Ezreal stood in the center of the Kings Hall.
The hall was vast and silent, with only his footsteps echoing on the stone tiles.
Beneath his feet, a green magic array slowly unfolded, complex ancient characters wriggling like living things, emitting a heart-palpitating magical fluctuation.
The green light of the magic array flickered on and off on the ground, like a heartbeat, each pulse causing the ancient characters to glow with a more dazzling light.
The air was filled with the smell of rust and decay, mixed with something older, a sulfurous scent that seemed to seep from deep underground.
Ezreal's clothes moved without wind, and the bloodstains on their edges appeared a strange dark green in the green light.
His fingertips trembled slightly, not from fear, but because the surging magic beneath his skin was causing capillaries to burst and then rapidly heal under the magic's restoration.
Bodies were scattered all around—Mages of the Dark Guild, Orc Warriors, and even a few invaders from Newborn City.
The stained-glass dome of the hall cut the moonlight into mottled fragments, casting them upon the twisted bodies—their fingers still held the last grasping posture before death, and their hollow eye sockets were frozen in terror.
Their blood had long dried, but the scent of death still lingered in the air, like a sacrifice waiting to be offered.
The characters in the magic array began to jump and twist, finally coalescing into chains that wrapped around the bodies.
The chains tightened, dragging the bodies into the center of the array, the sound of flesh dissolving like thousands of ants gnawing on carrion.
The bodies collapsed like melting wax figures, bones crackling in the green flames.
Flesh rapidly dissolved in the green light, bones turned to ash, and finally condensed into tiny, fingernail-sized green crystals—philosophers stones.
Ezreal watched all of this, his gaze calm, almost indifferent.
One, two, three… the philosophers stones floated around him, emitting a faint luminescence.
The magic array erupted with light again, and ancient characters peeled from the ground, swirling around him and the crystals, as if chanting an ancient spell.
The residual wills of the consumed lives collided within the stones, causing painful human faces to appear as bas-reliefs on the surface of the green crystals.
Ezreal's temples throbbed, and a warm liquid trickled from his nose, tasting of salty rust on his lips.
When the last piece of flesh was refined, the air in the entire hall began to distort.
The moment white light burst from beneath his feet, Ezreal saw his shadow split into countless fragments—a warrior wielding a sword, a monk chanting scriptures, a mother holding a baby… all the lives of the consumed flashed back in his retina like a kaleidoscope.
His fingernails dug deep into his palms, and the beads of blood seeping from between his fingers evaporated into a crimson mist in the white light.
"Ugh ah—!"
A suppressed cry of pain was ground into broken gasps in his throat.
His facial muscles convulsed uncontrollably, his left eye maintaining a compassionate downward gaze, while his right eye was wide open, almost tearing at the corner.
Memories that were not his churned in his brain: the last sunrise seen by a hanged witch, the sensation of an Orc Warrior's broken tusk piercing an enemy's eyeball, the moment a Dark Mage smelled his own flesh burning on the pyre… The magic array erupted with light again, and ancient characters peeled from the ground, swirling around him and the crystals, as if chanting an ancient spell.
Then, they began to merge into his body.
Each philosophers stone entering his body was accompanied by a slight tremor.
His muscles tensed slightly, his bones hummed faintly, and magic surged through his veins like boiling magma.
His golden hair moved without wind, and the aura around him climbed steadily until it reached a critical point.
When the last philosophers stone merged into his chest, the magic array suddenly accelerated its rotation, and violent white magic shot up into the sky like a volcanic eruption!
In the dazzling white light, Ezreal's expression began to twist.
—A sneer.
—Manic laughter.
—Fury.
—Crying.
—Indifference.
—Gentleness.
—Calmness.
Countless emotions flickered across his face, as if countless souls were struggling within him.
His pupils sometimes contracted, sometimes dilated, and his fingers twitched unconsciously, as if he were fighting against some invisible force.
Finally, the white light gradually faded.
His expression settled into his familiar gentle smile, as if the previous chaos had never happened.
"...This is the limit," he murmured to himself, slowly clenching his fist, feeling the surging power within him. "If I continue, my physical body will probably collapse first."
From the shadows, black smoke billowed and rose, condensing into the head of an Evil Wolf with glowing crimson eyes.
The Evil Wolf floated beside him, its blood-red eyes fixed on him, its voice deep and hoarse:
"Master, you have absorbed too many philosophers stones."
Ezreal did not respond.
"Those memories… they are already starting to affect your consciousness," the Evil Wolf continued, its tone uncharacteristically tinged with hesitation. "If this continues, your mind might—"
"—Are you telling me what to do?"
Ezreal's voice suddenly turned icy.
The air seemed to freeze for a moment.
The next second, the black smoke in the shadows erupted! The Evil Wolf's true form appeared—a fifteen-meter-long giant wolf, its dark fur entwined with shadows, its blood-red eyes like two blood moons.
It crouched low to the ground, its black wings folded.
"...Master."
Ezreal stared at it, the expression on his face twisting again for a moment.
But soon, white light emerged from his eyes, and Light Magic, like a tide, washed over his entire body, suppressing the restless emotions.
His breathing gradually steadied, and his eyes became clear again.
"...My apologies," he raised a hand to rub his temples, his tone returning to its usual gentleness. "I'm fine, I just need a little time to adjust."
The Evil Wolf was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice: "Light Magic can purify those 雜念, but you…"
"I know," Ezreal interrupted it, gently raising his left hand, the explorers gauntlet emitting a faint blue glow, "I can't use Light Magic for now, otherwise the suppressed balance will be broken."
"Anyway, there's no great danger recently. At most a year, Light Magic will be able to purify my consciousness and soul completely."
"It's just that I can't fight by myself for a short period."
He walked to the window of the great hall, looking down at the city in the distance. The night was deep, and the lights twinkled like stars.
"But it doesn't matter," he said softly, "The me now… is already strong enough."
"Besides, I still have you all."
The Evil Wolf did not answer, merely slowly sank into his shadow, disappearing from sight.
The great hall returned to silence.
Only the residual green light of the magic array slowly extinguished on the ground.
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