Bloodline of the Wizard-Chapter 338 - 171: In the Name of Ice Frost, I Am Hekarter, the Will to Struggle, the Beginning of Turmoil
Chapter 338: Chapter 171: In the Name of Ice Frost, I Am Hekarter, the Will to Struggle, the Beginning of Turmoil
A torrent of white-hot vitality, like magma scouring a riverbed, infused every inch of skin, muscle, meridian....
Within the magma, there were also cold, sharp "grits" constantly rolling.
Ronan felt his body being incessantly torn, destroyed, and melted by these two forces of scorching heat and icy cold... and then remolded!
The slippery, viscous whispers of evil that lingered around his ears suddenly intensified, like countless pieces of sharp metal crazily sliding over smooth glass.
"They" clung to Ronan’s ears, hysterically growling at him: "Ice Frost... Hekarter... Ice Frost!... Hekarter!.. Hekarter!!"
The thick ice layer over the Lake of Thoughtlessness split and shattered, as violent, savage, and brutal thoughts surged up from the bottom of the lake.
Ronan’s once-prideful firm will was quickly eroded and occupied by another fragmented, ancient, majestic, and evil will.
His consciousness plunged into chaos, constantly flipping between clarity and confusion.
"...Hekarter!.. Hekarter!!"
"Hekarter!!"
The name kept repeating in his ears.
His head throbbed agonizingly, and the voices hovering by his ear almost tortured him to madness.
Who am I?
Who is Hekarter?
His heart roared with countless voices, the marks related to Ronan Damien seemed to fade and vanish, those past memories dissolving rapidly....
Finally, all those voices merged into one——
"Hekarter is me!"
Ronan slowly opened his eyes.
In the midst of his dark blue and pure white intertwined eyes, vertical pupils suddenly flared open, bursting with a crimson glow a hundred times purer than blood.
A dull, deep voice crossed his chest cavity and throat, as if descending from ancient times, buzzing and resonating.
"I am... Hekarter."
In the name of Ice Frost.
....
Meanwhile, within an independent space on the verge of shattering.
All the Black Robed Wizards of the Resurrection Society looked with questioning eyes at the same location, including the most powerful Dark Head.
There was an immense sphere of light, with countless dark blue and pure white lightning intertwining around it.
An ineffable, ancient, dense, icy aura emitted from within the sphere, gradually pervading the entire space.
Everyone felt an indescribable unease growing in their hearts, instinct warning them to leave immediately, yet reason found it absurd and baseless.
The conflict between these two emotions made everyone feel unnatural, as the crowd began to stir without clear reason.
"Dark Head..."
Someone whispered softly.
The Black Robed Dark Head of the Resurrection Society, floating in mid-air, raised his palm and then slowly retrieved a colorful Sheep Horn Mask from beneath his robe.
At the bottom of the mask, there was a handle, which the Dark Head grasped in his hand, muttering an ancient, deep spell.
Quickly, tendrils of terrifying rune fluctuations emanated from the mask.
The hollow sockets of the Sheep Horn Mask glowed with a dim black light, and at the tips of the two twisted horns, black energy light blades slowly extended.
The light blades were covered in bizarre, complex runes, whose emitted aura silently swallowed everything around them, making the entire space subtly condense towards the mask.
The Black Robed Dark Head held the mask’s handle with both hands, as though grasping a massive and eerie two-handed longsword.
With calm demeanor, he lifted the mask, and the black energy light blade formed of countless runes sliced the void, leaving behind traces of corrosion, seemingly accelerating the collapse of the entire space.
And just as he was about to make the slashing motion...
Suddenly, the entire space seemed to be set in stasis, time frozen.
An indescribable, ancient, evil, majestic will quietly descended.
All Black Robed Wizards of the Resurrection Society showed expressions of extreme horror on their faces, their spiritual power fluctuations and bodies uncontrollably trembling in unison.
The immense sphere of light, intertwined with dark blue and pure white lightning, silently cracked open, revealing a grotesquely distorted yet enchanting figure——
A tall figure over three meters, its body covered in dark blue snake scales, surrounded by innumerable black and blue Ice Frost, vaguely revealing an exotically beautiful and eerie face.
That face bore a pair of crimson vertical pupils, with peculiar protrusions on the forehead, and elongated, strange patterns on the cheeks, as if signifying ice-cold and ominous runes.
Dark blue hair silently floated around him, like countless tiny ice snakes, heralding and surrounding him...
The previous sense of collapse caused by the Black Horned Sheep Sword was now entirely stolen by this figure.
The dawn light turned white, with countless beams from the distant horizon casting down upon this figure, creating an unspeakable, evil yet magnificent scene.
The Black Robed Dark Head stared steadily at the enchanting figure before him, their eyes silently meeting.
After a moment, as if snapping out of his trance, he calmly continued the unfinished motion in his hand.
The rune-imbued Black Horned Sheep Sword slowly cleaved downward, countless black lights intersecting in a complex pattern, seemingly slow, yet reaching the top of the enchanting figure in less time than a blink of an eye.
Facing this formidable attack, the latter made no move to dodge or retreat.
He simply looked up, and then...
Silently smiled.
The corners of his mouth, covered in snake scales, stretched to the base of his ears, revealing a set of sharp white teeth.
Accompanied by those purely crimson vertical pupils, there emanated an indescribable sense of terror and eeriness.
.....
"Crack——"
A sudden sound of something breaking.
