Chapter 643: After Everything Perishes
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Following a massive explosion, shockwaves spread through two worlds, causing intense atmospheric disturbances. Amid this chaos, Vanna’s silvery-white hair flew wildly about her as she used a hand to shield her eyes, struggling to see through the sandstorm. Through the dust, she caught sight of a ghost ship wrapped in flames, sinking slowly into the vast desert.
Descending from the sky, a gigantic black goat landed beside the flaming vessel.
A beam of light, resembling a shooting star, plummeted from the ship and struck the ground, creating a spectacular portal. Duncan then stepped out from the fiery entrance.
“Captain!” Vanna shouted, snapping out of her daze. She moved toward Duncan but faltered, feeling weak, and steadied herself using a large staff left by the enormous entity she had been traveling with earlier.
Duncan rushed to her side, his face marked by concern. “Are you alright?”
Leaning on the staff, Vanna looked up and offered a faint smile. “This has taken more out of me than usual,” she confessed.
She released the glowing ice sword in her other hand and reached into her cloak. Drawing out a radiant artifact that emitted a supernatural light, she explained, “This is the ‘Sun.’ It’s a gift from Ta Ruijin.” The relic gleamed intensely, piercing the surrounding darkness.
“Ta Ruijin?” Duncan asked, his eyes widening.
Vanna nodded. “The giant I saw earlier. He’s Ta Ruijin, a god from ancient myths, the guardian of history. He perished during the cataclysm known as the Great Annihilation.”
Holding the luminous “Sun” in her hands, its warmth filled the air. Duncan took it, feeling the soft flames tickle his fingers. They had other pressing issues to address.
Observing Vanna’s fragile state, Duncan supported her by the arm and took the ancient-looking staff from her, recognizing her exhaustion.
As Vanna caught her breath, leaning on Duncan, she gazed at the humanoid black goat standing by the ship. “Is that creature the ‘First Mate’?”
“How did you know?” Duncan asked, surprised.
“The facial features are unmistakable, even magnified. Plus, I pride myself on my observational skills,” Vanna replied confidently.
“It’s truly him,” Duncan confirmed, leading her towards the unstable portal shimmering on a sand dune. “To preserve the Vanished, I repaired its hull and infused it with some of my fiery essence. This allows him to temporarily transform into this grand form. We’ll discuss this more later. For now, we must hurry back to the ship. Our trials are far from over.”
Before Duncan could continue, a deep rumble mixed with spectral wails echoed from afar, resembling the sound of two massive millstones grinding against each other. The terrifying vibrations and deafening roars seemed to resonate across all known and unknown realms!
In the expansive landscape, a once-stalled “collision” between realms shockingly resumed. Entire mountains turned to dust, and the skies violently churned. High above, the remnants of Atlantis blazed with a brilliant light. Forests and lands that had been cloaked in shadow began to reshape, but morphed into grotesque, nightmarish forms. These transformed landscapes were soon dragged back into the abyss, caught in a relentless cycle of creation and destruction.
Around Vanna, the vast desert was consumed by another fierce sandstorm. This time, she was not its originator. Within the swirling sands, spectral figures cried out names long forgotten by history. A towering wall of sand rose, and fleeting glimpses of ancient cities and mountains appeared before vanishing.
The dramatic merging of the two dimensions was now in full swing.
Just before the storm’s full fury struck, Duncan hurriedly led Vanna into the whirlwind of a fiery portal.
Moments later, Vanna found herself on the deck of the Vanished, now protected by a glowing flame. Outside this shimmering barrier, the catastrophic merging of realms turned into a blurred, surreal spectacle. Even within the barrier, she could hear the screams of collapsing realities and the deafening roar of shattering worlds.
“I was under the impression that we had overcome the worst…” Vanna whispered, observing the chaos beyond the ship’s boundaries. The violent shaking beneath her feet disoriented her momentarily. “What’s causing this resurgence?”
Duncan’s voice was grave as he responded, “We successfully eliminated the sun-spawn that invaded the dream of the Nameless. Yet, the nightmare woven around Atlantis persists. This realm is saturated with the elves’ deepest, most haunting memories. The imagery of the Great Annihilation—where two worlds collided and were obliterated—has left an indelible mark here. Such devastation is the inevitable climax of this nightmarish tale.”
The ship lurched violently, making it difficult for Vanna to maintain her balance. She stared in disbelief and terror at the harrowing scene in the distance, where it appeared the very fabric of the world was tearing apart. Amidst her rising panic, she asked, “Is there a way, any way, to prevent this catastrophe?”
Duncan turned to face her, his expression intense yet strangely calm. “What are you asking to stop?” he inquired softly. “Is it the merging of the two realities? Or are you referring to the impending doom, the Great Annihilation?”
Vanna paused, taken aback by his question. She tried to absorb the depth of Duncan’s words.
“The Great Annihilation is not a forthcoming event,” Duncan explained, his voice steady amid the chaos. “It’s an event chronicled in the true annals of history, marking the beginning of the Deep Sea Era. It’s not about to happen—it already occurred long ago. What we’re experiencing is merely an echo, a residual memory of a distant past. We can’t stop or reverse it,” he said gently. “Our focus must be on stopping the power and influence of Atlantis.”
Vanna felt overwhelmed as she processed Duncan’s explanation, feeling as if pieces of a complex puzzle were falling into place.
Drawn back to the ongoing catastrophe, Duncan moved closer to the edge of the ship, gazing out at the unraveling world.
The melding of the two realities had begun. Instead of overlapping smoothly, the two worlds distorted and broke down before they could fully merge, eventually fusing into a dark, chaotic mass.
All around them, familiar landscapes—lush forests, towering mountains, vast deserts, and winding rivers—were violently torn apart. Their distinct features and colors melded into the overwhelming darkness. The fragmented remains of these places collided and fused, creating strange and haunting shapes.
As time seemed to blur, amidst the oppressive darkness, a feeble, chaotic light began to emanate, like the final breath of a dying world. This faint light swirled around the distorted, shadowy fragments floating in the void.
Then, amid the tumultuous streams of dark light, among the last remnants of the merging worlds, a single, recognizable structure stood out: a massive tree. It loomed, ethereal and silent, in the encroaching darkness—a relic from a time before everything came to a standstill.
But this tree was no longer alive. The tumultuous merging of worlds, with their conflicting laws, was too much for it to withstand. If even the gods could not survive such upheaval, then the World Tree, a symbol of their might, was doomed to perish. Atlantis, the legendary tree, was now just an illusion, a fleeting shadow long lost to history.
Yet, it could not be completely destroyed, for the memory of the World Tree was permanently etched into the collective consciousness of the “elves.”
Though reborn as new beings by the “Nether Lord” during the dark times of the Third Long Night, witnessing the undeniable reality of the Great Annihilation helped Duncan understand the essence of the current Deep Sea Era.
No one was spared in the cataclysmic clash of universal laws when the worlds collided; not the mightiest warriors of great kingdoms, nor the sacred World Tree sculpted by the hands of gods, nor even the gods themselves.
Going by that deduction, Duncan harbored doubts about the true nature of the current “Four Gods,” including the entity known as the “Eternal Flame Ta Ruijin.” However, he was certain of one thing: the entirety of the Deep Sea Era, in its truest sense, was an elaborate recreation by the Nether Lord based on a “blueprint” after the Third Long Night.
All that remained were the embers of a bygone era.
Duncan quietly gazed at Atlantis, which hovered majestically amid the surrounding darkness. He observed the remnants of what once was and the tumultuous shadows that were once the ancestral lands of an entire civilization.
This version of the World Tree, preserved in the memories of the elven kind, was essentially a copy. Yet, she struggled to accept this reality.
Similarly, she failed to recognize the “elves,” beings resurrected from “ashes.”
A gentle, radiant glow began to emanate from the remnants of Atlantis.
Particles of light, reminiscent of fireflies, emerged from the colossal tree’s remains, forming a radiant river amid the surrounding chaos. This glowing river wound around Atlantis, evoking memories of times when mighty rivers nourished the World Tree in the dense woods of the elves’ territories.
Each speck of light within this river symbolized a dormant consciousness.
Nourished by this radiant river, Atlantis, or what remained of her, began to rejuvenate. Even in her decayed state, branches of the World Tree eerily sprouted, unfolding ghostly, intricate leaves. The scene resembled the undead rising, striving to re-enter the realm of the living.
Ted Lir’s last effort had been futile.
Reaching out his hand, Duncan guided the Vanished through the vast darkness, steering it towards the haunting “Tree of Death”—a tree burned to its very essence, yet persisting in its growth and expansion.