Celestial Bloodline Chapter 961: What is that thing?

With the total collapse of the Layer of Ancients, a tidal wave of encroaching darkness surged forward. It first engulfed the immediate surroundings of the Gate to the Layer of Ancients, which hovered suspended above the heart of the desolate, dried-up lake.

Moss-covered stones along the parched shoreline crumbled into nothingness, followed swiftly by the dissipation of the lingering pale-blue mist. In mere heartbeats, the entire expanse of land—where both the withered lake and the Gate had existed—was completely swallowed by the void.

The only small consolation for Kyle was that this particular stretch of land remained detached from the remainder of the Celestial realm by a deep, fractured chasm devoid of solid ground. After all, this terrain had only manifested after the earth split wide open following his discovery of the three sigils belonging to the original three Celestials within the Hell’s Layer.

The creeping darkness stalled for a fleeting moment upon reaching the deep chasm—and that momentary hesitation provided Kyle with the window he needed. He successfully merged every array he had previously constructed, condensing them into a single, fortified barrier.

A furious, wailing roar erupted as the darkness slammed violently against his defensive perimeter.

The very atmosphere crackled and ruptured. Yet, despite the terrifying, savage onslaught, the barrier held its ground, shivering under the immense pressure but remaining intact. Kyle rubbed his temples with a pained groan. At the very least, it would require significant effort for the darkness to breach it now.

Suddenly, he cast a glance over his shoulder, sensing a gaze fixed upon him—his eyes met a pair of bestial orbs set deep within a skull forged from shadows, blazing with concentrated rage. The skull loomed over Kyle, rendering him as small as a mere ant. Before the ghastly visage could snap its jaws, a surge of frost swept through, shattering it into fragments.

Kyle clenched his fists, unease coiling in his gut; the dark power surrounding Azazeal was exhibiting far too much independent will. A slight lack of control was acceptable—even Kyle’s own cold essence had occasionally slipped his leash in the past. But this magnitude of autonomy suggested it desired to consume everything—even its own master—as if it no longer required a host to persist.

As if its primary function was no longer servitude, but something far more sinister.

The sudden realization sent a shiver down Kyle’s spine.

What exactly was transpiring? What kind of chaotic ruin had Azazeal unleashed upon them this time?

Azazeal was clearly adrift in his own delusions, howling as he attempted to mend Nathaniel’s shattered soul just to torment him anew—but all such actions were futile. Once the very core of one’s existence is fractured, nothing can restore it. Nevertheless, the darkness continued to surge, hell-bent on obliterating everything in its path.

Kyle felt a grim foreboding regarding the shadows swarming around him.

However, before he could dwell on the thought, a potent force slammed into his chest, launching him hurtling through the pitch-black void, which attempted—but ultimately failed—to drag him under.

He narrowly regained his balance just before another strike arrived. This time, he clearly identified the entity assaulting him.

It was a physical avatar of Azazeal. Its hollow, obsidian eyes burned with nothing but lunacy.

Kyle steadied his posture midair, an aura of frigid ice spiraling faintly around him as he wrestled for control. A dry, humorless chuckle escaped his lips, his expression settling into one of cold indifference.

He locked his gaze onto the dark-shrouded figure waiting opposite him, offering no warmth.

"So, the final confrontation between us has finally arrived."

He wanted to add more, to confidently boast that this time he wouldn't be the only one bearing the scars—he should remember that.

Yet, the words vanished as he observed the silent figure opposite him, its dark eyes screaming dead, dead, dead without a single sound. In the very next heartbeat, the air detonated with raw power as the two combatants collided.

Shards of razor-sharp ice sprayed in every direction, glittering against the oppressive gloom.

Kyle had barely withstood one blow before five more heavy strikes descended upon him from every angle, each imbued with lethal, terrifying force.

An ethereal, frigid blue light ignited within the dark expanse, clashing violently against six crimson streaks of energy that rained down relentlessly from all sides.

The sheer impact of this unleashed power sent shockwaves rippling across more than one-third of the Celestial Realm near the darkness, triggering waves of hysteria among the Celestials, who sensed that an entity capable of total destruction had drawn perilously close.

Opposite those six formidable yet mindless puppets, fueled by corrupted power to annihilate the one restraining the darkness, the seventh body of Azazeal dragged a faintly glowing, tainted soul.

Azazeal mumbled incoherently to himself, stumbling forward in a trance. The soul within his grip had dulled, its spirit broken, its remaining luster flickering weakly as the surrounding darkness greedily siphoned away the remnants of its essence.

He drifted through the air, dragging the soul behind him. One step, two steps, and by the third, he arrived before the barrier Kyle had erected to contain the shadow.

But against such overwhelming, mindless strength, it proved useless. In his stupor, he drifted through it effortlessly. Having dwelt in darkness for so long, he encountered a ray of light. Squinting against the sudden brilliance, he appeared hauntingly small against the backdrop of the massive, writhing mass of darkness trailing him. Yet, it was this tiny figure that struck icy dread into the many Rulers and Celestials who had gathered there to investigate the source of the catastrophe.

His mere proximity was enough to paralyze them with fear. For many days, the entire Celestial Realm had been in a state of constant panic—not due to any natural cataclysm, but because of the tremors emanating from within the Layer of Ancients—vibrations so intense they had reverberated throughout the entire realm.

Initially, numerous ancient Rulers and powerful Celestials had roused from their meditations, abandoning their domains once they discovered that Valance, once among the most revered Rulers, had led her followers in a massacre across the realm.

She had even animated the undead from the souls of the deceased, shattering the realm’s tranquility and leaving countless lives in ruin.

Those who battled Valance were oblivious to her motivations or why she had disregarded all reason, let alone the revelation that an ancient realm—known as the Layer of Three Ancients—had surfaced within the Celestial territory.

They resisted her with everything at their disposal. At one point, even one of Kyle’s constructs joined the fray. But even Kyle—the young Celestial who had ascended to fame across the realm in recent years—had fallen at the hands of Valance. They were left dejected, yet felt a trace of relief that Valance had failed to harvest his soul to craft further abominations.

But before they could truly grieve his passing, Kyle—whom they believed long dead—reappeared and vanquished Valance, whom so many had failed to even approach.

He dispatched her with such lack of effort that they questioned if they were witnessing a hallucination. Then, he vanished, as if the entire event had been a phantom.

Following Kyle’s disappearance, a violent tremor erupted from a distant location, felt by every person in the region overrun by the undead.

Rattled by the upheaval, they finally awoke from their stupor and eradicated the remaining undead along with the leaderless Rulers, deciding to investigate the source of the tremors.

As they gathered to depart following the grueling battle, a company of Rulers and countless Celestials arrived seeking Kyle. Leading them was a figure instantly recognizable to every Ruler—Yizhe, the master of the ancient temple situated at the heart of their realm.

Everyone stood speechless as the stern, middle-aged woman behind Yizhe coldly declared that Kyle had leveled the old temple and was now a proclaimed criminal responsible for defying the authority of the Rulers. Fearing his capability, they were mobilizing to hunt him down.

At first, the Rulers who had fought the undead and witnessed Kyle’s power longed to avoid Yizhe and remain neutral. However, when another wave of tremors rippled from the Layer of Ancients, jarring a vast section of the Celestial Realm, they had no choice but to unite with Yizhe to locate the source.

That was how they all stumbled upon the ancient realm known as the Layer of Ancients.

Sensing the immense power radiating from the tremors—a force that sent them reeling whenever they approached—they were struck with horror. None dared to venture inside.

Eventually, they congregated around the chasm separating the gate of the ancient realm from the Celestial territory, alerting the entire realm and calling for reinforcements, announcing that a formidable entity capable of total obliteration had awakened within an ancient domain.

They knew they had to unify to defeat it, or risk the annihilation of their world and unimaginable loss of life.

As time ticked by, an increasing number of Rulers and Celestials joined their ranks.

Days bled into nights, and the tremors from the ancient realm intensified, growing ever more relentless. Amidst the somber, heavy atmosphere, Yizhe muttered, a sense of dread creeping into his voice:

"I pray this has no connection to Kyle..."

He gulped.

"...or I shall be the first to meet my end."

The stern woman behind him delivered a sharp rap to his head.

"He is powerful, but not to this degree! Cease your ill-omened chatter!"

Finally, after days of vigil, they observed movement near the gate of the ancient realm. But no one could have braced for what followed—a chilling spectacle broke out as the gate disintegrated, and a massive wall of darkness erupted, causing their scalps to prickle with existential dread, as if looking into the abyss of death itself.

The crowd retreated as the darkness consumed everything in its path with terrifying velocity. Panics-stricken cries echoed as they attempted to halt it, only to watch their natural laws, supreme skills, and magical artifacts vanish into nothingness. Ultimately, they fled in sheer terror, powerless to stop the encroaching tide.

Just as the chaos seemed beyond reclamation, the darkness was halted by a barrier near the edge of the chasm. The first sight they beheld after surviving the nightmarish scene was a dark, robed figure emerging from the shadows, dragging a soul in his wake.

Yizhe was the first to stumble back midair upon witnessing the figure.

His voice faltered as he whispered, so softly that only the powerful Celestials nearby could discern his words.

"What... what exactly is that thing?"