Magical Girl's Knight Brother

Chapter 542 Ruins of Glory

The four names Scáthach mentioned are all quite prestigious.

In human civilization's records of the end of mythology, the names of the gods were constantly changed and rewritten. This was inevitable; at the end of mythology, the gods faded, and all the laws of the world began to collapse. Some gods who held the power and authority of these laws died or were injured, causing their authority to slip out of control and become ownerless, wreaking havoc on the human world. On this basis, the surviving gods began to absorb and control these laws, resulting in some gods simultaneously possessing multiple powers.

Scáthach is clearly one of them.

Of the four names she just mentioned, besides her own title as Queen of the Land of Shadows, she also held the titles of Goddess of Ice and Snow, Goddess of Death, and Goddess of War. And this was all information personally recorded by humans and passed down through generations.

Seeing Tang Zijun's hesitant expression, Scáthach smiled slightly, then waved her hand, and the shadow power surrounding her transformed back into black cards, heading straight for Tang Zijun. Tang Zijun caught the card, feeling the intimacy emanating from it, and his gaze towards Scáthach became even more complex. "What is this...?" "Given the current situation, it's better to keep this power with you. After all, you obtained it yourself, didn't you?" Scáthach's aura instantly dissipated, returning her to the state of an ordinary person. "What exactly is going on?" Tang Zijun frowned slightly.

"Just as you thought, I voluntarily relinquished my divine power and authority. The shadow in the Land of Shadows was deliberately left behind," Scáthach stated, then continued, "I know you have many questions, but this is probably not the best place to talk."

Upon hearing this, Tang Zijun felt a sense of unease and turned to look at the sky. She saw that after losing the control of the shadow power, the thousand-meter-long shadow spear began to slowly dissipate, and at the same time, the huge black sphere began to fall.

"I should thank you for allowing me to experience this power again after so many years. However, if we continue to stay here, we'll probably all be crushed to death by the temple of the 'God of Harvest'," Scáthach said, strolling to the edge of the laboratory's crack.

"Where are you going?" Tang Zijun couldn't help but ask.

Scáthach turned around, a smile playing on her lips. "Weren't you going south? I'll be waiting for you at the south gate in half an hour." With that, Scáthach leaped out of the crevice. Tang Zijun and Leisen took a few steps forward to look, and saw Scáthach leaping through the ruins like a nimble ibex. The building fragments that Leisen had struggled to climb earlier now seemed like flat ground to her.

Watching Scáthach disappear from sight, Tang Zijun's tightly furrowed brows remained unchanged. He silently turned to look at Leisen. "You know her?" Upon hearing this, Leisen opened his mouth. At this moment, he knew perfectly well that the one who had just fought and killed the Gods of the Epoch outside was the black-clad woman who had instantly killed him earlier. However, he was still unclear about the woman's relationship with the Wolf Riders, and why the power she used seemed to have been taken from Tang Zijun. Nevertheless, he spoke in a low voice, "I met her once before. She was curious why I had energy that didn't belong to this world. I didn't know how to answer at the time, and I thought she would kill me, but she left. Now it seems that the energy she was asking about... must be referring to you."

Tang Zijun shifted her gaze to the card in her hand. Leisen's guess was correct; Scáthach most likely sensed the lingering power of her origin within Leisen, which was why she targeted him and subsequently found herself. This was understandable. From Scáthach's perspective, if she had always relinquished her divine power and lived in this wasteland as a "human," then suddenly sensing her own shadow power would inevitably pique her curiosity.

After all, there is no such thing as supernatural energy in this world.

However, this raises a question: why is Scáthach here? How did she get here? Do the gods know about the existence of the wasteland? How long has she lived here? These questions swirled in Tang Zijun's mind like a tangled mess, but he knew that now was not the time to think about these things. If they didn't leave here as soon as possible, everyone would die when the temple of the God of Harvest collapsed.

Thinking of this, Tang Zijun waved his hand. "It's time to go. Leisen, you lead the way. Yedi, hold onto Suolin tight. Let's get out of here as soon as possible." Leisen looked around at the group of eager "corpses" beside him and felt a chill run down his spine. It seemed the Wolf Riders really wanted to take all of these things out. Although he wasn't quite sure what the Wolf Riders intended to do with these bodies, he understood that it wasn't something he could control. In the wasteland, might makes right, and the combat power the Wolf Riders were currently displaying was beyond his reach.

So if you want to survive, you have to be more obedient.

"Follow me, I'll take you to the old chimney." Rayson sighed, then started walking, finding a slightly better spot to retreat. The pungent smell of burning, the acrid stench of radioactive dust, and the nauseatingly sweet odor of burning organic matter mixed together to create a suffocating aura of death unique to the wasteland, permeating Glorious City—no, it should now be called the Ruins of Glorious City.

The sky was no longer leaden gray, but tinged with a morbid, despairing dark purple by the massive spatial rift and the lingering afterglow of energy. The once towering buildings had vanished completely, leaving only endless, scorching hills of ruins, composed of twisted metal skeletons, molten glass, charred concrete, and unrecognizable remnants of organic matter. Survivors, like ants, struggled to crawl out from every corner of this vast, still-warm scorched graveyard.

Most of them were dressed in rags, their faces covered in soot, their eyes vacant or filled with extreme terror.

Without organization or direction, driven only by the most primal instinct for survival, they stumbled and fled like headless flies through the ruins, searching for any possible crack leading "outside." Trampling, fighting, and even brief clashes over a seemingly usable vehicle played out sporadically on this desolate land. "This way," Rayson's voice was hoarse. He dragged his injured left leg, looking somewhat unsteady, but his steps were unusually firm. He gripped his large-caliber pistol tightly in one hand, his eyes warily surveying the surroundings. Although the battle was over, they were not entirely safe; the conflicts that erupted after the battle were the deadliest. However, Rayson had clearly overestimated those people. In this situation, no one would have the slightest thought of causing trouble upon seeing a large group of people (controlled bodies) swaggering through the street, not even the surviving members of the Church of the Era.

The group trudged through the mountains of ruins, their feet sinking into scorching rubble and sharp metal fragments, while tiny stones and ashes fell from above. In the distance, they could hear the indistinct cries and screams of fleeing crowds.

What is most terrifying is the enormous, broken black sphere in the sky—the ruins of the Holy Temple of Harvest.

Like a fallen star, it had lost all its luster and power, its surface riddled with massive cracks and dents, especially the horrifying gaping wound pierced by the shadowy spear. At this moment, it was slowly but unstoppably plummeting towards the vast, devastating graveyard below, gradually devouring the remaining light of day with each descent. Once it crashed down, the resulting shockwave and energy turbulence would be enough to reduce this entire area, along with all the struggling creatures within, to dust. "It's just ahead," Leisen said in a low voice, looking at the ever-growing shadow overhead.

Finally, after rounding a small hill made up of the wreckage of several melted armored vehicles, they reached the edge of the ruins.

This area is relatively more open, but the scene is still shocking.

The ground was plowed open by the massive shockwave, forming a scorched wasteland riddled with deep pits and cracks. And on the edge of this wasteland, near a new riverbed that had been widened several times over and was flowing with murky mud, a small group of people had gathered. It was Old Chimney and his remaining forces.

But at this moment, the old chimney was slumped beside the wreckage of an overturned armored personnel carrier, only half of the vehicle remained. He was soaking wet, covered in mud and oil, and his signature leather jacket was tattered, revealing an equally dirty shirt underneath.

He clutched the bulging canvas bag tightly to his chest, his withered old face ashen white, his lips trembling, his cloudy yellow eyes filled with utter terror and bewilderment. Only thirty-odd loyal henchmen remained beside him, all wounded and disheveled. Some clutched their bleeding arms, others coughed incessantly, seemingly having inhaled a great deal of smoke and dust. They huddled around the old chimney, their eyes equally unfocused, weapons at their sides, utterly demoralized.

Apart from the first two, the rest of these people were survivors of the melee.

"Old Chimney!" Leisen roared from afar, his voice like a thunderclap.

Old Chimney shuddered and suddenly raised his head. When he saw Leisen and his group, especially the group behind Leisen, a complex emotion—a mixture of astonishment, fear, and a hint of... indescribable—burst forth in his cloudy eyes.

"Lei Leisen?!"

The old chimney's voice was dry and hoarse, like a broken gong, and he instinctively hugged the bag in his arms tighter.

"You...you guys...you're still alive?!"