Chapter 655 - 62: Qi Absorption and Eating Mist: Entering the Hall

Chapter 655: Chapter 62: Qi Absorption and Eating Mist: Entering the Hall

The words had barely fallen when a crisp CRACK echoed from the void.

A foot wearing a small black leather shoe emerged from the shattered void. Its tip landed precisely, squarely upon the closing cage of pain.

The grayish-white walls were like thin ice being stepped on. Cracks spread out from the point of impact in all directions, covering the entire cage in an instant.

Then, the cage shattered.

The Magic, imbued with all of Leonardo’s Law and will, silently scattered in the morning light like a flurry of grayish-white snow.

Cheris stepped out of the void.

The corners of her deep blue Magic Robe were embroidered with intricate gold patterns, and a silver belt cinched her waist. A few strands of her flaxen hair were lifted by the wind, revealing a face so pale it was almost translucent.

Her normally vibrant face was drained of color; even her lips were a faded white.

She didn’t look at anyone.

From the moment she appeared, her emerald eyes were fixed on one thing: the crimson blade of light.

Its body was covered in cracks. Its once-brilliant light was now as dim as a guttering candle. From tip to hilt, a spiderweb of fissures nearly tore it to pieces.

It hung there in mid-air, like a shattered piece of porcelain barely glued back together, ready to crumble again at any moment.

Cheris’s eyelashes trembled slightly. She wanted to do something.

But the crimson light slowly receded, and with a soft shudder, the sword transformed into a human figure.

Murphy hovered in the air, his black longshirt perfectly intact, without a single wrinkle.

But his face was pale, almost translucent, though his jet-black eyes remained calm.

Cheris looked at him, her voice soft. "Are you all right?"

Murphy shook his head. "I’m fine."

Cheris stared at his pale face, at his unblemished black longshirt, at his invariably calm expression.

She watched him for one second, two, three.

Then, she turned to the side.

The movement was slow, as unhurried as an afternoon stretch.

But her gaze never left Murphy, as if she were merely turning to deal with something unsightly.

Leonardo finally broke free from the temporal stasis. He gasped for air, the rage and triumph on his twisted face not yet faded before being completely replaced by another emotion.

Fear.

Utter fear.

A bone-deep fear.

"Cheris, listen to me—" His voice was hoarse and rushed, laced with a humility he hadn’t shown since arriving at the Society of Truth’s headquarters. "I was just checking on the consumption of Dimensional Energy, that’s all. This Otherworld creature—"

His words died in his throat.

Because Cheris had already raised her hand.

She didn’t even grant him a proper look. Her slender index finger, coated in glossy black nail polish, simply pointed in his direction—casually, carelessly.

A colossal phantom image extended from her fingertip.

It was a finger, yet it was so massive that the entire corridor was plunged into darkness.

The ridges on its pad were clearly visible, the whorls of its fingerprint like a bottomless black hole. The sheen on the nail was like a mirror polished for a thousand years, reflecting Leonardo’s face, twisted in terror.

Leonardo’s pupils contracted violently.

He no longer had time for any pleas for mercy. He just swung his hands with all his might.

The Pain Domains he had woven were unleashed in their entirety, transforming into countless grayish-white chains that wrapped around the phantom finger, attempting to slow its advance.

The chains strained, groaning as they broke, and then shattered inch by inch. The fragments turned into motes of grayish-white light in the air before vanishing.

He bit through the tip of his tongue, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

The blood transformed into countless tiny runes in mid-air. Every rune burned, shrieked, and used its last dregs of Life Force to construct a barrier.

That barrier flowed with all his understanding, all his pain, all his Law and will.

Yet the phantom image rolled over the barrier like a truck hitting a speed bump—no, there was no speed bump. It didn’t even pause.

Leonardo’s fingers trembled convulsively. He desperately mobilized every last shred of power in his body, trying to break free from the phantom’s oppressive force.

The Magic he had developed—Pain Beam, Pain Cage, Pain Chains—erupted before him like fireworks, crashing one after another against the phantom image.

The grayish-white beams burst against the finger’s pad, not even leaving a white mark.

Miniature six-sided cages closed in on the fingertip, only to be crushed into fragments before they could even contract.

Countless chains wrapped around it, only to disintegrate in the same instant.

The phantom image continued its advance, neither fast nor slow, like the turning of the seasons, the rising and setting of the sun, like some kind of inviolable Law.

"Cheris! I’m your cousin! The Douglas Clan—"

His voice cracked. The Law, the Magic, the power that had supported his pride—they were nothing before that phantom image.

He remembered the words he had just said—"I’ll hang you on the wall as a trophy."

He remembered the condescending delight he’d felt while watching the blade of light trapped in the cage.

The phantom image rolled over his body.

There was no blood, no bone, no remains of any observable matter.

Even the unobservable substances that constituted his "self" crumbled silently before the phantom image, like a crushed sandcastle.

Then they dissipated, ultimately returning to nothingness.

Yet, the phantom image did not stop.

After rolling over Leonardo, it continued forward, rolling over the corridor wall, and rolling over Leonard, who was slumped in the corner.