CHAPTER 1443: THE RUINED WORLD

"It takes everything I have just to keep these doors locked," Girsha sighed, his massive chest rising and falling with weariness. "And it’s getting harder. Some of the doors had already been forced open before I arrived... and sealing them again has pushed my strength to its very limits."

Zhao Li Xin knew which door he mentioned, "I heard about the Azure Dragon, named Evereth, and his connection to Lazarus," Zhao Li Xin said evenly.

Girsha fell silent for a long moment, his emerald eyes dim with thought. "You told Lory about this, didn’t you?"

"I did," Zhao Li Xin replied simply.

"What did she feel about it?" Girsha asked, his voice softer now.

"Not much... you know how she is," Zhao Li Xin answered, his tone carrying quiet concern. "But I think she’s conflicted. A part of her might pity the Black Dragon... but another part of her will never forgive what it did to her father and uncles."

Girsha exhaled a deep, heavy sigh. "Let me guess—she buried herself in her work, refusing to dwell on her feelings?"

A faint smile curved Zhao Li Xin’s lips. "Something like that... I don’t pry. Some memories hurt too much to touch. Sometimes... It’s better to leave them alone."

Girsha turned his head slightly, his sharp gaze settling on Zhao Li Xin. "Is that... based on experience?"

Zhao Li Xin lowered his gaze and said nothing.

Girsha’s voice rumbled gently, not unkindly. "You still can’t forgive yourself for hurting her, can you? Zhao Li Xin... you know it wasn’t your fault."

"It was still my hands," Zhao Li Xin murmured, regret lacing every word.

Girsha said nothing more. He knew some regret would linger no matter how much time passed. It was simply part of being human. It was how they grew.

The big bird shifted his head, turning toward the endless circle of doors above them. "The creature that invaded Verriond—her name is Zalchana."

"I know, I’ve heard her story," Zhao Li Xin replied.

"Oh?" For a moment, a spark of vigor lit Girsha’s weary eyes.

"A little girl came to me and told me what happened to that thing," Zhao Li Xin explained.

"I see..." Girsha let out a low hum, almost amused, then he continued, "Humans say ’misery loves company.’ Lazarus certainly is. That miserable creature searched the universe to find another soul like him. He manipulated those poor souls and then forged them into weapons of vengeance. Even in death, he still refuses to fade. I admit... I underestimated Lazarus’s obsession."

"He won’t win," Zhao Li Xin said firmly. "Not then... and not now."

"You’re right," Girsha answered, his voice deep and solemn.

"But before that... we need to save you," Zhao Li Xin said suddenly, his voice steady but laced with quiet determination.

Girsha was silent for a long moment before answering, his tone calm, almost resigned.

"The truth is... I don’t know how to save myself. And I’ve already made peace with my fate."

Zhao Li Xin’s gaze hardened. "You might have... but what about Lory? Can you imagine how devastated she would be if you were gone?" His voice was sharp, almost reproachful.

Girsha fell silent, his massive beak closing as he lowered his gaze. He didn’t want to be separated from Lory either. Deep down, he still longed to stay by her side, to watch her grow, to see her laugh, to witness the day she became a mother. But no matter how much he wished it... he was bound here.

And he didn’t know how to leave.

Suddenly, a faint light flared from the black ring on Zhao Li Xin’s thumb, sharp enough to cut through the gloom. His brows furrowed, and he slowly opened his palm.

With a low hum, a rectangular silver box wrapped in intricate, shifting arrays appeared in his hand. The box jerked violently, as though something inside was battering against its walls. Then, it glowed faintly, an eerie, pulsating light, like a heart that refused to die.

Girsha’s feathers ruffled. "What... is that?" His voice was strained. He could feel it—an unfamiliar, poisonous energy bleeding out of the box, faint but undeniably malicious.

"We call it a Scion," Zhao Li Xin murmured, his gaze never leaving the box. "A piece of Zalchana... the very thing that the enemy planted inside the King’s body."

Then, without warning, a single thread of light burst from the box—thin and sharp, like spun glass. It shot up right in front of Zhao Li Xin, carving through the darkness in a blinding streak. The thread trembled, humming faintly, before stretching outward toward the upper floors, as if begging him to follow.

Zhao Li Xin and Girsha followed the single glowing thread with their eyes.

"Follow it," Girsha said, his tone heavy with unease. "I think... it wants to go home."

"Home?" Zhao Li Xin echoed, his voice low, a dangerous edge beneath it. Their gazes met briefly, then, with silent agreement passing between them, Zhao Li Xin ascended.

The spiral staircase felt endless, each step swallowed by shadows that clung like a living thing. The thread of light guided him higher, its glow cutting a thin path through the suffocating dark.

And then... he stopped.

Before him stood a wrecked door that looked like something he had found in an abandoned house, and then the air grew colder. The thread of light quivered, then pierced through the door.

Zhao Li Xin’s hand hovered near it. Even without touching, he could feel it, an ancient, terrible presence lurking just beyond, waiting.

He placed his hand on the door, and suddenly the door opened slightly as if without weight. His expression filled with curiosity and anticipation, he pushed the door and then slowly stepped in.

Soon after the door behind him closed with a quiet thud, Zhao Li Xin only looked for a second at the door behind him before he continued onward.

Zhao Li Xin found himself in a land that seemed to stretch into eternity, a wasteland drowned in shadow. The soil beneath his feet was a deep, ashen black, as though it had been scorched by a fire that had burned long after the world itself had died.

It clung to his boots like fine, lifeless dust, cold and weightless, as if even the memory of warmth had been erased. The ground was dry and fractured, a web of deep, jagged cracks crawling across its surface, some so wide and dark they seemed to descend into an abyss without end.

Around him, the remnants of a forest stood in silent agony. The trees were nothing more than hollow husks—gnarled, brittle skeletons clawing at the gray sky with withered branches that never moved, as though even the wind dared not trespass in this forsaken place.

The air was thick, oppressive, heavy with an unnatural stillness. A pallid gray mist clung to the ground, coiling like restless phantoms, shrouding the horizon in a ghostly haze. And then, through the veil of gloom, the impossible came into view.

High above, islands of earth, colossal fragments of a shattered world, floated soundlessly in the air. Some drifted slowly, their edges crumbling away like sand slipping through unseen fingers.

Others had already fallen, their broken remains embedded in the ground like gravestones. One fragment trembled in the distance, suspended for a heartbeat, before splitting apart in silence. Its pieces cascaded downward like dying stars, vanishing into the mist below.

Zhao Li Xin stood motionless. He was not a man easily shaken; he had witnessed the unthinkable, walked through horrors and wonders that would drive lesser men mad. nevertheless, at this moment, he found his breath caught in his chest.

This was no living world. It was a graveyard of realms—a place where time itself had withered and died, leaving only silence, shadow, and ruin behind.

His gaze dropped to the silver box in his hands, its faint hum resonating in his palm. What was it trying to show him? Zhao Li Xin tightened his grip and followed the glowing thread of light, its path leading him across a colossal bridge of ancient stone.

The bridge stretched endlessly over a vast, hollow chasm that might once have been a glittering lake or a mighty river in its glorious day.

But now, it was nothing but a gaping void, littered with boulders and fissured earth, as if the world itself had been torn apart in the wake of some forgotten cataclysm.

Yet even in its ruin, he could imagine its former grandeur: water shimmering under the sun, the bridge alive with banners and footsteps, and the horizon crowned by a palace of unmatched splendor.

Minutes passed in silence before he caught something...

A grand palace loomed in the distance like a ghost of glory long dead. Its once-towering spires lay fractured, their jagged tips stabbing at the ashen sky. Walls that must have been gleaming white stone were now blackened and split, crawling with deep cracks that looked like old battle wounds.

Entire sections of the structure had collapsed, their remnants scattered across the ground like the bones of a fallen giant. The great gates that once were proud and unyielding now hung from broken hinges, groaning faintly as the wind pushed through.

still and all... even in ruin, it held a kind of solemn majesty. As if the echoes of its former might refused to be silenced, lingering in the shattered archways and shadowed courtyards.

Zhao Li Xin stood there for a moment, his eyes lingered on the palace, and for a moment, there was a flicker of pity in his usual cold eyes.

This whole world was not merely a ruin; It was a tomb of an era. Then he remembered what happened to Lory’s world. If not because of the Lucient family and their Archknights’ sacrifices, would this happen to her world as well?