Chapter 1436
This time, Prometheus was rescued and once again took command of the Sanctum of Light. Each day, he led from the rear—the Lightbearer Mages who called themselves priests, those who fought for faith and the unwavering pursuit of their ideals.
In these days, every priest displayed the greatest virtue of the ascetic: resilience. They worked tirelessly, treating the wounded and helping mages infected by the Plague to ease their pain.
But in the records of the future, nothing like this ever happened. Knox wasn’t supposed to be eliminated, and the people of the Sanctum of Light were always mad dogs—but never this foolish. Prometheus should have remained locked deep within the Sanctum’s darkest prison.
It would be more than eight thousand years before that prison was opened again, and inside, all that remained was a skeleton as radiant as a sun crystal. Prometheus’s life had reached its end—he died there, enduring the corruption of darkness but unable to withstand the erosion of time. His life was utterly spent.
By then, with the frenzied expansion of the Northend World’s Great Colonization Era, the priesthood had already grown with this great rise, no longer oppressed ascetics within the Sanctum of Light.
When the priests finally had enough power to rescue Prometheus, all they found was a skeleton—the relic later known as the Relic of Saint Prometheus, enshrined in the main city as the greatest symbol of their faith.
Now, seeing this legendary priest whose life was tragic yet steadfast—the first on the priest’s path—Leon couldn’t help but feel awe. It had nothing to do with strength; it was pure respect for Prometheus’s character.
At least if it were me, Leon thought, I doubt I could do what Prometheus did. People like him are saints in every sense.
“Lord Prometheus, thank you for your selflessness. But I fear this space cannot withstand the extraordinary power of an Eighth Rank Sky Mage. We should think of another way.”
Prometheus’s gaze was resolute yet gentle.
“Archmage Leon Merlin, I know you are a great Saint Alchemist—the youngest to be sanctified in the Northend World. Your understanding of alchemy surpasses all others.
I believe you must have a way to suppress my extraordinary power. If you can lower my power by one rank, I can help you.
You know as well as I do—a Lightbearer Mage plays the greatest supporting role in a war against the undead. Please, don’t refuse.
I’m sure you know how to do this!”
Leon didn’t speak, but those around him were already sighing. The Duke of Purplethorn was the first to try and persuade him.
“Lord Prometheus, this isn’t a joke. That terrifying Skeleton King wields plague powers that can kill even a Seventh Rank Light Mage. Besides, this space can’t withstand your power right now. We understand your intentions, but controlling the current spread of the Plague is more important than killing that wretched Skeleton King…
The Duke of Purplethorn kept persuading, but Prometheus didn’t react—he had no intention of giving up and insisted on joining the battle.
Ah, what a good man. There are no mages today as kind and persistent as him. No, to be precise, anyone with Lord Prometheus’s character died long ago. No one could live that long; after all these years, I only know of Prometheus…
But that Skeleton King’s plague powers are terrifying. Aside from Archmage Leon Merlin, the Saint Alchemist, no one else could possibly find a way to withstand it. Lord Prometheus’s strength could resist it, but an Eighth Rank Sky Mage simply can’t fight here…
Everyone tried to persuade Prometheus, but his gaze was unusually resolute. No one could sway him. After several minutes of coaxing, they all gave up.
Prometheus’s steadfast will was legendary—he spent centuries in the pitch-dark prison of the Sanctum of Light and never compromised. Once he set his mind to something, nothing could make him yield. Everyone understood this.
Though everyone admired him with a sigh, they all knew this was a problem with no solution.
This passageway can only withstand up to a Seventh Rank Sky Mage—the main issue is the nature of extraordinary power, which comes from a mage’s insight into the Laws.
Each Seventh Rank Sky Mage may differ in strength, but at the same rank, their insight into a Law is nearly identical. For a complete Law, the percentage they grasp is almost the same.
That’s the core issue—the passageway’s capacity can’t handle the essence, not the quantity.
Every Sky Mage can control the amount of power, but not the difference in essence. For example, Leon could cast a Tenth Rank spell here without damaging the passageway, but if an Eighth Rank Sky Mage cast a Ninth Rank spell, the space would collapse.
It’s all about the difference in the essence of extraordinary power. This space is like a wall built from magical bricks—ordinary flames could scorch the whole wall without burning it down, but if you cross the threshold and turn it into a swordmaster’s weapon, even a casual thrust could pierce the wall.
That’s the fundamental limit. As long as you don’t cross it, you can do whatever you want. But if you cross that threshold, even a little power can cause massive destruction.
That’s why the higher the rank, the more even the slightest use of power brings overwhelming destructive force.
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Clearly, while a mage can control their power, they can’t control its essence. If Prometheus wants to join the battle, he must suppress his extraordinary power below Eighth Rank Sky Mage—but that’s beyond his control.
Everyone tried for ages to persuade Prometheus, but failed. Some even turned to Leon, hoping he could use alchemy to suppress Prometheus’s power to Seventh Rank.
One person tried, and Leon ignored it. But when they came one after another, Leon started to get a headache.
It was clear that among those who came to persuade him, some just wanted to solve the problem quickly for their own sake—to end the Plague. Others, realizing Prometheus couldn’t be swayed, turned their efforts to Leon instead.
After all, Prometheus is now the leader of the Sanctum of Light and an Eighth Rank Sky Mage. Even the undead respect his character. In this situation, all they could do was offer some polite words—they had no other way.
A day later, the Lionheart King personally sent Leon a magic letter, explaining the situation and asking him to find a way to suppress Prometheus’s rank so he could join the battle.
This matter was crucial—if they didn’t kill the Skeleton King now, they might never get another chance. And the situation was too dire to delay any longer. No one dared imagine what would happen if they kept stalling…
Leon sighed and found Prometheus. From a distance, he watched Prometheus casting Lightbearer spells to ease the pain of a mage severely infected by the Plague, using magic and Leon’s potions to slow the spread. Sadly, it wasn’t enough—at best, it bought a little more time, but couldn’t cure the Plague.
Watching Prometheus’s gentle smile as he comforted those infected, it seemed his smile was infectious—at least it gave a glimmer of hope to many desperate mages, making them believe things might get better.
Leon sighed and waved to Prometheus from afar.
“Lord Prometheus, I do have a way to suppress a Sky Mage’s rank, including their insight into the Laws and extraordinary power. But the process is extremely painful, and you’ll need to cooperate fully for it to succeed. Afterward, your rank will drop to Seventh, but there’s a risk of serious side effects—even possible damage to your soul…”
Leon hadn’t even finished speaking before Prometheus nodded with a smile, as if Leon had just invited him to a feast—he accepted with delight.
“Then I’ll trouble you, Archmage Leon. I knew you’d have a way.”
Inside the alchemy laboratory, a special alchemical apparatus was set up in the center. Both the floor and ceiling were covered in alchemical arrays, working with the central device—which resembled an operating table—to form a unique Sky Rank alchemical formation.
Prometheus lay on the device, his arms, legs, shoulders, and head all secured—his body immobilized. As the alchemical array activated, his mana and extraordinary power were suppressed. Since Prometheus deliberately didn’t resist, he now seemed almost like a normal person—just a rather sturdy one.
Leon took out seven slender metal spikes, each covered in intricate, eerie patterns—the natural markings of the material. Only the tail end of each spike was set with a special magical artifact.
Leon drove the spikes into Prometheus’s limbs, embedding them deep into his body so only the tails remained outside. The spikes fit snugly against his bones, without affecting his movement at all.
After four were driven in, three remained—one went into his chest, one into his back, and the last was inserted straight through the crown of his head, into his skull.
Throughout the process, Prometheus remained calm, his expression unchanged. But his pale face and uncontrollable muscle spasms showed the pain was overwhelming—he couldn’t control his body at all.
Sweat slowly beaded on Leon’s forehead, especially with the last spike. He had to be extra careful—not to damage Prometheus’s soul. That would be a huge problem; in this era, there were very few potions or methods to heal soul injuries. Leon knew many ways, but…
But most of those materials didn’t exist in this era. Over ten thousand years later, a potion to heal soul injuries would be easily found in any alchemist’s shop—but right now, its main ingredient hadn’t even been discovered yet. It wasn’t native to the Northend World, but a specialty from a new plane found thousands of years in the future.
Soul power slowly flowed from Leon’s hand into the final needle, allowing him to sense Prometheus’s soul through the spike. Soon, he detected a pure soul close by—though it was just a feeling, not its actual location. Once he sensed Prometheus’s soul, the rest was much easier.
The needle was slowly inserted. Seconds later, all seven needles began to work—a strange power enveloped Prometheus, completely sealing him inside. As Leon sensed his aura, Prometheus’s rank began to drop, falling from Eighth Rank Sky Mage.
A hint of doubt flickered in Leon’s eyes. When he sensed Prometheus’s soul, he found it frighteningly pure—like a newborn’s, without any impurity, stray thought, or fluctuation…
While pondering this, things suddenly changed—Prometheus’s seal faded away, and his aura stabilized at Seventh Rank Sky Mage.
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When Prometheus opened his eyes again, his face was still pale, but he gave Leon a gentle smile right away.
“Archmage Leon, we can set out now.”
With that, Leon put aside his earlier doubts and nodded.
“Lord Prometheus, don’t you need to rest for a moment?”
A trace of holy light appeared on Prometheus’s skin. Within seconds, his aura stabilized and his pale face regained its color.
Without alerting anyone, Leon and Prometheus left the fortress. The fiery zone blocking the passage was nothing to them—Leon had created it himself and could control it easily. As they entered the sea of flames, an area without fire appeared around them.
The land had been scorched into molten magma, glowing red. In some places, fire crystals had formed—these only appear where the Fire Elemental Plane’s flames are especially concentrated.
Beyond the sea of flames, a terrifying undead aura rushed toward them. Countless undead were still hundreds of kilometers away, but their aura had already spread here. The death energy clashed with the flames like frenzied cold winds trying to extinguish the fire, but the flames were simply too vast to be snuffed out.
The alternating heat and cold created a fearsome storm—tornadoes rampaged across the land, sand and gravel swirling. On the pitch-black ground, dozens of ‘meat grinders’ seemed to spin, shredding any creature caught inside.
Standing on the scorched earth, Leon gazed deeply at the tornadoes spinning ahead.
“Lord Prometheus, I’ll need you to act first—draw the Skeleton King over, and if possible, use Holy Light’s Descent to seal off an area. Just buy me enough time to snatch the Plague Heart from the Skeleton King.”
Prometheus nodded solemnly.
A portal appeared before them. One after another, they stepped inside and vanished. Hundreds of kilometers away, above the undead sea, a silver gate slowly opened.
Prometheus stepped out, gripping his Holy Light staff. As he emerged, the sky seemed to birth a small sun—Holy Light spread rapidly, illuminating hundreds of kilometers around.
The undead sea on the ground was suddenly bathed in Holy Light. Countless undead howled in agony. Any undead below Level Twenty couldn’t resist—black smoke poured from their bodies as if they were being burned by flames. Within seconds, they collapsed, their bodies scorched as if by fire.
Skeleton undead shattered, turning into piles of black bone fragments. Zombies were reduced to ashes, leaving only black bones. Ghosts were simply purified and vanished.
Just by releasing Holy Light, Prometheus wiped out all undead below Level Twenty in a radius of hundreds of kilometers. Those between Level Twenty and Thirty lasted a bit longer, but in less than ten seconds, even they began to die under the radiance.
Leon stepped out of the portal, watching Prometheus shine like a small sun. He couldn’t help but marvel—a Lightbearer Mage truly is the nemesis of the undead. Simply releasing Holy Light inflicted terrifying damage.
No spells needed—most undead were wiped out. In the undead sea, over ninety percent were below Level Thirty; low-level undead made up the vast majority.
To kill an undead below Level Twenty, a fire mage only needs a fireball, but at least they have to cast spells. If there are millions, tens of millions, or even billions of undead, an ice mage would run out of mana before finishing them all—even if they’re all low-level.
But for a Lightbearer Mage, simply radiating Holy Light is enough. The sheer number of low-level undead is meaningless—they’re all purified with ease.
Prometheus floated in midair, his mana transformed into Holy Light, pouring down freely. Within the illuminated area, undead were continuously purified. Outside the Holy Light’s reach, hordes of undead frantically rushed in, but once they entered, they were all cleansed—even those above Level Thirty couldn’t last more than a few minutes before being completely purified.