Chapter Seventy-Two: The Doomsday Volcano

“What is this…”
He suddenly remembered—the pattern was so familiar.
“This is the seal Father left in my palm?!…”
He began to walk through the surrounding void. In the void, there was no sound, no wind, not even a sense of direction.
After walking a great distance, he looked back and saw that the flame-shaped mark had shrunk to a tiny red dot of light; only then did he realize how far he had truly come. Otherwise, he would have thought he was merely pacing in circles.
“But why am I leaving? What am I supposed to do?”
Since he could not leave, he sat down cross-legged.
He remained seated for a long time, until, far off in the void, an orange-red glow flickered. As he gazed toward it, he saw a mass of lava surging silently from the darkness, rolling down along a volcanic crater, revealing the complete outline of a volcano below.
“A volcano?” He was astonished.
The lava continued to flow downward. At the base of the volcano, a crimson sword began to shimmer into view.
“Come here!…”
A deep voice called out to him.
“Who is it? Who is calling me?” Blackfeather was even more bewildered.
“Come here!… Seek me out!…” The voice repeated itself.
Blackfeather stared blankly at the scene before him, unable to discern its meaning. Suddenly, he reacted and asked,
“Are you that sword? The one beneath the volcano? Is it you speaking?”
The sword encased in molten lava did not respond, only repeating, “Come to me… come to me…”

Blackfeather, not understanding, remained seated in silence.
He admired the magnificent sight of the erupting volcano suspended in darkness. There was neither sound nor the slightest disturbance; the darkness beneath him was as still as a mirrored lake.
Yet the eruption was brief and strange—no towering pillars of fire, just a few streams of lava trickling from the edges before vanishing into the blackness. The surroundings grew dark once more.
On the Eastern Continent, north of the Border Wall, the sentinels upon the ramparts were making urgent preparations. From the towering walls, they could see thick smoke swirling above the Doomsday Volcano, which pierced the clouds. Scalding lava overflowed ceaselessly from the crater; the earth split open, and the fissures ran with boiling, terrifying streams.
At the foot of the wall, the fiends had gathered in a frenzy, as if driven mad by the volcano’s power. Their eyes glowed blood-red, reason lost, and they surged toward the wall, desperate to overrun it.
They clambered atop one another’s backs, scaling higher and higher. The archers and mages atop the wall unleashed volleys of arrows and spells, felling the fiends whose bodies tumbled below, only for those behind to press forward undeterred.
“The volcano is about to erupt! Quickly, withdraw the northern defenders!” the captain commanded. “Send word to the Lord of the Holy City—we need reinforcements!”
A thunderous rumble shook the earth violently. The warriors on the wall crouched low, gripping the stones, as the ground heaved beneath them. Cracks began to spread along the outer ramparts, and the soldiers felt as though they stood upon a swaying bridge, rocking with the trembling wall.
“Earth mages! Mend the fissures, now!”
The captain shouted as he organized the retreat.
“We must not let the wall be breached!”
Seeing the cracks, the fiends became even more reckless, swarming up the wall and tearing at it with their claws, hastening its collapse.
The earth mages quickly took their positions, channeling dense, earthen magic to seal the cracks, all while fending off the fiends leaping onto the battlements.
Another violent tremor struck; this time, the world quaked, the sky darkened, and it was as if some monstrous beast roared from the depths.
“The volcano’s about to erupt! Take cover!”
With a shuddering roar, the volcano’s heart unleashed a torrent of molten rock. Strangely, the lava was obstructed at the center of the crater, spilling instead from the sides and shooting high into the air. Amid billowing black smoke, the molten rock rained down, flowing along the slopes and pouring into the crimson desert.
The fiends north of the wall fled in panic as the lava surged after them. The molten stream spread relentlessly, finally reaching the foot of the Great Wall, which collapsed with a thunderous crash. Through the breach, hordes of fiends flooded across the border.

“The wall is destroyed—run!”
Cries of terror rose from the defenders. Black smoke pressed lower and lower, shrouding the land in an apocalyptic gloom.
Yet in the central section, fiends still scaled the ramparts. The defenders fought on with desperate valor, suffering heavy losses, while from the northern breach, a tide of lava poured into the Dark Forest, snaking like a crimson river through shadow.
“When will the reinforcements from the Holy City arrive!”
The captain roared as he led his men across ground not yet swallowed by lava, dashing into the western Dark Forest. Behind them, mighty trees toppled and burned to ash beneath the molten flow. Forming a last line of defense, they strove to block the fiends swarming through the breach.
“Hold the line! Do not let the fiends cross the wall!”
The soldiers were seasoned veterans; many of the mages hailed from the Scarlet Flame family, all of them wielding advanced magic.
At the foot of the Doomsday Volcano, several massive black rocks stood tall. As the lava washed over them, they began to crack and glow with crimson veins.
Suddenly, the rocks trembled and moved as if alive. Gigantic stones formed bodies, rising slowly to their feet, molten rivulets cascading from their seams. The ancient magma colossi, dormant for a thousand years, had awakened!
They strode through rivers of lava, each step measured and immense, their upright forms towering as high as the walls themselves.
The warriors beheld this with shock and despair. The defenders on the central ramparts watched in horror as these behemoths crossed the breach and led the fiends in a charge upon the rear of the wall.
“What are those… Magma colossi? The ancient fiends of legend!… It’s over! Even if the Holy City’s reinforcements arrive, they can’t hold them back—the wall is lost…” the soldiers stammered.
Within the forests of the Holy City’s domain, a squadron of reinforcements raced through the night. They marched in perfect order and with great speed. At the forefront was Lin Aohun, a magister whose pace outstripped any ordinary soldier’s. With a single leap, he alighted on a towering branch, resting a giant hammer on his shoulder, scanning the distance with an air of command. Yi Xin followed close behind, springing onto a branch to look out over the land.
Below, in the night-dark forest, a black river shimmered with cold light, winding down the slope and emptying into the surface of the Red Sea.