Warlock of the Magus World (Chapter 1051-Chapter 1200)

“So the animals had their genetics adjusted to the environment… But the humans seem to be a little bit slower…” The island told Leylin enough to extrapolate to the current situation of the world. “The gods are paying more attention, it seems like they still want to migrate their worshippers…”

Leylin’s motive of devouring the sun wasn’t just to destroy the prime material plane. The World of Gods had a unique system of laws to it, in which the sun had played an extremely important part. Its loss was like a building losing its foundation, causing many mysterious changes like the shift of spacetime coordinates.

This affected the divine kingdoms as well. The gods fumbled to find the new coordinates of their divine kingdoms, unable to attend to the changes in the prime material plane. It had taken them years to regain their bearing, stabilising their own camps in the prime material plane before beginning to launch a counterattack.

Leylin’s clone came to the prime material plane under such circumstances, exploring the changes caused by the Dark Ages and the influence of the gods on the land.

“Desolate… Incomparably desolate…” The clone retracted all the radiance of its aura, looking just like a regular wizard as he made his way towards the continent.

Even the depths of the ocean had few creatures now. Even as the perpetrator, Leylin released a sigh as he saw these circumstances. Of course, there was a limit to his sympathy, it wasn’t like he’d make a different decision if the events played out the same way. The only good gods to the Magi were those who’d fallen, so they would take all measures to weaken their opponents.

……

The disorderly survivors in the mainland were unaware of the events in the southern seas, and even if they did they wouldn’t care one bit. Right now, they’d already grown completely numb to everything.

Surviving and fighting were their only concerns, civilisation forgotten as savagery took its place. The glory of the prime material plane was gone in a mere few years, onle leaving behind zombies in its wake.

“I’m going out!” Doron gripped the jacket and leather armour on his body. The dirty leather gave off a putrid stench, filled with traces of blood. However, despite the number of patches on it, he hugged his buffed jacket tightly, giving him a bit of warmth in the frigid cold.

“Come back safely!” a voice sounded from the short room behind him, a pair of beautiful eyes in the doorway. The eyes seemed to fill his body with vigour and strength, making him forget all regrets as he left the hut and strode forward.

The icy winds whistled, the walls of the city encased in a layer of ice that caused Doron’s memories to switch to his warm hut. However, the hunger he felt right now reminded him of something; it wasn’t just himself, the lady waiting for him back home would die of hunger if he couldn’t find anything.

“Damn it!” Doron cursed, clenching the only valuable item he owned, a gleaming sword, and walking forward.

He’d been living this life ever since the Dark Ages, thinking many times that this was only a nightmare. However, this nightmare was so long it caused him to weep.

He’d only found the secret of the bugs by chance back in that camp, being able to escape because he was at the edge of the mob. He’d conveniently helped himself to a dead paladin’s sword then, the same sword that was now his treasure.

However, all of his luck had been used up in his escape. There was still plenty of food. Even if crops couldn’t be grown anymore, they already had abundant harvests. He’d roamed through an empty village, using its resources to feed himself for over a month.

However, those days did not last. Food ran out, plague spread once more, and the bugs stole the lives of the people. He tried to join several mercenary groups, but he couldn’t last for more than a month. Either the plague or the hunger took them every time, leaving him alone behind. The bugs had gotten smarter as well, attacking the humans in groups.

What terrified him was that those green Lightkiller Bugs were the lowest life forms of the beasts. Their strength had grown continuously over the years, and Doron had met one the height of a two-storey building already. It seemed like a massive red bug that crunched a paladin in one of his parties into two pieces. Several close shaves with death later, Doron had settled himself in this area.

He looked around once more in caution. This place was a normal gathering point, seeming like an extremely large refugee camp, but there were specialities to it. The walls were extremely thick, and windows were small or nonexistent. Spears were laid around the circumference, making it look like a small fortress.

After the survivors had escaped from the first onslaught of the bugs, they had depended on these defences. Some of the huts even had bloodstains of the bugs on their roofs.

A distant warhorn sounded at this moment, and more warriors walked out of their rooms and converged into a large army. The atmosphere grew stifling, and all that could be heard was the cries of the women.





Chapter 1185 – Survival


Survival

Doron surveyed his surroundings.

There were many hardened soldiers here, determination written on their faces. These armoured troops merged into a main group as they walked along the streets, forming a powerful black current.

The soldiers varied in age, from those just in their teens to old white-haired men. There were even some muscular women amongst their ranks. Although this made them look extremely disorderly, that was suppressed by their unique auras. The struggle of the Dark Ages had awakened the cold nature in them that allowed them to survive countless life and death situations.

They shared spaces with the bugs and the beasts to eke out a living, struggling no matter where they were. The people from before these times would not be able to comprehend their thought process. Even a former carpenter like Doron was confident he could kill one of the town guards of his old village head on now.

‘I have to return, I have to. For Lina!’ Doron made up his resolve as he opened a large metal gate. Thinking of the figure waiting for him at home, he felt rejuvenated as he moved out.

Although he didn’t know why he’d been soft enough to save her back then, Doron had found a partner who could understand him and whom he depended on as well. Their relationship was what lasted him through countless encounters that would have killed him, even doctors saying he was a man who’d climbed out of his grave.

‘I don’t know whether I’ll live to tomorrow, but the next time… I’m asking for her hand…’ he rubbed his chest, exhaling a cold breath.

“Doron!” A powerful yet skinny black hand clapped on Doron’s shoulder, the impact almost causing him to fall to the ground. Doron turned around, elation in his expression.

“Big Brother Jimmy!” The person who’d patted him was a tall lanky youth. He had a cow-horn helmet, carrying a large battle axe by his side. Even if the blade was chipped, the sheer weight of this hundred pound weapon would cause others to flinch.

There were several other warriors beside him, forming a small party. Jimmy seemed to be held in high regard amongst them.

“Haha, kiddo. I knew the Lightkiller Bug acid wouldn’t kill you…” Jimmy seemed extremely excited as handed a leather pouch to Doron, “Come, have a drink!”

“Ooh…” Doron salivated, taking a careful sip after he heard several gulps around him. A powerful sour and spicy taste ran down his throat to his stomach, causing him to feel much warmer than before.

“Strong wine!” the warriors around him said in envy. Any strong wines went for sky-high prices in these times. A wine pouch was akin to a second life in the frigid wilderness.

Many members of the party looked at Doron strangely, but eventually turned away after he handed the pouch back to Jimmy.

Who were they kidding? The Skullcrusher’s name resounded throughout the region. Even if Jimmy looked like a pole, the battle axe in his hands had already smashed in the heads of several people larger than him.



Sometimes, survivors were more dangerous than the bugs. Just for a small bag of wheat, clean water, or even a piece of jerky, two people would fight to the death. Doron himself had encountered this scenario many times.

However, because of this, he had a good impression on Jimmy’s generosity. Being able to retain some of his principles and kindness at times like this was really rare.

Even if Jimmy had wished to make use of him, there was nothing wrong with it. After all, such charisma and sincerity was rare even amongst leaders. If Jimmy wanted to use him, that meant that he had a certain value, did it not?

Doron clenched onto the fine metal sword in his hands.