"I’m fine," Ron simply answered:
"Mr. Holy Disc disguised as Holt to lure me to the Bloodline Altar. Fortunately, I sensed something unusual with my ’special talent’ early on and defeated him before he completed his Apostle Transformation."
Hayek and Yuni exchanged a shocked glance, clearly finding it hard to believe the strength Ron had displayed.
"What about Soron? He was supposed to be guarding the Bloodline Altar," Lady Allen frowned and suddenly asked, "What happened to him?"
Hayek’s expression instantly turned grave:
"It’s not looking good. He was ambushed by the Holy Disc at the Bloodline Altar, his heart was taken, and he’s barely clinging to life with a ’Tear of the Heart.’ Worse still, the Abyssal Contamination has started to erode his Spiritual World."
"He’s currently using his willpower to temporarily delay the complete collapse of the seal, buying us some time."
Yuni added, her eyes flickering with a painful light, "But his condition is extremely dangerous and requires immediate deep treatment, otherwise..."
Ron’s expression became solemn, "I’ll go take a look. Maybe I can help."
Hayek and Yuni heard Ron volunteer and wanted to say something, but recalling his incredible achievements, they swallowed their words.
He turned to Lady Allen, "Ma’am, I’ll go handle this emergency first. Regarding the Throne Seed..."
"I’ll take care of it,"
Lady Allen interrupted, a long-unseen determination appearing on her face:
"Go help Soron with peace of mind."
Ron nodded, then left with Hayek and Yuni for the Bloodline Altar.
When only Lady Allen and the three young ones were left in the room, Lilia carefully stepped forward:
"Lady Allen... about everything that just happened, we..."
"Don’t worry, children,"
Lady Allen smiled slightly, a sparkle of wisdom in her emerald eyes:
"You three are close to Ron, so naturally, you have the right to know these things. But we have more important tasks ahead—preparing to leave here."
Her gaze turned to the window, where the outline of the Black Mist Jungle had begun to distort, indicating the Abyssal Energy’s leakage was affecting the entire School:
"The Black Mist School might not survive this calamity."
......
The Seventh Layer of the Abyss, "Soul Abyss."
The thirteen thrones formed a twisted eye shape, with the gray vortex at the center slowly rotating.
But it was more active than before, emitting a low rumbling, like a slumbering beast’s snoring.
Maggs, whose body was composed of countless black threads, trembled slightly, the nine eyes on his mask flickering with different colors of light.
"It seems that your plan has failed."
A cold voice came from the tenth throne, a bizarre being stitched together from countless bones, its voice like shattering glass.
"The seed you personally selected and the emissary you personally blessed, defeated by a newly promoted Official Wizard."
The woman on the fifth throne, wrapped in chains, let out a sharp laugh, "What a pity, Maggs."
The other apostles on the thrones joined in, mocking the failed action with a chorus of remarks.
Some sneered, some gloated, while others feigned sympathy, shaking their heads and sighing.
Facing these taunts, Maggs maintained an exterior of calm, the nine eyes on his spider mask flickering one by one, as if calculating something.
But beneath the calm exterior, a barely concealable anxiety was spreading.
"The plan wasn’t a complete failure," Maggs finally spoke, his voice as usual:
"We have confirmed that Ron Ralph indeed has the potential to become the fourteenth Supreme Apostle. His performance even exceeded expectations—being able to defeat the blessed Holy Disc in his newly promoted state already demonstrates his extraordinary talent."
"So what?"
The Dragon-Head Apostle on the third throne sneered, his golden eyes flashing with ridicule:
"If the seed is discovered and destroyed on that side, and the Holy Disc is killed, we lose a valuable piece and gain nothing."
Maggs’ thread-like body expanded slightly, seemingly expressing dissatisfaction:
"Not so. Whether Ron Ralph chooses to keep or surrender it, the abyssal taint within the seed is already an indelible connection."
"Even so, we can’t influence him in the short term."
The liquid-metal creature on the seventh throne made a buzzing noise, its form constantly changing, "Unless he voluntarily steps into the Abyss, we can’t directly intervene."
Maggs’ nine eyes flickered simultaneously, radiating a profound light:
"That’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for. Ron Ralph has the nature of an explorer; his spirit yearns for truth and power. One day, he will willingly step into the Abyss, seeking the answers only we can provide."
"Have you forgotten the watchful eyes of those Witch Kings and Great Wizards?"
The Dragon-Head Apostle retorted, "Especially now, a Primordial Wizard who ascended through the Path of Truth is bound to attract the attention of the Court of Truth. Any attempt by us could alert those old fellows."
Maggs was silent for a moment, the eyes on his mask dimming:
"We indeed cannot act directly right now. But time is on our side—the Abyss is awakening, the boundary is blurring. One day, we will no longer be bound by these constraints."
The thrones fell into silence, each apostle immersed in their thoughts.
They all knew that an Awakened being like the Holy Disc, capable of short-term bursts close to Dark Sun Level through special means, was already the limit.
Any stronger Awakened and apostles were registered, known entities; any small disturbance would be targeted by the Wizard World.
And the power of these Supreme Apostles was hard to extend beyond the Abyss.
"All we can hope for is that Ron Ralph retains the Throne Seed and one day voluntarily ventures into the Abyss."
Maggs finally said, his voice filled with anticipation and a trace of imperceptible anger, "Only then will we have the chance to act."
The gray vortex suddenly spun violently, emitting a deafening roar, as if responding to the discussion.
The thirteen Supreme Apostles immediately ceased their conversation, all turning to the vortex, their eyes filled with both reverence and fear.
"It... seems to be more active,"
The chained woman on the fifth throne whispered, a hint of unease in her voice, "It hasn’t been this restless since the end of the Third Era."
Maggs’ thread body contracted slightly, a defensive posture by instinct:
"Perhaps the time is shorter than we imagined. Regardless, we must find the successor to the Fourteenth Apostle as soon as possible, whether it’s Ron Ralph or other potential candidates."
The chained woman glanced at Maggs, a trace of mockery flashing in her silver eyes:
"You wouldn’t still be holding onto that ridiculous hope, would you? Thinking the Fourteenth Throne could change our fate?"
Maggs did not respond, the nine eyes on his spider mask extinguishing one by one, falling into a state of contemplation.
In the world of Supreme Apostles, hope was a luxury, even a dangerous delusion.
But at this moment, Maggs couldn’t deny that, within his heart made of countless threads, there indeed existed a faint but stubborn hope.
The Fourteenth Throne might really be able to change something.