"Will I face the sa end?"
The man in the Black Robe couldn’t help but recall the various promises Lin Disi had made to him before, as his gaze fell.
....
"Any one of them on the field could potentially kill Ronan Damien."
"Do you think he will ultimately die by whose hand?"
"This is a trap that cannot be refused, once stepped into, one can only wait silently for Death’s arrival amidst the elusive and intangible hope..."
Ronan stood on his own Stone Pillar, with the spirited discussions of the onlookers constantly reaching his ears.
Looking up, every person atop the other seven Stone Pillars was watching him, each with different expressions, mostly hiding fervent and longing desires, and so with undisguised icy intentions.
He was not a man favored by "luck".
On the contrary, it seed he was the only unfortunate one chosen out of the eight.
He needed to defeat everyone present to possibly gain the inheritance left by Heramus, while the other seven only had to kill him to have a certain chance of claiming this inheritance for themselves.
An unfair ga forced Ronan to gamble with his life.
He couldn’t refuse.
However, Ronan’s mood at the mont was unexpectedly calm.
Long ago, he had already grown accustod to being toyed with by fate, to facing desperate situations again and again.
For a wizard who grew like a weed from the very bottom cracks of rock, he had too many experiences of struggling on the brink of death.
"Mist... Mist..."
Ronan silently rolled these words in his mind, suddenly gaining so enlightennt.
Perhaps the reason the Ancient Wizards called Levels 1 to 3 the "Mist Rank" was not solely referring to groping and searching at levels of knowledge, Spells, and soul, but sothing more profound.
For instance...
What did he truly want?
So set out on the wizard’s path in pursuit of omnipotent Strength.
So sought the wisdom that comprehended all.
So reveled in the wondrous sights experienced along their journeys.
So dread of building their own ideal holand...
Everyone had sothing they most desired to achieve, and that was the deep power that sustained people to reach high and far on the wizard’s path.
What was Ronan pursuing?
He forgot when his heart started to feel sowhat lost.
After he left behind the life of a Wandering Wizard, his Strength continuously improved, no longer constantly threatened by Death, but his path beca sowhat bewildered.
This bewildernt enveloped his future path like invisible Mist, causing him to wander aimlessly.
At this mont, Ronan suddenly understood.
The fog in his soul was gently pushed aside, and all his confusion retreated.
The sudden advent of Heramus’s Blood Battle, the long-absent risk of Death, either die in supre splendor or... shine even more brilliantly after breaking through all obstacles!
"Fate..."
Ronan took a deep breath, his fingers slowly curling in, "What I’ve always wanted... is to completely dominate my own destiny!"
He didn’t want to be a puppet manipulated by others any longer.
"Crack—"
The sound of sothing shattering.
Deep within his soul, as if impurities and chronic diseases were peeling off, a small yet miraculous Transformation occurred.
In an instant, the thick grey clouds behind Ronan violently surged.
Layer upon layer of grey waves gathered, piling up...
The colorful lights erupting from the Void ford a bridge of light at this mont, extending from below Ronan’s feet to the increasingly towering and massive platform at the center.
Ronan stepped onto the bridge of light, walking up to the central platform one step at a ti.
As he stood in the middle of the platform, the grey clouds churning behind him also completely transford into a huge and profound shadow.
Within the shadow, as if hiding a fearso multi-headed creature, coldly overlooked everything through the Dark.
"Kill ... or be killed by ."
Ronan stood high on the platform, sweeping his gaze over every figure on the seven Stone Pillars below, speaking serenely from his commanding position:
"Who will be the first?"
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