Game Transmigration: Saving the World Again 1000 Years Later

119 Lighthouse of Hope

Coles understood that the crows that blotted out the sky didn’t appear because of his previous question.

This was because Blake had already lost the ability to understand language hundreds of years ago. No matter what he said to the lighthouse now, it wouldn’t stir any waves.

The reason why the other party had such a huge reaction was that he had finally stopped hiding the aura of the soul fragment in his body.

As for the Father of the Crows’ body, it instinctively yearned for its soul to return to its complete state. That was all.

With this in mind, Coles suddenly found it insipid.

!!

What had happened in the past 1,000 years proved that his choice back then was correct.

In this world, mortals weren’t qualified to control their fates. Only absolute powerhouses were qualified to choose the direction of the future and realize it. The Presiding Judge from a thousand years ago had proven this, and the even stronger Void Sovereigns had proven it.

If he handed power to those mortals, this would be their outcome.

He especially wanted Blake to take a good look at the so-called Empire and hear the other party’s opinion on his choice back then.

If he had awakened the Rotten Moon Undead Tide back then, he only needed to sacrifice the Blackwater Swamp to create an eternal absolute powerhouse and maintain Judgment’s rule on the Vic Continent for eternity.

However, even if he paid the price of the entire continent being pulled to the Moon Realm, he could only barely protect the Blackwater Swamp as a beacon of last hope.

He especially wanted to know if Blake would regret his hasty and impulsive choice back then when he found out.

However, no matter what, the other party couldn’t answer his question. The irrational crows in front of him were the best proof.

In just a few seconds, the crows gathered into a terrifying storm in front of him, and a razor-like cold light flickered. A wail constantly echoed from the curled crow feathers, and countless blood-red eyes opened and stared at him.

However, the black wings on Coles’s back flapped slightly, blowing away the storm.

Or rather, it wasn’t blowing away the storm, but Coles using the authority in the soul fragments he had already obtained to retrieve the power that originally belonged to him.

The crows were restored to a pitch-black curse of despair before being pulled into a thread and absorbed into his body. His body which had been reconstructed by the four Void Sovereigns was like a container that could never be filled. He greedily absorbed the power that should have belonged to him a thousand years ago.

Finally, only about a quarter of the crows between the sea and the sky was left circling. Moreover, they tried to attack him again and again in vain.

Regarding this, Coles flapped his wings and distanced himself from them. Then, he raised his hand, and three bright silver nexus appeared on the constantly surging sea at the same time.

The next moment, three huge waterspouts erupted from the nexus, enveloping the remaining crows. Sharp wind blades flickered inside, twisting them into crow feathers that filled the sky before dissipating them.

This was only an ordinary Storm spell. If it was used in Currere, it could only overturn a small boat.

However, in the Moon Realm, in a place where fantasies couldn’t solidify into reality, with the augmentation of his Moon Realm essence, he could stir up a storm that seemed to be able to destroy the world as if he were fooling around.

Any spell used in Currere needed to be defined by certain rules. In the Moon Realm, all powers were completely unmasked, revealing their true essence.

Sculpting the world according to his will wasn’t just a political metaphor. To high-level Moon Realm existences, this was a literal fact.

After sensing the powerful force on his fingertips, Coles couldn’t help but sigh. Then, he looked at the lighthouse not far away.

“It’s time for me to retrieve what’s mine.”

As Coles spoke, he flapped his wings and flew into the lighthouse.

As a beacon of hope that flickered over the Sea of Despair, this lighthouse should have been an existence that could never be approached.

However, to Coles, who already had three soul fragments from the owner of this place, entering the lighthouse was as easy as returning home.

Compared to the terrifying scene brought about by the endless storms on the Sea of Despair outside, the interior of the lighthouse was peaceful.

Warm candlelight illuminated the surrounding hall. A huge obsidian round table was placed in the middle, and 13 stone chairs surrounded the round table.

Coles turned his head. The place he had flown in was a door made of adamantine.

Although it had been nearly a thousand years since he stepped foot in again, Coles could instantly recognize that this was the scene in the Twilight Fortress’s round table.

Of course, this wasn’t a true round table. It was just a scene reconstructed by the owner of Black Crow Gaze based on his memories.

The lighthouse of hope was originally a manifestation of the concept of hope.

In other words, to Black Crow Gaze’s former master, this place was the closest thing to the concept of hope in his heart.

On a stone chair marked Number 4 behind the seat, Coles saw a tall man in pitch-black armor leaning on a door-like sword in front of the table.

He sat there quietly with his head lowered. Two crows stood perched on both his shoulders and kept hissing at Coles in a threatening manner.

Coles ignored the two crows and didn’t approach the long-dead man.

He sat at his seat with mixed emotions and placed his hands on the cold obsidian round table, just like when they were in a meeting more than a thousand years ago.

He couldn’t begin the ritual immediately on his own. It would take some time for the four Void Sovereigns who supported him to cross the Sea of Despair.

Therefore, he still had some time to say goodbye to his companion whom he had once parted ways with.

“I said it back when I failed to revive the Presiding Judge with the Seed of Hope. In the future, the continent will sooner or later reactivate the use of the Moon Realm’s power. After all, strength is such a thing. If you don’t use it, others will. Only by holding this power in our hands first can we truly control the Moon Realm’s threat,” Coles looked at the man’s remains and said.

“I can’t remember your answer back then. It seemed to be something like ‘It’s nothing more than beating them back again.’ Then, in the Holy Sepulchre, you rejected the suggestion of sharing the authority of the 14th Void Sovereign with me. In fact, I should have expected this outcome the first time you said that.”

Coles shook his head and pointed at the storm outside the door.

“Let’s see if we can beat them back again.”

Blake’s motionless remains sat there like a statue. Coles didn’t care. He glanced at the four shadows that were constantly approaching outside the door and continued, “Let me tell you some good news. The Presiding Judge has returned. You’re right about this—that he will return one day when the entire continent is in grave danger again.”

Then, he shook his head and said, “Unfortunately, he returned too late. With his current strength, if the entire continent is tied to his war chariot in the future, I’m afraid it won’t even be able to protect a spark…”

Just as he finished speaking, four figures passed through the adamantine door. They naturally sat on the stone chairs around the round table.

“Sorry to disturb your catching up with your old friend. Shall we begin?” one of the people—who was covered in an oil-like black liquid—asked.