musicians of old

Chapter 937 "The Flame of Martyrdom"!
Warm, gentle sunlight streamed down, illuminating every corner of the church interior and dispelling all lingering chill and filth.

The stained glass windows all around, many of which had been destroyed or replaced by blank walls, have now come alive with their frames and remaining patches of color, opening outwards on their own.

It opened wide like a door.

Through them, one can see the magnificent mountain outlines faintly emerging outside the window, birds flying through the woods, winding clear streams, the shimmering waves on the distant sea, and magnificent cities shrouded in smoke and fog, outlining silhouettes of steel, airships, and clock towers!

The old industrial world has been destroyed, and the new creation before us is not the same as the past. However, the blueprint that Fanning holds in his heart is still the place that left the deepest and most unforgettable memories and creative history. Or rather, Fanning's "preservation and use" of the moment before the Ten Days to Climb the Tower as a blueprint must be the most "realistic" and "clever" strategy.

Moreover, this can indeed be proven. There are countless figures of people from the past immersed in the riotous colors. Those who have not yet undergone a complete transformation are all drawn to and retrieved by this newborn light and scene. Blurred and distorted lines are integrated into these newborn silhouettes, like fragile specimens about to be transplanted.

This also includes the phantoms of those who had just passed away.

"Boom!"

From the outside, the upper part of the magnificent church began to emit countless beams of light towards the dark and crumbling outside world!
A beam of light like a passageway, a passageway like a beam of light.

Following the name of Our Lady of Glory, the path to the "New World" was opened.

The beams of light penetrate and extend far and wide, "sweeping" across more and more space, converging and merging with each other.

It also reflects more shadows full of new hope.

Following His name, the entire "upper half" of the outside world, together with Him, began to change.

Except for the one below.

"Sizzle!!!"

A cold light pierced through the slurry, and Pogrerich's figure, after carving a huge, elongated arc deep within, split open and rose into the air directly beneath the church's foundation!
His posture at this moment was both divine and oppressive.

With a cold gaze and his left arm raised high, he frantically activated the "Power of Breaking the Situation" and used one hand to directly support the base of the colossal object above!
This tilting "ark," mired in a filthy ocean, emitted a huge, labored hum, as if struggling to break free from the mud. For the first time, its sinking momentum was reversed, and it began to slowly break free from the viscous slurry and rise upwards!

Pogrerich's other right hand didn't slow down at all. The blade in his hand transformed into countless precise, ruthless, and lightning-fast blades, splashing a devastating blue storm at the "coelenterate" limbs, filthy waves, and various deformed conceptual creations that rose up from all directions and tried to drag them away!
"Shoot-"

A massive spatial turbulence slashed upwards from nowhere, reaching the "Midday Moon" hanging in mid-air, dripping with viscous fluid. The almost tangible dark green light around it was sucked in and shattered by the turbulence.

"Crack!!"

Another diagonal slash sliced ​​off the entire decayed church door, along with the surrounding stones! The writhing serpentine vortex was still trying to reform, but in the blink of an eye, it was swept away by a large gush of golden river water that gushed out from within and plunged into the sea.

"Whoosh whoosh whoosh!—" Several more impenetrable straight thrusts pierced through an extremely thick "intestine" that was flashing with the eerie notes of "The Secret Realm of Apocalypse" inside. Finally, it was pinned to the ground in mid-air by two cross-shaped blades and exploded into colorful blood flowers!
Meanwhile, the church above was being lifted up at the same time.

“Stop! It’s useless, you fool! The end will only lead to that deeper ‘end,’ and the closer you get, the closer the mystery becomes to infinity. It’s useless!” Mr. F’s voice was hoarse, and in his deep words, it was hard to tell whether it was more of a panicked threat or a deeper madness. “Huh? What’s going on?! This thing… damn it, why is it suddenly so heavy?! Why is it still changing?”

It was at this moment that both of them, who were supporting and pulling each other, suddenly felt a change in circumstances.

When those billions of beams of light, each containing new life, burst forth from all directions of the upper part of the church, they suddenly felt the entire church become incredibly heavy!

It was heavy before, but this time it's completely different.

This is by no means a mere material burden, but rather something that has expanded outward on an almost transcendental scale, incorporating the embers and sins of the old world along with all the original rules and hopes of the new world. This newborn thing is even heavier than the concepts of "Purema" and "World Source God," for it is itself the "World Source"!
What is the weight of a “new world”?
Pogorelich's lifted body suddenly sank down again.

The situation that had just been turned around seems to be repeating itself.

"That's good, hehehe, Your Excellency Director."

Mr. F's voice was coming out as he was panting heavily.

His "Secret of the End" was strangled, slaughtered, and spread by the barrage of sword light just now, and he is now in an extremely uncomfortable state. Even taking a breath feels like the thorns of "ashes" are piercing his lungs.

"Save your energy, save your strength, hehehe. If you don't let go, I'm already thinking of leaving first, heh. We're not even close to the real 'end' yet, and we're already putting in this much effort."

"What does this prove? It only proves that this defective product doesn't deserve to be included!"

It's worth noting that Mr. F only "dragged downwards" and suddenly felt this unusually heavy feedback, let alone Pogorelich who was being lifted upwards under immense pressure.
The church's own lift was far from sufficient, and even with Pogrerich's support, it still could not bear the weight of a "new world" on the scale of a "collection of rules"!
Pogrelic smiled indifferently, maintaining his lifting posture.

But below the hem of that dark blue dress, a wisp of pale blue flame, as sharp as a blade or as fierce as a storm, silently ignited!

The flames are not externally burning, but rather ignited from within, from the very source of His divine existence. They are cold, cruel, and silent, carrying the self-denial, or even the sense of "martyrdom," that is found at the highest level of the "Ember" principle.

This is the "fire of martyrdom"!
The flames began at the feet, spreading steadily and unstoppably upwards. Wherever they passed, the body, along with the boots and tuxedo, was instantly reduced to countless tiny, cold, metallic particles.

Legs, waist, abdomen, chest, and even the knife in his hand.
The particles rose into the air like sparks, and even the smallest one contained an extremely terrifying sharpness, capable of easily becoming the object of suppression for a dynasty, an era, or an organization.

Below, the churning liquid suddenly stopped, and the vivid scene, frozen as ice, was exceptionally eerie.

Mr. F, who was behind all of this, seemed stunned.