forcibly activated by his last ounce of mental strength! The released spell wasn't an offensive one, but an extremely dazzling flash of light with a strong mental interference effect! Its target wasn't Saruman, but rather an inconspicuous stone slab inscribed with ancient purifying runes in a corner of the chamber's ceiling!
Stimulated by the overloaded magic, the stone slab's weak purifying power was briefly activated, emitting a pure energy fluctuation that was completely out of place with the lingering aura of R'lyeh that permeated the secret chamber!
All of this happened in the blink of an eye!
In Saruman's perception, the black-robed man's magic suddenly plummeted, his movements becoming crude, straight-line collisions, as if he had run out of tricks. But at the same time, a faint, yet opposite, purifying fluctuation appeared in the corner, disrupting his consistently stable perception of the energy flow in the environment.
Although the overloaded flash spell was not strong, it caused an extremely subtle, or perhaps negligible, "light pollution" interference to his "Mind's Eye" reliance on pure energy perception for a fleeting moment.
but!but!
It was the ripples created by the superposition of these multiple factors that caused Saruman to experience a perception "delay" and "misjudgment" that even Saruman himself had not anticipated—a one in a billion chance!
By the time he realized what was happening, the black-robed man's body, which had gathered all his remaining power and even dared to draw upon polluting energy, had already rushed to within two steps of him!
The powerful wind generated by the charge even ruffled his gray beard!
"Hmm?" Saruman instantly made the most correct response—he no longer tried to use sophisticated energy manipulation to neutralize it, but instead instantly condensed the magic power that he had been controlling at an extremely low level in his right palm, preparing to use the simplest "magic shock" to shake the black-robed man away, avoiding the unknown risks that might come from the direct impact of his body, which was contaminated with energy.
However, just as he raised his right palm and was about to unleash his magic, the black-robed man's charging body, at the last moment, defied the laws of physics, using the wand stuck in the ground as an axis and the momentum of his forward charge to make a near-twisted, small-amplitude, and millimeter-thick sideways change of direction!
This is not magic; it is the pushing and control that a warrior can exert on his physical limits in desperate situations!
It was this slight difference that caused Saruman's predicted "magic impact" to deviate slightly from the target of the black-robed man's collision!
"Bang!!"
A muffled thud!
The black-robed man's scale-covered shoulder slammed solidly into the outside of Saruman's raised arm! A force arose, a mixture of pure brute force, depleted magic, and a corrupting, corrosive power!
Saruman's body, that body that had been as solid as a rock for thousands of years, actually swayed slightly under this meticulously designed, multi-layered, and ultimately most impossible impact! He took a small half-step back!
At the same time, the subtle polluting energy attached to the scales on the part of the black-robed man that struck him also successfully penetrated the gray robe's defense in Saruman's arm, leaving a negligible, light gray-green mark on Saruman's arm skin that was almost instantly purified and dispelled by the stronger power within him.
of course.
even so.
The damage has already been done.
Upon impact, the man in black robes was thrown back like a puppet with its strings cut, staggering several steps backward. He coughed up a mouthful of blood tinged with black smoke, unable to hold on any longer, and collapsed to one knee, barely managing to stay upright with his wand stuck in the ground. He felt as if every bone in his body had been shattered.
His magic completely dried up, and the pain from the pollution washed over him like a tidal wave, blurring his vision. But he did it! He really made his teacher—move!
And it left traces!
"it is good."
Saruman stood still, looked down at the rapidly disappearing gray-green mark on his arm, and then felt the slight shift in his footing as he took a half-step back.
Then, slowly and clearly, he smiled. That smile was no longer one of relief or reassurance, but one filled with genuine, heartfelt joy and appreciation.
"That's it—that's right—"
He spoke in a low voice, which was not loud, but it clearly reached the ears of the man in the black robe.
"The wizard's greatest strength always lies here—" He raised a finger and gently tapped his temple, "—our minds."
"You're very good—even better than I expected." Saruman's smile grew wider, a smile of satisfaction at seeing his most outstanding work finally shine.
"Now." He stopped smiling, straightened his back, let his hands hang naturally at his sides, tilted his head back slightly, and his face regained that calm and expectant expression.
"Send me on my way."
He spoke softly, as if inviting his students to draw back the final curtain on a great adventure.
The man in black robes, enduring excruciating pain and dizziness, stared at his teacher's unguarded posture and his calm, contented face. Tears mingled with blood, blurring his distorted vision. Yet, his trembling hand remained unusually steady as he gripped the wand plunged into the ground once more.
He knew this was the final step, and the most important thing he could do for his teacher.
The man in black gripped his wand tightly, its tip aimed at Saruman's unsuspecting chest. Tears silently streamed down his distorted face, mingling with the undried blood at the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the cold ground. His vision was blurred by tears and exhaustion, but his teacher's serene face was etched with unparalleled clarity into the depths of his soul.
There were no incantations, no dazzling magical light.
He poured the last remaining trace of pure arcane magic (not the corrupted alien energy) into his wand. A faint but steady, silvery-white light, like a cold star, shone from the tip of the wand.
"Teacher—have a safe journey," he said hoarsely, using the last of his strength.
Then, he closed his eyes and steadily pushed his wrist forward.
"Pfft."
A very faint sound, like a sharp object piercing rotten wood.
Those silvery-white stars, like weary birds returning to their nests, disappeared into Saruman's chest beneath his grey robe, into the space of his heart.
There was no explosion, no burst of light, and not even much blood. Saruman's body only trembled slightly, his calm and expectant expression remaining unchanged, as if he had only been gently touched by a breeze.
He slowly, very slowly, fell backward, his movements as gentle as an autumn leaf falling. His simple gray robe unfurled as he fell, like a cloud that had lost all life.
"Thump."
With a dull thud, the old wizard's body fell to the cold ground, curled up as if in eternal slumber. His empty eye sockets stared at the dim ceiling of the secret chamber, and a faint smile seemed to linger at the corner of his mouth.
In the secret chamber, only the black-robed man's heavy, painful breathing and the frantic pounding of his own heart could be heard.
He staggered forward a few steps and knelt beside Saruman's gradually cooling body. His trembling hand reached out, wanting to touch him, but froze at the last moment. He dared not; he feared that his touch would desecrate this sacred sacrifice, and he feared feeling the coldness of life's complete demise.
Just then, an unusual phenomenon occurred.
Saruman's body did not show the usual changes after death.
There was no rigor mortis, no smell of decay. On the contrary, his body began to emit an extremely faint...
It was a soft halo that seemed to be formed from countless tiny starlight. This halo did not originate from the physical body, but rather seeped out from the depths of his brow, heart, and limbs, like the morning sun piercing through the clouds.
These tiny specks of light, as if possessing their own consciousness, drifted and converged slowly in the air, eventually flowing like an invisible stream towards Saruman's left hand, which he held tightly until his death—or more precisely, towards the thing lying quietly in his palm.
It is entirely black raven tail feathers.
"The soul of a teacher! That is it!"
The man in the black robe was extremely excited.
The sadness I felt earlier has dissipated somewhat.
The moment the last glimmer of light entered the feather, the feather, which had already been emitting an ominous glow, suddenly lit up! It wasn't a blinding light, but a deep, dark silver radiance that seemed to draw in sight and soul. Every single hair on the feather seemed to come alive.
Mysterious runes and light flowed across it, and it began to float up slowly in a way that defied the laws of physics, hovering about a foot above Saruman's corpse.
Rotate slowly.
As it spun, the feather itself began to become transparent and ethereal, as if it were being "peeled" away from the world. Meanwhile, the dark silver light grew stronger, gradually outlining an extremely blurry...
A constantly distorted and changing outline.
The outline looked dreamlike, yet it also had a hazy, high-definition quality, vaguely resembling a large bird about to take flight.
Of course, the reason it is described as having a hazy, high-definition feel is that it looks very lifelike, yet it is full of an illusory, non-physical quality.
"The teacher was actually right!" The man in black held his breath, staring intently at everything. He could sense an extremely ancient, extremely obscure power emanating from the feathers, a power completely beyond his comprehension. It was a ripple of time, the sound of the threads of fate being plucked.
A few seconds later, the spinning feathers and the illusory bird-shaped outline suddenly shrank inward, transforming into a single, extremely concentrated dark silver light.
Then—like a candle flame blown out, it vanished completely, silently and without a trace.
No trace was left behind, no disturbance to space or energy was caused, as if everything that had just happened was merely an illusion. Apart from the man in black robes, only Saruman's body, gradually losing its glow and reverting to that of an ordinary old man's corpse, lay quietly on the ground.
This proves that what just happened was not an illusion.