Chapter 1465
It took a full ten minutes before the Sandworm finally stopped struggling. Thorned vines bearing blood-red blossoms wriggled out from its mouth, only to wither away almost instantly.
Outwardly, the Sandworm looked unchanged, but inside it was hollow—its blood and everything else devoured as nourishment for the Bloodvine. Once the nutrients were spent, the Bloodvine began to wither, and here, it faded to ash in mere seconds.
Leon stepped over the Sandworm's corpse, quickening his pace. Night was almost upon him.
Today was considered decent weather; there were only a few visible tornadoes during daylight, easy enough to avoid if you kept your distance. The only real dangers were the quicksand and the Sandworms.
But at night, nothing survives in the desert except the Sandworms. Their thick, rock-like hides are nature’s answer to the brutal nighttime cold.
To speed up, Leon cast an acceleration spell, burning through a quarter of his mana. He followed it up with a heightened perception spell, just in case something nasty decided to show up.
After half an hour of sprinting, he could see the glow of the Sanctuary Tower in the distance. Even from here, the spire at the very top—over a thousand meters high—shone with a waning radiance, like a lighthouse in the night.
No matter how dim or faded, in the apocalypse, that light was the last hope.
The sky changed in an instant, darkness falling fast. The burning taste in the air vanished, replaced by something almost normal—briefly. Within three minutes, a chilling, sinister cold seeped in, and every breath felt like shards of ice scraping his throat.
As the minutes ticked by, the chilling, sinister cold only grew stronger. Leon knew he had fifteen minutes at most—after that, it would be impossible to survive outside Heather City. Anyone not back by then, whether killed by Sandworms or not, would freeze to death beyond the walls.
In the apocalypse, even a full-fledged mage was considered one of the strongest around—especially now, in these final days. Mage apprentices were practically extinct, and Heather City's population had dwindled to the point where you could count them without breaking a sweat.
By the time the true apocalypse descended, Heather City had become desolate—barely anyone left alive. And those who survived had lost even the will to keep going.
In an age where a true mage was considered a top-tier powerhouse, this chilling, haunted cold could kill you in an instant. By the dead of night, the temperature rivaled the worst extremes found in the Frost Elemental Plane.
No mage apprentice or even a mage could withstand this cold—not to mention the Sandworms lurking outside. If you were still out there before total darkness fell, you were either dead already or about to be.
Leon sprinted toward Heather City, the air growing colder with every step. This sinister chill wasn’t just the absence of warmth—it felt like a giant, icy maw, hungry to swallow every last living thing.
As Heather City came into view, Leon spotted a scrawny young man, drenched in blood and pale as a ghost, racing desperately for the city. Behind him, a ten-meter-long Sandworm was hot on his heels.
There were less than three thousand meters left to Heather City, but the youth was about to be caught. Even if the Sandworm didn’t kill him, wasting precious time meant missing the last sliver of safety—and the night’s cold would sap his strength, leaving him to die in the Sandworm’s jaws anyway.
The young man spotted Leon and looked at him like he was a lifeline, shouting in terror.
"Leon, help me! Please—save me!"
The young man’s face was twisted with terror and pleading. Even injured, he clung to a chunk of blood-soaked flesh strapped to his back—his prize from today’s hunt. He’d gotten lucky, found half a Sandworm’s corpse left over from a fight, and managed to carve out the only edible piece. That meat could keep him going for days, maybe even let him train his magic in peace for a whole week, boosting his strength.
With strength comes easier hunts, more time saved, and even more time to get stronger—by siphoning mana from the Voidstorm...
Leon glanced at the young man, absently touching the left side of his neck. Sprinting onward, he chanted a spell and hurled a Quicksand Trap in the youth’s path.
The young man never saw it coming. By the time he noticed, it was too late—he stepped right into the Quicksand Trap. It was barely half a meter deep, nowhere near enough to bury a person, but Leon had expanded its range threefold, covering a full ten meters. There was no way the youth could dodge it.
The moment his foot sank into the trap, all hope vanished from his face. In those precious seconds lost, the Sandworm caught up, biting off his leg in a single snap. Blood sprayed out, but before it could hit the ground, it froze into crimson ice pellets.
"Leon, I curse you! Curse you to burn in the flames of the apocalypse when the end finally comes... Ah—!"
Leon dashed through the final stretch and entered Heather City. Once inside, the glow of the Sanctuary Tower enveloped him, and the chilling cold outside felt worlds away. Glancing back at the youth being devoured by the Sandworm, Leon’s face darkened.
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Leon still remembered the guy’s name: George. He’d met him in the second year after the apocalypse began—a Level Five mage apprentice, which was already a step above the lowest rung in Heather City. Back then, Leon himself had only been Level Three.
After surviving the initial hardships, he’d finally become a mage apprentice. Every day, during those precious three minutes of calm between day and night, he’d devour the mana bursting out of the Voidstorm—an experience no normal person could endure.
Countless people in Heather City had given up, unable to endure that kind of agony. No one even bothered to keep track anymore. The mana in the Voidstorm was wild and chaotic—swallowing it before taming it felt like knives tearing through your insides.
Leon had arrived from somewhere else, but nobody cared how he got here, or even noticed how different he looked. Nobody had the time to care—not even about whether Leon was human.
By the final days of the Northend World, not even the lowest Abyssal Imps wanted to come here. The undead avoided it too—who would bother with anything else?
Leon met George when he’d reached the peak of Level Three mage apprentice. They’d teamed up as a hunting party.
That scene just now—it had happened before. Leon had been scavenging for parts outside Heather City, hoping to cobble together some basic tools. Even if he couldn’t make an Engineering Golem, anything he could operate by hand would help.
Same time, same quiet. George was injured, carrying a chunk of edible flesh, chased by a Sandworm as the night began to fall.
He’d sought Leon’s help, but ended up screwing him over—almost got Leon killed less than a thousand meters from Heather City. Before Leon could get revenge, George left again and never came back...
Now, with history repeating itself, Leon didn’t hesitate to let him die.
Some things, even if you know they're fake—even if this world is fake—are just too hard to swallow. The main thing is, here he’s only got his mage powers; if he dies here, he’s really dead.
Back when he first arrived in the apocalypse of Northend World, he’d been just an ordinary guy. Surviving here was harder than crossing the endless desert. He’d suffered so much, endured so many hardships—Leon didn’t even want to remember it.
He’d spent sleepless nights poring over spellbooks and learning the language. In a world of magic, knowledge was power. That’s how he barely managed to survive—breathing in the harsh air, using the Void Furnace Codex, and devouring mana as chaotic as shards of glass.
After becoming a mage apprentice, the first time he was almost killed by another human was right here...
Leon entered Heather City and glanced back at George, whose body had been bitten in half by the Sandworm, clinging to life with nothing but hatred on his face. Leon’s expression remained calm.
The curses he muttered were exactly the same as before, but this time, the outcome was completely different.
This is a world shaped by memory—a Mindscape built from Leon’s recollections. But events don’t always play out exactly as he remembers. The Mindscape is only the foundation; how things unfold, what appears, most of it matches his memories, but not everything is the same.
Leon had seen it before, though never clearly. But it didn’t matter—this was Heather City!
Inside Heather City, everything was just as he remembered. Most people on the streets looked numb, but those just returning wore a hint of relief—grateful to have made it back at the last moment.
Looking out past Heather City’s walls, everything was covered in black ice and snow. Snowflakes the size of a human palm spun down from the sky like icy blades, their slicing sound weaving a mournful symphony.