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Page 169
Suspended in mid-air, Silinxi's gaze swept across the entire battlefield, lingering for a moment on every detail. When she looked at the Abyss Lord being chased by Cyrek, the Lord of Curses devouring demons, and the Lost Dragon driven mad, a knowing glint flashed in her eyes.
"The game of the gods is as cruel as ever," she said softly, her voice clear enough to reach everyone's ears.
She raised her right hand, her slender fingers tracing intricate runes in the air. These runes were neither found in any current spellcasting system, nor were they High Elf magic from the golden age of the ancient elves. Each rune contained the deepest understanding of the magic network, and each trajectory redefined the rules of this spacetime.
The blasphemous barrier began to tremble violently.
The dark purple barrier, originally brimming with the chaotic power of the abyss, was like thin ice exposed to the blazing sun before Silinxi's power. But she didn't destroy it—that would be too brutal and wasteful. Instead, she rewrote it, transforming chaos into order, and blasphemy into divinity.
Only wise people who delve into the deeper levels of the world's essence can accomplish such a thing.
The labyrinth lock, perhaps, is a more fundamental rule, a powerful force capable of redefining the rules of real-world applications.
Within the area shrouded by the spell, the spellcaster is the rule-maker.
The dark purple energy began to fade, replaced by a warm golden glow. The once twisted and frenzied runes were rearranged, forming sacred patterns representing nature, life, and order. The sulfurous smell in the air was replaced by a fresh floral fragrance, and the bloodstains and debris on the ground were purified and vanished in the light.
The demons let out a mournful wail.
The abyssal aura that had once allowed them to thrive was completely dispelled, replaced by positive energy that caused them immense suffering. Each demon felt as if it had been thrown into boiling water, its skin emitting blue smoke under the radiance, its power receding like a tide.
The lower-ranking demons didn't even have time to scream before they turned to ashes in the radiance. The slightly stronger demons desperately tried to escape, but the power of the Enchanted Lock was like an invisible cage, trapping them firmly in place.
Even more terrifying are the divine effects attached to them, which directly halve their combat power, reduce their maximum health by half, and completely disable all their self-healing and regeneration abilities, leaving them to suffer continuous damage from radiance and order every second.
"This is the real labyrinth." Elasdra murmured to herself. She had seen the labyrinth of Misdrano before, but compared to this, it was like the difference between an apprentice's work and a master's masterpiece. She wondered what she would think if she knew that the labyrinth of Misdrano was built by Selene.
Did this guy hold back back then? Or has she improved a lot over the past few hundred years?
The entire rewriting process lasted only a dozen seconds, but for the demon legion, those few seconds were the beginning of eternal torment for the Saint-level beings. When the radiance stabilized, the once-mighty abyssal army had become a group of pitiful creatures trembling in fear.
Silinxi paid no attention to these minor characters; her gaze was fixed on the Thousand Blade Queen. This six-armed serpent demon abyss lord was being entangled by Storm Silver Hand. Although she was far stronger than her opponent, she had already fallen into a disadvantageous position under the suppression of the New Lock.
"Crawler of the abyss, your game is over."
The Sun Elf's voice remained calm, but as soon as she finished speaking, she appeared before the Thousand Blade Queen. Her movement transcended the concept of teleportation; it was as if she had always been there, only now revealing herself to others.
The Thousand Blade Queen's six eyes widened simultaneously; she could feel the terrifying pressure emanating from the seemingly frail elf before her. It wasn't mere power, but an absolute control over the rules.
"Certainly."
Without lengthy incantations or complicated gestures, Celine simply uttered short words, as if they were a decree.
Based on a high level of 30 spellcasting, coupled with a series of super magic feats such as spell rank, spell slot increase, spell maximum effect, spell instant cast, spell penetration, and spell cast time, plus the direct blessing of the magic network—just like Isis and Midnight's joint spellcasting in the Year of Turmoil.
The Thousand Blade Queen didn't even have a chance to resist. You, Lin Lin, want Lin Lin Kong, but Lin Zai Zai...
Chains formed of pure order appeared out of thin air, instantly binding her six arms and serpentine body. They not only bound her body but also sealed her power. Her power as an abyss lord was completely suppressed, and she couldn't use even a fraction of her powerful spellcasting abilities.
"Impossible!" the Thousand Blade Queen roared in despair. "I am the lord of the abyss! I am—"
"You are nothing," Celine interrupted her, her tone tinged with pity. "Challenging the authority of the Magic Network in the Prime Material Plane—you brain-dead abyssal creatures will never learn reverence."
Storm Silverhand stared blankly at the scene, forgetting to maintain the silver flames in her hands. She had never seen such a clean and decisive battle—no, this couldn't even be called a battle; it was a one-sided crushing defeat.
But Celine ignored her and didn't even glance at her.
For this ancient mage, the greatest threat was not the Abyss Lord, but the Lost Dragon that was relentlessly hunting everything in its path.
She turned, her gaze falling on Cyric. The lost dragon was attempting to break through Casalos's defenses and pounce on the last abyss lord. The power of death swirled around it, and the aura originating from the River Styx cast a shadow of death over the entire battlefield.
"Interesting," Silinxi said softly. "A lost dragon possessing divinity, that's truly unheard of. Let me see who bestowed such a 'gift' upon you."
She raised her hand again, this time not using any known spell. Perhaps only Casalos and Elminster present knew what it was: it was the only super-ninth-level spell on the continent of Faerûn in this era, Sylvanas's Spell Transference, a tenth-level spell.
A bugged spell that even the dark god Moandr couldn't withstand—Kasaroth said that Sylph was the strongest creature in Faerûn, not because she was actually that strong—although she was indeed incredibly strong, but the more important reason was that Sylph was the highest authority dog in Faerûn's magic network, the kind that even a true god couldn't withstand.
The spell's name proclaims the Sun Elves' proudest achievement. At its minimum, this spell creates a fixed, luminous spherical shield with a 3-meter radius around the target, impenetrable by any spell. However, its true power is revealed when the caster becomes the spell's focal point.
Through the perspective of magical manipulation, the magic network was laid bare before Silinxi. She could see the composition of every spell, the flow of every strand of magic power, and even touch and manipulate these powers—just like Isis did a few days before ascending to godhood, except that Isis relied on absorbing Mystra's divine power, while Silinxi relied on her own exploration.
"I see." She looked at Cyric, a look of understanding flashing in her eyes. "The power of death, the essence of eternal annihilation, the essence of dragons. What a grand scheme! They really went to great lengths to create such a monster."
Seemingly sensing a threat, Cyric abandoned its pursuit of the Lord of Curses and instead lunged at Sylph. The power of the Hand of Death coalesced at its claws, a divine force capable of instantly extinguishing any life, directed at the Sun Elf.
But Celine simply smiled slightly.
"Cancel."
With just two simple words, the Hand of Death that Cyric had painstakingly conjured vanished into thin air. It wasn't blocked by defenses, nor neutralized by other forces; it was extinguished the moment it formed within the magical network, as if it had never existed.
Cyric froze, its madness-driven consciousness gripped by fear. It tried to use other abilities—spells, psionic powers, spell-like abilities—but without exception, all abilities based on magic in a broad sense were canceled the moment they took shape.
"Dead silence."
Silinxi uttered the second word softly, and a spherical Death Zone with a radius of one hundred meters formed around Cyric. Within this range, all generalized magic became completely ineffective, including the divine power that sustained Cyric's strength.
"Control."
The moment the third word was uttered, the death domain that had been enveloping Cyrek, formed by the Styx power constantly overflowing from its body, was forcibly altered in both scope and effect. The death power that should have been attacking its enemies was now instead eroding Cyrek itself.
"assistance."
As the last word fell, another sphere radiating a soft glow completely enveloped Cyric. This sphere of light appeared gentle, but in reality, it was the perfect cage. Within it, all of Cyric's supernatural abilities and powers were completely sealed; it was now just an ordinary dragon—no, even less than an ordinary dragon, because it couldn't even use dragon breath.
But this does not mean the end of the battle.
Having lost all generalized magical abilities, Cyric roared in fury—a pure, unadulterated roar. As an elderly lost dragon, even without magic, its physical strength remained terrifyingly powerful. A body exceeding sixty meters in length, scales harder than adamantite, claws and fangs capable of easily tearing apart ancient dragons—these were its innate weapons.
Cyric suddenly flapped his enormous dragon wings, creating a storm that sent rubble flying everywhere. His massive body left a trail of afterimages as he lunged toward his nearest target—Storm Silverhand.
"Damn it!" Storm exclaimed, hastily retreating. She then realized that even without magic, this monster could still easily tear anyone present apart.
Casalos admitted that he was suspected of deliberately not stopping her, but he didn't really intend to let Cyrek eat Storm Silverhand. He just wanted to scare the crazy woman—who knows what kind of mutation this guy would undergo after eating Silverfire.
The illusory dragon body, composed of elements, transformed into a stream of chaotic light, instantly blocking Cyric's attack path. The two colossal dragons, exceeding their size, collided violently in mid-air, unleashing a deafening roar.
The shockwave swept outwards, causing the chaotic elements to tremble unstablely. The core iron dragon quickly regained its footing, spread its elemental wings, and once again engaged in battle with Cyric, using the stun caused by the mechanical collision to gather power and unleash every breath of dragon breath.
On the surface, it was a pure hand-to-hand combat. There were no fancy spells, no bizarre abilities, only the most primal biting, scratching, and colliding. In reality, however, it was a clash between the "rules" of the foundation of the world and the reality of the River Styx. Every blow from Cyrek carried the power to shatter mountains; its body, born from being immersed in the waters of the River Styx, was itself death.
Casalos maintains the "material foundation" of the material world. Although its actual size is much smaller than Cyrek, it supports the world's shell composed of the four elements.
Most importantly, a manifestation of the primordial power originating from the beginning of the multiverse—the blazing flames—remains in effect. Those seemingly dim flames still flicker on Cyric, constantly eroding its essence and the foundation of its existence. With each passing second, the power of the Lost Dragon weakens further.
"Cislindo, you coward!"
Fangs, who was engaged in a fierce battle with the white dragon lich, suddenly roared.
While everyone's attention was drawn to Cyric, the demigod lich had quietly slipped away from the battlefield and was preparing to escape via teleportation.
"Trying to run? Dream on!" Razor's thorns stood on end, and arcane light cascaded down like a waterfall. It threw out a dimensional anchor in an attempt to stop the white dragon's escape.
But Qislindo was an ancient monster who had lived for countless years and was prepared for this. His figure blurred a moment before the dimensional anchor took effect, and then he completely disappeared from the battlefield.
"Damn it!" Toothshaver was so angry it almost pulled out its own thorns, but it knew the pursuit was futile.
Catching a demigod lich that has made up its mind to escape is virtually impossible.
Even if you catch them, it's useless. Demigod liches don't even have a life box. Their essence has long since been transferred to some unknown corner of the infinite outer realm. Even a true god would have difficulty killing them. This is not the lich boasting. Back then, even the powerful and exemplary young man, Losanda, couldn't kill Samaster when he came. Samaster hadn't even transformed into a demigod lich yet.
With the threat of the White Dragon Lich gone, the chosen ones of the Goddess of Magic could finally focus on other enemies. Elminster swung his staff, creating massive fireballs that exploded amidst the demon horde. Empowered by the rewritten Enchanted Lock by Serenity, this ordinary third-circle spell unleashed power comparable to a sixth-circle spell.
Elasdra, Kelburn, Lyra, Storm—everyone joined the fight against the demons. Under the suppression of the positive energy lock, these abyssal creatures were as fragile as paper dolls. Every spell could wipe out swathes of enemies; every attack was a devastating blow.
The armies of Deepwater Territory and the Silvermoon Federation seized the opportunity. Steel golems roared into the demon horde, their howling metal storms shattering everything in their path. Dragonvein kobolds spewed flames from their dragon scythes, while half-dragon warriors wielded their enchanted weapons, reaping demon lives.
The dragons and the dragons swept low overhead, their breath raining down like raindrops. Even the most ordinary dragon breath was imbued with a noble radiance and pure natural power; those high-ranking demons who could normally resist the dragon breath were inevitably killed when their faces were swarmed by these two vile creatures.
The Thinkers and Singers, however, did not participate in the slaughter. They flew to the vicinity of the portal and constructed a new defensive system. The Thinkers' quadruple auras shrank in size, concentrating around the portal, trading area for strength to form an impenetrable barrier. The Singers chanted yet another ancient war song, the notes transforming into tangible runes that coiled around the edges of the portal.
The Lord of the Giant Skull Curse attempted to escape, but was stopped by the prepared golden dragon, Eros Krujipala. This Lord of the Abyss, weakened to the extreme by the suppression of the Enchanted Lock, had no strength left to retaliate against the full-force attack of an elderly golden dragon druid.
"Nature's judgment!"
The golden dragon roared, unleashing the power bestowed upon it by Melika. Emerald light transformed into countless vines, binding the Lord of Curses tightly. Then, a golden dragon breath powerful enough to incinerate mountains erupted forth, utterly ending the life of this abyss lord.
The battle continued, but the outcome was no longer in doubt. Under the suppression of Silinxi's magic lock, the demon army was like a flock of lambs to the slaughter. The only one still holding on was the lost dragon locked in combat with Casaloz.
Cyric's condition worsened. The continuous burning of the flames caused its essence, derived from the River Styx, to rapidly deplete; its once-tough scales began to fall off, and its powerful muscles gradually atrophied. Its movements became sluggish, its attacks lost their accuracy, and even flying became difficult.
Casalos seized another opportunity, swooping down and slamming Cyrek into the ground. With a deafening roar, the Lost Dragon crashed heavily to the earth, kicking up a cloud of dust. Before it could even get up, Casalos opened its jaws, unleashing a torrent of scorching breath.
The fifth breath, delivered with all my might!
The chaotic elements, crackling with electric sparks, completely engulfed the Lost Dragon, obscuring the final burst of its dim, blazing flames.
"No..." Cyric cried out in a human voice, the dragon's roar that once shook the entire battlefield now as weak as an old man's candle flickering in the wind, "I...cannot...die..."
But death is fair; even those with divine power, even those who are themselves embodiments of death, cannot escape the devouring of the River Styx. As the last trace of his essence was plundered by the blazing flames, Cyric's massive body crashed to the ground, never to move again.
A false god, a lost dragon guarding the underworld, thus perished at the Gate of Hell.
The battlefield gradually quieted down. The last demons had been wiped out, and the Abyss Portal was firmly sealed by the Bronze Dragons. The allied forces of Deepwater Territory and the Silvermoon Federation began constructing fortifications around the portal to ensure that no new demons would emerge.
As the smoke cleared, only corpses littered the ground and the lingering stench of blood remained. The fierce battle was finally over, but the price was immense. Deepwater Territory lost nearly a third of its constructs, and thousands of warriors fell forever on this land.
But they won.
Once the last defensive structure was in place and the portal was completely sealed, Silence slowly descended to the ground. She still possessed the elegance and composure that every Sun Elf always had, as if the feat of rewriting the rules of the entire battlefield was nothing more than a trivial matter to her.
Casalos, having exited his chaotic elemental form, landed before her. His silvery-white scales seemed to have been eroded by time, covered with mottled rust, but his indigo vertical pupils still shone with unyielding and resolute spirit.
Perhaps they were the strongest of two eras, standing face to face like this.
"what you up to?"
Celine spoke first, her tone calm and composed, as if chatting with an old friend. Although this was their first meeting, there was no trace of unfamiliarity in her eyes when she looked at Casalos.
Casalos raised his head, looking down fearlessly at the legendary figure: "I want to nail the magic net into the abyss, and what do you want to do, Oruwenia Estóda?"
“It’s been a very, very long time since anyone called that name.” The Sun Elf tilted his head back, his gaze briefly unfocused as if recalling something, then smiled faintly: “It seems you, like that little rascal said, know many secrets… I originally only intended to close this passage… How do you plan to achieve your goal?”
Casalos's wing-like toes pointed like spears at Sultanza in the distance: "Use the Myser's Core of that floating city as a node to construct a labyrinth."
"Locked?" Celine repeated the word, her tone carrying that arrogant, pointed voice that dragons disliked. "So, you need my help? But why should I help you?"
Casalos took a deep breath, his indigo vertical pupils calm as still water: "Because Waterdeep has a better future than Mystron, because Isis and Midnight are more competent than Mystra, and because you're willing to do it."
The silence lasted for several breaths.
Then, Celine smiled.
"Hahaha!"
A crisp laugh echoed across the battlefield, like the first spring rain falling on parched earth. There was no mockery or contempt in that laughter, only a heartfelt joy.
30. The Dragon's Flaws
"Since that's the case, then come find me when you're ready. It's not appropriate for me to show myself in public right now..." The Sun Elf's figure vanished like morning mist, but his last words echoed clearly in everyone's minds: "You little rascal, you know how to find me."
Elminster's white beard trembled slightly, clearly somewhat annoyed by the title. But before he could say anything, Storm Silverhand's sharp question pierced the brief silence like a sword.
"What makes you think that simply sending the magic net through a narrow passage into the abyss will give arcane magic the power to contend with the abyss—that's the abyss's home ground!" Her silver hair swayed slightly in her anger, and although she didn't raise her longsword, her aura of being ready to fight at any moment was undisguised.
Casalos lazily flicked its tail, its silvery-white scales shimmering with a metallic sheen in the gradually recovering sunlight. Its indigo vertical pupils glanced sideways at the storm, its beak slightly parted, emitting a mocking chuckle.
"Ask your old man, Elminster, where he survived when he recently fell into hell."
These words were like a slap in the face to the old sage's dignity.
Elminster's expression instantly became interesting. His aged fingers unconsciously stroked his white beard, his lips moved, but he ultimately swallowed back the words that were about to come out.
He secretly vowed to himself: I'd be a fool if I continued what you were saying!
Elasdra stepped forward at the opportune moment, the High Lady of Silvermoon City's elegance undiminished even amidst the ravaged battlefield. With a gentle wave of her hand, invisible magic pressed the storm back into place, then she turned to Casalos, her voice gentle yet carrying an undeniable authority.
"This is a very real problem, Your Excellency Casalos." Her long silver hair swayed gently in the breeze, and her intelligent eyes gleamed with thoughtful consideration. "If your plan truly succeeds, it will greatly benefit Faerûn, and Silvermoon City would be happy to contribute. But the prerequisite is that you can convince me..."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over everyone present—from the defiant Storm to the silent Elminster, then to the thoughtful Kelburn and Lyra, before finally settling on Iron Dragon.
"You need to convince us that this isn't yet another insane plan that will bring disaster to Feren."
Casalos slightly raised its head, the phantoms of the four elements faintly visible behind it—traces left by the fierce battle just now. It took a deep breath, the lingering smell of sulfur and blood in the air causing its nostrils to twitch slightly.
"What you're worried about is nothing more than the fact that the magic network extending into the abyss will be suppressed by the abyss itself," Iron Dragon's voice was calm yet penetrating, like a meticulously polished gem, "and the stability of the passage itself."
As it spoke, its gaze swept intentionally or unintentionally over the shaky portal not far away. The deaths of the two Abyss Lords left only the imprisoned Thousand Blade Queen as the force maintaining that massive abyss passage. The dark purple energy vortex had begun to fluctuate irregularly, and tiny cracks were even spreading along its edges, as if it might collapse at any moment under the self-repairing power of the prime material world.
"But isn't the best example right in front of you?"
Casalos suddenly spread its wings, the silvery-white membranes reflecting a dazzling light in the sunlight, and its voice suddenly rose.
"You want to know how the Magic Network functions effectively in the Abyss's home turf? Then why not look here, look at this Hell Gate Fortress, and see how the Abyss's blasphemous power works in the Magic Network's home turf, the Prime Material Plane?"
Kelben Blackstalker was the first to react. The guardian of Waterdeep frowned, his black staff trembled slightly, and a hint of understanding flashed in his deep eyes.