webnovelvip Chapter 45 The Island Seal
Chapter 45 The Island Seal
The abandoned watchtower appeared on the horizon at noon, half a day earlier than expected, and Arthur ordered a camp to be set up outside the tower.
He stood beside the dilapidated stone wall of the watchtower and looked down.
Dragon eyes unfold.
Three hundred feet deep, Vortigern's heart was beating, and with each beat, the rubble on the ground trembled, so gently that no one but Arthur could detect it.
Grayish-white lines spread outward from the pure black core, seeping upward along the fissures in the earth's veins, reaching a depth of about twenty feet from the surface.
Further up is the foundation of the watchtower.
"Twenty feet," Morgan's voice came from behind him.
She changed into a dark blue, fitted robe that allowed her to move around easily, removed her thorn crown, and braided her long, silvery-white hair into a thick braid that hung down her back.
Ice-blue magic flowed through her fingertips, like water droplets ready to be flicked away at any moment.
"How big should the sealing array be?" Arthur asked.
"With the watchtower as the center, the radius is three hundred paces." Morgan walked to his side and looked down at the ground beneath his feet.
"A total of six magic sources are set up, distributed in six directions, and the distance between each magic source cannot exceed the limit of a fist."
"Just one punch short, and the sealing array's chains wouldn't close."
Arthur looked at the five knights and the lord of the North in the camp.
"Kay, Gawain, Tristan, Lancelot, Bedivere." He counted five people. "The sixth one is you?"
Morgan nodded. "The six magic sources are responsible for constructing the framework of the sealing array, but after the chains are closed, someone still needs to stand in the center of the array to maintain it."
"it's me."
Morgan's fingers curled slightly.
"When the time comes, you will stand in the center of the formation, with the Dragon Power River fully open, and withstand the backlash from the six chains piercing through Voodoo's body simultaneously. I don't know how strong that backlash will be."
Her voice was flat. "It might feel like being pushed hard, or it might feel like being hit head-on by a dragon."
"It could also be due to reverse penetration from Vortigern's gray mist," Arthur continued.
"As the six chains pierce through him, his gray mist will also surge upwards along the chains, flowing to the center of the formation and onto me."
"I need to use the Dragon Power Channel to 'filter' out the gray fog when he reverses his infiltration," Arthur said.
"Filter out his will and leave only pure dragon power."
"Scáthach's Guardian Rune can do that."
Arthur pulled a thin rope from his collar, to which was tied a dark red runestone, its surface covered with runes.
It was the "Guardian" rune that Scáthach casually tossed to him on the day she left the Land of Shadows.
At that time, she said, "Just wear it on your body, it may not be useful."
"Is one enough?" Morgan asked, looking at the runestone.
"It has to be enough, even if it's not enough." Arthur tucked the runestone back into his collar. "It's too late to go find her now."
Morgan didn't ask any more questions. She squatted down and, using the ruined foundation of the watchtower as the center, drew the first line on the ground with her fingertip.
Ice-blue magic seeped from his fingertips, spreading along the ground. Wherever the line was drawn, the pebbles rolled away automatically, revealing a smooth groove.
"Six directions," she said, her fingers moving continuously.
She finished the last stroke, stood up, and a near-perfect circle surrounded the watchtower in the center.
Six nodes are evenly distributed on the circle, and at the location of each node, a small patch of ground has been burned into a light blue color by magic.
"Let them stand up there," Morgan said.
"Once you're on the platform, don't move. No matter what you see or feel, your feet must stay in that spot."
Arthur returned to the camp and repeated Morgan's words to the knights.
Kai stood up. "And you?"
"I'm in the center of the formation."
Kai glanced at him, asked no more questions, and strode to the eastern node. Gawain went to the southeast, Tristan went to the southwest, and Lancelot went to the west.
Bedwell was the last to stand up, his silver prosthetic leg flashing in the sunlight, and walked to the northwest node.
The lord of the North remained crouched on the rubble, not moving.
"Where should I stand?"
"You don't need to stand," Arthur said.
"Then what am I here for?"
"You're here to see what Vortigern, the one who's been haunting your dreams for three days, looks like, and then remember him."
The Northern Lord nodded, squatted back down on the rubble, and pulled out a fourth piece of dry bread from his pocket.
Arthur walked to the center of the formation.
The watchtower's crumbling foundation lay beneath his feet, and three hundred feet below, Vortigern's heart was pounding faster; he could feel it.
Six people stood in six positions. The framework of the sealing array had not yet been activated, but the oppressive feeling of being "locked" had already been transmitted down the earth's veins.
The gray fog began to rise.
Arthur's Dragon Hearth's four beats remained steady as always, and that trace of coldness and pure black mark slowly rotated deep within the Dragon Force River.
"Morgan," Arthur said.
Morgan stood at the northern node, her hands forming a mudra, and icy blue magic surged from her palms, flowing along the groove in the ground.
Magic flowed beneath everyone's feet, and six-colored light rose simultaneously from the six nodes.
Kai grunted, and crimson light surged up from beneath his feet, like burning oil.
The golden light beneath Gawain's feet was gentler than Kai's, but its range was larger.
Tristan's deep green light is the quietest.
Lancelot's lake-blue light is the sharpest.
Bedwell's silvery-white light is the faintest.
Six beams of light simultaneously extended towards the center of the formation.
Arthur stood at the intersection of the six rays of light, where the six magical powers converged simultaneously in his dragon power channel.
His four-beat rhythm of the Dragon's Furnace and the pulsating frequency of the Six Paths of Magic were perfectly synchronized.
Crimson, golden yellow, dark green, lake blue, silver white, and ice blue—six colors flowed within him, each flowing independently along its own channel.
He only had forty-odd dragon power channels, but now there are six more. These are temporary channels created by the magic of the six knights within Arthur's body.
The shape of the river channels is exactly the same as their respective magical properties.
Kay's river is as straight as a sword, Gawain's river is as wide as sunlight spreading out, and Tristan's river meanders like a melody.
The Lancelot River is as sharp as a sword, the Bedwell River is as delicate as the trail of a falling feather, and the Morgan River is the most complex.
Her river has six channels, six icy blue streams that branch off from the point where she enters and flow into the other five channels.
Morgan wasn't "giving" magic; she was "harmonizing" magic.
She is using her ability as the inheritor of the island's power to harmonize the different magical attributes of the five knights into a single, unified force.
The sealing formation has come to life.
Six beams of light shot out simultaneously from six nodes, converging above Arthur's head, where an extremely faint humming sound was emitted.
Then the six beams of light turned back from the point of convergence, descended, pierced the ground, penetrated the twenty-foot-thick soil and gravel, and pierced through the three layers of light membrane remaining in Yuther's seal.
It was driven directly into Vortigern's body!
The earth shook violently.
The Northern Lord's eyes were fixed on the spot where Arthur stood in the center of the watchtower's foundation. He couldn't see what was happening three hundred feet below, but he could sense it.
He slept in the gray fog for three days, and trace amounts of gray fog particles still remained in his body. Now, those particles were trembling.
Three hundred feet underground, Voodoo's body was pierced by six chains.
The chain from the east was driven in from Kai's direction, piercing through the left side of its gray-white body.
The chain from the southeast was driven in from Gawain's direction and pierced through his right side.
Chains from the southwest were driven in from Tristan's direction, binding its most extensive roots.
The chains from the west, driven in from Lancelot's direction, pinned down the tendrils that were trying to extend into the mystical side of Britain.
The chains from the northwest were driven in from Bedwell's direction, as thin as feathers, yet they pierced precisely through the edge of the pure black core at the very center of its body.
Morgan's chains to the north did not pierce through any part of the body; they spread out directly above Vortigern's body, forming an ice-blue net that sealed the entire cave's dome.
Vortigern is unable to move.
The grayish-white body convulsed violently, its countless roots thrashing wildly, striking the cave walls and the remaining light membrane of the Uther seal.
But the six chains remained motionless, and Morgan's icy blue net slowly pressed down on the cave ceiling. With each inch it pressed down, Voodoo's struggles lessened.
But Arthur sensed that the gray mist was rising in the opposite direction along the six chains.
Six wisps of mist spread upwards along the six chains, not fast, but as steadily as mercury columns rising in a glass tube.
It's looking for him.
Vortigern's gray mist didn't care that six chains had pierced its body, didn't care that the giant ice-blue net had sealed the cave's dome, and didn't care that it couldn't move.
It only cared about one thing: the red dragon was standing directly above it.
The dragon power originates from the same source, like two branches on the same tree. It is climbing up the chain, trying to touch the aura that shares the same origin with it.
Everyone felt the gray fog rise to the ground the instant it reached the ground.
Kai's breath hitched, a hint of gray-white mixed into the crimson light, and his body temperature began to drop.
Grayish-white frost began to appear at the edges of Gawain's golden light.
Tristan's melody went off-key.
Within the sword wall surrounding Lancelot, a phantom sword began to turn grayish-white from its tip.
In Bedwell's silvery-white mist, grayish-white wisps of fog spread slowly, like ink falling into clear water.
Morgan gritted her teeth, her massive, icy blue net pressing down on the cave ceiling, the one most heavily permeated by the gray mist.
Of the six chains, hers was closest to Vortigern's core, from which gray mist rose and seeped directly into the mesh.
Morgan's fingertips began to turn white, starting from the edge of her nails, the grayish-white color gradually spreading towards the base of her fingers.
Gray fog surged into Arthur's Dragon Force River from six directions simultaneously.
Then Scáthach's Guardian rune lit up.
Dark red runes rose from the runestone on his collar, one after another being branded onto the entrance to Arthur's Dragon Force River.
The moment the gray mist surged past the runes, the "Will of Vortigern" was filtered out, leaving only the pure power of the white dragon, devoid of any will.
The power was still cold, but it no longer represented "death".
Arthur swallowed the filtered white dragon power. The red dragon power met the white dragon power within his body, but there was no rejection.
The two forces, originating from the same source, are like two rivers flowing down from the same snow-capped mountain. They separate at the foot of the mountain, each making a large loop, and finally reunite on this plain.
Arthur sensed Vortigern.
It is not "hostility," not "hatred," not any emotion that can be described in words.
Vortigern has no emotions; it is the island's "unwillingness to end," and its existence has only one purpose: to return everything to the age of gods.
It's not about hurting anyone, nor about ruling anyone; it's simply because it cannot accept the very act of "ending."
Arthur understood.
Vortigern wasn't looking for an "enemy," he was looking for "another version of himself."
The red dragon and the white dragon are two branches from the same tree.
One chain chose to accept the end, while the other refused to let go, climbing up the six chains to ask him:
Why didn't you resist? Why didn't you struggle? Why were you able to accept the "end"?
Arthur did not answer with words; instead, he pushed his dragon power back along the six chains.
Vortigern's struggles ceased.
It stopped on its own because the red dragon had just answered it; the red dragon's white dragon power surged back into its body, carrying a message it had never perceived before:
The end is not scary, the river flowing into the sea is not scary, the falling leaves are not scary, the heart stopping is not scary.
Because even after the end, something remains. Rivers are still water after they flow into the sea, leaves turn into soil after they fall, and the living continue to remember after a heartbeat stops.
Deep within Vortigern's pure black core, that point "blacker than black," that point that had been sliding away, came to a standstill for the first time.
It didn't slide open; it was listening.
Arthur opened his eyes.
In his Dragon Power River, the six gray mists within the six streams of magic power have been completely filtered out, transforming into pure white dragon power, which flows in parallel with the red dragon power.
That chill vanished, and the pure black mark disappeared as well. In its place was a clear, two-way passage between him and Vortigern.
At one end of the passage is him, and at the other end is Voodoo. The passage itself is the dragon power that they share.
Arthur placed his hand on the hilt of the sword in the lake.
"Now," he said, "while it's still listening."
Arthur drew his sword, and the sword light shot into the sky. At the same moment, the sword in the stone was automatically unsheathed and hovered to his left, the two swords resonating in harmony.
In the Dragon Power River, the power of the red dragon and the power of the white dragon simultaneously surged into the two holy swords.
The blue of the sword in the lake, the gold of the sword in the stone, the red of the red dragon, and the white of the white dragon—four colors of light intertwine and flow across the sword.
Arthur gripped his sword with both hands, the tip pointing to his feet, towards the still, listening, pure black core three hundred feet deep.
Morgan.
Morgan bit her right index finger, and blood dripped onto the icy blue node at her feet. Fresh blood flowed along the grooves of the sealing array.
The six chains flowed over, dyeing all the colors—crimson, golden, dark green, lake blue, silver, and ice blue—with a very faint layer of red.
The sealing array is fully activated.
The six chains tightened simultaneously, lifting Voodoo's body up from a depth of three hundred feet.
The grayish-white roots were pulled out one by one from the fissures in the earth's veins, like removing foreign objects from a wound.
The pure black core rose along the chains, sixty feet. Fifty feet, forty feet.
Arthur's sword is waiting.