Wizard Bloodline.

Chapter 481 The Origin of the World, Son of Fenrir!

Ronan could not describe this power.

He seemed to return to the moment when he advanced to the fifth level and his primordial spirit was born, when his soul connected with heaven and earth and he saw the essential appearance of the world woven and constructed from countless rules and laws.

Under this mysterious, vast, boundless, and ancient power, he was less than a speck of dust.

Even the "seed of law" within his body stirred slightly under the aura of this power, as if it might be absorbed at any moment.
"call--"

Ronan abruptly released his grip on the boy's shoulder, looked up abruptly, and stared at Favara in horror, blurting out, "What is this?"

Favara seemed to have anticipated his reaction, and said with a faint smile, "You are much calmer than I expected. When I first 'saw' 'it,' my reaction was much more intense than yours."

"You still have not answered my question."

Ronan spoke in a deep voice, trying to calm the turmoil in his heart.

"I do not know either."

Favara shook his head, then hesitated before speaking, "I'll tentatively call it—the origin of the world."

"The origin of the world?!"

Ronan looked slightly taken aback.

"The foundation upon which everything in the world is born."

It is creation, and it is destruction.

A deep longing and awe appeared on Favara's face. "I've spent a long time studying it, but the deeper I delve, the more fear I feel."

Ronan: "Is that why Fenrir wants to capture you?"

"Yes."

Favara said, "The good news is that Fenrir is currently only driven by instinct, vaguely sensing that this might be beneficial to it, so the force it has dispatched is not very strong."

"What would happen if Fenrir got it?"

Ronan couldn't help but ask.

Favara glanced at him, then spoke in a low voice:
"It will immediately awaken from its slumber and may become the first magical beast to break free from the Primordial Era and ascend to Mythology, and the current world order will undergo a tremendous change."

Ronan didn't speak again, but instead silently asked Arajan in his mind, "Arajan, what do you think?"

It took him a long time to receive a response from Alazan.

"Most of what he said is probably true, Damian."

Arajan clearly felt the shock and impact of this power. "The war that laid the foundation for the world's current map not only shattered the ancient continent, but also shattered other things."
I have indeed heard of powerful wizards waging war over something that could help ninth-level wizards transcend the Twilight.

Suddenly, Arajan's tone turned serious, and he warned, "Don't even think about possessing it now. Your eyes are too weak; looking directly at the sun will only burn you with its light."

"I see."

Ronan nodded, then looked at Favara.

Favara's "frank" confession of this big secret to him undoubtedly suggests that he was trying to "drag him down with him."

But he deliberately got involved in this trouble, so he can't blame anyone else.

Ronan suddenly felt a strange sense of respect for Favara in front of him.

Favara had a completely different option—to voluntarily offer the "origin of the world" to Fenrir.

This would undoubtedly bring him enormous benefits that could change his destiny.

But he foresaw the turmoil and disaster that would follow this choice, and ultimately took the completely opposite path—abandoning everything he had, his reputation, his status, and perhaps even his life, all for the sake of maintaining world peace?!
Although Ronan's choices after the outbreak of the demonic calamity on the Upper Continent seem equally "foolish" to outsiders, just like Favara's current actions, Ronan's decision to stand up back then was partly driven by self-preservation. In contrast, Favara truly acted "selflessly."

Ronan suddenly spoke up, asking Favara, "So where are you planning to take it?"

"The root of the world".

Favara answered calmly, almost without hesitation: "Only the root of the world is its best destination."

"The Root of the World."

The root of the world.

Almost every wizard longs to go to this place, and even the Ice Emperor Chagus Connor hoped that Ronan could reach the Roots of the World.

So what exactly is it about this place, representing the highest hall of wizards, that has held such a fatal attraction for countless wizards throughout history?
Ronan suppressed the jumble of thoughts in his mind and turned to look at the curly-haired boy beside him.

He tried to make his voice sound gentle, "What's your name?"

Rick.

The boy was still somewhat afraid of him, and his voice was high-pitched and thin, as if he was going through puberty. Judging from his age, he was probably about the same age as Agatha Christie.

"When do you plan to leave?"

After everything was discussed, Ronan asked Favara about his official departure.

Favara frowned slightly and said in a low voice, "Although I have a way to deceive Ruther and the Elders' pursuit, Fenrir is behind everything."

Under Fenrir's will, we have nowhere to hide; we'll likely be found before we even reach the Spring of Freedom.

Ronan thought for a moment and then quickly said, "If you trust me, I have a way to keep Fenrir from finding you for the time being."

"Um?!"

Favara suddenly looked up and stared at Ronan with some surprise.

Countless domes made of huge, curved black animal bones pierced into the ancient building of the hall like sharp claws, where a figure was curled up in pain, constantly making pleas for help.

"Lord Luluser, please give me another chance."

The young and handsome wizard seemed to be engulfed in invisible flames, his body melting like wax, and smoke-like substances constantly flying out of his eyes, mouth, and nose, all of which were absorbed by a black iron disc floating nearby.

"Many things only offer one chance, Born."

A voice descended from near the dome, echoing in the empty hall, "I'm sorry, you couldn't catch it."

As soon as he finished speaking, the young wizard, who was suffering greatly, suddenly twisted his face and let out a shrill scream. Then, with a "boom," he suddenly exploded into a thick cloud of blood mist, and his body and soul were absorbed by the black iron plate in front of him.

Accompanied by a low howl like a wolfhound, the black iron plate, saturated with blood and flesh, flew up to the top of the hall and finally landed gently on a pale, withered hand.

The owner of the hand picked up the iron plate, saw the patched-up gap, and put the plate away with satisfaction.

If Ronan were here, he would be surprised to find that this wizard, dressed in a black robe with green patterns, has a face that looks remarkably like Favara.

The only difference was that his appearance was more gloomy, and his aged eyes were filled with cunning, giving him a completely opposite temperament to Favala.

In Valensarte, only a very small number of wizards knew that the two wizards, Favara and Ruther, who were always at odds, were actually brothers by blood. However, this blood relationship had been severed long ago, and no one knew what had happened between them.

The hem of Ruther's robe was extremely long, extending past his ankles and down to the cylindrical platform he stood on, almost touching the bottom.

On either side stood the same ancient pillars, all of them of the same height. On the wide platform at the top of most of the pillars stood a wizard, each emanating a powerful spiritual energy fluctuation belonging to the late stage of level six.

These fluctuations of spiritual energy formed a kind of smoke-like state in the void, radiating outwards from each person and casting majestic and mysterious shadowy outlines over their figures.

"It seems that Favara did indeed take something extremely important, something so important that even his most beloved disciple could abandon it."

Ruther spoke, his voice hoarse and unpleasant, like two rusty metal pieces scraping together.

"Now, on behalf of the Elders, I have made the decision to formally expel Favara from the Elders' Council, and I hope that everyone will cooperate with me to capture this traitor, Favara, and retrieve what he stole from Valensarte."

"You can only represent yourself, Rutherford."

Before Luther could finish speaking, a deep sound emanated from a cylindrical platform.

"A resolution to expel someone from the council requires at least a two-thirds majority vote to pass, and I don't recall ever attending a similar voting meeting."

"This matter does not require a vote, my dear Archmage Grimm."

Ruther sneered and said calmly, "The joint order issued by the three Twilight-level elders has completely confirmed Favara's identity as a traitor."

"Then at least a Grand Elder needs to personally explain, rather than having you relay the message."

"Elder Hutchinson will leave the tower in thirty years to complete this process."

Ruther stared at the speaker's location and spoke coldly.

"Then let's gather everyone again in thirty years. I'm sure everyone can afford to wait that long."

After speaking, the speaker turned away indifferently from the cylindrical platform where he was standing and flew straight towards the outside of the main hall.

Clearly, he was not the only wizard who shared this view, and many wizards made moves to leave the room.

Ruther watched helplessly as this unfolded, furious but utterly powerless to stop it.

Favara enjoys unparalleled prestige in Valensarte, with more than half of the elders being his loyal followers. In a short period of time, without solid and compelling evidence, he simply cannot bring him down quickly.

Seeing that the first wizard who had stood up against him was about to leave, Ruther seemed to have finally made up his mind and said loudly, "Green, I hope you can stick to your foolish stance!"

After saying that, Ruther raised his hand and picked up an object that looked like a green crystal ball, then crushed it with a sudden movement.

In an instant, a strange fluctuation emanated.

The dome of the entire parliament hall rapidly blurred and seemed to disappear under this fluctuation.

A beam of cold moonlight shone down, its light as green as jade and as cold as ice.

In the thick moonlight, a figure slowly emerged.

Everyone in the hall stopped and stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared.

He was a young man with his eyes closed, shirtless, and with long, thick hair like a wolf's mane that reached his ankles.

He simply stood there, and it seemed as if he represented some kind of supreme will.

On his bare chest, streaks of green wolf shadows burned like phosphorescent flames.

Within three months.

The young man spoke without warning, his voice, colder and more indifferent than moonlight, yet carrying an undeniable and powerful aura.

"Find the traitor Favara, and the child he always kept by his side."

"This is my intention."

The young man suddenly opened his eyes. In his gray-green eyes, the small pupils shrank into dangerous black vertical lines, like the eyes of a wolf.

He looked calmly at the black-robed wizard named Grimm who was the first to leave his seat, and said coldly, "It is also the will of the great Fenrir."

Inside the vast conference hall, there was not a sound, only large swaths of green moonlight burning eerily like will-o'-the-wisps.

After a moment, the black-robed wizard turned around, slowly bent his back, and said in a respectful low voice, "As you wish, Lord Goenitz."

Ruther was the first to kneel down, his face, which resembled Favara's, now filled with cruelty and smugness.

Ronan wandered alone across the dark, vast plains, gazing at the three bright moons on the distant horizon, his mind constantly communicating with Arajan.

"So, each realm has a different method of timekeeping?"

Like the Realm of Fenrir, there is no sun, only three moons that constantly alternate in the sky.

Starting with one moon, then two, three, and then slowly returning to one.

This cycle, which lasts for a month, represents a breath or fluctuation of the sleeping Fenrir consciousness, and also symbolizes the passing of a "day".

A day in the Realm of Fenrir is more than three times longer than a sunrise and sunset on the Upper Continent.

"All civilizations and races' divisions of time are merely self-imposed, narrow, and biased definitions. True time has never increased or decreased by any means because of these definitions..."

Ronan wholeheartedly agreed with Alazan's summary. He was just a little curious about how the age data on his character panel would increase after he entered Central.

"...The place with the longest time in the ten domains should be Snow Town Ice Ruins. A day there is almost equivalent to a year in other domains."

Ronan subconsciously recalled the Ice Emperor's Frost Stone Throne, which he had kept in the Misty Space. It was a compass for finding the Ice Emperor's remaining inheritance and bloodline. If he wasn't mistaken, it should point directly to the Primordial Frost Whale Realm among the Ten Great Realms.

"Arajan, have you traveled to many realms?"

Ronan couldn't help but speak up.

"a lot of."

His words seemed to evoke some memories for Arajan: "I have spent more than a hundred years in each of the seven realms of the ten domains."

There are also many small and medium-sized domains.
Most of the environments are treacherous and dangerous, but some boast unique, magnificent, and breathtaking scenery.

"Exploration, struggle."

You will inevitably have to walk these two paths.

Damian, if you want to reach the Roots of the World, find a way to be listed in the Dracolis's Legendary Register; this is the fastest shortcut.

Ronan's expression shifted, and he was about to ask Arajan what he meant when his mental energy connected with a faint fluctuation of consciousness.

"It's getting close, it's in this direction!"

Ronan's spirits lifted slightly, and he immediately moved quickly toward the direction indicated by the fluctuations in consciousness.

(End of this chapter)