Wizard: Stronger through Marriage Chapter 1249 - 580: Blood Prison Sacrifice

"This is... origin loss." David muttered to himself. The phrase made a feeling named fear and urgency twine and surge up from the bottom of his heart. "If it can’t be stopped in time, this world will wither away completely."

Every step he took set off clouds of dust, yet the storm of ash could not conceal the intense sorrow and decay saturating the land.

A faint breeze swept past, carrying with it drifting, corrosive motes of fine powder, wandering like Ghosts under the play of the light.

Within this tableau of scarred desolation and eerie silence, every detail seemed to be whispering a story of a world on the brink of annihilation, weeping without a sound.

David looked around. In the distance he saw the ruins of a colossal altar that had once been towering and magnificent, now laid bare like a skeleton. Thick blackish-brown dust and mottled remnants of Runes covered it. This was the legendary "Final Flame Altar," which had once enshrined the illustrious power of the last generation of ancient Demon Dukes, and had been one of the crucial nodes connecting countless Exotic Realms.

Yet now it resembled a corpse-shell gnawed and swallowed by time, wrapped in an endless aura of decline that made one unconsciously hold their breath, not daring to draw even half a step closer.

Along the edge of the storm, a few gigantic beasts loomed, their forms gaunt and blurred. They moved sluggishly, their bodies crosshatched with wounds, utterly unlike the awe-inspiring majesty they once possessed.

These were the primordial Blood Demon species left behind from the Demon clans tens of thousands of years ago—the earliest symbols of this land’s power. Now they too hovered on the verge of death, no longer unleashing the razor-sharp roars of bygone days, only able to growl and moan, struggling in terror.

This sight made the pressure in David’s chest grow ever heavier—this was not merely the aftermath of a lost war, but more like a silent dirge sung against life itself and the very Laws of time!

The rapid pounding rhythm in his heart urged him to move at once, while also drawing his body taut to the Limit.

He understood that what he now had to face was a new situation more arduous, more perilous, and more unfathomable than anything before—

One that even the Guardian Gods regarded with anxiety and dread, a presence they might not be able to overturn or break.

"Liliana, you stay and recover. I’m going to find out why the ’last Duke’ has triggered this upheaval." David silently recited his heart-arts and, after a brief exchange with She through a ripple of thought, once more stepped toward the swaying, vast, mysterious center of this space.

Every step crushed dead branches and withered leaves, echoing in low, urgent reverberations that stood in stark contrast to the apocalyptic scene, sharpening the warning that the road ahead was perilous beyond measure!

Following the trail of that violent origin shockwave, David silently threaded his way through the withered cataclysm that was the Blood Prison World.

His figure slipped like a shadow between the cracked Earth and scattered wreckage, his gaze locked on the region ahead where surges of intense fluctuation continued to erupt.

The air was thick with a stench of rot and blood so strong it burned his nasal passages, but he forced down the discomfort, intent only on laying bare whatever secret lay hidden at the heart of this storm.

As the distance shrank, bleakness and despair wove together into a grisly tapestry that grew ever clearer. Broken bones littered the ground, some already corroded into dark-brown powder, others still bearing patchy streaks of vivid red.

Wind rose on all sides, churning up countless shredded, torn humanoid remnants. Those who had once been called Warriors or prisoners now existed only as blurred shapes, struggling within the shadow of death.

Ahead, a chilling, towering altar stood stark in the center of the ruined Wilderness, terrifying in its grandeur.

This altar was woven from tens of thousands of human, beastkin, and Demon bones, within which ran vast channels of Magic Crystal solidified into blood-red, crystal-like strands of foreign matter, shaping the altar as though it were some living thing—

Its ghastly carvings seemed to devour the surrounding air; every spike, every crack seeped with ominous portents that made the flesh crawl.

David held his breath and focused his mind, edging forward with the utmost caution.

He saw a massive figure floating above the altar’s summit—the legendary last ancient Blood Demon Duke!

At this moment the Duke’s face was twisted with madness, his eyes burning scarlet like blazing fire. His body was entangled in countless dark lines and corrosive Runes that periodically erupted into wild, warped Energy Waves.

The oppressive force radiating from him made the air shudder; even the Earth seemed to quake under his roars and Curses.

The Duke held both hands aloft, slowly inscribing intricate Rune Arrays in the air.

All around him, thousands of frail, broken Blood Demons, along with innocent prisoners and some High-ranking officers, were dragged by an invisible, overwhelming pull. They struggled helplessly, yet could not escape fate. Naked or scar-covered, they were bound tight by black tendrils, and, as though having their Source of Life drawn out, they began to collapse.

Their bodies started to dissolve and split open. In an instant, their shells disintegrated, becoming scalding, blood-red liquid Energy—a pure, feral torrent of unstable Blood Energy. The torrents merged, yoked by a mysterious binding Array that funneled them into the huge "dark heart core" suspended at the altar’s center—

The last remaining irregular black Crystal core, still beating with a terrifying radiance.

The "last Blood Demon core" exuded a wicked aura that struck straight into the Soul. Its surface was veined with dense lines that seemed to conceal ancient forbidden mysteries, each pulse sending out ripples of murky, deathly cold Energy.

It not only bore all the residual power of the Demon clans, but was also like a living, malevolent center forged from the devoured will of countless lives, a focus of horror that inspired dread at a glance, yet from which the gaze could not be torn—an Abyss that both lured and warned all who coveted it of its terrible price.