The catastrophe unleashed by Helbo has subsided, yet the volcanic eruption continues unabated. The surging lava, like overwhelming waves, engulfs everything in its path near the volcano.
No wails, no cries of despair — only the volcano's roar echoing through heaven and earth. Without the Divine Power of the Sun God, perhaps no one in this vanishing civilization would have survived to witness it.
The chants for the dead gradually fade away.
All the Priests are left bewildered.
"What should we, the remaining few, do now?"
A Priest, with a sorrowful glance and a painful tone, speaks. He seeks help from the infinitely radiant Sun God, who can only offer a sigh of comfort.
"Live on with the remorse of those who have passed." The might of the Gods can accomplish many things, yet they are powerless in the face of inevitable points in history.
Just as they cannot prevent the advent of the Twilight of the Gods.
Sometimes.
Knowing is more tormenting than not knowing.
"Father, why hasn't this little one woken up yet?" The Fierce Goddess has been monitoring Ian's condition, circling the glowing Ian about ten times.
The Little Wizard remains with eyes shut tight, emitting an aura that makes her increasingly uneasy—like a rabbit before a predator, an uncontrollable impulse urges her to flee.
"He will wake up when it's time." The Sun God utters this nonsense, perhaps even he cannot predict when Ian will awaken, but he must maintain a facade of paternal authority.
The Fierce Goddess has no doubts.
She only lifted her hand to peel open Ian's eyelid. In Ian's shining eyes, images flickered, full of pressure, scaring the Fierce Goddess to quickly withdraw her hand and step back a few paces.
"Truly eerie."
She couldn't help but mutter.
Regarding the outside events, Ian remains oblivious for the time being. His soul is undergoing a qualitative transformation, gazing intently at the increasingly clear patterns in his thoughts.
In the world of his consciousness.
The previously blurred images gradually become clear, as if a heavy fog slowly lifts, revealing the essence hidden within—a deep and mysterious scene—wherein, amidst the darkness, two scarlet dots ignite like the fires of Hell. The light is not blinding, yet it possesses a soul-stirring force.
"What is this?"
Ian gazes at the now-clear images and sees the scarlet turn increasingly tangible—a pair of eyes, cold and profound, filled with ancient and unknown charm. They are eyes, their contours growing distinct as time passes, until a cold raven emerges.
Its feathers are as black as ink, each one seemingly brimming with boundless mysterious power, glinting subtly in the dim light. Ian's breathing becomes rapid. He senses a mysterious rhythm swirling over the pattern, akin to ancient authority, or like whispers from the universe's inception.
"Is this my Legendary Authority?" Ian perceives that the Paradox Authority flowing towards him stems from his clarifying Legendary Essence.
It is a power beyond reason, representing "Plunder" and "Occupy," now flowing within Ian's thoughts and integrating into his soul.
This is why Ian can sense the Paradox Authority.
The power that should have belonged to Helbo, like an invisible river, surges from the raven pattern, coursing through every inch of his flesh, ultimately converging in his soul and becoming part of him.
The feeling of this plundering power is both strange and familiar, as if chosen by some ancient laws of the universe, endowed with the supreme privilege of exploring the forbidden, rewriting the rules.
"This is insane; am I overpowered or is the Legendary Rank just oversized?" Ian is astounded by his own situation, his emotions surging like waves.
Of course.
This is not the time to ponder how powerful this authority is. Ian can feel his body, soul, and even consciousness undergoing subtle changes.
This is undoubtedly a transformation.
A metamorphosis from the mundane to a higher level. Throughout this transformation, Ian experiences an unprecedented blend of pain and pleasure. His body feels as though pierced by countless fine needles; every cell jubilant, yet burdened by immense pressure.
Perhaps.
A Legendary Wizard doesn't live a thousand years, yet their lifespan and physique far exceed those of Ordinary Wizards. This moment ensures the Legendary body is no longer a shortcoming.
"No wonder many Legendary Wizards practice both physical and magical arts!" Ian can't help but muse. He senses that his body and Magic Power are evolving during this ascension.
His thoughts become sharper, able to easily capture the subtlest changes in the surrounding environment, and he doesn't even need his eyes to sense the dust particles flowing through the air.
The surging of Magic Power within is no longer as it was before. It begins to flow in a manner he has never experienced, as though every strand of Magic Power is imbued with life.
They dance to some mysterious rhythm, as if constantly engaging in a special ceremony, causing a transformation similar to "Wish Power" to grow within the Magic Power. This will enhance Magic's effects unprecedentedly, allowing more magical spells to perform beyond the imagination.