The Witcher: Start with the Lord Marrying a Wife.

Chapter 592 Chaos Judgment
As the roar of the "Silver Ark" reached its peak, they once again traversed the narrow, torn rifts in spacetime.

In this unstable region filled with whirlpools and fault lines, every jump is a test of skill, courage, and destiny.

The lights inside the cabin flickered on and off. Some equipment shut down automatically due to overload and then quickly restarted. The sounds of countless machines running mingled with the rapid breathing of the crew, creating a tragic yet tenacious echo.

At that moment, a hazy yet vibrant afterimage of information flashed through the device's network capture module:

This is a piece of footage that was transmitted intermittently from the battlefield in my hometown, far away.

Flames burned on the ruins, illuminating the night sky, and countless people fled in panic.
Cynthia, covered in mottled bloodstains, still stands on the edge of despair. Her figure, which is gradually turning into a beast yet remains stubborn and unyielding, is so moving that it brings tears to one's eyes.
Members of the Eternal Night Council fell one by one, while the forces of darkness roared forward...

These scenes were like sharp blades piercing everyone's hearts, and they strengthened their belief that they must do everything in their power to rush to their homeland to rescue and win the battle!

Arya frowned. "Our homeland...is in such dire straits, how can we stand idly by?"

Anne nodded silently, concealing the turbulent emotions within her with a faint sadness: "This is our responsibility, and our mission."

David glanced one last time at the compass on the screen, which shone with a soft but firm light, guiding them on their way home.

"Let's go." He uttered two words, which were both an order and a vow!

The night sky over the Silver Moon capital was stained dark red with billowing smoke, and flames swept across like a raging storm, devouring every inch of life and building.

The once magnificent and solemn magic tower collapsed with a deafening roar, and burning fragments fell from the sky, smashing streets and houses.

Bloodstains were everywhere on the ground, and countless innocent civilians fled in panic, only to be met with more brutal pursuit and tearing apart.

A deafening roar came from afar, belonging to an incredibly terrifying and naturally formed colossal being—Cynthia's complete beast form.

She is tens of meters tall, with a body as large as a mountain, yet she is exceptionally agile.

Its half-wolf, half-dragon form inspires fear: its entire body is covered with cracks that burn like molten lava and sharp ice crystals formed from frozen ice. Each roar tears the air apart, like the most ferocious storm formed by the intertwining of winter and hellfire.

She struggled frantically in the center of the palace square, causing the earth to tremble uncontrollably.

The raging behemoth swept its thick, powerful claws at the crowds trying to approach, indiscriminately attacking the allied soldiers of the Eternal Night Council and the Church of Holy Light, and launching a fierce counterattack against the human sorcerers who tried to protect her and stubbornly resisted the erosion of darkness.

The allied soldiers all had ferocious faces; they were ruthless and cruel, constantly waving spears, staffs, or crossbows, their faces glowing red in the firelight.

As they attacked, they shouted commands, mercilessly trampling this once holy city like demons from the abyss.

The magical fluctuations in their hands flashed with blinding light, sometimes turning an entire block into ruins, and sometimes instantly annihilating survivors in alleyways.

Hill, clad in tattered armor and covered in blood and wounds, stood tall before the broken defensive line beside Cynthia.

He wielded a sharp longsword, each swing accompanied by a resolute roar. He tried his best to invigorate himself and encourage his comrades around him: "Hold this place! For Cynthia, for Silvermoon! We can't let her completely spiral out of control!"

His eyes shone with a pained yet unwavering light, a willpower that had not faded after countless life-or-death trials but had instead grown even stronger, shining even brighter amidst the raging sea of ​​fire and the roars of ferocious beasts.

The priests clung tightly to the behemoth; they were among the few human warriors who still retained their sanity and genuinely protected Cynthia's true consciousness.

They constructed layer upon layer of protective barriers with runes and ancient incantations, while simultaneously urging her to use her last remaining spiritual strength to call upon the softest and warmest memories deep within her soul, which had been devoured by darkness: "Your Majesty, please awaken! Do not let the darkness completely engulf you!"

However, even the most steadfast and persistent could sense the growing and uncontrollable evil within Cynthia.

The beast-like power eroded every nerve ending in her like a nightmare. As she struggled, she let out a low growl filled with pain. The sound was both a roar of anger and a lament, pushing the atmosphere of the battlefield to the brink of despair.

"Back off!" Hill swung his sword, severing an enemy who tried to approach and harvest the behemoth's life energy. At the same time, he quickly surveyed his surroundings. "The allied forces are pressing in, and we have already lost too much ground."

A high priest with glaring eyes and a face full of scars stood atop the spire, a burning rune staff in hand. As he directed the slaughter, he sneered, "This is nothing but a mad beast. Once we destroy its mother, it will collapse completely! The Eternal Night Council will ultimately reap victory!"

The explosions kicked up dust and smoke, and many brave fighters had already fallen not far away. Their blood stained the white stone pavement, and their helpless screams echoed in the empty streets.

A young witch knight fell to her knees, her eyes filled with terror, yet she still mustered her strength to chant a prayer, hoping that her pure faith could seep into a crack in the behemoth's chaotic soul and save it from complete destruction.

"Your Majesty...we...are still here..." The voice was weak but full of deep affection; it was a prayer in despair, and also a ray of dawn built from the last glimmer of hope.

Hill and his warlocks were desperately protecting Cynthia, who had been torn apart by darkness and turned into a beast. They were exhausted and their defenses were crumbling.

The combined forces of the Eternal Night Council and the Holy Light Church wreaked havoc, gradually eroding the last resistance.

Just as the enemy's morale was high and they were preparing to deliver a fatal blow to Cynthia, the sky suddenly seemed to be torn apart by an invisible giant hand, and a dazzling and extremely brilliant astral light flashed out.

That was the "Silver Ark".

A massive interstellar ship that traverses the boundless cosmos, carrying both hope and fury.

With a deafening roar, the Silver Ark slowly hovered in mid-air. Its enormous body was covered in a colorful array of colors, yet it shone with a strange radiance that was a blend of icy blue, dark purple, and fiery red and orange.

The surrounding space was distorted and deformed by its presence, like an eternal and indestructible shield encircling the battlefield.

David stood in front of the bridge command platform, his face solemn, yet filled with rage and determination.

He took a deep breath and concentrated all his chaotic divinity at the junction of the void star core and the stardial fragment, allowing the core containing ancient mysteries and destructive energy to fully awaken.

He slowly opened his hands, and a torrent of energy, a fusion of the fury of the Blood Prison, the might of the Chaos God, the extreme cold of frost, and the surging power of the Sea God's raging waves, gushed forth from his fingertips, pouring down like a final judgment.

This torrent of energy was colorful yet possessed a soul-snatching pressure: the flames burned intensely hot, yet were mixed with howling ice crystals, instantly freezing the surrounding air;

The surging waves crashed into the void like a tsunami, carrying with them the ceaseless churning of chaotic spirits; the blazing flames, like a blood-red hell, seemed intent on burning away all sin and blasphemy.

This strange and terrifying power, accompanied by continuous bursts of sound, drew an arrow of divine punishment across the dark battlefield.

The roar of the "Silver Ark" shook heaven and earth, and all living beings. The sound seemed to be the whisper of gods from the ancient war years, or like thunder and lightning striking the earth, causing even the laws of heaven and earth to tremble.

The allied soldiers were immediately horrified upon hearing the news, and countless high-ranking mages looked up at the sky, having never seen such an astonishing sight.

This is a large-scale punishment that transcends the boundaries of life and death, and is formed into a physical force from the pure will to destroy!

The high priest guarding the spire looked terrified, gripping his rune staff tightly but daring not to move again: "This...this comes from that 'Void' abyss...!"

The energy tide swept down like a raging flood, instantly covering the most densely packed area of ​​the allied forces.

In an instant, countless mages and combat elites marked as high-level enemies were engulfed by blazing flames, while their bodies were frozen by a biting cold current.
The powerful building collapsed amidst the chaotic fluctuations, and dust rose everywhere as if the end of the world had arrived!
The once aggressive, mocking, and shouting crowd fell silent in an instant. They screamed and struggled in pain, but no matter what they did, they could not escape the devastating impact of the shockwave.

A sorcerer witnessed this scene and tears welled up in her eyes. Her trembling hands gripping the rune sword swore, "David... you've finally come..."

The knights responded with low growls, and amidst thunder and lightning, they once again united into an unbreakable defensive line. The giant beast Cynthia also seemed to sense the outside help. She trembled violently, and her half-dragon, half-wolf form gradually stopped its frenzied roars. A trace of clear struggle appeared in her eyes, like the most secret and warm radiance before dawn.

David stood before the command platform, his aura like a storm, pouring his last remaining strength into the mental network.
"Keep the pursuit! Drive this darkness away completely! For our homeland, for our people, for our future!"

The "Silver Wing Ark" descended from the sky like a god, unleashing a torrent of energy that combined the fury of the Blood Prison, the might of the Chaos God, the extreme cold of frost, and the raging waves of the Sea God.

The combined forces of the Eternal Night Council and the Holy Light Church were completely annihilated, and the flames from the explosion illuminated the ruined city walls and scattered figures.

Amidst the swirling dust and thick smoke, everything seemed like the end of the world.

The smoke of battle had not yet dissipated, and the shrill screams gradually subsided, but the tense atmosphere on the battlefield remained heavy.

David flashed forward, leaping with incredible speed toward Cynthia, the raging, unruly, and colossal half-wolf, half-dragon beast.

Her body, covered with cracks from scorching lava and sharp edges of ice, trembled violently, each struggle causing the ground to tremble and the air to tear apart with a roar.

"It's time to end this." David muttered to himself. He clasped his hands together and activated the Chaos Core to its limit. In the hazy gray color, countless complex runes appeared and disappeared on its surface, as if they contained the power of the endless abyss.

That is the "Chaos Shackles"—a chain of constraints woven from ancient runes, bound by time, space, and the essence of the soul.

The shackles spread from David's palms, reaching out towards Cynthia's massive body with incredible speed.

They transcend the violent energy surges, ignoring the sharp claws and scorching flames, precisely binding and binding every energy vein and the core of soul fluctuations.

No matter how the giant beast struggled and roared, the intricate, interwoven patterns formed an unbreakable cage.

Cynthia's body trembled violently as she tried to smash the gray chains with her body, but each impact only caused burning cracks, unable to break the shackles binding the depths of her soul.

Amidst the agonizing screams, the madness in her eyes gradually subsided, and the restless and wild power began to show signs of slowing down.

Lia stood not far away, her knuckles white from gripping the staff too tightly, her whole body taut and resolute like an iron tower.

She concentrated all her magic into pure, flawless frost runes, brimming with soothing and awakening power of will.

These runes rushed towards us like a blizzard from the sky, yet were extremely gentle, like a refreshing drizzle soothing a scorching wound.

She slowly raised her staff, channeling the pure, icy-blue magic into the fragile gaps between the chaotic shackles, like a trickle seeping into the depths of Cynthia's burning, yet painfully intense, soul.

A bone-chilling cold suddenly rose in the air, its frigid aura like the wounds left by a scalding blade, freezing the entire battlefield in an instant.

The beast's struggles grew weaker and weaker, its initial frantic roars turning into painful whimpers, as if it were being peeled away bit by bit by an invisible blade from the dark miasma. Each low growl was a tragic song of pain and sorrow.

Its massive, towering figure, as tall as a mountain, began to slowly fall, accompanied by a deafening roar as the earth trembled and collapsed.

The roar seemed to resonate with the heavens and earth, yet it also resembled the lingering echo of the last hope released from the edge of despair.

Amidst the swirling dust, large, frozen ice crystals, shimmering with a ghostly blue light, tightly enveloped the entire behemoth.

In this crystal-clear, beautiful yet harsh and biting place, a human figure, mottled with blood but with clear outlines, is revealed.

This is Cynthia, the once glorious Silver Moon Queen. Her true form has been ravaged by a long battle, leaving her with only a faint breath, yet her stubborn and beautiful figure still remains.

Lia breathed a sigh of relief. She reached out and gently touched the ice barrier covering her body. "This shield is fragile, but it is enough to seal away the remnants of life and buy time for awakening."

Her gaze was firm and solemn: "What we need to do next is to protect it and not let any enemy get their hands on it."

Anne approached silently, using gentle mental waves to support the queen who slept in the thick frozen earth. "Continue to strengthen the mental protection network, and do not allow any time or space to disturb or erode the mind."

Arya gripped her longsword firmly, keeping watch on all sides. "Although the enemy has been routed, the remaining remnants are still cunning. We must build an ironclad defense and not allow any weaknesses."

David crouched down, his gaze both tender and resolute, and whispered, "Your Majesty, you are not fighting alone. We will all accompany you through the darkness until dawn."

The lingering smoke of war had not yet dissipated, and the shattered capital of Silver Moon still trembled under the combined assault of flames and gunpowder.

The ground was covered with charred debris, and the broken magic circle runes intertwined to form a desolate battlefield.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of burnt metal mixed with the stench of blood.

(End of this chapter)