I, the All-Class Magus, All My Awakening Skills are LvMax

Vincent's mouth flew open, wanting to say something, but the next second, he felt as if someone was gripping his throat tightly.

This sensation was utterly alien, as if an invisible force was strangling him.

Crucially, he could not feel anything else different, only sensing that a new force had emerged in the air, a force that was profoundly nauseating to him, as if he were stuck in a swamp.

Yet, this force was not aimed at him, but rather at John beside him.

It was just a small portion of the targeted force, but it was enough to leave him gasping for air.

What was going on?

What exactly was this thing?

Why was it so revolting?

Why did it always make one feel like they couldn't catch their breath?

Vincent instinctively wanted to call out to John, but he noticed that John's eyes were starting to look vacant.

Seeing all this, Vincent couldn't help but gasp in shock.

These powers were still too foreign to them, and if they continued to stay here, they might end up being assimilated.

What would they do if they were truly assimilated?

Vincent used all his strength to struggle, but it was futile; instead, he felt his power draining even faster.

Something was definitely wrong.

These entities seemed to possess the ability to weaken their powers, and there appeared to be something else within the black mist.

Vincent could feel his body becoming increasingly weak, and a persistent voice whispered to him, urging him to sleep.

"Just sleep, and it will all be over. Once you fall asleep, you won't have to endure any more pain."

They were mistakes in this world anyway, and by sleeping, he could experience the most beautiful existence imaginable.

This sensation was so strange, making him feel nearly suffocated, yet he couldn't ignore it because it repeatedly echoed in his ears.

He distinctly felt the black mist flowing into his body.

Even his blood was becoming viscous, each breath tainted with the stench of decaying corpses.

John's ears were filled with murmurs.

In that moment, the spectral figure within the hexagram became increasingly defined.

John felt a crushing oppression that seemed to emanate from a higher being.

He also knew he wouldn't last much longer.

He could distinctly smell decay, not from his surroundings, but emanating from within his own body.

As the black mist entered his body, it began to corrode everything inside.

It was as if he had become a fruit on the verge of rotting.

When a person's internal structure is on the verge of complete decay, how could their exterior possibly hold out for long?

John was now bleeding from all seven orifices, and the blood emitted the stench of decay.

He was struggling to hold on.

The Bloodthirsty Blade trembled violently, while the blood shield tried desperately to protect John but couldn't last much longer.

Silver Tear and the others had long since passed out, and now even Vincent's consciousness was beginning to blur.

John too couldn't hold on much longer; if he fully succumbed to unconsciousness, their bodies would surely be completely corroded.

By then, even miraculous medicines wouldn't be able to revive them, for without a healthy body, there would be no chance of survival.

The figure within the hexagram was becoming increasingly defined, and the oppressive sensation grew stronger, almost forcing one to kneel.

As this figure became clearer, John felt an intensifying pressure.

He was now bleeding profusely from all orifices, and the scent of decay within his body grew stronger.

His heart felt as if it were being gripped and wrung by a massive hand.

If he relaxed even slightly, death would be waiting.

But then, a warm current slowly emerged from his heart.

This red glow, as vivid as blood, pushed against the black mist within John's bloodstream with a subtle yet forceful energy.

The two powers tangled within John's body, causing him to groan in pain.

Divine power!

Divine power, though faint, was distinctly evident.

It seemed incredulous that another force dared to contest within the body it resided in, especially the revolting scent of the dark god.

The divine power meandered out from John's heart, repelling all the black mist it encountered.

Some parts of the black mist tried to battle the red glow of the divine power, but were utterly consumed the next second.

The two forces relentlessly entangled and devoured each other within John's limbs and body.

Black and red blood trickled from the corners of John's mouth, his face contorted in extreme pain.

The agony was beyond what most could bear, yet John stifled his groans.

The figure within the hexagram was gradually taking shape, seemingly very interested in the spectacle before him.

"Quite interesting."

As this voice echoed through the church, Vincent completely passed out.

The voice was laced with desire, greed, ambition, bloodshed, violence, and cruelty—it was the embodiment of all negative emotions of this world.

However, at this moment, the dark figure seemed particularly intrigued by John, watching the surges within the hexagram at his feet.

It appeared discontent with the constraints binding it, letting out a surprised exclamation.

The next second, John felt as if a heavy hammer had struck his heart.

He couldn't help but let out a muffled groan and fell to one knee.

Countless negative emotions and murmurs surged towards him like a tide.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to cover his ears, but it was futile.

These voices were everywhere—in his mind, in his soul, throughout his body.

What was this thing? What kind of dark god was this?

John felt his sanity starting to crack.

His mind seemed to turn black, churning incessantly.

Meanwhile, Stellar God Yina remained in slumber, unable to protect his mind.

John saw the mysterious temple with its intricate patterns slowly opening before him once more.

But unlike before, this time the light within the temple seemed entirely different, as if it had never existed in this form.

In that instant, he felt as if he truly glimpsed the essence of this so-called deity.

In that very moment, blood streamed from John's eyes, and a wave of excruciating pain surged through his entire body.

His hands trembled violently, unable to withstand the agony.

The dark figure seemed intent on stepping out of the hexagram but was held back by some unseen force.

The figure grew agitated, and the surrounding air pressure became denser, stickier, and more revolting.

Yet the figure did not relent.

It fragmented into tendrils of black mist, slowly inching toward the edges of the hexagram.

These misty tendrils, like tentacles, reached John and brushed against his hair.

In that instant, John's life flashed before his eyes.

He saw all the events he had experienced, including the times he was bullied and looked down upon in the past.