"What precisely did you undergo to attain such an artifact?"

  Seraphine registered a flicker of astonishment.

  What surprised her even more was the realization that the space-time gem fundamentally did not exist within the conventional reality, but rather within this enigmatic Realm of Phantasm.

  Instantly, Seraphine froze the operations of the entire Memory Realm world and rapidly reversed the 'timeline' back to 'the past.'

  In a single moment, the myriad phenomena of the mundane world around her dramatically inverted, and spacetime began to warp, advancing all the way back to 'the past.'

  Earlier, upon entering the Memory Realm world, Seraphine had felt that certain 'plot points' lacked sufficient informational density and lacked vividness, prompting her to execute multiple 'fast forwards' and 'skips.'

  She had never anticipated that Mycenae, after only a few decades of extra-dimensional pioneering, would successfully acquire a divine object like the space-time gem.

  Looking at it this way, the boundless void of the Realm of Phantasm, saturated with countless Secret Realms, was proving to be far more complex than initially assumed.

  "Somewhat intriguing."

  Holding this thought, Seraphine suddenly 'returned' to the precise moment Mycenae first experienced extra-dimensional exploration.

  The rapidly changing scenery around her instantly snapped to a halt.

  Seraphine leisurely strolled to the side of the jovially conversing Lex and Mycenae, silently anticipating the 'plot' about to unfold.

  Indeed, even if any intelligent life had ever manifested within the entirety of the Memory Realm world, she had generously infused them with fabricated Spirituality.

  Even if this sequence was genuinely experienced by Mycenae, this illusory construct, merely by 'imbuing' it with abundant matter, could theoretically be upgraded to a true reality.

  But to Seraphine, it remained fundamentally just a 'plot' adorned with exceptional visual effects.

  After a period of final adjustments, the extra-dimensional exploration team neatly traversed the hanging ladder from the edge of the void platform, gradually setting foot upon the immensely vast back of the infant Divine Beast.

  At the base of the spine on this massive, continent-like back of the giant creature, lay an ancient city steeped in the aura of ages.

  The 'sector' where the group ascended happened to be directly at the entrance of this ancient metropolis.

  Once everyone had entered the city.

  It was an upheaval reminiscent of the heavens turning upside down.

  The infant Divine Beast, towering ten thousand miles high, situated beneath the ancient city, immediately shook its colossal frame and unleashed a mighty roar toward the enormous Divine Beast carrying the world on its back, positioned several million kilometers distant.

  Roar—

  Sound waves rolled past, causing the misty void to surge and undulate incessantly.

  This sound was saturated with playfulness and sheer vitality.

  It was clearly communicating: 'Mother, I am venturing out to play.'

  Several million kilometers away, that immense Divine Beast returned a low, resonant roar.

  Oooo—

  The void vibrated with even greater intensity.

  As if conveying: 'Very well, my child.'

  Those Witches who had participated in multiple extra-dimensional expeditions paid these phenomena no mind.

  This was a routine occurrence when the infant Divine Beast separated from its mother.

  But as an outside observer, Seraphine, who stood silently within the ancient city, remarked with a sigh:

  "A single Transcendent Stage Ten Void Whale can emit a Whale Roar ten times faster than the speed of light. The cosmic rules governing this Realm of Phantasm are truly lax to an absolute fault."

  In fact, while observing and studying this Memory Realm world, she had gradually come to the understanding that this vast spacetime existing at the terminus of the Sentience Realm was conspicuously permissive regarding its fundamental physical laws and the intricate architecture of spacetime.

  This laxity consequently fostered a peculiar consequence.

  Namely, the power wielded by life forms within the Realm of Phantasm underwent severe inflation in both scope and intensity.

  This point became even more apparent among the higher-tier Witches.

  Especially those 'high and mighty' Shining Suns.

  According to Seraphine's observations and calculations, she posited that if these 'little suns' were all transplanted to the real universe and re-evaluated using the Milky Way’s combat power system, they would likely only qualify as Overlord-level, and only at the very lowest tier.

  Yet, within the Realm of Phantasm, these Shining Suns, who should ostensibly possess only the capacity to detonate stars, inexplicably witnessed their combat power's 'expressive potential' surge by several hundred to tens of millions of times. Coupled with the near-nonexistent constraints on the speed of light, this allowed them to completely overpower the peak Overlords of Stage Ten.

  "So, what is the intrinsic nature of this Realm of Phantasm, the source of all these anomalous phenomena...? What exactly is it?

  Or, perhaps, what is the specific mechanism operating within the Realm of Phantasm that permits such immense power to propagate faster than the speed of light...?"

  Just as Seraphine pondered this in hesitation.

  The infant Divine Beast had begun to sway its colossal form, a mass spanning tens of thousands of miles. With a casual flick of its tail, it swiftly plunged into the boundless, dark void beneath the Ansel world.

  Perhaps this Realm of Phantasm truly obeyed no speed-of-light limits, nor any relativistic constraints whatsoever.

  Consequently, this massive leviathan traversed over a billion kilometers into the boundless, infinite dark void below in a mere dozen seconds.

  And Mycenae, standing immobile in the ancient city upon the whale's back, now gazed upward, his vision sweeping from the lowest point to the highest, clearly discerning the entirety of the Ansel world.

  It appeared as a world vaguely shaped like an oval plane of condensed flesh.

  Seraphine, standing beside him, instantly calculated the precise dimensions of the Ansel world through visual confirmation:

  350 million kilometers in length from east to west.

  280 million kilometers in length from north to south.

  Below, five World-Bearing Divine Beasts, birthed from countless golden, thorny light whales, supported the world above their heads, arrayed side-by-side. As their colossal tails swayed gently, they continuously propelled themselves forward into the chaotic and uncharted void.

  At this precise instant.

  Within the city atop the infant Divine Beast's back, a fierce flare of Witchcraft also ignited.

  These countless rays of light, behaving as if imbued with sentience, automatically began scanning the void for fragmented information scattered during the wandering passages of nearby or distant Secret Realms.

  After a brief interval, the exploration team successfully assimilated a substantial amount of data, and after processing it, they identified the 'coordinate' information for multiple unknown Secret Realms.

  Oooo—

  The infant Divine Beast, having received the 'coordinate' data, emitted a roaring cry that shook the void for ten thousand li, causing continuous undulations.

  Next, its thirteen enormous, abyss-like apertures situated on its back simultaneously began to 'devour' the boundless, vast void outside with tremendous force.

  As if drawing water through a straw, the formless and massless void actually began to surge and churn under the great whale's suction.

  Gurgle!

  Gurgle!

  Gurgle!

  The resounding sucking sound, transmitted without any medium for sound propagation, spanned a million miles in the span of a brief second.

  After several continuous breaths.

  Suddenly, precisely when the boundless void directly above the infant Divine Beast's back surged and boiled to its absolute peak, exactly nine chaotic fog clusters indistinctly emerged from sheer nothingness.

  These peculiar fog clusters varied in size.

  The smallest resembled a small town, while the largest were comparable to towering mountains.

  Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Bang...

  The heavens trembled, and continuous echoes reverberated across the expanse.

  In a short span, the previously vast and empty 'Great Plains' on the infant Divine Beast's back were violently carved into immense canyons by the nine fog clusters, differing in depth and scale.

  A thousand miles away in the city, Mycenae looked at the distant, mist-shrouded colossal entities and exclaimed in shock: "These... are these Secret Realms? They were actually absorbed by the infant Divine Beast?!"

  "Indeed, this is how World-Bearing Divine Beasts sustain themselves,"

  Lex nodded, her voice light. "If a Secret Realm is smaller than the infant Divine Beast's physique, it is pulled in directly from a distance.

  Conversely, if a Secret Realm is larger than it, the Beast will teleport itself into that realm instead."

  "So that’s the mechanism."

  Mycenae grinned. "Then all we need to do is select a Secret Realm now and head in to scavenge."

  Just as he spoke.

  After the nine Secret Realms materialized, the exploration team, under their leader's command, immediately splintered into nine smaller squads.

  Finally, utilizing specialized Witchcraft, the nine small teams began their entry into their designated Secret Realms.

  Buzz—

  Upon following his squad into a specific Secret Realm, a boundless golden world instantly flooded Mycenae's vision.

  A landscape dominated by cactus forests, sequential golden sand dunes, and slowly passing merchant camel caravans.

  A true desert expanse.

  "Hmm? Living entities?"

  Mycenae raised an eyebrow, his figure shifting subtly as he traversed several thousand meters to intercept a slowly approaching camel.

  He looked up and saw that this camel was fundamentally a skeleton draped in cracked, dry leather.

  The person seated upon this skeletal mount was even more bizarre: a peculiar shadow-figure whose body appeared semi-transparent, its face entirely black, presenting nothing but empty eye sockets.

  "Soulless, what kind of entity is this?"

  A cold light flashed in Mycenae's eyes, and he reached out to seize the skinny black shadow, which offered no resistance, pulling it into mid-air.

  Just as he was about to study it, Lex's voice echoed in his ear:

  "These are feral beings, formed when outsiders perish within a Secret Realm."

  She looked up at the black shadow hovering in the air and continued:

  "If an outsider unfortunately dies here, their soul shatters, and their physical form dissipates.

  They transform into thousands of hazy, sluggish entities driven only by a weak urge to consume."

  "Meaning they pose no threat and hold no value," Mycenae declared, casually flinging the black shadow a thousand meters away.

  A thousand meters distant, Seraphine bent down to examine the skinny black shadow, lying still and disoriented in a sand pit, and commented:

  "Spirituality has completely dispersed; it exists on the threshold between life and death, though leaning toward the 'dead' state.

  Hmm, what Alban and Sani witnessed earlier must have been this type of strange 'plaything'."

  ...

  After considerable maneuvering.

  Finally, in the center of this desert, Mycenae's group of over ten people discovered a dilapidated town swarming with surging, reanimated corpses.

  These reanimated corpses varied widely in power.

  The weakest, with only half a body remaining, were still groaning and crawling wildly.

  The strongest, towering over 10 meters tall, possessed over a thousand tons of strength, moved with the swiftness of the wind, and could even casually unleash Witchcraft abilities.

  But to the exploration team, these strong and weak reanimated corpses were all identical—easily defeated with a single, precise movement.

  Swish—

  Lex waved her hand, unleashing tens of millions of petal-shaped, vicious blood thorns, which pierced through tall buildings and instantly liquefied all the malignant reanimated corpses within the surrounding blocks into blood.

  In the sky, a slender witch, while simultaneously launching lightning and hurricanes, also cast a wide-range identification Witchcraft, searching for valuable assets.

  There was also a melee witch, wielding a thin blade, her form flickering through time itself, hacking tall observation towers—along with the surrounding hordes of corpses—into pulverized dust.

  At this juncture, Mycenae had already cut through the masses of corpses and reached the town’s core.

  It was an empty plaza that even the mindless reanimated corpses instinctively avoided.

  A small art museum, seemingly constructed entirely of ivory, pristine and exquisitely elegant.

  "Here... it can actually affect thought processes? How is that achieved?!"

  Mycenae pressed his temple, his expression serious, as he slowly stepped into the art museum.

  Inside the museum, the lights were dazzlingly bright, completely devoid of any oppressive gloom.

  But Mycenae could still faintly sense that an anomaly, hidden beneath the brilliance, was actively 'watching' him.

  Suddenly, a large fresco hanging on the wall ahead splattered with fresh blood.

  Shortly after, the floor was covered with large pools of blood.

  Next, two severed legs suddenly emerged from the thin puddles of blood, scuttling away as if alive, leaving behind a trail of bloody footprints.

  Mycenae raised an eyebrow, unperturbed, and followed the tracks.

  He passed the numerous human portraits lining both sides of the corridor, all weakly 'observing' him.

  He unhurriedly arrived at the final point where the bloody footprints vanished.

  It was a rather modest storage room.

  "A ghost?"

  Casually pushing open the storage room door, Mycenae saw that the room contained nothing but seventeen or eighteen rusted iron cabinets haphazardly stacked and displayed.

  "Hiding in a cabinet?"

  He smiled coldly, and instantly, an extremely strong blast of cold air spread outward.

  Crack! Crack! Crack!

  The temperature in the storeroom plummeted suddenly, and the surrounding walls and ceiling rapidly began to frost over.

  "Are you in here?" Mycenae inquired leisurely.

  No sooner had he finished speaking than all the iron cabinets in the storeroom began to violently shake in unison.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

  All the cabinet doors were twisting and bulging outward, as if someone inside each one was forcefully kicking from within.

  "I want to see what you truly are."

  He strode towards the nearest iron cabinet, grasped the incessantly shaking handle, and yanked it open.

  Bang!

  As the cabinet door swung open, all other movements in the room immediately ceased.

  And Mycenae, too, froze in place.

  He saw a beautiful woman, whose appearance somewhat resembled his own, lying with her eyes closed in the cabinet.

  Quiet, as if asleep.

  But Mycenae's eyes trembled, and he said in a shaky voice: "Mother..."

  This was clearly his mother, who had died hundreds of years ago.

  "No! She's deceased!"

  Mycenae suddenly recoiled two steps, gritting his teeth and coldly shouting, "What exactly are you? How dare you..."

  "Is that Neil?"

  A familiar voice made him freeze.

  This was his mother's voice; this was his pet name.

  Crack! Crack! Crack!

  At this moment, the adjacent iron cabinet suddenly opened by itself.

  Then, a pair of burnt and shattered arms reached out from inside, caressing Mycenae's stunned face.

  He stared blankly into the iron cabinet... at that face, completely disfigured by fire; his eyes instantly blurred.

  "Demons that should go to hell... Scoundrels that should go to hell... Evil lovers of demons... Filthy sluts... Demon's hounds... Hellish succubi..."

  Familiar curses clearly echoed in Mycenae's ears, causing all his mana to surge.

  Those vicious words... were from the night his mother was burned to death...

  Those damned villagers...

  "Neil... I am in such agony..."

  The charred corpse spoke in a pained, halting voice, "Quickly, save me... Neil... Mommy doesn't want to be burned alive... Quickly, save Mommy... Neil... Save Mommy now..."

  "Ah!!"

  Mycenae suddenly clapped his temples and roared in fury, "Stop talking!"

  After yelling, he powerlessly knelt before the charred corpse, panting:

  "Mother, I once vowed to avenge you, but... but those people are all gone! I searched for their descendants... I hunted down every single one... But I couldn't find a single trace; they... all perished in the war... I don't even have the opportunity for retribution!"

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "So..."

  The beautiful woman's head suddenly appeared, quietly resting on his left shoulder, softly saying: "Are you consumed by shame?"

  "I..." Mycenae's expression suddenly turned distraught, "I... am ashamed..."

  The charred head then rested on his right shoulder, softly saying: "Are you in immense pain?"

  Mycenae's eyes struggled wildly, yet he unconsciously replied: "I... don't know."

  "So... Neil..."

  The beautiful head and the charred head, separately using pale and ink-black arms, slowly grasped Mycenae's left and right hands, simultaneously and inexplicably activating his vast and tyrannical mana, then spoke in unison:

  "Why don't you just cease to exist?"

  Having said that, they suddenly raised Mycenae's two hands, gathered two terrifying magical forces, and fiercely struck his head.

  Just as Mycenae's hands, propelled by an external force, were about to strike his own head, he suddenly snapped his eyes open, which flared with chilling cold light, and he roared grimly:

  "You seek to kill me? No matter who you are! Even if it's my own mother... I will absolutely never permit it!!"

  Whoosh ~

  Immediately, an extremely intense killing intent erupted from him.

  This killing intent was so violent that, amidst its rapid surge, it even materialized into numerous ferocious, constantly trembling barbed thorns across his body.

  "Die!!!"

  Mycenae suddenly raised his hands with a fierce voice, brutally grabbing the beautiful head and the burnt and festering head on either side of his shoulders, then pulling forward with mighty force.

  Wham! He forcefully slammed the two heads, connected to two frail and damaged bodies, onto the ground.

  Bang!

  The hard granite tiles shattered into pieces.

  His powerful movement even caused the air in the storeroom to suddenly swirl, forming vortices of white mist-like strong winds.

  Immediately after, he completely ignored the weeping and pleading of the two 'Mothers,' his face cold and resolute. With both hands tightly pressing down on their heads and faces, he domineeringly urged the highly toxic Hydra mana within him, roaring and surging forth.

  Sizzle sizzle sizzle sizzle sizzle sizzle!!!

  In an instant, the terrifying and violent sound of corrosion echoed throughout the entire art museum, inside and out.

  "Ah ah ah ah! Neil, no! Don't kill Mommy!"

  Accompanied by extremely mournful screams, the two 'Mothers,' within a few seconds, had more than half of their heads forcibly corroded away by Mycenae's mana.

  After reaching the limits of agony, their hands even wildly clawed at the ground, actually gouging out dozens of shocking grooves in the cold, hard tiles.

  Sizzle sizzle sizzle!

  After a long while, when the entire ground had been corroded into two connected large pits, Mycenae finally staggered to his feet, supporting himself with his hands.

  Gasping, he stared blankly into the pits where only a few shriveled dry bones remained, his mind in a chaotic turmoil. He raised his hands before him, his eyes clouded as he looked at the mottled bloodstains on his palms, and murmured: "I... What have I done? I killed... Mother!"

  Mycenae suddenly recalled words once spoken to him by an elderly witch when he entered the 'Invisible Hand' as a witch apprentice in his youth:

  "To become a witch, one must have the realization of no longer being human."

  Thus, his eyes regained their clarity, and he murmured in a low voice: "No matter if it's true or false, even if it happens again, I will still..."

  Whoosh—

  Suddenly, a dry and eerie gust of wind swept through.

  In an instant, the dilapidated storeroom where Mycenae had been, along with the elegant and refined painting gallery corridor outside the storeroom, and even the entire ivory art museum, all vanished without a trace.

  In its place was an enormous hall, its side lengths vaguely unknown.

  "What place is this again? Spatial teleportation? Or a mind-deluding illusion?"

  He abruptly lowered his hands, his eyes blazing with cold light as he surveyed his surroundings.

  In his hasty examination, Mycenae suddenly discovered.

  This excessively vast hall was faintly filled with an extremely dense sense of decay.

  It wasn't a smell on the olfactory level.

  Rather, it was an atmosphere and an idea as if countless millennia had passed, and things had decayed to their absolute limit.

  Within this decaying atmosphere, clusters of dim, seemingly tangible thick fog constantly filled the space, scattering and drifting in all directions.

  This thick fog seemed to possess the ability to completely obscure spiritual perception, suddenly rendering Mycenae 'blind'.

  Helpless, he could only observe his surroundings purely with his naked eyes, his expression stern, while his entire body's mana surged powerfully.

  Mycenae had an ominous premonition.

  Under the stimulation of this premonition, various suspicions continuously arose in his mind:

  "Is this the burial chamber of an extra-dimensional Shining Sun-level existence? Did it exile itself into the endless extra-dimensional void before its death? And eventually indirectly fell into a Secret Realm?"

  Out of caution, Mycenae did not immediately attack his surroundings.

  Instead, he remained constantly prepared, surfacing, and slowly pacing forward.

  Only when he grasped the true whereabouts of the enemy would he deliver a fatal blow with full power.

  Although in a state of alert, his foot speed was not slow.

  In just half a minute, he had traveled over 10 kilometers at near the speed of sound.

  But what was eerie was that even after walking such a long straight distance, he still couldn't reach any wall of the hall.

  However, upon reaching this area, Mycenae made a new discovery.

  Through layers of dense grey fog, he faintly saw a dark wooden coffin, merely two meters long, resting quietly on the ground in a hollow over 1000 meters ahead.

  That wooden coffin also seemed to have undergone an extremely long period of time.

  From afar, it already appeared rotten beyond repair, almost crumbling to pieces.

  Just then, from where the coffin was about to fall apart, an extremely dry and decaying voice suddenly spoke:

  "Mycenae, congratulations, you have passed the test."

  "Who?!"

  Mycenae immediately shouted, his entire body's mana surged, and in an instant, a phantom of a nine-headed Evil Dragon, several hundred meters tall, appeared. Amidst the roaring wind, it venomously spewed thick poisonous mist, roaring and devouring towards the dark ancient coffin a thousand meters away.

  But this majestic Evil Dragon phantom had barely covered half the distance, not even touching the area outside the coffin, when it inexplicably flickered and vanished.

  And Mycenae's body also miraculously, as if baseless, traversed over a thousand meters, being forcibly 'brought' close to the ancient coffin.

  It was only after arriving at such close proximity that he discovered, leaning against the top of this almost crumbling black coffin, was a roughly crafted puppet, merely half a meter tall, its entire body covered in dreadful cracks.

  Mycenae sensed a strong aura of life from this puppet before him.

  "A puppet... Are you the one speaking?"

  He narrowed his eyes, and said in a deep, probing voice, "I assume, what happened earlier in the art museum's storeroom... were all your tricks?"

  Buzz—

  The puppet's dim, sunken eye sockets suddenly lit up.

  It sat on the black coffin and, with a series of clicks, raised its head to look at the vigilant Mycenae, and said indifferently:

  "Young man, there's no need to be so impatient."

  "And, one should show respect to elders."

  Having said that, it extended a finger and pointed casually.

  Boom!

  Mycenae's expression changed dramatically. He suddenly felt his body, from the inside out, completely 'frozen' in place by a heavy, dark force.

  Especially his own slowly transforming bloodline Hydra mana, at this moment it was as if dead, showing no reaction at all.

  "Mycenae, I have observed you for a long time."

  The puppet's stiff face was expressionless, but it chuckled, "Actually, even if that truly was your mother just now, for your own life, you absolutely wouldn't show mercy, right?"

  "A few manipulative words mean nothing to me."

  Mycenae stared fixedly at the opponent, "Who exactly are you? What exactly do you want?"

  The puppet did not answer his question, but merely sighed without cause: "Anything that exists cannot ultimately exist forever, or perhaps this world simply does not permit the existence of eternal things."

  After speaking these nonsensical words, the puppet again looked towards Mycenae, and said indifferently:

  "As you can see, I have been dead for an extremely long time, and even this Ether body puppet... cannot last much longer.

  So, what just happened was merely a test, a test to see if you possess sufficient willpower, qualified to receive my legacy.

  Now it seems your mind is no longer human, and you are fully qualified to inherit my knowledge."

  "Ah." Mycenae sneered, "Forgive my bluntness, but the logical framework of this entire event is exceptionally weak. You claim you observed me for a long duration? I won't even argue that point; let's set it aside for now.

  But how could you guarantee that I would coincidentally enter this Secret Realm? And how were you certain that I would coincidentally enter this specific art museum?

  If someone else had entered this location, would you have conjured a different excuse?"

  His circuitous questioning clearly revealed deep suspicion toward the puppet's narrative.

  He suspected that the 'legacy' the other party mentioned was merely a veiled form of manipulation or perhaps even outright possession.

  "When the outcome is fixed, the process and cause become secondary—or perhaps, the cause and process must yield to the result."

  The puppet spoke leisurely in an ancient voice, "No matter how many threads are cast, no matter how widely they scatter, at a specific node, they will inevitably stabilize and constrain, re-establishing order amid chaos, restoring vitality across vast distances spanning the ages, thereby perfectly revealing the already preordained conclusion at a precise moment. This is the inherent beauty of a Witchcraft ritual."

  "So, from the very moment you began cultivating that 《Hydra Sacrifice》, regardless of which Secret Realm you entered, or which structure you chose, you were always destined to arrive here and become my inheritor."

  Mycenae's pupils contracted, and he stated in shock: "So the Hydra Sacrifice... was it you who planted it deep within the mountains?"

  The puppet chuckled: "That arcane scroll has passed through nine prior owners; with you, that makes ten.

  When faced with the Blood Sacrifice method detailed in the arcane scroll, only your talent proved superior enough to cultivate all the way to the end, successfully achieving the Morningstar level breakthrough, and surprisingly, entirely free of inner demons.

  This singular mental fortitude can only signify that you are born with an innate demonic nature."

  Mycenae pondered for a moment, then stated in a deep voice: "You can orchestrate all of this from infinite distance across the void, manipulating the barriers between Secret Realms and worlds... Are you a lost Shining Sun-level witch, or perhaps even... similar to the Creator God Ansel..."

  "Ansel? Ha."

  The puppet sneered, "He is merely a False God, not even a millionth of my power at my apex."

  "A millionth?!"

  Mycenae's mind reeled, and he said incredulously: "You... You are a million times more potent than a mythical-level witch?"

  "No, no, no."

  The puppet raised a finger and shook it gently, "You have grasped the wrong concept. While Ansel is significantly stronger than a Shining Sun-level witch, he remains a vast distance from truly mythical status.

  To state it generously, he approaches god-level; to be harsh, he is fundamentally just a False God."

  "In that case, you once surpassed the Milky Way Overlord tier."

  Seraphine, standing with her hands clasped, remarked casually, "Reaching the Universal Sage tier."

  "Universal Sage?"

  The puppet paused, then immediately shook its head, "No, I am not some Universal Sage. I am one of the three great ancient myths of the Gendaya nation, the God of Arcane Rituals and Dark Arts — Vassago."

  "Gendaya? Mayan legends? The so-called First Sun's Cycle Civilization?"

  Seraphine blinked curiously, "How is it that everything connects back to the origins of Earth? This Realm of Phantasm is certainly growing more intriguing."

  Then, she offered a light smile to the two figures looking at her: "Do not mind me; you two continue your exchange."

  Following this brief interjection, Mycenae and Vassago seemed to completely set aside the prior exchange, resuming their intimate conversation.

  "The Gendaya nation you speak of, Your Excellency?"

  Mycenae frowned slightly, inquiring curiously, "Is it comparable to the Ansel world?"

  Vassago stated indifferently: "The two are incomparable. The Gendaya nation is a colossal nexus of worlds, formed from countless others.

  Within it, any singular world surpasses the Ansel world in size by thousands, tens of thousands of times.

  The largest core worlds are even hundreds of millions of times the size of the Ansel world."

  "This... hundreds of millions of times!"

  Mycenae was indescribably shocked, "Such a colossal cosmos, and that is merely one component of the Gendaya nation, not its entirety.

  Then how many Morningstars, Resplendent Moons, and even Shining Suns... would exist within it?"

  After allowing himself a moment to digest this colossal data point, he pressed further: "So the Gendaya nation now..."

  Vassago sighed: "All the glory of the Gendaya nation turned to dust in those unimaginably ancient epochs."

  "What kind of force was required, exactly, to annihilate the entirety of Gendaya?"

  Mycenae asked in a deep voice.

  Vassago remained silent for a long duration before replying:

  "The agent responsible for Gendaya's destruction was an evil god originating from the turbid and wicked worlds beyond the endless void."

  "Beyond the endless void? Turbid and wicked worlds?"

  Mycenae was stunned upon hearing these two unfamiliar terms.

  Observing his reaction, Vassago shook his head slightly: "It seems your comprehension of the endless void is somewhat rudimentary."

  Having stated this, he waved his hand, drawing a cluster of dim dust, shaping it into an irregular spherical cloud.

  He pointed at this cloud and explained:

  "Innumerable ages ago, in a primal emptiness, there existed a chaotic, disordered, irregular entity.

  Within the dark and deathly interior of this entity, various conflicting powers were haphazardly compounded.

  But countless years later, after immense duration, this source of chaotic conflict inexplicably released a sacred and luminous breath of Sentience.

  This extremely pure and clean aura formed the endless void where we currently reside.

  And that source of chaotic conflict, having lost that pristine element, utterly descended from its inherently low-grade and unclean status into an extremely defiled state. Furthermore, in a terrifying explosion, it shattered into countless defiled fragments.

  Each of these defiled fragments became a turbid and wicked world.

  Within these grand corrupted realms, twisted, spherical low-grade worlds are innumerable.

  And this pure and sacred realm, newly burst forth from chaos, all worlds within it are flat planes of square earth and round heaven, brimming with order, full of sanctity."

  "The turbid and wicked worlds are realms completely constrained by various fiercely antagonistic curses.

  For instance, consider speed: in those wicked worlds, there exists an absolute maximum limit.

  Once one nears this limit, unless they bypass this restriction through a series of complex methods, no matter how powerful they are, they will be rigidly 'blocked' within a slow-speed environment.

  There are also various worlds possessing gravitational pull.

  In my endless void, all worlds are flat and round.

  Although each world exhibits vast differences in mass and scale, their gravitational pull does not deviate excessively.

  As heavy as it should be, one will not be 'crushed' to death by gravity simply because you originated in a small world and then visit a large one.

  But those turbid and wicked worlds are entirely different. There, vast and distant, the distribution of Primis is also extremely uneven. In the innumerable low-grade worlds within them, the greater the scale and mass, the fiercer the gravitational pull.

  Some low-grade worlds even, due to their colossal scale, possess gravitational pull so immense that it causes the world to implode, leading to the wailing of all living beings—to the extent that even descending gods would deeply regret their existence."

  Vassago stated slowly: "Therefore, the low-grade worlds capable of sustaining living beings in the wicked worlds are comparatively small and restricted, usually only tens of thousands of miles in scope."

  "Tens of thousands of miles? Roughly comparable to the border continent where I was born."

  Mycenae frowned deeply and questioned, "But how can such a small and confined world nurture powerful individuals? A world that minuscule, a Resplendent Moon level entity could obliterate with a single strike, couldn't it?"

  "No, you are mistaken."

  Vassago shook his head in denial, "Although the wicked worlds are termed as such, it is also because all entities entering them, whether sentient or inert, will suffer malicious curses.

  Much like the inhabitants of the endless void, once they enter the wicked worlds, their strength declines, becoming relatively diminished, to the point where some cannot even maintain their most basic form stably."

  Speaking of this, he glanced at Mycenae: "For example, that infant Divine Beast you rode, don't look at it being larger than an entire continent now, able to cause heaven and earth to collapse with a flick of its tail. Once it unluckily enters those wicked worlds, its physical form will inevitably shrink by tens to hundreds of thousands of times, and its combat power will also drastically plummet.

  This is still due to its deep foundation and immense size; otherwise, for ordinary void beings, basically anything below the Morningstar level, if it enters a wicked world, its body and soul will surely collapse and perish, utterly annihilated.

  Even Morningstar level and stronger individuals can only maintain their soul form without dissipating; their physical bodies will suffer heavy injuries or even disintegrate into nothingness."

  Upon hearing this, Seraphine, standing with her hands clasped, couldn't help but speak again: "I have a question."

  Vassago immediately turned to look at her: "Hmm? What question?"

  Seraphine said calmly: "Your clear and precise words regarding the origin of this so-called endless void and its processes—did you witness it firsthand?"

  Vassago shook his head: "Of course, I didn't witness it firsthand, but this is content clearly recorded in the 《Utterance of Creation》; its credibility is quite high."

  Seraphine spread her hands and smiled: "See, the problem arises again. What exactly is this 《Utterance of Creation》 you speak of?"

  Upon hearing this question, Vassago paused, as if remembering something, then slowly said:

  "The Gendaya nation, from its birth to its destruction, spanning countless ages, once came into contact with many other great nations..."

  "Wait a moment."

  Seraphine quickly interrupted, "Which 'other great nations' are you referring to, and what are their names?"

  "Uh... I can't recall them at the moment."

  Vassago instantly fell into extreme bewilderment, then naturally skipped over this question and continued: "Among these nations, there were quite a few creation legends, but if we talk about the most widely circulated, it's only the 《Utterance of Creation》."

  "Understood, a so-called legend that cannot be proven and cannot be verified, right?"

  Seraphine nodded and chuckled, "I understand. You two carry on with your conversation."

  As soon as these words were spoken, Vassago and Mycenae once again seemed to forget this exchange, continuing their own conversation.

  "You previously said that an evil god from the turbid and wicked worlds destroyed the Gendaya nation."

  Mycenae frowned tightly, "The wicked worlds are also low-grade worlds; how could such a terrifying existence be born there?"

  "It seems you still don't know much about the relationship between the wicked worlds and the void."

  Vassago slightly raised his head, as if lost in thought, "According to the Utterance of Creation, hundreds of millions of years ago, although the innumerable wicked worlds created by the explosion of the source of chaotic conflict were each countless times smaller than the endless vast void, for a certain world or even a certain nation, they were still so immense as to cause despair."

  He slowly turned his head to look at the silently listening Mycenae, and said:

  "For example, the wicked world corresponding to our region of the void, although each low-grade world within it is very small and narrow, the number of low-grade worlds in just one cluster of worlds... amounts to trillions.

  Moreover, in that wicked world, the number of world clusters is not small either; in fact, the total number might even be greater than the number of low-grade worlds within a single cluster.

  Calculated this way, the number of low-grade worlds reaches septillions.

  Considering such a terrifyingly colossal number, it's not strange for an evil god capable of crushing ancient myths to be born there, is it?"

  "...Septillion... That many?!"

  Mycenae's eyelids twitched, "This... just one wicked world is so immense, then my endless void, connected to countless wicked worlds, does this not mean... imminent crisis?"

  "Ha ha ha, no need to frighten yourself."

  Vassago said with an unmoving face, "Between the void and the wicked worlds, there is also an 'Endless Mirage Ocean'. That is the shadow of the endless void, illusory and boundless. If one does not use cross-world methods, or cannot find the gateway between the two realms, ordinary people fundamentally cannot penetrate the Endless Mirage Ocean to reach the void.

  Furthermore, since the endless void is called endless, it is naturally infinitely vast. Therefore, even if a single wicked world is terrifyingly immense, compared to the void it is still insignificant. Thus, your worries are meaningless."

  "Endless Mirage Ocean, huh, I hope so."

  Mycenae seemed to recall something and asked again, "By the way, how strong was that alien evil god exactly? Does he... have a taboo name remaining?"

  "Hmm... How strong?"

  Vassago hesitated for a long time before saying, "Including me, the Gendaya nation had a total of three Primordial Myths, seventy-two Ancient Myths, and nearly 3000 False Gods.

  But such a powerful force was entirely massacred by that evil god by himself, without the slightest effort.

  So I suspect... he might very well be an Archaic Myth.

  Yes, his common name is a type of three-dimensional alien script."

  Having said that, he waved his hand, and in his dry and decaying palm, a rapidly spinning three-dimensional radiant script appeared.

  From the radiant information scattered around the script, waves of information suddenly spread out:

  [Saknussim]

  "Huh?!" Seraphine's eyes flashed, and she said in surprise, "Saknussim? How could it be him? He actually reached the Realm of Phantasm so long ago, and even destroyed the Gendaya nation. What was his purpose in doing these things? To find something, or to plunder something, or just sheer slaughter?

  Tsk, that's not right. Based on his 'Intelligent Civilization Designer' behind-the-scenes manipulation style of doing things, he wouldn't run so far just on personal whim to destroy an unrelated Gendaya nation.

  Perhaps, there's a high probability... it's due to the Houiste Federation, or a mission assigned to him by the Federation's high-ranking officials. But why would the Houiste Civilization do that...?"

  All sorts of questions ceaselessly arose in her mind, and then continuously exploded.

  The more she knew, the more questions she had.

  Every time she understood the answer to a question, that answer would expand into even more questions.

  This feeling was truly...

  "Pushing aside the barriers of time and unknown mastery, seeking the stories behind all things and all mysteries, appreciating their past appearances and developmental lineage.

  This process, this feeling, is simply..."

  "Too satisfying." Seraphine chuckled continuously.

  At the same time, the fragmented information Vassago had previously spoken of was also linked together by her with the key information 'Saknussim came to the Realm of Phantasm and destroyed the Gendaya nation'.

  And then, recalling that she had vaguely 'seen' the Sentience Realm flowing rapidly between various three-dimensional parallel universes with her Eye of Transcendence, Seraphine instantly understood:

  "I see, so the so-called turbid and wicked worlds... are the real universe.

  The Endless Mirage Ocean is the Sentience Realm, or perhaps, it is the outer edge of the Realm of Phantasm—the Projected Layer and the Symbolic Domain.

  And the endless wicked worlds are the endless three-dimensional parallel realities."

  "Ah." She shook her head and chuckled, "I didn't expect that in the eyes of beings from other realms, the real universe would look like this.

  Indeed, the appearance of the world is always shaped by the perspectives through which it is viewed.

  What you perceive as true, others may not perceive as such. How interesting."

  Meanwhile, on the side, the conversation continued.

  "Primordial, Ancient, Archaic..."

  Mycenae muttered to himself, "So these are the tiers of mythical-level beings? Just hearing them sounds profoundly terrifying."

  A mere Resplendent Moon level could easily crush him, let alone the twelve Shining Suns high above in the Ansel world.

  And above these, there was the False God Ansel, who created him in this world, and above him, the Ancient Myth, Primordial Myth, and that Archaic Myth from the wicked worlds.

  "The universe is truly vast."

  Seraphine, standing still on the side, shook her head and sighed, "All existing myths should correspond to the Sage level in the material universe, surprisingly, even in this Realm of Phantasm, far from the real world, there is such a clearly defined power system with a clear lineage."

  At this moment, Vassago and Mycenae's conversation had concluded.

  "Although the Gendaya nation was destroyed countless millennia ago, the Gendaya bloodline could not truly be extinguished. As history flows down the river of time, countless beings wandering through history will, by chance and coincidence, awaken a small portion of our clan's soul blood."

  "For example, you." Vassago looked at Mycenae, "Unlike physical bloodlines, my Gendaya bloodline is rooted in the soul; it is a naturally occurring Witchcraft bloodline. Once awakened, one can possess 'Illusionary Aberrant'.

  'Illusionary' refers to that shadow world, that layer between the void and the wicked worlds, filled with strangeness and divine power.

  'Aberrant' refers to the soul that can easily sense and utilize the divine power of the shadow world.

  Only those who possess Illusionary Aberrant can truly awaken to the truth of Witchcraft, thereby breaking through the False God barrier and gaining the qualification to ascend the divine throne, becoming an Ancient Myth."

  "'Illusionary Aberrant'..." Seraphine's sword-like eyebrows furrowed, "Sorren? No wonder her psychic power can easily traverse reality and the Sentience Realm.

  Hmm, including her and the 'Sentience Realm Far-Seers' among the Milky Way civilizations, it seems this group all possess the Gendaya clan's bloodline, which has been sown into their souls through some unknown method."

  At this moment, Vassago continued in a mellifluous voice:

  "Hydra Sacrifice is merely one of the preliminary Witchcraft classic texts with a probationary nature, and its quality is not top-tier. However, it is enough to elevate your Illusionary Aberrant soul's bloodline density from low to high-grade.

  "Now, I shall bestow upon you the supreme Gendaya Witchcraft classic — 《Lazarus Codex》."

  Having said that, he pointed a finger, directly at Mycenae's glabella.

  Boom!

  In an instant, Mycenae fell to the ground, his entire body trembling as he began to receive this supreme Gendaya Witchcraft classic from ancient times.

  "Very good, if you learn it, it's as good as me learning it." Seraphine glanced at Mycenae, and immediately thought of another question.

  She suddenly recalled Vassago's abnormal reaction earlier when faced with the question of 'Other Great Nations'.

  "Even with only false Spirituality, it should possess self-reflection and emotions, with potential and aspirations equally present. Aside from being unable to spark the flame of wisdom, in other aspects, it's basically no different from ordinary life."

  Seraphine looked at the two conversing and couldn't help but ponder, "So why the lapse in memory just now?"

  Thinking of this, she slowly walked up to Vassago, facing him, and softly asked:

  "Vassago, since you are the god of rituals and dark arts, then your techniques... you wouldn't just be born with them, would you? Where did you learn them?"

  "That..."

  Vassago paused, then immediately replied: "To speak of that, there's quite a story."

  "Ah, I'm all ears."

  "Hmm, my mentor was the progenitor god of Gendaya, and also the head of the three great Primordial Myths of Gendaya, the strongest existence in terms of combat power and Witchcraft in the entire nation."

  "Chief Primordial Myth?"

  As if realizing something, Seraphine smiled and said, "You just said that the Gendaya nation had three great Primordial Myths, so besides you and your mentor, what is the name of this third Primordial Myth?"

  Vassago thought for a moment and shook his head: "The Gendaya nation was destroyed long ago; I've forgotten many things, so the third Primordial Myth... I can't remember his name either."

  "Alright."

  Seraphine's sword-like eyebrows furrowed, and she asked again, "Then, what is your name?"

  Vassago naturally said: "I am Vassago, the God of Arcane Rituals and Dark Arts."

  "I mean, your name? First name! Last name!"

  Seraphine narrowed her eyes, deliberately emphasizing the words 'name'.