Chapter 20: Precursor to the end, and the extirpation of Pangea
powerful earthquake shook the land, sending tremors through the advancing ant colony. They stood frozen in disbelief as they witnessed the disintegration of the once revered divine tree, Lahil.
Whispers of incredulity escaped the mouth of an ant hero, "Has the mighty divine tree Lahil met its untimely demise?"
The Nine celestial wardens stood in stunned silence, struggling to comprehend the tragic fate that had befallen the majestic tree. A profound sense of sorrow hung in the air, and even the devouring ants seemed to mourn the passing of this legendary entity, as if the very fabric of the world grieved.
Deep within the heart of the ant queen Bertha, a trace of melancholy emerged. "Lahil, have you truly reached such a state?"
"Exhausted, the Primordial world now stands devoid of Lahil's divine presence, leaving behind only an immense and unfathomable abyss where its majestic center once stood."
"What's happening...?"
Thunderous roars shattered the prevailing sorrow, echoing with a commanding presence as the monarchs of various clans radiated a luminous brilliance. Their auras pulsed with overwhelming power, leaving the clansmen awestruck and hesitant to approach.
Representing a myriad of races, each monarch experienced the lingering influence of the divine tree, their bodies surging with unexpected strength. After all, Lahil had absorbed spiritual energy for countless eons, making the assimilation of the sun and moon's essence a mere trifle.
Among them, the Human Emperor's aura reigned supreme. As the pinnacle of all creatures, he possessed an unwavering devotion to the sacred tree, which harmoniously enhanced his aura, bestowing upon him the greatest blessings in this world.
Sensing the tremendous power coursing through his being, his countenance grew resolute. Raising the Spear of Destiny high, he declared with unwavering determination, "The divine tree Lahil has made the ultimate sacrifice to save our world and all its denizens. Today, the day of our counterattack has arrived!"
This was a battle of justice, a battle to safeguard the very essence of their world!
The demise of the sacred tree sent ripples of unease through the devouring ants, spurring them to accelerate their relentless march. The boundless black ant colony veiled the sky, eclipsing the very sun that hung beautifully over the horizon. What was once transcendent radiance was now stifled to no more than flickering candlelight.
Wherever the ant colonies advanced, no blades of grass sprouted, and the earth withered, reduced to a desolate wasteland. Destruction loomed ominously in their wake.
Divided into four formidable fronts—north, south, east, and west—each led by two major guards, the devouring ants strategized to converge at the heart of the world, obliterating all opposition, devouring everything in their path, and establishing unrivaled dominion.
Human Emperor Wang Qi rallied the monarchs of all races, forming the vanguard that culminated at the core of the world, encircled by enemies on every side.
Their loved ones lay behind them, their retreat obstructed by an insurmountable barrier.
The devouring ants had not anticipated such audacity from the united races, launching a counterattack amidst this dire circumstance. Their heroes were caught off guard, struggling to comprehend the swift turn of events.
Brandishing the Spear of Destiny, the Human Emperor charged alongside his valiant warriors, assaulting the formidable guards of the opposing force. Though his companions attempted to provide support, the leader of the Ten Thousand Races found himself ensnared by the encroaching ant army, while countless soldiers and ants surged forward, futilely attempting to impede his
relentless advance. However, these feeble obstacles proved ineffective against the augmented warriors, ensuring their inevitable victory.
Within a mere minute, the mightiest guardian of the ant army rushed to provide reinforcement, only to widen its eyes in disbelief.
The last Bastion of humanity pierced the Warden's body with his spear, tearing through the super-alloy fused steel as if it were mere parchment before this divine weapon.
"Now, you shall meet your ultimate demise! How dare you lay a hand upon my brothers!" The guardian of the ant army unfurled his wings, unleashing a furious blow that sent a bone-chilling gust sweeping across the arena.
With a thunderous cry, the Human Emperor, fueled by the tactical energy bestowed upon him by several revered leaders standing behind him, thrust the Spear of Destiny forward with a resounding "whoosh."
The needle's tip clashed against the might of a titan—Xeon Fist versus the Spear of Destiny!
The collision created a visible wave of energy that rippled outward, foretelling imminent collapse.
An earth-shattering explosion shook the heavens and the earth, propelling the ant army's guardian and the Human Emperor backward. Unfazed by the bloodied recoil, both sides clashed once more, bellowing with unwavering resolve.
This single strike served as the catalyst, igniting battles across the world in an instant, like a spark that kindles a prairie fire.
The calamity of the era reached its zenith as death's somber melody resonated throughout the land. The air reeked of gunpowder, the clash of swords, cries of righteous rage, and anguished wails, forming an ominous and haunting chorus.
The world's origin exuded a malevolent aura, infecting the consciousness of creatures and driving them to further depths of madness. The queen's eyes turned crimson as she dispatched her elite forces, employing her trump cards. She even abandoned the safety of her base camp, ascending to the surface to personally command her army.
Amidst the clash of ten thousand races, every soul hailing from the myriad human tribes, possessing the skill to wield arms, was forged into a soldier bound by the unyielding chains of duty. The commencement of the war lay within their grasp, a decision held in mortal hands, yet the conclusion of this monumental struggle eluded their mortal will, dictated instead by forces far greater, beyond the ethereal realm of their existence.
The epicenter of this relentless battlefield pulsated with an unparalleled intensity, where even the eight godlike sentinels transcended the limitations of this mortal plane. Even the fallen Emperors, who had willingly surrendered themselves to the sacred tree, retained their undying valor in this fierce contest.
Fortunate it was, though shadowed in sorrow, that one divine guardian had met his untimely demise through the treacherous web of an ambush; otherwise, the burden placed upon the combatants would have been exponentially more staggering, an insurmountable weight upon their already weary souls.
The powerhouses on either side soared above the boundaries of this world, their ethereal energies clashing with tremendous force that made the very earth quiver beneath them, leaving in its wake a scarred landscape marked by deep craters and ravaged terrain. Moreover, the sacred tree, once a steadfast arbiter of balance, vanished from its earthly shackles, releasing its grip upon the realm. The heart of the battleground trembled with profound instability, casting the entire Pangea into a foreboding state of upheaval, as if the very foundations of existence quaked in trepidation.
Yet, the prime combatants, consumed by their deadly dance, remained oblivious to these portents, their senses attuned solely to the pursuit of vanquishing their foes
, their minds consumed by a singular purpose.
Jiang Ping, an observer on the periphery of this intricate chessboard, immediately sensed the disquiet that hung in the air, an ominous aura that seeped into his every pore. A closer inspection confirmed his apprehensions—truly, an imminent calamity loomed, a tempestuous storm gathering on the horizon.
In the dark recesses of the earth, as the surging energies swelled in intensity, the very land trembled with an agonizing fragility, akin to a delicate biscuit teetering on the precipice of shattering. The core of the planet churned like scalding water, ceaselessly rising, heralding the arrival of an impending cataclysm. With every passing moment, Pangea strained under an unimaginable burden, its very existence hanging in a fragile balance. The absence of the sacred tree, its suppressive force relinquished, left the earth bereft of its once cherished pillar of support.
"Charge!" bellowed the resolute Human Emperor, his mortal form melding with the ethereal essence of the legendary Spear of Destiny, engaging once more in a relentless duel of wills with the celestial warden of the ant army.
In that fleeting moment, the two preeminent powerhouses, their bodies grievously wounded and spirits wearied, recognized the imminent peril that loomed overhead. Acting in unison, they fixed their gaze upon the trembling ground, their countenances marked with a newfound urgency and shared understanding.
"Retreat swiftly!" they cried out in unison, their voices echoing through the vast expanse.
Before either faction could fathom the cause of this dire command, billions of souls suddenly felt the ground surge beneath their feet. In an instant, torrents of seething flames erupted from the depths, spewing forth scorching magma that indiscriminately devoured all, friend or foe alike.
The armies on both sides recoiled in terror, their faces etched with bewilderment at this sudden twist of fate. What they beheld was not a mere volcanic eruption, but the very collapse of Pangea itself—a cataclysmic event of unparalleled magnitude. Abandoning their futile skirmishes, they heeded the urgent call to gather and seek refuge upon the highest ground, where fleeting safety could be found.
"Is it a volcanic eruption?" pondered a Monarch, his gaze fixed upon the bizarre sight of molten lava devouring all in its path.
However, the Human Emperor, his visage drained of color, exclaimed, "Nay, it is not a mere volcanic eruption, but the culmination of Pangea's collapse! Abandon all and gather at once! Seek refuge upon the loftiest peaks!" His resounding voice echoed across the ravaged battlefield, reaching even the relentless ant-like soldiers engrossed in their ceaseless pursuit of bloodshed. Instinctively, they trembled, for even Queen Ant Bertha herself, with her indomitable form, had suddenly moved.
She urgently summoned her remaining guards, forming a defensive line that disregarded her usual advantageous position. After all, as long as she endured, the devouring ants could be reborn, an army forged anew. But should she fall in the wake of this impending catastrophe, their existence would diminish into mere semblances of their former might.
In this apocalyptic crisis, the Queen Ant found herself humbled, reduced to the lowly state of her birth—a fragile entity, vulnerable to the whims of a mere flick of a finger. Her grand aspirations of ascending to the zenith of this world, of claiming ultimate authority and sitting as an equal to hod, now seemed naught but folly. As she beheld the scene of desolation unfolding before her,
her heart swelled with trepidation.
Above the chaotic battlefield, a majestic figure appeared, his body radiating a resplendent golden light that pierced through the darkness. It was none other than Lahil, the divine tree, resurrected in a final, desperate attempt to save its beloved world.
"Lahil! You still live?" cried out the Queen Ant, a mix of awe and desperation in her voice.
Lahil's voice resonated with a timbre that shook the very heavens. "My life force may flicker in its final moments, but I shall not allow this world to descend into utter annihilation. Bertha, cease your destructive rampage, for the true enemy is not your rival ant colonies but the cataclysmic forces that seek to consume us all!"
The Queen Ant hesitated, her grip on the reins of her devouring army faltering. The cataclysmic destruction unfolding before her eyes served as a poignant reminder of the true nature of their struggle—an existential battle for survival, transcending petty territorial disputes.
With a heavy heart, the Queen Ant Bertha issued a command that resonated through the minds of her ant brethren, suspending the relentless onslaught that had persisted for countless ages.
"We retreat," she declared, her voice laced with both defeat and resolution. "We must unite against the impending cataclysm that threatens to obliterate us all."
The devouring ants, their instincts momentarily suppressed, acknowledged the gravity of their situation. Reluctantly, they relinquished their grip on conquest and began their retreat, guided by the fading light of Lahil, their once-venerated deity.
As the armies of the Ten Thousand Races and the devouring ants dispersed, seeking refuge upon the highest peaks, the collapsing continent of Pangea erupted in a cataclysmic display of fury. The molten lava spewed forth with unbridled force, consuming everything in its path, obliterating landscapes, and reshaping the very contours of the world.
Above this maelstrom of destruction, the resplendent form of Lahil, its divine power waning, emitted a radiant glow. With its final breath, it summoned the remaining celestial wardens, human heroes, and leaders of all races, enveloping them in an ethereal barrier of protection.
As the world trembled on the brink of devastation, the surviving forces stood united, their hearts heavy with the weight of their shared destiny. Together, they braced themselves for the cataclysm that would reshape the world, vowing to emerge from the ashes and rebuild a new era—a world forged not by conquest and destruction, but by unity and the undying spirit of hope.