The reason for Eldra's absence this time was still as never told everyone, but the parliament accepted his actions out of trust, which were central to Usvi's interests, and the visionaries whispered that he was preparing for the future—something that was right in front of him, inevitable, looming threat, just outside their horizon.
"Yes, Seakzi of the Emerald Temple, has indeed begun to become unusually active recently. The torrent of vortexes in the subspace overflowed, representing something even more terrifying. We have never seen such a sign since the loss of Azartan, the sky is filled with pain, and the stars cry like children."
The elderly MP Bruling said in a deep voice, wearing a gorgeous sapphire robe with black phosphorescence on the edges, and although it seemed calm, his consciousness carries some anxiety that all of them share.
Something new is emerging in the future, pressing against the hearts of the prophets like dark clouds.
It was too huge to tell, which made a hint of anxiety brewing into all the prophets' hearts as hysterical hints.
What is rising from the future?
It looks like an end, outside it is an inflated nothingness, sucking souls from the chests of all the spirits and breathing through the lips of all the spirits.
Just as Usvi's prophets were struggling with recent prophecies, Eldra had prepared the ceremony in a distant and nameless world.
This world once had the last pantheon in the Spiritual Empire. Although it has long been abandoned like other pantheons, it is the most fully preserved one.
Over the years, he has had countless plans, but all plans revolve around only two goals, two gods.
A god who already exists but is lost.
A god who has not yet appeared and has great potential.
Save the previous one, awaken the latter one, and build a new temple of reincarnation for the spiritual race based on them, so that the souls of this race will forever be freed from the threat of the great enemy of the sub-space.
This is his ultimate goal.
As the long spell overflowed from his mouth, the pattern of light and shadow leaped on the polished floor, gliding like an electric snake in oil.
They kept twitching, flickering, as if they were twitching due to tension or anxiety.
The Great Prophet sat cross-legged on the wall on one side of the room, allowing the waves of energy to wash his body. Three other powerful war witches from different ark worlds, and collaborators summoned by Eldra, sat symmetrically around them, and were also immersed in meditation, with bone-white runes flashing on their black armor.
Around the ritual rings, there are some relics left by Eldra from the past gods of the Eldra collected over the years, from fragments of Kane to fragments of Val anvil, and more than a dozen relics are placed on small altars.
There was a faint chanting sound in the air. Although no war witch spoke and the whole room was shrouded in silence, their will was filled with singing, bringing the spiritual resonance in the carefully designed room into a symphony-like realm.
Their souls float in the violent abyss, allowing their lives to harness the waves, constantly peeking at the edge of their vision, searching for the glimmer of the coming and inevitable storm.
Behind their closed eyelids, their eyes flashed with flames, illuminating their souls of the same origin like a lighthouse, guiding them back so that they would not be lost between themselves and each other forever.
This dangerous ritual can never be performed alone.
As the sound of the soul singing became more and more grand, the clouds and mist from the sub-space began to condense into the room in reality.
Initially they were only a few strands, with only signs of cirrus clouds forming near the ceiling.
But gradually, the mist began to condense and thicken, elongated and turned into strips, and rotated into swirls.
As the speed accelerates and gradually expands, these small vortexes begin to condense and merge, turning together to form a separate, slowly rotating subspace vortex that rotates around the edge of the room, bypassing the backs of each war witch, and bringing them into the interior of a rotating twisted energy column.
I don’t know how long it took, orange flames suddenly flashed, igniting the relics of the gods. The war witches opened their eyes at the same time, and the flames licked their iris, as if they were about to swallow them.
They still sat there meditating with all their concentration, motionless and speechless, their scorching eyes focused on an invisible point in the middle of the room.
The subspace vortex cloud began to accelerate, rolling up a tornado of twisted energy, tumbling around the edge of the room and threatening to tear the room itself from the structure of the pantheon through sheer centrifugal force.
As the raging vortex surrounds them, they remain silent and calm, shooting their eyes directly into the eyes of the vortex, their eyes shining like liquid stars.
At the convergence of their eyes, an image begins to form, flickering at the edge of existence, as if it cannot withstand the pressure of reality.
At the edge of the image, tens of millions of Aida's corpses are stacked on the horizon, like the shells of planets.
The sky above these flashing images seemed to be cut by etheric lightning, causing the souls to scream in the atmosphere, tearing apart the heavy, sticky dark clouds.
Suddenly, a light shone like a burning spear, but then disappeared.
"The time has come! Awaken the god of death, Jena!"
Eldra raised his arm suddenly, and the words called out of his mouth shattered the surrounding vortex, like a bullet passing through an ice sculpture.
Images and twisted clouds quickly dissipated, repelled by fragments from the relics of the gods - this is not just a word, it is a forgotten name.
"Jena!!"
When the three war witches sang, it seemed as if they felt that this syllable brought death to the tip of their tongue.
Suddenly, a crack of light briefly appeared on a wall, and it flashed through the spiritual bone structure, defining a stone tablet as it spread.
A few seconds later, the stone tablet melted, as if the spiritual bone structure had retracted to the surrounding walls. At the same time, a cold light penetrated in, mixed with the thick darkness of the place itself, and a pattern of interfering smoke was emitting in the air.
A weird image emerged. It seemed to be a spiritual race, covered with a layer of purple rubber armor, a slender body, and a large white hair with long calves behind its head. It held a sword in one hand and a strange symbol in the other.
Its face is impressive, half of which is an ordinary spiritual race, and the other half is a terrified skeleton demon, accompanied by a huge horn extending upwards, making it look like it is forcibly sewing two lives together.
When this image appeared, the temperature in the hall suddenly dropped, and white frost began to form on the ground, and ghostly energy surrounded its body.
The war witches broke their gaze, lowered their boiling eyes, and gradually brought their will back to reality and returned to the room in the material world.
They also saw this image, but no one was willing to say what they saw.
This is an illusion of all things they cannot imagine and cannot imagine, a true taboo, the incarnation of fear that is suppressed in the depths of their souls.
"Death, Jena."
Eldra mumbled, not seeking confirmation, he just wanted to share the burden of the word, push it into the will of others, split it into different runes, split the word and divide it like conquering a broken enemy.
"Go, the time for your arrival has arrived!"
With a loud sound, he pressed his hands on the ground, and the dense runes around him were lit up at the same time. The relics of the gods were squeezed out of their last power and turned into ashes, floating in the invisible wind of subspace.
And the existence called the God of Death also let out a high-pitched roar, and finally disappeared from the spot, traveling through the boundless space, and running towards a body that can be boarded-