https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-771-The-Descent-of-the-Moon-Goddess/13677675/
Chapter 772: The Exiled Ros
Countless meteor-like arrows pierced through Ros’s body, each striking with lethal precision. The obsidian carapace cracked open, revealing faint glimmers of light within—then, with a sudden, violent explosion, the massive spider monster shattered into a storm of toxic smoke and black mist.
“No—!” Ros reared his head, unleashing a frenzied wail that tore through the sky, a cacophony so vast it echoed like the combined roars of a thousand demons.
Yet, under Shahanini’s command, an ocean of moonlight divine power surged from all directions—washing over Ros again and again, eroding his form, scorching him to the bone, leaving him battered, charred, and utterly broken.
Now, Ros was like a beast trapped in a thorned cage—bound by Shahanini’s will, bleeding endlessly.
His eyes burned crimson, and a low, rasping roar escaped his throat:
“For ten thousand years, I have lurked in concealment within the Bottomless Abyss. I have never ceased to desire tearing you hypocrites—your Home—apart!”
“Now, I will not spare this once-in-a-millennium chance! I shall bring about the Complete Destruction of your Pharisaical Siderien Gods!”
A surge of terrifying divine power erupted from him. With eight limbs flailing, hundreds of spider silks lashed toward Shahanini, each strand ending in a Chilashar Rose. Chaos and frenzy filled the air. Even a divine avatar would fall into madness under the toxin of the Chilashar Rose—and Shahanini had to tread with utmost caution.
Shahanini danced beneath the moonlight, her translucent veil swirling like starlight in motion, slowly weaving into a radiant river of celestial brilliance that spiraled around her flawless form.
The two forces collided—divine power against divine power—canceling each other out in a storm of dazzling flame trails, swirling across the sky like a churning nebula.
Two divine beings fought from the ground all the way to the heavens, their clash so violent that the aftermath nearly consumed everything in its wake. Floating rocks, sand, debris—scattered everywhere—transformed the battlefield into a ruin of the Stellar Realm.
Any mortal who dared approach would be torn apart before even reaching the front lines, crushed by the spatial turbulence at the edge of the warzone.
Below, armies of holy beings—Moon Horses, Elven Sky Guardians, Sons of Aelona, Luminous Elemental Beings of the Luminous Realm—charged forward. Their weapons and armor gleamed like silver fire, and as they surged together, they formed a flood of radiant silver light.
Ros, in turn, ripped open space, summoning multiple Abyssal Portals. From them poured forth a countless tide of monsters—Spiderified Elves, Giant Spiders, Phase Spiders, Sword Spiders, Whirlpool Spiders, Watchful Spiders, Red Widows—forming a patchwork wave of horror so overwhelming it chilled the soul.
The two armies clashed like titanic waves, thundering through the heavens and earth. Battle cries, roars, howls shook the world. Armor fragments, severed limbs, and scorching blood flew through the air, raining down upon the land.
“Praise the Mother God!”
“For Queen Shahanini!”
The Silver Moon Elves sang their hymns with unwavering resolve, charging forward without fear, swords flashing, cutting down spider monsters in bloody frenzy.
From afar, the silver flood clearly held the upper hand—like the last glimmer of dawn breaking through endless dark clouds.
“It is time to end it,” Shahanini’s voice rang out—soft, clear, and ethereal, like moonlight itself, echoing in every heart.
Ria severed a giant spider’s front leg with a single strike, pierced its head, wiped acid-stained blood from her face, and looked up at the familiar silhouette in the sky.
“Mother God.”
There, Shahanini stood bathed in moonlight, wreathed in shimmering rivers of starlight, raising the Bow of the Moon with elegant grace. She crossed it with the Silver Moon Staff, and as divine power surged, a pale white new moon appeared behind her—now glowing with immense silver radiance, banishing endless darkness.
People lifted their eyes to the silver moon hanging high above. A sense of peace washed over them, clarity in their minds, a gentle strength filling their bodies.
But the spider monsters from the Abyss recoiled in terror, their bodies screaming as moonlight touched them, burning, writhing, until they dissolved into black mist.
The Spiderified Elves, once transformed by Ros, began to change—black smoke billowing from their forms. The bristly hairs, the sharp limbs—burned away. Their eyes, once clouded with madness, cleared, returning to their former clarity.
On a distant sacred tree, Grand Elder Seron knelt, his withered hands trembling as he stared at them. His voice shook as he whispered:
“God… I… what have I done?”
He surveyed the ash-covered wasteland, the lifeless earth, the bodies of the fallen. Tears welled in his eyes, tracing paths through the wrinkles of his aged face.
“Massacre… blood… sacrifice… imprisonment…”
“What have I done?”
Once he had called himself the Guardian of Serrynia—but pride and lust for power had driven him to destroy everything. He had brought bloodshed and ruin upon the land he swore to protect.
“I betrayed the people who trusted me… and I betrayed Young Catherine.”
Seron lifted his head, gazing up at the silver moon, tears streaming down his face. His voice trembled with remorse and self-loathing.
“Mother God… no, I no longer deserve to call You Mother God. I am a shameful usurper, a hound of the Dark God.”
His voice broke. He bowed his head in piety, whispering, “Great Goddess of the Silver Moon… I offer You everything. Even if I could only repay a fraction of my sins…”
Then, in the glow of moonlight, the Elder’s body dissolved into countless dust particles, scattered by the wind—leaving behind a single, dark rose.
Long ago, centuries past, it was Seron who had found the first Chilashar Rose to emerge into the world. At once, he sensed its madness and danger. He took it upon himself to seal it within his staff—protecting it, he thought.
But that act had given Ros the perfect opening.
The Chilashar Rose’s power had slowly eaten away at his mind, twisting him, turning the once-venerable elder into a fanatical, obsessive devotee of the so-called “Octo-Armed Mother Goddess.”
Only in the final breath of his life, bathed in moonlight, did Seron regain reason—returning, at last, to the wise elder he once was.
And this scene repeated across Serrynia. Under Shahanini’s divine influence, countless Spiderified Elves—whose souls had been corrupted—regained their clarity.
Though their mortal lives were over, their spiritual essences ascended, like other elves, to the heavens—into the beautiful Divine Realm.
Now, countless elf spirits emerged from behind Shahanini—ethereal, shimmering with starlight, their eyes blazing with fury as they stared at Ros.
Shahanini spoke softly:
“Ros. This is your sin.
You transformed countless kind-hearted Silver Moon Elves into brutal monsters, forcing their spiritual souls to scream within corrupted bodies.”
“Sin?” Ros sneered, unshaken. “Just a bunch of lowly mortal entities. Tell me—what real difference is there between you Siderien Gods and me? We both treat them as tools.”
“You use them as livestock for your faith. I use them as hunting dogs to slaughter for me.”
“Enough words,” Shahanini said, her voice colder than moonlight. “You are beyond redemption. The centuries of exile have not brought you repentance—but only made you crueler, more insane.”
“Perhaps… we were too merciful. We once called you comrades.”
“Mercy?” Ros laughed bitterly, then unleashed a roar so terrifying it shook the fabric of space itself.
“Then pay for your so-called mercy!”
Cracks split across his body. Thick black mist poured out. His eyes burned red, his face distorted. His mouth stretched into a grotesque grin, as if dancing in madness.
With eight limbs flailing wildly, he summoned a vortex of spider silk above the sky—black mist and glowing, frenzied eyes swirling together. The winds howled. A suffocating aura of terror spread. His limbs converged into a single point, and from it burst a beam of abyssal darkness—so dark it swallowed light, roaring toward Shahanini like a weapon of annihilation.
“Boom—”
The entire Elvenwood Forest—indeed, the whole Feiansuo Continent—trembled. Dark clouds surged outward, spreading for hundreds of miles, blotting out the sky, as if the end of the world were descending.
“By the name of the Goddess of the Silver Moon, by the name of Serrynia, by the name of the Siderien Gods—”
Yet Shahanini remained calm. She drew the bowstring with unwavering poise, placing the Silver Moon Staff upon the translucent moonlight.
A surge of divine power erupted into the sky. The spirits of the elves circled the staff, singing a solemn hymn—pouring every ounce of their faith, their fury, into the moment.
Above, the silver moon shone pure and bright, its light cutting through the darkness, illuminating the night.
“Receive your Termination!”
She released her slender hand.
Endless silver moonlight poured forth—like an endless river of stars, a galactic flood—racing toward Ros.
“Boom—”
Divine power clashed. Both deities gave everything—unleashing their most devastating techniques. The aftermath alone was enough to disrupt the arcane web across the southeastern Feanso region, triggering a flood of arcane surges.
Thousands of mages and sorcerers across the continent turned east—toward the Elvenwood Forest—eyes wide with astonishment.
The last time they had felt such a surge was during the Dayfall Cataclysm, when the Sacred Fedran collapsed and the world teetered on chaos.
Though this event was far smaller in scale, it still left spellcasters shaken, awed, and terrified.
The clash ended swiftly. The silver light tore through the darkness, breaking through the shadowy veil, surging toward Ros’s avatar.
“No—!”
“This is impossible!”
Ros roared in desperation, limbs flailing, but the moonlight purged him, reducing his power to nothing. His strength waned, his form fading.
“Shahanini… my beloved sister… my comrade… spare me. I only wished to escape the Bottomless Abyss. I will become your subordinate deity!”
In the purifying glow, Ros screamed in agony, finally lowering his head, begging for mercy.
But Shahanini remained cold. Her gaze was still as a mirror. She increased the output of divine damage, and black smoke poured from Ros’s avatar—like a firewood being consumed.
Ros abandoned his disguise. His eyes burned with hatred, filled with rage. He wanted to rip his own toxic fangs apart.
“Damned bitch! Don’t celebrate too soon! You have no idea what enemy you face! Even deities are but ants!”
“I curse you—there will come a day when the silver moon is drenched in blood, when the Dark Deity walks the earth once more. And you—Shahanini—will be torn apart, a broken corpse!”
His vile curse, laced with madness, sent a faint ripple through Shahanini’s divine senses. Her prophecy and mysticism whispered a warning—danger.
The moonlight intensified, engulfing Ros completely—until only a small black widow spider remained—a fragment of his divine essence.
“Shahanini! I await you in the Bottomless Abyss!”
With the Bow of the Moon drawn taut, an arrow of silver light shot forth—piercing the spider’s body, reducing it to ash.
Ros vanished from the material plane.
Only his final curse and the echo of his mad roar lingered in the howling wind.
The dark clouds parted. The pale white moon hung high in the sky, casting a gentle silver glow.
Shahanini gazed upon the earth. Below, countless Silver Moon Elves knelt in reverence, looking up at her silhouette, singing their hymns.
“Praise the Mother God!”
“Great Goddess of the Silver Moon!”
A translucent, graceful figure emerged from Catherine’s body. Moonlight coalesced into a bridge, arching into the sky.
The spirits of the elves followed, stepping one after another along the moonlit path, ascending into the infinite distance.
Amidst the crowd, Catherine slowly opened her eyes. Soft moonlight touched her face. The night sky was serene, the stars twinkling above.
It was all so beautiful—like a dream. The Blood Moon, the Demon Realm, the shadow of the spider—had all felt like a nightmare.
Tears welled in her eyes. She whispered, trembling:
“Did we… win?”
Ria stepped forward, her eyes shimmering, tears barely held back. Yet her voice was firm, clear:
“Your Majesty… we have won. Serrynia is not destroyed. The Silver Moon Elves live.”
“It is the protection of the Mother Goddess… and also… your merit.”
Catherine exhaled deeply, relief washing over her. A smile touched her lips.
Farther away, Titus watched—his expression unreadable, a faint smile playing on his lips.
The war was over.
Now was the time for the distribution of interests.
This, he thought, was the perfect chance to strengthen his Golden Dragon persona—gaining real power, all while maintaining a good alignment.
(End of Chapter)
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