The shadowy order covering his body spread and enveloped the crown, inlaid with many dark gems, in his hand. With the help of the distorted rules within the "No. 1 Ruin", George III reinforced and extended the seal left by Adam.
Given his current state, the most feasible way to "accommodate" the Black Emperor Uniqueness was to follow Adam's trend of the times and hold a ritual to directly attempt to advance to Sequence 0.
Before that, this Uniqueness was a burden, not an aid, to the current George III. Forcibly using it would only break the balance he was barely maintaining.
His gaze swept over William Augustus I, who stood still in thought, not attempting to continue his prying. George III spoke indifferently:
"Sequence 0 of both the Black Emperor and Justiciar Pathways are vacant. Even those fellows in the Astral World cannot control that Sefirah, and even avoid it."
"Within the barrier, the only one with the ability and status to do this is probably the Ancient Sun God, who fell in that ancient era."
The indifferent voice echoing throughout the silent mausoleum paused slightly. George III looked up at the sky, seemingly seeing through the barrier to the Cosmos:
"It now seems that the barrier in the Cosmos is already on the verge of collapse. A certain Outer God has successfully exerted influence on that Sefirah, and the remnants of Trunsoest are clearly one of the Outer God's pawns."
"This will cause unpredictable changes to our plan, but it is not entirely a bad thing."
"At least in the matter of resisting the Outer Gods, we can win over more allies and prevent those few wavering existences from continuing to obstruct us in the dark!"
William Augustus I nodded slightly, noncommittally, and added in a majestic voice:
"The Church of the God of Combat's defeat on Sonia Island must have been planned by them. Such strength, coupled with the stolen 'Trunsoest Brass Book', is no less a threat than the Hidden Sage."
"However, compared to us, the one in Feysac is truly on pins and needles. The Church of the God of Combat should also react. With the apocalypse approaching, everyone is going crazy in their own way...."
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In the Astral World, which was more abstract than the Spirit World and seemed to encompass all authority and symbols of the entire universe, a peculiar kingdom woven from various books was "embedded."
A phantom Tower, almost occupying the entire world and extending to the end of the sky, stood tall.
Each layer of this indescribable giant Tower was composed of illusory books, and brass-colored eyes filled its body. The higher the layer, the darker it became, and the more it was filled with madness and destruction.
Almost at the same time as Aaron's successful advancement and the change in the underlying rules of the real world, tiny brass-colored specks of light swiftly moved through this world, outlining mysterious symbols one after another, finally forming an "Omniscient Eye" at the top of the giant Tower.
Jagged ripples flashed through its profound pupils, seemingly interpreting the vague and abstract prophecy with the "Omniscient" authority. After a brief silence, only a slightly weary sigh lingered.
Southwest of Issac, the capital of Loen, the headquarters of the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, the "Knowledge Sanctuary."
At the center of the palace complex, which blended the grandeur of classicism with a sense of historical weight, the towering "Tower of Wisdom" trembled gently.
An old man in a pure white robe embroidered with gold patterns devoutly knelt on the ground. The golden triple crown on his head symbolized his identity—His Holiness Trof, the Pope who had governed the "Knowledge Sanctuary" for nearly a thousand years!
After the magnificent will in his mind receded, Trof slowly rose. After comforting the many bewildered clergy members in the "Knowledge Sanctuary," his figure distorted, instantly dyed with brilliant starlight, becoming extremely illusory, as if transforming into a "Star Gate."
This was a Planeswalker transforming himself into a symbolic representation to effectively utilize the abilities of the Astral World, originating from Trof's "analysis and simulation" of an Abraham family Angel in the Fourth Epoch.
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Clusters of condensed crimson fireballs, led by a flaming javelin, passed over a place full of corpses, weapons, blood, and smoke, landing in the dilapidated city and creating a series of explosions.
Both sides in the fierce battle had already gone berserk. The chilling, iron-blooded aura could not be weakened even by the Imperative Mage's "Weaken Mysticism, Enhance Reality" imperative. Instead, it grew thicker amidst the hoarse and noisy sounds of slaughter.
The dense aura of calamity was like the most vicious pollution, silently spreading under the catalysis of slaughter, eroding everyone on this battlefield.
Pauli Derlau, the President of the Psychology Alchemists, sat in a black wheelchair, looking indifferently at this battlefield, yet he did not stop spreading mental plague in this ocean of collective subconscious, making this "flesh grinder" operate even more cruelly.
The one who came here was clearly not a virtual personality, but his true body, who had just arrived from Backlund by crossing the collective subconscious ocean with the help of Eden.
Only in this way could the current effect be achieved, with Demigods present on both sides of the Segar-Loen allied forces and the Feysac army.
This was another instruction Pauli Derlau received from Adam, besides delivering the Black Emperor Uniqueness to George III.
"This is a necessary sacrifice..."
Pauli Derlau glanced at the tragedy he had personally orchestrated, then calmly took out a silver crucifix pendant from his In arms and whispered a chant.
This creation, originating from the Angel of Imagination, suddenly expanded, absorbing the calamity and slaughter of the entire battlefield, turning into a hundred-meter-tall crucifix. A blurry blood-colored figure suddenly raised its hand.
Amidst the sudden, insane, and terrifying roars, the dim sky became exceptionally chaotic, as if two isolated worlds were gradually merging.
Tornadoes, as if from another world, raged, carrying flames, lightning, and hail, colliding with the imagined figure condensed from the aura of calamity.
The sharp explosions could not conceal the piercing, arrogant laughter within. Crimson or dark purple flames emerged from the vibrating spatial cracks, forming a human figure.
This figure wore black, blood-stained armor and had shoulder-length fiery red hair, looking young and handsome.
The flag-like blood-colored mark on his brow seemed to come alive, greedily devouring the residual aura of disaster. It was the Red Angel evil spirit, Sauron Einhorn Medici.
Behind him, the gradually closing spatial rift was forcibly propped open by black tentacles, each with an eyeball at its tip, resembling pythons.
And just as the power of the Primordial Demoness, following the Red Angel evil spirit, was about to penetrate reality at the last moment, it was blocked by a scorched banner stained with mottled blood.