The Old God's expression instantly turned unbearably awkward. He tried to explain himself, only to realize that under the other's gaze, any words he spoke would sound hollow and weak.
He had indeed planned to use Lo Quen to deal with other threats, then slip away and shed his skin like a cicada.
What he had never anticipated was Lo Quen's growth being so terrifying. Not only had he resolved the Long Night, he had even tracked him down.
Lo Quen took a step forward, starlight flowing around his body.
"It seems you hid far more from me than I ever imagined."
The Old God felt a pressure that nearly crushed his soul. Knowing there was no room left to maneuver, his instinct to survive overwhelmed everything else.
He snapped his head up, a trace of viciousness flashing in his eyes.
"Yes! I hid things from you! But so what?! The truth of this world is layered upon layers! You think you've won? You have no idea what you're facing! You—"
He tried to distract Lo Quen with words.
At the same time, from within Bran's possessed body, countless pitch-black phantom tentacles burst out from his seven orifices and even his pores, coiling toward Lo Quen at close range.
Simultaneously, the entire Mossovy Forest seemed to come alive. Twisted branches writhed like ghostly claws, viscous black water seeped from the ground, and the wails of countless vengeful spirits echoed through the air.
This was the Old God drawing upon ten thousand years of accumulated resentment and darkness from this cursed land for a desperate final stand.
The sudden assault carried both spiritual corruption and physical erosion, enough to instantly drag an Old One–level existence into ruin.
Yet faced with this seemingly overwhelming counterattack, Lo Quen did not even change his expression.
He simply stood there, starlight flowing naturally around him.
The pitch-black tentacles infused with the power of deep-sea nightmares melted and vaporized the instant they touched the starlight, leaving not the slightest trace behind.
The ghostly, claw-like branches froze in midair several meters from Lo Quen, then crumbled inch by inch like weathered stone, turning to dust.
The viscous black water seeping from the ground rapidly faded and evaporated under the starlight, as if purified.
The resentment and curses within it were directly dismantled by supreme order.
The wailing spirits were cut off as if strangled, their cries ending abruptly before they vanished into nothingness.
The riot of the entire Mossovy Forest was smoothed away in an instant before Lo Quen's absolute power.
"It seems you still don't understand the situation," Lo Quen sneered coldly. "Those so-called unnameable beings you cling to are nothing but laughable creatures before me now."
The Old God's power was inferior even to the Drowned God's, surviving to this day only by parasitizing generation after generation.
At last, utter despair appeared on the Old God's face.
His greatest trump card had proven utterly useless.
Only now did he truly understand that the gap between himself and the man before him had grown so vast that no scheme or trick could ever bridge it.
"No… don't kill me!"
He collapsed to the ground, pleading in Bran's voice.
"I can tell you the real secret! About… about the source of the power within us!"
Lo Quen looked at him with cold indifference, as though watching a clown.
Those sources had long since died by his hand.
"No need."
He slowly raised his hand. A pinpoint of concentrated starlight began to gather at his fingertip.
"Your secrets. Your lies. I'll see them myself."
Before the words had fully fallen, the speck of starlight seemed to cross space itself, instantly sinking into "Bran's" brow.
"Ah—!!!"
The Old God let out a shrill, agonized scream as Bran's body convulsed violently.
He felt his soul being forcibly pried open by an irresistible force.
Countless fragments of dark memory flooded into Lo Quen's perception.
Even as the decaying soul occupying Bran's body was completely erased, Lo Quen did not leave at once.
He continued to forcibly read the memory shards bursting forth as that soul collapsed.
Countless shattered fragments of light and shadow, warped sounds, and thoughts steeped in madness and malice poured into Lo Quen's sea of consciousness.
He stood firm at the center of this storm of information, calmly sorting through those filthy memories.
He saw how, in an age so distant it was impossible to trace, the ancient sorcerer's soul that called itself the "Old God" had struggled to survive amid curses and weakness.
The Old God's vitality was indeed formidable, but like other sorcerers who had obtained blood magic, he endured the passage of tens of thousands of years in painful decline, barely holding on until his magic was almost completely spent.
Just as he was about to dissipate entirely into the river of time, the Drowned God noticed him.
By then, the Drowned God had already been thoroughly corrupted through Nyarlathotep's long-term manipulation. Having carried out its plans, it now existed as a soul lurking in the deep sea, observing the world from afar.
It took interest in the Old God's obsession with immortality and his willingness to use any means necessary, and revealed to him a darker, more forbidden form of blood magic derived from the Black Stone.
Using this magic, the Old God could extract blood plasma from a living human brain, combine it with weirwood seeds rich in natural magic, and add freshly stripped human souls. Ground together into a viscous magical paste, this substance could stabilize a soul and greatly enhance magical power.
This undead relic had long since let his strength rot away through endless possession and scheming. All that remained was a mind full of cunning and an insatiable hunger for eternal life. How could he possibly pass up such an opportunity to prolong his existence?
And so, the two reached an agreement.
By consuming this paste, the Old God's shattered soul was miraculously stabilized. It even began to slowly recover a measure of strength, allowing him to survive to the present day.
The price he paid was total corruption and a binding alliance with the Drowned God.
From that moment on, the Old God became the Drowned God's partner and executor on land.
On one hand, he carefully concealed himself, using the legends of the Children of the Forest and the First Men to fashion an image of an ancient, benevolent savior, secretly cultivating followers.
On the other hand, he carried out tasks for the Drowned God in the shadows, removing obstacles and spreading chaos.
This was especially true in the period following the fall of Valyria, when the Targaryen dynasty rose to power.
The Old God played a crucial role in pushing the Targaryens toward their eventual downfall.
He took advantage of the Citadel and House Hightower's ambition to eradicate magic, secretly fueling House Hightower's influence and ambitions during the reign of Viserys I, ultimately leading to the outbreak of the Dance of the Dragons.
House Hightower's desire to eliminate magic stemmed from their ancestry as descendants of the Bloodstone Emperor, whose abuse of blood magic had once brought catastrophic disaster.
Unlike the Valyrians, another branch of that lineage who chose to wield and control blood magic, House Hightower believed that blood magic brought only ruin. As a result, generation after generation devoted themselves to the eradication of magic and dragons.
Because of this, the Old God also exploited House Hightower and the Citadel's interference in dragon taming during the period after the Dance of the Dragons. Against the backdrop of magic's decline, this intervention ultimately pushed dragons toward extinction.