In a remote corner of the Void Sea. A sea of crimson clouds gathered, dotted with numerous volcanoes erupting directly from its fiery depths. From a distance, the cloud sea glittered with intense light, the volcanoes resembling the furnaces of a grand forge.
Many martial artists dedicated to cultivating the profound mysteries of flame were scattered across these scorching crater peaks, inhaling the fiery breath, tempering their divine bodies or sharpening their weapons. Their skin resembled glowing, heated stone, their hair the color of fire, though none were particularly tall.
These were all quintessential members of the Artificer race.
This was the Volcanic Cloud Sea, a unique expanse within the Void Sea, where the great Refiners of the Artificer race came to train. It served as a natural crucible area; the intense flames of these volcanoes could melt the hardest metals into exquisite armor and weaponry.
In the earliest days, the Artificers considered this the sole region for their craft. However, as the Artificer influence grew, they discovered other geographically advantageous locations suitable for refining across different domains and within the wider Sea. Gradually, many of their most skilled Refiners dispersed.
Yet, the Volcanic Cloud Sea remains one of the largest refining zones for the Artificers even today. This refining sector was not especially distant from the Phantom race or the Bone race. The Artificer strongman overseeing this area had intentionally fostered good relations with both races, maintaining peace for many years.
Tarm, a martial artist at the peak of the Immortal Third Heaven, was himself a master Refiner of the Artificer race. He was stationed here, tasked with instructing his kin in the art of refining and maintaining the security of this location.
Upon a volcano thousands of meters high, where crimson crystals pulsed with searing flame, Tarm sat upon an altar paved with the same red stone, wreathed in roaring fire.
An ice-blue axe, exquisitely detailed and gleaming, was enveloped by dancing jets of flame, baking within the grasp of Tarm's two palms.
Streams of scorching fire—like fiery serpents—coiled up from the volcano below, continuously augmenting Tarm's own flame energy.
Gradually, intricate, delicate patterns began to etch themselves onto the surface of the axe. These patterns shifted ceaselessly, their final form undetermined. A strange, cool aura, oddly distinct from the enveloping flames, began to emanate from within the fire-seared metal.
Nearly a hundred young members of the Artificer race watched nearby, reverently observing the master’s refining technique. Their expressions were intensely focused; they dared not even breathe deeply.
“Hah! The—the sky!”
Suddenly, one of the Artificers could not restrain himself, letting out a sharp cry.
In this place ruled only by the crackling firelight, the scream was jarringly piercing. The axe in Tarm’s hands suddenly quivered, as if slightly disturbed.
His face darkened with anger, ready to reprimand the youth, but he was arrested by the young man's gaze fixed upward, wide with sheer horror.
Tarm looked up, following the gaze toward the heavens. His expression fractured instantly, and he too shrieked, “Lord Mandis!”
Deep within the crimson cloud sea, several thousand meters above their heads, a delicate and small figure suddenly snapped into focus. It was Mandis!
She was drenched in blood, her delicate face scored with fine wounds where flesh showed exposed, and her robes were tattered remnants, making her look like a wretched beggar.
The celebrated apex power of the Phantom race, one of the Ten Great Ancestors of the Star Sea, Mandis whose reputation shook the heavens! Any race mentioned her name with innate dread!
Yet here she was, reduced to such a state of disarray, appearing as if grievously wounded.
This sight utterly stunned Tarm. After a moment’s thought, he roared, “Everyone, scatter!”
He ceased the weapon’s forging process, ordered everyone back, and then stood respectfully on the crater rim, speaking with mounting anxiety, “Tarm of the Artificer race greets you, Lord Mandis. I am uncertain why Lord Mandis honors us with your presence, how may we be of service?”
“I need to borrow the Teleportation Array within the Heart of the Volcano,” Mandis replied weakly from the altitude, before plunging directly toward the crater beside Tarm.
Tarm’s expression was one of utter shock.
Their Artificer clan had painstakingly cultivated a secret Teleportation Array within the heart of this volcano, one that led directly to another hidden sanctuary of the Artificers. This knowledge had been guarded fiercely for years, known only to core clan members. How could Mandis know about it so plainly?
Furthermore, the destination connected by that array was incredibly distant and remote, far, far removed from the Phantom race’s territories. What must have happened to Mandis to compel her to use their secret Artificer transport array to reach such a region?
“Master! Master! Look quickly, look up there! Heavens above! What is happening?”
The surrounding Artificer youths craned their necks skyward, their faces etched with the deepest terror; even their divine bodies began to tremble involuntarily.
In the sky, a dense swarm of warships began to materialize, numbering in the tens of thousands. Each vessel was capable of harboring a hundred thousand warriors, meaning the martial force assembled represented an almost unimaginable terror.
It was not the sheer number that terrified them, but the banners flying from those ships: the ensigns of the Dark Abyss, the roaring, monstrous visage of the Great Fiend, the spectral flames of the Purgatory Sea, and the suffocating demonic aura—these were the warships of the Devourer race, the Ancient Demon race, the Soul race, and the Black Demon race!
With the four great races present in force, and bearing the unique symbols of Youyu, Ega, Rupert, and Beverly at the forefront of their respective phalanxes, it signaled the arrival of the strongest individuals from these four factions!
An aura capable of shattering heaven and earth descended from above, causing the minds of the Artificers below to tremble, utterly bewildered by the unfolding disaster.
This location was relatively secluded; the Refiners here usually kept their ears shut to outside affairs, paying little mind to the shifting politics of the Star River. Thus, they were largely ignorant of the recent monumental upheaval in the Void Sea.
Tarm, however, understood the grim reality all too well.
As the fleet, stretching across millions of miles like a black cloud, materialized in the void, coupled with the sight of Mandis’s grievous injuries, he instantly grasped the magnitude of the catastrophe that had befallen her.
“Tarm, if you dare allow her to leave via that array below, your Artificer race will face total extinction. Every member scattered across the Star Sea will be hunted down and annihilated without exception!” Ega commanded, his form obscured by the endless darkness of the Devourer race warriors lurking behind him. He gazed down coldly.
“This is a conflict between seven clans. You are strongly advised not to interfere, or face the consequences,” Rupert stated his position.
“Any who move against us shall perish!” Beverly’s voice was the most chillingly absolute.
Youyu did not address the Artificers, his attention fixed solely on Mandis as she plummeted toward the crater. He spoke with detached calm, “You cannot escape. We pursued you relentlessly, slaughtering every branch of your lineage. Now only you remain. Your arrival here is a testament to the subtlety of the Time Profundity. How can one possibly prevail against the four of us in a protracted engagement?”
They had pursued her relentlessly. Whenever they were close to intercepting Mandis, their vision would blur, their souls would destabilize, and upon recovery, they would find themselves back seconds in the past, having lost significant ground.
Mandis had repeatedly reversed time, casting them back dozens of seconds, allowing her to widen the gap and avoid capture.
The four pursuing Ancestors knew well that even someone as potent as Mandis could not sustain this endlessly. Her injuries were a clear indication of the toll.
...Those wounds were not inflicted by the four pursuers, but were the devastating price paid for repeatedly reversing the flow of time and draining her essence.
They were in no hurry; in fact, they welcomed her continued exertion. What they truly feared was Mandis falling into despair and electing to fight them with her ultimate power. If Mandis chose to shatter her sacrificial platform to unleash the ultimate Time Profundity, it could result in temporal chaos, exacting a terrible price even from them.
Rumor held that when the Time Profundity was pushed to its absolute limit, an enemy could be sent back to their weakest, most nascent era.
The four pursuers—Youyu, Ega, Rupert, and Beverly—were all at the Ancestor Second Heaven. They had achieved their current state through eons of accumulated power. If Mandis were to commit fully, risking her own existence, and reverse time tens of thousands of years, they would certainly suffer a catastrophic regression in their cultivation levels.
Tens of thousands of years ago, all four were merely at the level of Divine God or Immortal. Such a reversal would leave them vomiting blood, forcing them to spend millennia rebuilding the power base required to reach their current stature.
This was an outcome they absolutely wished to avoid!
Due to this inherent risk, they dared not press her to the death. They preferred that Mandis cling to a shred of hope, continuing to exhaust her spiritual power through small temporal adjustments. They planned to wait until her Soul Pool was nearly depleted before unleashing a combined assault to either capture her outright or destroy her instantly!
Their calculations were meticulous and thoroughly planned. They could have easily prolonged this maneuver.
However, Mandis’s arrival here, aiming to utilize the Artificers’ secret array for escape, completely derailed their carefully laid strategy.
They had to stop her now; if Mandis managed to flee using that passage, the repercussions would be endless.
“If Mandis departs, your Artificer race will be erased from existence. Consider that carefully,” Beverly reminded them from above, her tone slow, deliberate, and chillingly calm.
All the Artificers present descended into absolute panic, screaming uncontrollably.
The threat was stark: they intended not just to massacre those present, but to annihilate the entire race!
If Mandis escaped, their species would cease to be—a price they could never afford to pay!
The speakers were the supreme leaders of the Soul, Devourer, Black Demon, and Ancient Demon races—four of the Ten Great Ancestors.
They possessed the necessary gravitas! And they absolutely had the power to erase the Artificer race entirely!
While Tarm was reeling in shock, he saw Mandis already streaking toward the crater. As his clansmen shrieked in madness, he realized he had no viable alternative.
“No!”
His body, previously wreathed in flame, suddenly erupted in a rain of bloody, fiery sparks that showered down onto the dead volcano.
“Rumble! Rumble!”
The teleportation array deep within the dead volcano was triggered by his vital blood, establishing a fleeting, terrible link with his soul.
“Lord Mandis, I cannot let you go! My Artificer race cannot be destroyed because of me! Forgive me!” Tarm roared, tearing off one of his own arms with a savage wrench!
Thud!
The teleportation array within the Heart of the Dead Volcano, forged with his own blood essence and connected magically to his divine body, ruptured a section immediately upon the self-mutilation of his limb.
A section of the magical array patterning the surface of the fiery crucible shattered.
Mandis rushed forward, focused entirely on reaching the array, only to see the massive fracture appearing just as she arrived. The damage was too extensive for her to repair in time.
Her face contorted into a mask of desolate despair, and she murmured brokenly, “Is Heaven truly intent on my demise…”
If Tarm had merely severed his five fingers, the damage to the array would have been localized enough for her skills to manage a temporary fix.
But Tarm, in a desperate bid to save his people, had torn off an entire arm, resulting in nearly a quarter of the Heart of the Volcano’s array being destroyed—a destruction she could never hope to reassemble.
“Is this truly my fate?” Mandis looked up toward the crater rim. Through the crimson haze, she saw the dense fleet of warships, she saw the four Ancestors, but not a glimmer of hope remained.