Chương 358: Chapter 330: Ember of Ruin

While Thalion was working hard on his cultivation inside the system shop, he had no idea that war was breaking out between godly factions. It had all started with the weakened Tenebrice and the Spider Queen making a move on the Blood Witch Morgana. At first, some factions wanted to take advantage of their strongest rivals being occupied, like vultures circling a wounded beast, eager to tear away the scraps.

But they quickly forgot that their own domains and even some gods themselves, could become targets in the chaos. In the war between gods, only the strongest S-grades could play even a minor role. All beneath that level of power were nothing more than ants on a battlefield of giants. Well, at least not in the already integrated space. But there was a new universe coming soon with fresh lands to conquer, new thrones to claim.

And that led every faction to pour their resources into the fighters who would be able to travel there. So many incursions were bought that the system had already raised the price to absurd, sky-high levels, like a merchant gouging water in the middle of a drought. Still, the factions kept buying more and more. At this point, there were more incursions planned for the new universe than for the last four eras combined. For a god, bringing a chosen to godhood was invaluable.

It was like planting a seed that could one day grow into a tree vast enough to shield even its creator. A chosen's ascension could allow the god to recover from a loss of power, perhaps even surpass their rivals. With so many factions at war, gods were paying immense sums to strengthen their chosen, while also placing high bounties on the heads of their enemies' chosen. One faction, however, was not satisfied with balance. They were eager to kill as many as possible.

A faction of brutal warriors whose mere physique was often enough to crush most foes. The orcs. There were many orc clans scattered throughout the multiverse, but only one that could play in the highest league. This was thanks to their incredibly powerful patriarch. Ghor'Vhar, the Warbringer. His domain was unlike that of most gods at his level. Where others built empires around rare treasures that amplified their power, Ghor'Vhar had no such reliance. He didn't need treasures.

He would take them from the slain gods who wielded such things, crushing their domains beneath his waraxe. None had matched his path. He was a god of war. Battle was his heartbeat, conquest his breath, and slaughter his hymn. Constantly, he raged wars against other gods, and the current multiversal frenzy played perfectly into his hands. For orcs, two classes always stood at the forefront of renown. The shaman and the warrior. And Ghor'Vhar was the latter. Magic was nothing to him.

He and his waraxe had always been enough to carve through any enemy. His domain was a cluster of planets, covered in massive war tents and battlefields that stretched like endless scars across the land. These worlds served as trainingground for his weaker followers, where they would be "hardened" before being sent into real wars. But this hardening was anything but gentle. It was like tempering steel in fire, only most blades shattered before they could ever be sharpened.

The death rate was high, but those who survived were far stronger than most opponents at their rank. His followers were feared across the universe. Now, Ghor'Vhar had decided it was time for a grand offensive. While he himself would continue killing gods, his mortal followers would be unleashed into the tutorial to slaughter as many chosen as possible. Ghor'Vhars Chosen had already conquered his own tutorial and would soon move on to the new planet fused with elves and vampires.

Humans would be there as well, but they were weak, nothing more than cattle. Humans were like dry firewood, useful only when burned to fuel shamanic spells. His wives, all powerful shamans, had their own chosen inside the tutorial. Not the same as his, but they would all converge on the same world. He could already imagine the faces of the faction leaders who had poured everything into tutorials, only to realize that this particular planet would hold over twelve chosen orcs.

Just days ago, Ghor'Vhar had been worried about Ankhet, but since that one was dead for good, the new planet would soon belong to the orcs. Vampires and elves were strong races, yes, but there were also humans, fodder, fuel, and leverage. His chosen was already a powerhouse, a lucky find. Normally, he needed to mold his chosen into brutality, but this one came ready and born for war. This planet would be interesting for more reasons still. The chosen of that arrogant mage-god would be there. The vampire's chosen.

The ranger's. The shining servant of the light god Solarian. Even a few elven prodigies. And because it was one of the smaller planets, it meant only one thing. Sooner rather than later, the world would drown in carnage. Carnage was exactly where his chosen would rise. No one could adapt to blood and chaos like the orcs. He also knew that the traitor Shargaz had a few blessed hidden among the orcs in the tutorial. That those were slain was crucial. Shargaz could not be allowed to gain power through such treachery.

The only reason that traitor still lived was because of his dangerous alliance and personal strength. Ghor'Vhar was not yet strong enough to kill him in his own domain. Ghor'Vhar exhaled slowly to calm himself, and a wide grin spread across his face. War was coming. A war on a multiversal scale. A storm so vast that countless empires would be swept away like sandcastles before the tide. Many would fall. Many new ones would rise.

And among them, Ghor'Vhar would shine, his star burning brighter, hotter, more terrible than ever before. <-- Thalion had just completed a productive tempering session with Eagly in the system shop, advancing another step in his body-tempering. Afterward, he took his time to read all the messages from Maike and Kaldrek that he had missed. Those messages brought him up to speed on what would soon unfold on New Earth.

To make sure that everyone would land in the same place once they arrived, the plan was to gather in the main city or above it. With so many people, it would be filled to the brink, like a cup of water trembling on the edge of overflow. The plans for New Earth were clear. They would need materials ranging from wood to solid stone to build their new homes. But resources would not be the only concern.

The moment they arrived, scouting parties would be sent out to locate water sources, herds of beasts, and of course, to investigate any neighbors. They likely wouldn't spawn right beside another tutorial group, but it was still crucial to know who lived close. Once good places for settlements were found, the builders would begin their work. Those people would be like blacksmiths working the forge day and night, hammering a new civilization into shape.

The main city would also be split apart, it was impossible to build a single massive city for thirty thousand people. Instead, they would divide into smaller groups, each venturing out to find suitable locations, then linking back with teleportation circles. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. This system benefited both sides.

The outposts would send materials back to Thalion's main base, while in return they would receive military support if attacked. And with someone like Thalion on their side, they feared little. Everyone knew what he had accomplished in the tutorial and who he had defeated. Not everyone wanted to stay, though. The moment they arrived, thousands would leave to search for their families, long separated. Thalion didn't really care that so many would go. He had no intention of binding anyone to him.

He simply wanted to offer them a safe home to return to, if such a thing was still possible, given the enemies he had made. Not only his own enemies, but also the chosen of gods who hungered to conquer New Earth for their patrons. As for Thalion himself, he would not sit idle. The moment he set foot on New Earth, he planned to venture out to hunt strong beasts for skill farming. On leaving the tutorial, everyone would receive a ring allowing them to participate in the coming system event.

After the three events were completed, the rings would be returned to the system. This was where things became interesting. Not only would the tutorial survivors arrive on New Earth, but multiple incursions as well. Those incursions wouldn't get rings. They would be forced to attack others to claim them. In other words, New Earth would begin with a massive manhunt for rings. No one knew when the events would start, but the information suggested that several weeks, perhaps longer, would pass.

Enough time for the incursions to hunt down rings for themselves. Those incursions had better pray they didn't land anywhere near Thalion, because the first thing he would do was a good old round of slaughter. He hadn't worked this hard just to let strangers from integrated space butcher his former citizens left and right. Yes... life on New Earth might be even harder than in the tutorial.

Thalion packed all the essentials into his new backpacks from the system shop and sent his spatial ring to one of the supply depots, which would distribute its contents to those in need. He wouldn't miss the few credits he might have received if the items returned to the shop, but for weaker survivors, they could be the difference between life and death. How someone could still be under level sixty baffled him.

At such a level, New Earth would be pure hell, especially after the system events, when the first powerhouses had advanced even further. Still, Thalion was ready. Ready for what was to come. Ready for killing and fighting. He might even call himself an expert at this point. The teleportation was only minutes away. On his back rested the Blade of the Blood Templar, now safely sheathed, just like Geralt of Rivia carried his sword. It was fine craftsmanship, and Thalion already loved it.

The repair runes alone might prove invaluable in battle. Lucan had even joked that, if an incursion spawned near them, he would test his new bombs, which were far more dangerous than the ones they had used against the elven base. Thalion silently prayed no spy ever discovered Lucan's arsenal. If those bombs went off, the entire base on New Earth would vanish in one colossal explosion. With only moments left until the tutorial ended, Thalion had one final task. He activated the One Form.

He had already felt powerful before, but now the effect multiplied. It was as if his strength was a fire, and someone had poured oil onto the flames. Was this how the elf had felt when her goddess gifted her the item to evolve her bloodline? Thalion had wisely placed himself in the basement for safety, and it was good that he had. Flames erupted, rising to the ceiling, writhing like serpents. There was hunger and power in those flames, enough to kill survivors on the spot even if they tried to shield themselves.

The Sanguis Impera also seemed to feel the surge of energy, stretching out its vines to grasp the power, like a sleeper lazily stretching after a long slumber. Thalion's eyes glowed behind the mask, mirroring the expression of the vines emerging from his body. The runes of his armor ignited, feeding even more strength into them, while an ocean of fire erupted around Thalion, waves of flame crashing against the stone walls like a storm-tossed sea. Congratulations your bloodline has ascended.

Bloodline — Ember of Ruin The Waking Flame has devoured its restraint and been reborn as the Ember of Ruin. Your blood no longer merely burns, it corrodes, consumes, and annihilates, carrying within it the inexorable power of ruin. What once blazed with reckless chaos now smolders like embers that cannot be extinguished, steady, patient, and eternal. In your presence, not only matter but even mana itself ignites.

Fire is no longer your sole ally, all your mana flows with greater precision, weaving tighter and collapsing less easily under strain. Every skill you unleash is magnified and shaped by the Ember's dread influence. A mere spark becomes a conflagration capable of devouring forests. The bearer of the Ember of Ruin gains monstrous surges of power in speed and vitality. Wounds inflicted by your flame defy healing, and defenses shattered by it remain brittle long after the strike.

Mana itself yields more easily to your command, holding their form longer, enduring pressure with unnatural resilience. Your body becomes a vessel of Ember of Ruin, capable of searing even the intangible. The carrier of the Ember of Ruin may cast spells of far greater potency than flesh and bone should rightfully endure." Ha… Ember of Ruin," Thalion mused. Where does the ruin arise? Is it the destined course of my bloodline's evolution, or merely its cruel twist of nature?

He had expected something more vital, more exuberant, not so final. From Waking to Ruin… it felt a contradiction. Yet perhaps it was the very essence of flame. It builds nothing but only devours. In the end, the reasoning mattered little. What mattered was power and Thalion felt more powerful than ever. A blazing inferno surged through his veins, driving him higher, stronger, fiercer with every breath. His bloodline skill had not yet evolved, but he was certain it would reap its share of this ascension.

Around him, flames still twisted, restless. The Sanguis Impera reached toward them with its blood-born tendrils, each one seared in the same deep crimson now mirrored in his fire. Yes… this was promising indeed. And just as Thalion prepared to test the scale of his newfound might, to wrestle with its sheer force and volatility the world shifted. The fire-drenched chamber dissolved, and he was drawn suddenly, inexorably, into the last system shop of the tutorial.