Chapter 180: The First Spiral Gate

The sky above the Asphodel Sector was a bruised canvas of twilight colors—purple bleeding into a cold gray, like the slow decay of a dying star. The multiverse's edges trembled with an unnatural pulse, as if the very fabric of reality had begun to unravel thread by thread. Somewhere deep beneath the scattered wreckage of the Nexus, the Spiral had begun to stir, and its awakening was rippling outward like a predator sensing prey.

Zhao Lianxu stood at the command platform of the last intact Realmgate, staring down into the void. The gate was an ancient archway carved from a translucent crystal that shimmered with runes older than the Realms themselves. It hummed, barely holding itself together against the twisting chaos emanating from the fissures below.

The scent of ozone and burnt soul energy hung thick in the air, mingled with the faint metallic tang of residual blood from the battle months ago. His cloak billowed despite the absence of wind, as if the space around him was bending to the Spiral's call.

Beside him, Xiyan's dark eyes narrowed as she studied the gate. "The fissures are expanding faster than our runes can stabilize," she said quietly, voice barely more than a breath. "If the Spiral breaches fully here, it could cascade through the Realmgates like wildfire."

Zhao's jaw tightened. "The Council has delayed their response again. Every second we lose means more timelines shattered beyond repair."

A harsh laugh escaped Xiyan's lips. "They cling to old hierarchies and traditions, afraid to face the truth we live every day. The Spiral doesn't negotiate. It doesn't reason. It consumes."

From behind them came the measured steps of Arcanthus, his presence heavy with temporal energy. "Then we shall become its counterforce," he declared, voice steady but grim. "The Spiral's motion must be countered with a stronger rhythm. We must bind the gates anew—with sacrifice if necessary."

Yanmei materialized next to them in a swirl of spectral light, her silver hair catching the fractured rays of the dying sun. Her soul essence flickered faintly. "Sacrifice will be our last resort. But time is not on our side."

Zhao nodded, swallowing his frustration. He had lived long enough to know the truth in her words. The Spiral was not merely a threat; it was an inevitability, a cosmic force intent on erasing existence itself unless stopped.

His thoughts flicked to the faces of those he had lost—the comrades who had fallen defending the Multiverse, the countless innocents caught in the crossfire. And yet, he was still standing. Still fighting.

He looked down at the shimmering Realmgate beneath his feet. Its runes were weakening, pulsing erratically like a dying heartbeat.

"We begin tonight," Zhao said. "The First Spiral Gate must be sealed. I want every remaining Realmgate Master assembled. We will hold the line, or the Spiral will consume everything."

Xiyan's voice was soft, almost a whisper. "And if we fail?"

Zhao's eyes met hers with a flicker of steel. "Then we make our stand, so that those who come after us might live to rebuild."

The ancient chamber below the Realmgate buzzed with tension as the last few Realmgate Masters arrived. They were a diverse group—scarred veterans of countless battles, gifted cultivators with souls bound to the gates, and scholars who had dedicated their lives to the forgotten histories of the Spiral.

Lianxu moved among them, his presence both a beacon and a burden. The weight of leadership pressed down on his shoulders like the crushing pressure of a collapsing star. Yet beneath the fatigue was a fierce determination—a refusal to surrender even as the cosmos frayed around them.

One of the Masters, a woman named Jia Li, stepped forward. Her gaze was sharp, her silver hair braided tightly. "My gate's runes flicker with instability," she reported, voice steady despite the exhaustion. "I fear it will collapse within the hour."

Another, a young man called Huo Shen, nodded grimly. "The Spiral winds are already leaking through the fissures. We have precious little time."

Zhao looked at each face, seeing reflected in them his own desperation. "Then we must act as one. Each gate is a node in the web. If one falls, the rest unravel."

He raised his hand, drawing a circle in the air. Ethereal threads of energy coalesced, weaving together the signatures of the gates, creating a fragile lattice of power. "This lattice will bind the Spiral's motion—at least for now. But it will require constant reinforcement."

Xiyan stepped beside him, her hands glowing with dark energy tempered by spirit fire. "I will oversee the ritual," she said. "But I warn you—the strain on our souls will be immense."

The room grew silent as the Masters prepared their energies, the air thickening with the raw force of unbound power. Zhao closed his eyes, centering himself amidst the rising storm.

Hours passed like moments and moments stretched like hours. The chamber trembled under the weight of ancient magic. The lattice pulsed with light, weaving an intricate shield against the Spiral's advance.

But the Spiral did not yield. It pulsed back, tendrils of darkness slipping through cracks in the weave, seeking to unravel the threads of existence.

Suddenly, the chamber shook violently. Cracks formed in the crystal pillars. The lattice flickered.

A scream pierced the chaos. One of the Masters collapsed, eyes wide with terror as his soul was torn between realities.

Xiyan's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "Hold the line! Focus your will!"

Zhao opened his eyes, heart pounding. He could feel the Spiral's hunger probing at the edges of his mind, a cold, unfeeling presence that sought to consume every memory, every shred of identity.

He summoned his own power—the Multiuniverse Destructive Body awakening in tandem with the 5 Elemental Body Technique. Flames of blue and gold erupted around him, spinning in a storm of elemental fury.

With a roar, he channeled the power into the lattice, reinforcing the runes with sword energy drawn from the rare legacy he carried.

The darkness recoiled, but the cost was immense.

Zhao stumbled, clutching his chest as a searing pain lanced through him. His vision blurred, memories flickering like dying stars.

Xiyan rushed to his side, her eyes full of concern. "You pushed too far."

He shook his head, gritting his teeth. "We can't stop now."

Yanmei's voice echoed faintly in the chamber, "We may survive this night, but the Spiral will return. Stronger, more relentless."

Arcanthus reappeared beside Zhao, his face grave. "We must prepare for what comes next. The Spiral's awakening is just the beginning."

Dawn broke over the Asphodel Sector. The First Spiral Gate shimmered weakly but stood. The lattice held—for now.

Zhao Lianxu looked out across the fractured skies, knowing the battle was far from over.

The Spiral had begun its turning, and the fate of the Multiverse hung in fragile balance.

But he would fight. For those lost. For those yet to come.

For the memory of all existence.