Chapter 1245
The power of the two collided on either side of the shimmering membrane. Instantly, the alchemical array’s film began to ripple violently. Three seconds later, it was like a bubble being ruthlessly squeezed by a giant’s hand—bursting apart with a thunderous crack.
At that moment, both unleashed their full strength. Their auras clashed in the center, lightning crackling through the void. It was like two true masters exchanging spells—sparks flew and the air snapped with relentless energy.
The instant he saw the Sky Rank Sword Saint—face chiseled as if carved from stone, eyes blazing with terrifying brilliance—Leon’s pupils contracted. A chilling sense of mortal danger surged through him; every fiber of his being, even his magic and soul, screamed a warning. It was the kind of feeling that only surfaced when death was near.
Without hesitation, Leon erupted with everything he had.
With the Death Tome’s power, the Doombringer Staff’s might, and even the force of the Balance Law, Leon unleashed it all. He floated into the air, where an ancient, dark-bronze scale materialized beneath his feet. The Arcane Wheel and Spellbook of Ages settled onto the two pans of the balance.
Behind him, a hundred-meter-tall violet dragon avatar embraced a spectral wheel. Around his body, runic shields transformed into a transparent membrane, enveloping Leon in shimmering protection.
Violent mana surged like a tidal wave, pouring out in full force. The liquid magic rained down around Leon, saturating the air so thickly with power it was almost suffocating.
Across from him, Raymond let out a low growl. His body seemed to stretch taller in an instant—over two meters now—while he gripped a narrow sword barely one-point-six meters long. The mismatch was jarring; only sword apprentices barely in their teens would wield such a short, slender blade.
But right now, Leon’s attention was locked on that pitch-black, utterly lusterless narrow sword. The source of the deadly threat came from this blade, which seemed to radiate no aura at all.
The deathly aura radiating from the sword seemed to thrum with a terrifying vitality, yet even the dazzling glow of its battle aura paled beside the lethal allure of that unremarkable narrow blade.
Leon watched Raymond with a grave expression, the flames of battle burning fiercely in his eyes.
There was actually another living person here, and so powerful—Skyblade Sword Saint, second rank. The sense of danger he gave off even surpassed that cursed dark sorcerer I met before. Is this guy the guardian of these ruins?
Raymond’s eyes flickered, his fighting spirit boiling over. He didn’t think too much—he simply assumed Leon was the guardian of the ruins.
In the blink of an eye, both moved at once. The Doombringer Staff in Leon’s hand surged with dense runic patterns; behind him, the phantom of the Arcane Wheel spun rapidly, unleashing a torrent of runes like a flood.
A line of twelve elemental vortexes arced across the sky. Inside each swirling mass, spells from all four elements erupted together, twisting and merging into a horizontal tornado—a storm a hundred meters wide—hurtling toward Raymond.
Anderfa wielded the Arcane Wheel, conjuring an elemental storm, while Theodorus commanded the Spellbook of Ages, unleashing a torrent of flames.
The four-elemental spellstorm, the river of fire, the pure elemental tempest—all twisted and churned in wild fusion, finally merging into a cataclysmic Destruction Storm that swept toward Raymond as if to annihilate the world itself.
Faced with this terrifying, chaotic fusion storm, Raymond’s fighting spirit surged. Deathly aura erupted from his body, swelling to its peak—his gray battle aura shone like a miniature sun.
Raymond stepped forward, gripping his black sword in one hand. With a subtle flick of his wrist, dozens of gray battle aura blades shot forth, as if his arm hadn’t moved at all.
These gray blades of battle aura were just over a meter thick, shooting out like gray arrows—one leading the charge, spinning rapidly, followed by three in the second row, five in the third, seven in the fourth...
All the blades spun together, forming a massive gray pillar that tore through the air and drove straight into Leon’s fused Destruction Storm.
The deathly aura radiating from those blades infected everything it touched, spreading like a plague. The vibrant Destruction Storm, once ablaze with color, turned gray as it was torn apart by the battle aura.
It was as if all the magic and elemental energy within had been corrupted by the dead silence, drained of vitality—everything died. The wild elemental power instantly transformed into lifeless, inert deathly elements.
The elemental activity in the surroundings plummeted in an instant. Each blade of battle aura pierced the Destruction Storm like a hot knife through cold butter—heat swiftly consumed, ice continually melted.
A single gray blade led the way, the others close behind, expending very little energy as they tore through a hundred meters of storm. By the time the Destruction Storm was pierced, three deathly blades remained, shooting straight at Leon.
The remnants of the Destruction Storm, still more than half intact, crashed down on Raymond.
Even weakened, the residual power of the Destruction Storm was more than most first-rank Skyblade Sword Saints could withstand. Yet Raymond, gripping his black sword in one hand, charged straight into the storm.
The wild elemental power parted before his black sword as if a red-hot blade sliced through butter. Raymond emerged from the heart of the Destruction Storm, sword raised, rushing toward Leon.
Leon’s eyes widened in shock. This guy’s battle aura was truly bizarre—he could slice through a Destruction Storm made of elemental force as if it were nothing.