Chapter 49: Tearful Abyss (3)
The veil remained unbroken, countless Tearful Abysses transformed into Soul Dew, some even crystallized into Soul Scrolls. Yet many souls still lingered beneath the Domain Boundary of Tearful Abyss, their Spirit Forms unharmed, untouched by the abyssal depths.
"Gloomfang..."
A sudden, guttural cry echoed through the air, the very essence of Great Gloomfang erupting from the shadows. The sound was deafening, overwhelming—shattering the entire Spirit Veil in a single wave.
All souls flinched in unison, the roar tearing through them like a storm. The sound was unbearable, a thousand voices howling in agony, each scream a blade slicing through the spirit. Every being present felt their soul tremble, their very essence nearly torn apart.
"This is..."
Brother Mo’s face, half-hidden in shadow, twitched in grim recognition. Only the outline of the Spirit Veil was visible—the face of the soul, a single, pale, hollow-eyed figure, staring blankly into the void.
Its form was far more massive than ordinary souls, towering over them like a mountain. The Great Gloomfang’s presence was immense, dwarfing even three combined souls. It stood like a small fortress within the Spirit Ground, a monolith of shadow and dread.
Its face—two long, jagged horns extending outward like twisted spears—gave off an aura of pure malice. The Great Gloomfang’s power radiated like a storm, the very air crackling with dark energy. The Spirit Dew it exuded was not pure, but tainted, a sickly crimson glow that dripped from its form like blood. Even the wind itself seemed to turn black as it passed through.
"Gloomfang Revenant."
Brother Mo spoke with quiet authority, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. The name—spoken once—sent shivers through every soul present. It was a name that carried weight, a title that demanded respect, even fear.
Such beings were rarely seen—souls of immense spiritual presence, dwelling in the deep, forgotten corners of the spirit realm. They were not merely powerful; they were ancient, their very existence tied to the fabric of the void. They were born from sorrow, shaped by endless suffering, and now they fed on the despair of others. They would tear apart any living soul they encountered, consuming their essence, then trapping their spirit within the Soul-Rooted Spirit.
"You are free."
Tearful Abyss’s shadowy voice emerged from the depths, a whisper that carried the weight of divine will. It surged forward, the Spirit Mind Intent manifesting as a towering figure, its long staff pointing directly at the Gloomfang Revenant.
"Its face is mine."
The Gloomfang Revenant roared, a sound like mountains collapsing. Its massive jaws opened wide, revealing a mouth that stretched across its entire face. It stepped forward into the Spirit Front of Tearful Abyss, its crimson eyes locking onto the spirit realm.
The Divine Willforce of Soul-Rooted Dew surged around it, coiling like a serpent around its core. It was determined—nothing less than total annihilation. It would not stop until every last thread of the Revenant was severed.
"Drown in the darkness."
That command echoed through the void—no soul could resist it. The darkness itself seemed to rise, a tide of despair ready to consume all.
At that moment, Brother Mo felt a sudden, sharp pain—a single drop of Spirit Dew struck him, like a needle piercing his soul. It was as if the entire realm had been submerged in a river of liquid light, every drop of dew soaking into his being. Each drop burned, each one carved a mark upon his spirit. He endured it, silent, unyielding.
"Soulflare Eye!"
Tearful Abyss’s shadow embrace surged forward, its form shifting, revealing a vast, glowing eye of soulfire. The Soulflare Eyes—countless in number—appeared across its spirit body, each one pulsing with divine will. They locked onto the Revenant’s form, their light piercing through the darkness, forcing the creature’s soul to confront its own inner void.
"Fang-Cloak Embrace!"
Brother Mo raised his hand, pointing with unwavering resolve. The shadowy cloak of his spirit form flared, wrapping around him like a living mantle. The Revenant’s face—its gaping maw—was now fully exposed, its soul laid bare.
Yet the Revenant, though massive, remained unshaken. Its aura of spiritual power was immense, but Brother Mo’s will was stronger. He had no choice but to act—his spirit was already stretched to the limit.
"It’s not just about the soul..."
"It’s about the will."
Brother Mo’s voice rang out, calm, resolute. He knew what he had to do. He reached deep within, drawing forth the last reserves of his strength.
"Soul-Weaving Art!"
He roared, unleashing a technique of spirit mastery. A dark, swirling vortex of crimson threads erupted from his body, weaving through the air like a storm of living flame. He thrust his hand forward, aiming directly at the Revenant’s eye sockets.
The Gloomfang Revenant responded instantly—its eyes flared with a cold, dead light. It lunged, its massive form shifting with unnatural speed. The Great Gloomfang’s power surged, attempting to drag Brother Mo into the void. But at that same moment, the Revenant’s own soul flared—its golden spirit flame ignited, allowing the dark magic to be absorbed, transformed, and ultimately, unleashed.
"Fang-Claw!"
The Revenant’s claws tore through the air, aiming to crush Brother Mo’s spirit. But he was already moving—faster than thought, already weaving his own soul into the fabric of the void.
He could feel it now—the weight of his own soul, the pull of his core. He had only a fraction of a second.
"I will not fall."
He clenched his fist. The Gloomfrost’s Soul Glimmer flared within him—like a beacon in the storm. He could feel the cold, the silence, the emptiness of the void. But he was not alone. His spirit was bound to the land, to the memory of the world.
And then—his eyes snapped open.
"I am not just a soul."
The crimson light in his eyes burned brighter than ever. He saw the Revenant’s soul core, the very heart of its being. He saw the tear, the wound that had birthed it.
"You are not the only one who suffers."
With a final, desperate surge, Brother Mo unleashed the last of his strength. The Soulflare Eye flared—now a storm of crimson light. The Revenant screamed, its form writhing, its soul tearing apart.
"I am not your prey."
The voice echoed through the void.
The Revenant’s form shattered—its soul, its essence, its very existence—crumbled into dust. The Gloomfang’s power collapsed, its darkness dissolving into the wind.
Brother Mo stood, breathing heavily. His spirit was battered, his body barely holding together. But he was alive.
And in the distance, the Tearful Abyss stirred—its domain quivering, the veil slowly healing.
"I am not afraid."
He whispered, his voice barely audible. He turned toward the horizon, where the first light of dawn began to bleed through the shadows.
"I will return."
(End of Chapter)
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