Wizard: Stronger through Marriage

Chapter 1316: Chapter 613: Divine Body Remolding (2)

This is... the Creator personally carving the cycle of life and death!

The air suddenly grew viscous and heavy; an ineffable solemn and austere presence shrouded the entire forest Secret Realm.

In that hush before storm and tempest, only the whisper of leaves, the crack of breaking trunks, and distant beasts’ low growls could be heard—yet even these noises were pressed near to silence by the dense, sanctified breath and newborn pulse of life, leaving behind only a vast, epic resonance in the stillness.

Cynthia stepped forward with unwavering resolve, her silver robe swaying with her stride, interweaving with the moonlight and displaying the heroic bearing of a Guardian of the Witch Rider Corps.

"Faith is our root. However it is ravaged, it will make us rise again."

Her gaze was keen and cold, yet her tone bore a power of hope that could not be shaken. "Even if flesh and bone shatter, we shall be reborn in Flame!"

Hill gripped his sword-hilt, every muscle taut; a resolute smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Brother, you are not fighting alone!

We shall forge the strongest Armor from our blood and our lives, until the enemy sinks into despair beneath your feet!"

Every word carried iron will, like an Ice Blade cutting through the frost of the void, sending waves of rousing, surging fervor through the surroundings.

The members of the Witch Rider Corps stood in solemn ranks around the altar. Speech failed them, yet as they beheld all this, the deepest feelings at the bottom of their Souls were stirred.

Some of the tribe wept in silence; some murmured ancient prayers. It was gratitude for the highest honor of life and the burden of its mission, and it was also the echo of an oath: to follow unto death, fearing neither doom nor suffering.

Liya touched the tip of her staff to the complex chains of Rune arrays encircling the device; those slender, vine-like Magic threads writhed like living things, swiftly drawing together and pouring their own Original Force into reinforcing the protective Barrier, that it might withstand the ceaseless ravaging assault.

Her lips parted, releasing low-voiced incantation; her chant resonated with the Runes to form a harmonious effect, greatly stabilizing the entire furnace, while also slowing the spread of the spatial fissures, buying more breathing room and possible points of breakthrough for the battle.

At the altar’s heart, the three Crystals, fused together, formed a new "Chaos Core · Terminal Form," upon whose surface vast Patterns of salvation slowly emerged.

This totem was woven from countless fine, chaotic lines crossing and intertwining, its hues bearing both the pure white sanctity of redemption and the abyssal violet of Chaos Shadows, mingled with the supple, mutable green of the Soul.

It was like a seal and yet like a reservoir of Energy, ceaselessly swallowing and exhaling the essence of heaven and earth, granting David an everlasting source to support his mortal Limit as he broke into a new realm!

"Is this... an infinite cycle, or the ultimate homeland?" Lucia, gazing at the totem upon his chest, could not help but breathe her admiration. "The salvation Patterns are the highest emblem of all races’ faith, and the manifestation of the Laws of the Cosmos."

She closed her eyes in silent prayer. "May all Heroic Spirits shelter this path, and lead all races into the true dawn of peace."

Suddenly, a barely perceptible tremor shook the air—small, yet enough to bring every heart to alert.

From deeper within the forest came a low, rolling rumble.

The remnants of the Beastmen host were regrouping; their roars and wails mingled with the howls of beasts and the clashing of metal, like war drums pounding, driving the pace of the assault.

Yet now they faced a presence utterly unlike any horror they had known before—a true "god" born from the convergence of myriad essences of the Cosmos, infused with vibrant power!

Even so, this ferocious horde of Beastmen still swung their shattered weapons, striving to tear asunder the new-order defense net woven by the vigilant Witch Rider Corps.

They used fierce battle-cries to smother their fear, hammered with swinging mauls to shatter weary Shields, and fought with grim tenacity to win more escape routes; every step crushed corroded heaps of corpses beneath their feet, letting the dark tide surge and roll—yet unable to pierce the steel bulwark raised by indomitable spirit and will!

Yi Lin drew her sword once more, cleaving apart the remaining assaulting Shadows of Magic; icy brilliance glinted in her eyes, as if wishing to rip the black curtain of the void itself, as she strove with all her might to guard these precious fruits of struggle.

Beside her, Annie moved through the Shadow, casting mental Curses that continually confounded the enemy’s Minds, while Lucia wove the Magic Barrier anew, and Liya adjusted the nourishing life Elements to keep the entire Defense system running in firm stability...

David stood at the center of the altar, bathed in the radiance of gold and green Runes. Complex and mysterious torrents of Law coiled around his form. Slowly he raised his right hand—that newborn Divine Body’s palm, formed from countless fragments of stars, gleamed with strange light where Moon and Flame intertwined.

His eyes were deep, bearing an unyielding resolve and imperious majesty.

His right hand swept slowly through the void; the path traced by his fingertips was vast and precise, like the course of the Cosmos itself.

The air shuddered in answer. A dark-golden archway slowly manifested in the emptiness, wreathed in swirling, dancing nebular currents—as though born from the Abyss of Chaos, yet bearing order and gravitas of its own.

The arch soared skyward, its edges inlaid with countless flowing Runes. Those Runes seemed lively, possessed of Spirit, flickering coldly in the night, as though heralding a gate that opened into the depths of boundless time and space, an entrance to a Divine Kingdom.

The breath it exuded was both ancient and newborn, both chaotic and ordered, making all who stood there feel a force so overwhelming it was nearly suffocating, yet stirring beyond measure.

Hill stood at David’s side, his eyes alight with a fervor and reverence that words could not contain.

He gripped his Silver Sword, lightly pointing its tip toward that dark-golden archway. "This is... the Gate to the Terminal Corridor?"

His voice was low, yet filled with strength; every word struck like a hammer upon the hardest rock in the depths of the Mind.

Cynthia swept her gaze around; her cold, sharp eyes fixed upon the mighty surge of Energy at the archway. Her gaze was as unyielding as a blade. "That is wrought by Law. It is the road we must tread to open a new era. No matter how perilous the way ahead, we cannot retreat."

Far off, the crowns of the Eternal Forest stirred gently, myriad tender leaves flushing with verdant light in response to the fluctuation of Energy. A white-feathered eagle took wing from a branch; when its wings unfurled, its feathers seemed etched with ancient sigils. It circled above the archway, its eyes clear and piercing, like a faithful envoy guarding this gate to the future.

Liliana stepped lightly forward, her silver-white hair drifting in the wind, pure as frost and snow Under the Moon.

She stared unblinking at the vast dark-golden archway, as though beholding a peerless treasure; slowly, awe and wonder spread across her features.

"Here... time itself has congealed into poetry." Her voice was soft, yet laden with incredulous reverence. "Each second is a painted scroll, fixed in place; each breath is a Chapter of eternity that shall never fade."

She stretched out her slender hands, gently caressing the scattered motes of stardust floating around the arch’s rim; those tiny particles seemed to respond to her touch, unfurling more intricate, exquisite ripples.

"This is where Law and time converge, where the long river of all lives’ destinies gathers into verse. In this moment we are not merely shaping space—we are forging the very foundation of the future."

The Witch Rider Corps drew together about the arch; they stood in stern stillness, brows knit, yet in every countenance there was etched a resolve of iron and the burden of their mission.

Upon their chests gleamed the emblems that signified oath and honor, standing out with radiant clarity amid the heart of this storm of sanctified summons.

Lucia stood quietly, her silver-white robe lifted faintly by the night wind, hands clasped as she prayed with closed eyes.

A strand of gentle Holy Light seeped from between her fingers, forming a perfect counterpoint to the dark-golden Gate of Law, suffusing the entire altar with a serenity and solemnity like that of an immortal realm.

"Our guardianship does not end with flesh and blood; it endures into Spirit and Soul."

Cynthia turned toward the members of the Witch Rider Corps, her tone unwavering. "Every Guardian who falls in battle shall become an irreplaceable part of this place, making this road to the future unbreakable!"

As her words fell, a Shadow drifted forth, quietly pacing out from between the trees.

The Souls of the fallen members of the Witch Rider Corps, given form once more, had become Silver Armored Divine Envoys. Clad in cold Silver Armor, they emanated a faint, icy glow, yet bore not the slightest breath of living flesh.

One by one, each Warrior’s countenance was grave and steadfast; though they had parted from the strife of bodies, their oath still bound them to stand here, using flesh as the founding links of a chain, gathering the power of guardianship into a single, impregnable rampart.

The sight set hearts surging like tides. Those who had once fought through bloody sand and fallen on the battlefield now stood remade as the very embodiment of absolute loyalty and iron will.