"Eyes of Petrification!"
From Leylin's amber vertical pupils, two beams of gray, calcifying light erupted, lashing out like whips to catch the retreating Gargamel.
"ARGH!" The ancient Magus let out a blood-curdling scream, clutching at his face. A layer of ashen, stony skin began to crawl across his features, turning flesh to brittle rock.
The innate spells of a Rank 2 Warlock were far more potent than those of a standard Magus. Furthermore, Leylin's existing Rank 1 abilities had received a monumental surge in power; even a Rank 2 Magus in top condition would struggle to resist, let alone a weakened shadow like Gargamel.
Leylin knew his prey wouldn't die easily. There was no trace of emotion in his ruby-red eyes as he locked onto his target. His muscles began to bulge with unnatural force, the sound of his joints popping echoing through the hall like a volley of gunfire. A scorching, vile heat began to radiate from his skin, saturating the air with the scent of ozone and ancient blood.
The combined synergy of his Strength, Agility, and Innate Spells was staggering. Leylin pushed his physical limits to the absolute extreme; his blood roared through his veins with the sound of a river, and a humongous, stifling aura erupted from him.
The pressure was so immense that Gargamel's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. Leylin was pulling no punches—he intended to erase this threat entirely.
Boom!
Leylin's fist slammed into Gargamel's chest, the impact sounding like a siege engine hitting a stone wall. The Magus was launched across the hall, trailing a spray of dark blood as he plowed through the mountain of corpses. Shattered bones flew in every direction, pulverized under the shockwave.
Leylin leaped, his powerful legs propelling him nearly to the high ceiling. With a beastly shriek, he plummeted like a falling meteor, his strike aimed directly at the epicenter of the crater where Gargamel lay.
"You...! I will make you pay!" Gargamel howled like a cornered animal. "Don't think this is over! I am not someone a mere brat like you can kill!"
Leylin's response was a silent, merciless blow. Without missing a beat, he targeted the head. His fist penetrated through Gargamel's skull with a sickening crunch.
Bang!
The head exploded like a ripened fruit. Red and white cerebrospinal fluid, mixed with dark ichor, splattered across the floor.
Boom!
The entire room buckled under the sheer pressure of the collision. The floor collapsed into a network of deep ravines, the vibrations mimicking a localized earthquake. The devastation was absolute; the force of the strike had crossed the threshold, rivaling the destructive output of a Rank 3 spell.
Dust and bone fragments settled slowly. Leylin rose from the wreckage, his breath coming in ragged draws. He looked weary; the toll of maintaining the Rampage state and channeling such monstrous power was finally catching up to him.
He glanced at his right arm. It was a ruin of mangled flesh—fractures and contusions marred the skin, and all twenty-seven joints in his hand were dislocated or separated. Yet, to a Warlock with his level of vitality, it was a minor inconvenience.
With a sharp jerk, he snapped the bones back into alignment. The internal healing began instantly, though his overall exhaustion meant it would take time to fully knit.
His clothes had been reduced to scorched rags.
Shaking his head at his disheveled state, Leylin traced a quick rune in the air.
"Umbra Weave," he muttered. Darkness elemental particles swirled around him, coalescing into threads of shadow that knit themselves together. In seconds, a sleek, floor-length robe manifested out of the void, its fabric possessing a liquid-like luster that seemed to drink the light around it.
Leylin then turned his focus inward to his Sea of Consciousness. "A.I. Chip, activate Soulbound Devourer. Bind Gargamel's soul."
[Beep! Soulbound Devourer initiated. Attempting to anchor Rank 2 soul...]
Inside the dark expanse of Leylin's soul-space, the tattered spirit of Gargamel appeared, bound by glowing ethereal chains. However, the ancient Magus was far from submissive.
The astral spirit roared, thrashing against the restraints with a ferocity that caused Leylin's vision to blur with pain.
Leylin's brow furrowed as he commanded the Chip to tighten the technical parameters of the bind, but the resistance was too great.
Suddenly, a violent tremor shook his mind. Rather than be enslaved, Gargamel's soul began to glow with a suicidal brilliance.
Boom! The spirit voluntarily detonated, dissipating into raw, chaotic energy fragments.
Leylin staggered, clutching his head as sharp stabs of agony lanced through his brain. It was a contingency he hadn't seen coming—the pride of an ancient entity refusing to be a slave.
[Beep! Alert: Host has suffered Grade 3 Soul Contusion. Target soul has self-destructed to avoid binding. Residual soul fragments detected. Adjusting to stabilize...]
Leylin wiped a trickle of blood from his nose. Even in death, the old dog was a menace. "A.I. Chip, don't let the energy go to waste. Devour the remnants."
[[Beep! Remnant energy from a Rank 2 Magus devoured. Strength increased by 2.6, Agility by 2.7, Vitality by 1.9, Spiritual Force by 24.7.]
[Beep! Leylin Farlier. Rank 2 Warlock (Bloodline: Giant Kemoyin Serpent) / Saint Knight. Summon—Black Horrall Snake, Dragon Crown Nighthawk. Strength: 34.7, Agility: 30.1, Vitality: 38.2, Spiritual Force: 157.0, Magic Power: 157. (Note: Magic Power is now synchronized with Spiritual Force).]
Groan.
"I am too tired for any more surprises," Leylin thought, the mental and physical drain weighing on him like lead. "Let's take what's valuable and get out of here."
He reached into his soul-space and summoned a loyal servant. With a screech that echoed through the ruins, the Dragon Crown Nighthawk appeared.
It was a magnificent, predatory bird the size of a small carriage, its feathers a steely black and its neck a stark, blood-red. A beautiful, crown-shaped bone protruded from its head.
Leylin had harvested this spirit from a mount Lancey had purchased from the Four Seasons Garden's resource point; now, it was his perfect, tireless transport.
The Nighthawk spread its wings, kicking up a dust tornado as Leylin climbed onto its back. He had already swept the laboratory for research journals and soul-related artifacts, filling his storage.
Swish!
The Nighthawk blurred through the metal tunnels. Reaching a dead-end, Leylin leaped down and rapped on specific nodes in the wall. With a deafening mechanical groan, the metal split to reveal a silver passage marked in ancient Byron: Emergency Exit – Lab Personnel Only.
Leylin's ruby eyes flashed. He moved with purpose until the A.I. Chip chimed.
[Beep! Discovered hidden compartment. Not recorded in previous maps. Proceed?]
Leylin smiled thinly. He sprinted toward a section of the silver wall that suddenly slid open. Inside was a cramped room, just a few square meters, centered around an ancient black stone spell formation surrounded by tall obelisks.
Slumped against one obelisk was a corpse in a delicately embroidered black gown—a garment that still shimmered with luxury despite the passage of centuries.
"Found you," Leylin whispered. This was the true prize.
"A.I. Chip, record the spell formation and every rune."
While the Chip worked, Leylin rifled through the corpse's belongings, retrieving a few miscellaneous artifacts and a tattered parchment diary.
[Beep! Formation geometry and runes recorded.]
Without a moment's delay, Leylin exited the compartment and struck a hidden switch. The silver door hissed shut, and a blinding white light filled the passage behind him—a self-destruct or purging mechanism he had triggered to cover his tracks.
Returning to the hall with the painting, he camouflaged the entrance and mounted his Nighthawk once more.
A black shadow trail marked his exit as he soared toward his base. His speed was phenomenal; to any observer, he would be nothing more than a trick of the light—a ghost passing through the darkness.