Apocalypse Forecast

Half an hour ago, at the other end of Helios, the ethereal giant tower woven by light and the blood-colored bone tower stood opposite each other.

Just like the war and confrontation between gods and demons.

A shabby man leaned back in his chair, drinking wine, a representation of one of Publius’s split entities, signifying the existence of the Great Grandmaster’s Soul.

And right across from him was He Di, with a calm expression.

There was no flaring tension.

No killing intent between them.

"You’re fast, He Di, it seems that group of third-rate goods isn’t entirely useless."

The drinking Alchemist casually evaluated his former colleagues, high above, yet without ridicule or arrogance.

Just calmly stating the truth.

Even the semi-transparent souls beside He Di did not have any objections.

Those who play with words are destined to never grasp the true essence of Alchemy. Alchemists who have reached this level are clearly aware of their own limits.

To the Great Grandmaster, they are no different from trash.

There’s no reason to be outraged over a truth spoken.

The dead are dead.

With their abilities, even when gathering all their wisdom, this is the limit they could reach—under the support of Hades’s Temple, they struggled to interfere with the Mystic Ritual of the God Confrontation, barely advancing the confrontation between He Di and Publius by ten rounds.

And this was with Publius’s active cooperation.

"Be patient, Publius," He Di said, "To achieve something, it always takes some time."

As his words fell, the gate beneath the tower rumbled open.

Amidst the surging blood, a figure draped in luxurious golden adornments slowly emerged, with two curved sickle blades at the waist, blood-red eyes glinting at the opponent ahead.

At the other end of the battlefield, a silent, towering Giant.

Hercules.

The clash of gold and iron erupted suddenly, sparks leaped out from the void, and the high-pitched steel screech spread instantly.

A sickle blade, drawn from Gala’s hand at some unknown moment, while Hercules remained unmoved, simply observing the provocative opponent.

Silently, a notch appeared on the sickle blade, causing Gala’s eyes to darken.

Sheathed her weapon.

Uttered a disgruntled spit, "God-made second-rate goods, truly useless."

Uncertain if referring to her weapon or the opponent.

Even though forewarned by He Di, she still defied taboos, provoking the enemy, only to return empty-handed, leaving the death follower, engulfed in slaughter and bloodlust, exceptionally displeased.

Unable to revel in a thorough slaughter.

Truly unsatisfying.

Alchemist, these things, ha...

In silence, she slowly moved aside, revealing the darkness behind.

In that darkness, surrounded by countless monsters, a Teenage Girl veiled in black stood quietly, silently awaiting.

Gala beckoned, signaling the puppet with a mere shell to advance, then grabbing her arm, stepped forward.

Pushed her to the center of the scene.

"Get on with it," Gala impatiently urged the opposite party.

Hercules raised his head, glanced upward, and upon receiving Publius’s waving signal, got up leisurely, unstrapped his weapons and shield, discarding them on the ground.

Leaving only a black box.

Step by step, he advanced.

The eerie aura hidden within the box was so dense.

Even just existing caused the surroundings to distort, the darkness writhing, coiling around it, transforming into a mist drifting with the wind.

From the dark mist, laughter and weeping akin to auditory hallucinations echoed.

Brimming with the aura of all disasters and chaos in the world.

Gala’s eye twitched, seemingly recognizing it, displeasedly retreating a step, then another, pinching her nose, unable to bear the ’stench’ left by the gods.

So it went, Hercules approached step by step, placing the little box into Pandora’s hands.

Instantly, all anomalies vanished.

As though everything just now was an illusion, never existing.

Yet the Teenage Girl holding the box clearly became vibrant, like she was infused with a hint of life.

Though merely a creation of Alchemists, a hollow shell inscribed with Miracle Imprints, yet as the eyes beneath the black veil glanced around, they radiated an inexplicable brilliance.

So enticing.

"Open it, [Pandora]."

He Di’s eyes lowered, a fervent glow emerging in the eyes: "Offer this unique sacrifice to the gods observing here."

He said, "This is your fate—"

In that instant, under the command and manipulation of the Alchemy ritual, the two distinct Miracle Imprints crafted by Great Grandmaster Publius and Helios’s leader He Di merged into one!

The humanoid relic named Pandora and the box named disaster fused, creating a terrifying tide that reverses trends and overturns all rules.

From beneath the veil, a piercing scream suddenly sounded.

Like a stillborn child and a woman in labor, it contained pain and despair, as if it were physically ravaging every inch of eardrum, causing Hercules to retreat step by step, unable to resist the soul poison so rich in that sound!

The poison called ’Hope’!

At this moment, two streams of blood tears flowed from Pandora’s eyes, and in her hands, that black box disintegrated piece by piece.

The taboo sealed in darkness burst forth.

It was not a disaster, nor fear, but a pure golden light.

So radiant, so magnificent, as if all the world’s beauty, so desirable, that just by looking at it, one would want to rush forward recklessly, unable to curb one’s greed.

Wanting to acquire, wanting to obtain.

It was an apple seemingly carved from gold!

At this moment, with Pandora’s action, terrifying flames rose from her body, burning every inch of her flesh and blood without a trace, yet she seemed not to feel the pain.

From behind the burning black veil emerged the first smile since her birth.

So joyful, yet so malicious.

——Revenge against those high and mighty Masters!

She finally made a sound, a gentle voice echoing over Helios, resonating in every space, reverberating in every temple, re-enacting the prologue that once caused chaos among the divine and humans!

"With this humble offering, presented to the most beautiful goddess—"

At that instant, Pandora burned out completely.

Replaced by the terrifying bright light emanating from the golden apple, soaring into the sky, tearing all mystic rituals apart, enveloping the entire Helios.

It caused an upheaval that overturned the God Confrontation completely!

The love and grudge among the gods once again played out.

Countless mist and walls vanished with a roar, and the bells in all temples rang once more. The divine symbols originally coexisting harmoniously on Olympus suddenly became distant and cold.

Balance was broken.

Under the once curse!

Hera, Hestia, Demeter, Athena, Aphrodite, Artemis, Persephone, Hecate... even the Three Graces, the nine Muses, and all the goddesses once on Olympus were driven to a primal revolt by the allure of this golden apple.

Attacking each other, rejecting one another, exhausting all strategies, just to monopolize the meaningless radiant light.

This is the disaster etched in history, even destined by fate long ago, the spark igniting a massive war that engulfed the entire Mediterranean world.

Reenacted after a century, in the vast space again!

After long planning and brewing, Grandmaster Pobrus finally launched a counterattack against the invaders—in an instant, the God Confrontation was effortlessly broken!

"Then, let us issue a challenge to the gods once more—"

In the tower of light, the divine prototype running amidst the intense bright light raised its eyes and murmured heavily: "Just like a hundred years ago... just like two hundred years ago!"

After countless failures and setbacks, enduring long imprisonment and torment, suffering endless humiliation and compromise, once again, aiming at the unreachable realm, make an onslaught!

This is the destiny and dream passed down by countless alchemists for hundreds of years.

"One day, I will grasp the truth and be above the gods..."

At this moment, with his words, a bloody hand tore through the mystic ritual of the God Confrontation, reaching towards the sun wheel on the Sky Dome once again.

And all confrontations came to a halt.

Participants looked at each other in confusion, not knowing what had happened, only seeing the blood winding toward the tower of light.

Among them was Huai Shi, unknowingly returning to human form.

"Mother, Tong Ji, come out and see God!"

But Tong Ji did not look.

Somehow, she had already disappeared without a trace.

As if she had fallen into another sudden dreamland.

She did not resist but complied with the call of that will, traversing through ancient times and arriving at a glorious hall.

When she raised her eyes again, she was sitting in the center of a long table, like an unexpected guest at an exuberant banquet, making the original laughter and joy vanish.

"Oh dear, long time no see, everyone."

Tong Ji raised her eyes, surveying those blurred figures, finally looking at the clearest elder at the top, smiling: "How’s everyone doing?"

At this moment, the burly elder, whose beard and hair were all white, raised his wine glass nonchalantly and drank it all down.

"Already eradicated relics dead for who knows how many years, what’s good or bad about that?"

The remnant once named ’Zeus’ calmly put down the glass, "Seeing the old enemies still energetically dancing before our graves, that stirs mixed feelings more."

"Really, can’t people be more magnanimous after death?" Tong Ji casually waved her hand and looked around: "Won’t you give me a glass? So cold and distant."

"This is an Olympus banquet not welcoming outsiders."

"It doesn’t matter, I brought my own."

Tong Ji flipped her hand, revealing a teacup with a pink pig head printed on it, proudly flaunting it: "My contractor bought it for me, jealous?"

For an instant, the eyes of those blurred figures became strange.

As if seeing a ghost.

Contractor?

You?

Are you serious?