MM Racing Page 630
Page 630
A cold, resolute command, like a bomb detonating and counting down to zero, exploded in the core of Matou Ike's consciousness!
Buzz—! ! ! !
It wasn't the roar of an explosion!
It wasn't the roar of an air blast!
It was the high-frequency, shrill tremor and hum emanating from space itself under extreme heat, strained and unbearable! It was as if billions of red-hot steel needles were simultaneously piercing the thin membrane of reality!
The crimson lotus, illuminated by phosphorescence, bursts into bloom at this moment!
Centered on Matou Ike's body—
Do not!
The key is the billions of worms inside his body that have completed the transformation into "fire ants"!
The fire-attribute ether, which had been forcibly mutated and compressed to the extreme by Typhon's power and was like liquid magma, was like a world-destroying torrent that had found an outlet, instantly pouring into the body of every swollen and bursting "fireball ant"!
Tsk-!
Billions of tiny, yet intensely hot, spontaneous combustion events erupted simultaneously, enough to melt gold and corrode iron!
Each worm transformed into a miniature, pale, phosphorescent bomb that emitted a pungent odor of phosphorus!
The chain reaction of these billions of phosphorus bombs, under the control and amplification of Typhon's power, superimposed, resonated, and multiplied exponentially!
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
The trembling and buzzing of space merged into a desperate lament!
As far as the eye can see——
An indescribable sea of phosphorescent fire, pale white with an eerie dark red hue, burst forth like a flower of hell around Matou Pond!
The flames were not the usual orange-red, but a blasphemous blend of bio-ignition phosphorescence and Typhon's calamity flames, intertwined with incandescence and dark red!
It doesn't have a violent shockwave, because wherever it passes, the air itself is instantly ionized, burned, and reduced to nothingness!
It's not light that's being distorted, but the structure of space itself!
The extreme high temperature, far exceeding the scope of ordinary fire, is closer to the conceptual power of "incineration." It erupts at the center of the blooming red lotus, heating, softening, and distorting the surrounding space like glass thrown into a furnace!
As the light passed through this area, it underwent bizarre refraction, creating a scene as if viewed through boiling water, with everything swaying and distorting wildly in the high-temperature ripples!
This is not the burning of flames.
This is a small-scale, self-destructive law-level incineration phenomenon driven by the bizarre transformation of insect magic, the savage energy manipulation of Typhon's power, and the will of the dying, targeting "space" and "existence" themselves!
The pale white and dark red phosphorescent lotus, amidst a buzzing tremor, met Arcueid's fingertip, which was piercing with innocent killing intent and contained the power of the manifestation of fantasy!
Two terrifying forces, equally capable of distorting reality and rewriting the laws of nature, collided violently on the ruins of London!
next moment--
There was no deafening explosion.
There was no violently spreading shockwave.
Only a painful hum, seemingly emanating from the depths of the world's foundation, was forcibly stretched and torn apart, eventually turning into deathly silence!
With the point of collision between the pale white and dark red phosphorescent lotus and the fingertip materialized by the True Ancestor Princess as the absolute center—
An ultimate release of energy, beyond the comprehension of ordinary senses, has occurred!
It did not explode.
It is annihilation!
It's a rewrite!
It is two equally tyrannical and terrifying powers that both want to distort the laws of reality. After billions of conceptual clashes at the micro level, their destructive aftershocks erupt in the macro world!
The entire block —
Do not!
It was the entire area of ruins that had been pre-designed as a battlefield—
In an instant, I was completely enveloped by a pure, blinding white light!
This light was neither warm sunlight nor blinding lightning.
It's scorching hot!
The heat it contains does not originate from molecular motion, but rather from the most fundamental torrent of entropy increase generated when the conceptual "existence" is forcibly erased and energy is completely released!
Air? Dust? Rubble?
In the instant that white light appeared, it was like a snowflake thrown into the core of a star. Before the "evaporation" process could even take place, it directly ascended to a higher dimension, disintegrated, and returned to nothingness!
In this absolute incandescence, the scene becomes both eerie and magnificent—
Countless silver streams of light, condensed from ultimate energy, twisted, branched, and spread wildly as if they possessed life!
They did not shoot in a straight line, but rather like the roots of a wildly growing tree, or like fireworks set off at the height of a festival, recklessly painting a totem of destruction on a pure white canvas!
Each "silver branch" is a spatial rift torn apart by the aftershocks of the counter-current, a violent path of energy release, with ionized remnants flickering with eerie phosphorescent flames and dark red embers of Typhon's calamity flames flowing along its edges!
White, fiery sparks!
This scene twists and blends the cruelty of destruction with a kind of eerie beauty that transcends the mundane and is almost "artistic"!
White light devours everything, erasing color and form, leaving only the absolute boundary between "existence" and "nothingness".
The silver "branches" dance wildly in the pure white void; they are scars from the tearing of space, and the violent energy veins left behind after the collision of laws.
It is the totem of destruction left behind by this brief clash between inhuman beings—a totem that is fleeting yet etched into the world's memory!
In this realm shrouded in "white fiery trees and silver flowers," time seemed to stand still, and sound completely vanished, leaving only the silent burning of pure white, representing the annihilation of the laws, and the silver veins that twisted wildly within it, proclaiming the lingering power.
It is like a small hell made of light and heat, forcibly stripped from reality, quietly suspended above the ruins of London, waiting for the violent energy inside to be exhausted, or forcibly smoothed over by a more powerful being.
As that pure, scorching incandescence, which had devoured all forms and colors, slowly dissipated like the receding tide—
Exposed to the renewed influx of night, carrying the scent of burnt soot and dust, was a landscape that had been completely rewritten.
A huge, irregular pit, as if smashed by an invisible giant pestle from a god, replaced the once relatively flat street.
The pit walls were not smooth curved surfaces, but rather exhibited jagged, twisted glassy crystals formed by rapid cooling after melting, as well as irregular cracks left by spatial rifts, resembling the claw marks of a giant beast.
The bottom of the pit is deep, like a furnace that leads directly to the earth's veins, with dark red, high-temperature embers resembling solidified magma.
And in the heart of this destruction—
The scattered phosphorescent flames on the pit walls and bottom did not go out.
Like a malignant tumor with a vicious life force, they stubbornly cling to charred rocks, twisted metals, and even the void itself!
These phosphorescent flames were no longer the pale white and dark red bursts, but had transformed into a thicker, colder, eerie green, like decaying will-o'-the-wisps, or like countless tiny, venomous eyes.
They burned eerily in the shadows of the deep pit, emitting extremely faint hissing sounds like the flicking of a venomous snake, and continuously releasing a blasphemous cold light that disturbed the soul and carried a pungent phosphate smell.
The night was illuminated by the eerie green phosphorescent lights that filled the deep pits.
The light could not penetrate the dense darkness; instead, it was absorbed, distorted, and then released by these will-o'-the-wisps, transforming the entire interior of the pit into a bizarre and surreal realm.
The shadows danced wildly in the phosphorescent light, like countless struggling ghosts; the twisted crystal pit walls reflected a ghostly light, like a cave studded with countless demonic eyes.
The dark red embers at the bottom of the pit, illuminated by the green flames, looked even more like filthy blood from another world that had not yet dried.
This situation——
This deep pit, this ghostly fire, this distorted space, this pervasive aura of blasphemy…
It was a scene straight out of a sacrificial ritual that was taking place in some indescribable and blasphemous way!
And at the very center of this "ceremonial venue"—
At the very bottom of that deep pit, in that small, relatively "peaceful" area, the only place inaccessible to the dark red embers—
It stood there completely unharmed...
It was that pure white "machine" that had just started the killing program.
The princess of that thousand-year-old city.
The embodiment of planetary touch.
Arcueid Brunstadt.
She was still wearing that pure white dress, and surrounded by the eerie green phosphorescence and dark red embers, her whiteness was dazzling and heart-stopping.
Her shoulder-length blonde hair still shone with a cool, moon-like luster, without a single strand out of place.
Beneath her slender eyebrows, her crimson eyes calmly surveyed the devastating scene around her, a scene resembling a hellish scroll, created by her collision with Matou Ike. Her gaze held neither triumph nor disgust, only a pure, icy indifference, like the observation of experimental results.
Her bare feet landed steadily on the only remaining "intact" patch of scorched earth, slightly sunken, spotless.
The eerie green phosphorescent flames, strong enough to melt gold and corrode iron and clinging to the pit walls and bottom, seemed to be afraid of something, forming an invisible "vacuum" zone with a radius of several meters around her, not daring to approach even slightly.
She is like the only one who remains detached from this destructive "sacrifice," and perhaps even the ultimate target of this "ritual"—
The "idol" that receives offerings.
Or, to be more precise...
The "master" awaiting the offerings.
She tilted her head slightly, her crimson pupils finally settling on a patch of scorched earth at the edge of the pit, shrouded in phosphorescent light and shadow, where an extremely faint breath seemed to be struggling.
On that flawless face, that innocent, candy-like smile slowly bloomed once again.
Then she fainted.
Chapter 657 Lateral View (4k)
As the devastating "white fiery tree" still burned silently in the deep pit, illuminating Arcueid as the sacrificial ruler—
Far from the heart of that hellish ritual site, on an inconspicuous street corner, swallowed by the shadows of collapsed buildings—
The space seemed to ripple slightly, as if on water.
Immediately afterwards, countless tiny, translucent worms seemed to seep out of the void, or proliferate from the shadow itself, frantically gathering, piling up, and weaving!
Amidst the horrifying wriggling of the insect swarm, Matouchi's figure silently reformed, as if shedding its old shell!