Chapter 180

Chapter 180: Entering Sky City

Everything on Deep Rock Island had been flattened by the enhanced triple-cannon barrage. Even the infamous captain of the Red-Bearded Pirates was blown to pieces in the explosion, leaving no trace of his scorched beard.

Strangely, amidst this total destruction, Midi’s group sensed an abnormal magic wave the moment they set foot on the ravaged island.

The pulse was faint yet astonishingly resilient and pure.

Wells, still below level 40, noticed nothing. But adventurers Dickson and Kelvin – always alert to environmental changes – immediately stiffened. Exchanging startled glances at the magic’s unnatural resilience, they instinctively turned to their twenty-year-old leader.

Midi the reincarnator recognized this energy instantly.

"Correct. It’s a rift’s aura," he confirmed, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

As they advanced, the magic wave intensified exponentially – first threads, then countless strands weaving an immense net. By the time they reached the roaring canyon’s mouth deep within the island, the magic had become crashing tidal waves battering their senses.

Most couldn’t proceed further. Low-level sailors stayed ashore. Even Belmar’s elite adventurers struggled near the canyon mouth. Wells swayed pale-faced, sustained only by a designer’s stubborn curiosity. Only Midi, Dickson, and Kelvin stood firm against the magical onslaught.

"Wells," Midi ordered, "Have magicians rebuild concealment arrays. Erase bombardment traces. Recall the ironclad ships."

The Flying Sail noble sighed. He knew Belmar’s greatest secret lay beyond, yet lacked strength to witness it.

"Follow my blade." Midi clapped Wells’ shoulder before marching canyonward like a man walking into a dragon’s jaws. The Hawk Brigade officers followed warily, senses primed for danger.

The canyon defied expectations. Emerald grass carpeted the ground beneath star-blocking trees. Crystal streams wound through medicinal herbs growing in magically enriched soil. Only the corpses disrupted this paradise – pirate skeletons from older times, and fresher civilian bodies clutching uprooted herbs, faces twisted in death agonies.

"Bastards!" Dickson spat.

Clearly, Red-Bearded Pirates couldn’t withstand the canyon’s magic winds. They’d used leaked magic to level up, but needed cannon fodder to harvest herbs. Early pirate casualties gave way to kidnapped sailors and villagers as their forces grew – a grim timeline written in corpses.

Without a doubt, the Red-Bearded Pirates had gained their abundant rare herbs through the sacrifices of countless innocents. Now, by eliminating all these pirates at once, Midi paid tribute to the West Coast victims.

Staring at the gruesome corpses, Midi couldn’t help but reflect. In his previous life—back in the Year 986 of the Arad Calendar—he’d just begun his desperate escape. Even if he’d reached Faero Bay and stood before the rift back then, he wouldn’t have qualified to enter. He’d have been left sighing outside like Wells, or worse, dying like these commoners—bleeding from every orifice under the overwhelming magic.

But this life was different. Now that he possessed power, he’d charge forward without hesitation, climb to the peak, and behold the world.

His gaze hardened as he turned toward the canyon’s heart. A vortex resembling a storm’s eye churned there, its low roar reverberating. Bursts of purple-gold lightning shot from it, dissolving into mist that made the surrounding magic surge like tidal waves. Clearly, this vortex was the source of the island’s pure magic—the "rift" linking Arad to the Sky City. Beyond it lay a new world: smaller than Arad yet infinitely more dangerous.

“I’ll investigate,” Midi stated.

“What about us—” Dickson stepped forward, but Midi cut him off.

“You’ll die if you enter now. Level 48 minimum.”

Dickson and Kelvin exchanged resigned glances. They’d pitied Wells for being barred earlier—now they shared his fate.

“Send an urgent report to Hertonmar. Guard Deep Rock Island until I return,” Midi ordered.

“Yes!” both replied sharply.

In an instant, Midi plunged into the lightning-streaked vortex like a gray meteor, vanishing as completely as a stone sinking into water.

Inside, magic currents dragged him through disorienting swirls. Time and space blurred; only his heartbeat, breathing, and the pulsing small golden sword within him felt real.

When his eyes opened again, he faced an alien world—a sea not of water but of trees. Towering trunks blocked the sky, their leaves spilling scant sunlight onto a labyrinth of vines, jagged rocks, and cliffs. Beastly roars echoed through the primal forest: the Sea of Three Towers, Sky City’s lowest layer.

But Midi had no time for nostalgia or scenery. His body burned as if submerged in liquid mercury—every breath crushed him, every inch of skin felt stabbed by blades. The pain seeped into his bones, worsening relentlessly.

The cause hung invisibly in the air: magic. Not Arad’s feeble ordinary magic, but "pure magic."

How pure? Even Fina Hamilton, the Queen of Magic born with superior power, only reached two-thirds its purity. The aura from Midi’s small golden sword—fused from Ultimate Intent, magic, and demon god power—still fell short. Even Iron-Blood Duke Haidrich Hamilton’s magic paled in comparison.

Pure magic was a higher force, essential for true awakening. Yet before wielding it, Midi had to adapt. Fail, and the dense magic would shred him into bloody scraps within minutes.