Apocalypse Forecast

In the dim hall, countless translucent faces hovered within the alchemy matrix above the ceiling, where the souls of the deceased were refitted with source substance and records to form nearly perfect pseudo spirit body replicas.

At this moment, countless voices continuously echoed by He Di’s ears.

"Your progress has been slow."

"When will it end if it keeps going like this?"

"Changes must be made."

"Otherwise, we will suffocate to death."

"I said earlier, we should use Rome’s mystical rituals, and the outdated Greek ones are useless."

"Regretting now won’t help and will only increase internal chaos, our talents are no match for Publius."

"But Publius has no strength left... blood, spirit, shell, and bones, after so many fractures, does he really still possess his original talent?"

"If I may say, I think creating gods is idiotic, you guys should try my project instead..."

"Ha? An artificial Sea of Silver is uncontrollable, it is less meaningful than recreating the remaining evils of the world."

"Talk about this and I won’t feel tired anymore..."

"Enough!"

A dignified pseudo spirit interrupted the useless quarrels and complaints.

The source substance flowing among the spirit body replicas swiftly transmitted the conclusions of their thoughts, the sparks of thought clashed and rubbed against each other, ultimately summarizing a conclusion that everyone recognized.

The dignified face of the previous generation chief descended, looking down upon He Di with a cold expression: "Losing initiative is equivalent to awaiting death, He Di, you are the chief, you must take action."

No resentment or spite after suffering poison and murder.

Nor any brainwashing or modification, much less ravaging or torment.

These souls, which ’revived’ through phenomena after death, nonchalantly provided wisdom and reference to the murderer who killed them, not even caring that they were dead.

Even knowing He Di was a follower of the Piper didn’t matter.

The alchemist’s instinct had long suppressed everything, curiosity, research desire, and uncontrollable exploratory impulse, these critical parts comprising a soul were truly replicated.

Unlike those mediocre people who remain impure till death, these zealous seekers of knowledge accepted their death in less than a few minutes, leaving behind minor regrets, and willingly continued to serve the murderer.

Without reservation.

They just wanted to see results, even if this self-awareness was false, they still wanted to satisfy this irreparable impulse.

Reality has already proven that Publius’s talents are far above theirs.

Since the existence of a great grandmaster is beyond what these defectives can rival, why not accept one’s failure, conform to change, and explore realms higher and further?

They don’t care about others’ lives, and not much about their own life either.

Besides, it’s just they can’t eat, not that they can’t continue research, even after death chasing new wisdom...

Isn’t that also quite good?

"Before figuring out our opponent, I don’t like acting recklessly."

He Di shook his head, "The faster you move, the faster you die. In the end, isn’t it your arrogant hubris that led to failure? Haven’t learned to draw lessons yet?"

His fingers tapped the armrest of the chair, pondering, he slowly said: "That warrior from the Astronomical Society has never been intimidating. Mikhail’s projection is merely superficial, far from reach, he can only maintain that area, and is utterly incapable in others, don’t be fooled.

The real threat has never been Mikhail but the person behind Mikhail..."

He paused, lifted his gaze, and queried, "In this era, who can launch a [God Confrontation] besides gods?"

"Thirty percent possibility it is Mikhail, forty percent is an unknown Miracle Imprint, nineteen percent from Helios... among them, the possibility of an actual god descending here is less than one percent."

The previous generation chief quickly arrived at the most objective conclusion: "Gods repel each other, He Di, just as two stars won’t easily approach.

After Apollo’s Ritual of God Making is activated, no other god could possibly enter Helios—rather, Publius’s recreation of divine nature was too successful, leading to it being utilized by the opponent."

The spokesperson of the deceased solemnly warned: "It has already reached the most dangerous time, a response must be made."

"I know."

He Di tapped the armrest, calmly saying: "I know."

At this moment, in the holy temple belonging to Hades, the King of the Underworld, under the watchful eyes of countless souls, the massive matrix at the center of the hall lit up once more.

After offering a vast number of sacrifices and presenting countless offerings, the liquid-like flowing gold rose from the cauldron, breaking through the blood, and transformed into a descending embryo.

Endless dark sediment emerged from within it.

Then, a gaunt and towering figure floated up from it, covered entirely in black, shrouded in layers of golden accessories, adorned with green gold and rubies, the upright eyes slowly lifted.

Sniffing the air’s scent, frowning with displeasure.

"The stench of an alchemist..."

The crowned figure from Hell lifted his gaze, looked upwards at He Di, mockingly: "Are you the contractor? Do you expect to bind me with this thing?"

He slightly parted his lips, gently blowing a breath, instantly, the wind of time’s decay broke through layers of barriers, turning into a torrent, rushing forward.

Soon, it faded before He Di’s scepter.

"The witness of the contract is the one who blows the sound of truth—" He Di asked emotionlessly: "Do you dare offend His majesty?"

"I have no second master, clown, mind your words!" The animosity in the crowned figure’s beastly narrow pupils gleamed coldly: "I serve only the Lord of All Decay, the immortal ’Withered King’!"

"This is also with the Withered King’s permission!"

He Di raised the scepter again, pointing it at his face: "Sumerian underworld demon, solidified evil spirit—betrayer Gala! I command you by your name, submit to me—"

He paused, revealing a malicious smile: "Or, you can make another choice."

Under the contract’s constraint, the ancient solidifier fell silent, the strange luster flowing on the golden adornments revealed countless phantoms, all twisted faces of the dead.

After a long time, he slowly looked behind him.

In the darkness behind him, a pale face emerged.

Shrouded under jet-black veils, was an exquisite and beautiful face that, however, was utterly lifeless.

For the stunning beauty before him, Gala had no sense of appreciation, instead filled with disgust toward those hollow eyes.

A lie, a false bubble, just like all the promises of the clowns, devoid of any reality, and yet... filled with threats and malice.

"I will abide by the contract, Alchemist."

Gala withdrew his gaze, choosing to adhere to the authority of the supreme: "Give me weapons, give me blood, give me war... Finally, keep your puppets away from me."

"Then, happy cooperation."

He Di raised his hand, once again establishing an irresistible contract.

As the darkness dissipated, countless massive shadows emerged like a tide from the end of the hall, crimson eyes raised, eager and impatient.

"I’ve prepared the war you wanted, Gala."

He Di smiled, informing this loyal owner of the great mob:

"—Learn to get along well with [Pandora] before the war ends."

.

.

Meanwhile, in another grand hall, the visitor put down his teacup and picked up his cigar again: "I always feel Garand you’re in big trouble."

"It’s none of your business, Iz Hector."

In front of him, the great grandmaster enveloped in invisible flames said coldly: "You only need to do what you have to, the rest is not your concern."

"Ah-ha, now even little Garand looks down on me?" Iz scratched his head awkwardly, full of concern: "Aren’t I here to care about the health of the juniors? Can your body still handle the troublesome ailment of the blood fever?"

"More than enough."

Garand lowered his eyes, staring at the hot blood flowing from his fingertips.

Droplets of blood fell to the ground, scorching marks into it.

"Well, then I won’t disturb you."

Iz raised his hand, put on his hat, stood up and patted his pants, politely saying goodbye: "For treating me to tea, how about I give you a prophecy?"

"Not interested." Garand replied indifferently: "No matter what happens, it’s all part of fate, isn’t it?"

"You really resemble Publius." Iz laughed.

"Who says otherwise?"

Garand withdrew his gaze.

Iz Hector, the near-god from America, the high priest inheriting noble blood and holy intention, was already nowhere to be seen.

In the silence, the dazed Rachelle awoke from his stupor, opening his eyes.

"What happened?" he asked, puzzled.

"Nothing happened."

Garand gazed into the distant mist, watching the sun-flaming tower, as if he could glimpse the god embryo being nurtured within.

The prototype of the god also stared back at him.

Thus, his gaze gradually turned cold.

Making the hot blood run cold.

.

.

Four hours later, Huai Shi’s movements suddenly paused while drinking, playing cards, and singing.

Pulled by invisible forces to the top of the Eternal Frozen Heart.

Holding the cup in confusion, sitting on the Sun Caster’s seat.

Only then realizing he was so caught up in eating, drinking, and partying that he hadn’t noticed the countdown had ended.

Before he could react, a new round of confrontation began.

The roar erupted again from the mist, and a ferocious outline emerged before Huai Shi.

Surrounded by multicolored RGB lights, a tower resembling an evil dragon rose from the ground, and the long-disappeared Broken Dog appeared before him.

"Hmm?!"

Huai Shi was stunned for a moment, not expecting he would be fighting himself this time?

Then, he saw countless intersecting paths extending out of the mist, covering the entire battlefield.

Hundreds of towering and magnificent bronze mirrors stood amidst them, slowly rotating, reflecting the complex and ever-changing reflections, turning the chaotic and bizarre paths into a jumbled wool-like deadlock.

Just looking was dizzying, those junctions overlapping to form a strange labyrinth.

No one could find its beginning or end.

And the rules of this venue were bizarre beyond belief, completely incomprehensible.

——[Gains and Losses Reversed]

What is this rule?

Does it restrict alchemy?

Huai Shi looked up in confusion, gazing across.

Then, he saw himself sitting on the Sun Caster’s seat.

’Huai Shi’ exposed a charmingly arrogant smile.

Saliva and tongue flung out together from the mouth corner...

Flowing on the ground.