"Boom—"

In the deafening explosion, the red crystal shattered completely, countless shards flying in all directions.

A nearly tangible surge of abyssal energy gushed out from the broken crystal.

Like a demon imprisoned for millennia finally breaking its chains, it spread with endless resentment and frenzy in all directions.

The Holy Disc staggered back a few steps under the impact of this energy, feeling a moment of dizziness even with the protection of the Apostle's Power.

But soon, he adjusted himself, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.

"Perfect... the power of the abyss has finally been released..."

Space was torn apart, reality distorted, and the boundary between the abyss and the Surface World became unclear at that moment.

"The first step of the mission is complete."

The Holy Disc turned to look at the fallen Soron on the ground, a cruel smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Goodbye, Morning Star Level Wizard. May you find eternal peace in the embrace of the abyss."

With that, he spread those malformed wing membranes and rushed towards the altar's exit.

He had to leave here quickly to find his next target—the newly appointed Official Wizard, Ron Ralph.

Inside the Bloodline Altar, abyssal energy was still surging wildly.

The previously orderly space began to collapse, twelve crystal pillars falling one after another, sending the entire area into unprecedented chaos...

.........

Soron lay on the cold ground, his consciousness drifting in darkness.

The pain in his chest had become numb, blood continuing to flow from the massive wound, soaking the ground beneath him.

A body without a heart should theoretically die immediately.

But as a Morning Star Level Wizard who had completed his transformation, Soron's life energy far surpassed ordinary life forms.

Even with such a fatal injury, he managed to maintain a faint thread of consciousness with the residual magic power within him.

"Failed..."

His thoughts were intermittent, like a shattered mirror, reflecting only fragments of reality.

The abyssal contamination was spreading through his blood, invading every cell, eroding his spiritual world.

It was an unprecedented fall and corruption, as if countless ants were gnawing at his soul.

"Hayek... Yuni... I'm sorry..."

Soron knew he could no longer send warnings to the outside world.

The first attack of abyssal contamination was to sever a wizard's magic power connection, making any form of remote communication impossible.

In his final moments of life, memories surged like tides:

As a boy, standing under the glorious arch of the Crystal Tower, his eyes filled with a thirst for knowledge and power;

In his youth, sweating through countless experiments, striving to stand out among his peers;

In his later years, finally receiving a private invitation from a School master, being told that he had "potential" and was "worth nurturing"...

"Contract... damn soul contract..."

Soron gritted his teeth, recalling the turning point of fate.

When the Crystal Tower's master personally offered him an assignment, how proud he was, believing he was finally noticed by the higher-ups.

Back then, he gladly signed his name on the contract.

Only when the crystal imprint marked his soul did he understand the truth—it wasn't a simple assignment, but a form of "exile."

Those talented but not extraordinary Morning Star Level Wizards were perfect pawns for the Crystal Tower.

Sent to various branch schools as masters, seemingly granted great responsibility, but in reality treated as tools to be sacrificed at will by those more powerful.

The contents of the contract were clear:

No betraying the school's interests, no leaking of the Crystal Tower's secrets.

More importantly, at all costs, protect the core facilities of the school they are in, including but not limited to the Bloodline Altar.

Otherwise, even in death, their souls would be reclaimed by the Crystal Tower.

Cast into the Sinners' Repository, eternally burned by hellfire, ultimately refined into various alchemy tools.

He had personally witnessed the making of those Gargoyle Flying Machines—the once proud wizards' souls, refined into eternal servitude as energy cores.

Their consciousness persistently half-awake, feeling endless pain yet unable to escape.

Every time he saw the painful glints in the eyes of those gargoyles Valen rode, Soron would involuntarily shiver.

"No, I can't give up yet..."

Soron struggled, not out of some noble sense of mission or loyalty to the School, but raw fear of the contract's punishment.

More than absolute death, the fate of eternal torment frightened him.

Just as his consciousness was about to completely fade, a warm and pure energy was triggered.

That energy was pure as clear spring water, cleansing the contamination with each flow, gently healing the scars on his soul.

"Perhaps... there's still hope for me." Soron's awareness sharpened a bit:

"The favor Ron reported a few days ago, luckily it's been preserved..."

This force gave him his last glimmer of hope.

Seizing the brief lucidity of his mind, he painfully reached for the storage bag at his waist.

Pulling out a bright red crystal from it—the "Tear of the Heart," a precious alchemy item capable of temporarily replacing heart functions.

He shakily inserted the crystal into the gaping hole on his chest.

Feeling the cold crystal gradually warming, merging with the surrounding flesh, forming a temporary "replacement heart."

"It's actually... working..." Soron felt a faint hint of vitality flowing through him again.

It was a bizarre sensation—living without his own heart.

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