Chapter 35: Inviting the Lord of the Lost |
The members of the Fischer family pressed on through the jungle, each deeply questioning in their hearts the most important matter.
Can we survive?
Byrne’s body trembled slightly, feeling extremely tense, not only for himself but also because his father had not returned.
The great Lord of the Lost conveyed His will, devoid of sadness or joy, as if it were destined.
He said, the father had led away a portion of the enemies.
Byrne had never felt so tense while fighting alongside his father or when facing danger alone; yet now, deep within, he was consumed by fear and worry.
He won’t die, he definitely won’t. That old man will always find a way to survive until the end, hasn’t it always been like that?
Byrne shuddered, the fear within growing ever more immense and unshakable.
The group strained to stealthily make their way out of the jungle, hoping to avoid detection by the Cyart people. Finally, they emerged from the woods to find themselves on a vast expanse of snow.
Have we survived?
However, they soon saw quivering shadows in the distance.
Everyone’s face turned pale, Cyart cavalry was approaching, and they instinctively wanted to run back into the jungle.
Irene shook her head, saying, “No, there are more Cyarts behind us. We have no chance to go back now, no matter what.”
As the situation became desperate, the group prepared to fight to the death.
Among the remaining seventy or so people, only thirteen guards were capable of combat, and even including Irene and Byrne, there were only fifteen people who could be considered fighters.
The approaching cavalry numbered over fifty, with the black armored knight leading them riding a pitch-black warhorse with magic beast lineage, undoubtedly very powerful.
The people almost succumbed to the deepest despair, crying, screaming, and wailing, as the battle was lost from the start, without even the need for a token resistance.
"Is everything going to end here?”
As she watched the cavalry coming closer across the snowfield, Irene knelt down, taking a deep breath of the bitterly cold air.
No, it won’t end.
She closed her eyes, as if she was transported back to over five years ago.
Back then, Irene was as helpless as she was now, facing sudden malice and about to share the most terrible fate with her loved ones, where a single misstep could lead to an unmarked grave.
Yes, everything was so similar!
A look of nostalgia and devotion appeared on Irene’s face.
But there was also a difference, for she was no longer as fearful as before, and she would not pray to the so-called gods!
Whether Cyart or Rhea people, both worshipped their gods. Why then do they still slaughter each other? What else would those high and mighty deities do besides watch indifferently?
The transparent sacred object was wrapped in cloth in her arms, sheltering the great existence that could bring an end to all things and protect the Fischer family as they moved forward.
Irene had long understood that only by praying to Him could she reach the destiny the Fischer family hoped for.
The Cyart cavalry drew ever closer, finally coming to a slow halt just tens of meters in front of them.
The slaughter did not begin immediately. Baron Bourette Meyer, the leader and the black armored knight spurred his black warhorse, stirring up small sparks of electricity in the snow.
He approached alone to within a dozen meters of the group and said in an eerily calm voice, “Grasping at what should not be obtained is the shortcut to death for the weak.”
Baron Bourette extended his hand, and two flames rose from around him, forming a scorching firewall that encircled everyone present in the snowy weather.
He was a descendant of the top-tier Meyer family bloodline, possessing the powerful heritage of one of the ancient magic beasts, “Adranus.” Even among those of the Transmutation class, few could match him.
"Your deaths are insignificant. Hand over the treasure, and the Meyer family will ascend to the highest throne on the Ouden Continent because of you.”
Byrne swallowed hard, even feeling warmth in the harsh winter, as the rising flames formed a firewall that left no possibility of escape for anyone.
That black armored knight was definitely an Extraordinary Exponent of Level 2 “Transmutation!”
He also possessed extremely strong bloodline power, able to kill everyone with just a raise of his hand, making resistance utterly futile.
It was a dead end.
But what exactly was the “treasure” the other party mentioned? Could it be…
Byrne couldn’t help but glance at the transparent bottle wrapped in cloth that Irene was holding. Could it be that the other party was targeting the Lord of the Lost from the very beginning?
Cries, howls, and pleas for mercy were incessant at that moment.
Baron Bourette looked down from his high position, gazing mercilessly at the people surrounded by flames.
He needed to resolve this quickly.
He couldn’t linger any longer, as the threat of Duke Black Iron’s death was on its way.
Bourette extended his hand and slowly began to close his fingers, as the surrounding firewall gradually moved inward. In a little while, those dozens of people would be completely reduced to ashes.
Everyone was in utter despair, their cries of agony, screams, pleas for mercy, and sobs were pierced by a distinctly different and utterly out-of-place voice.
Byrne held Chris tightly, looking towards Irene, who knelt on the ground with her eyes closed, incessantly praying, and vaguely sensed that something was about to happen.
Chris, Old Ramon, Hugh, and others suddenly noticed Irene on the ground, murmuring to herself with a voice filled with mysterious reverence, as if whispering the fate of destiny, the final prayer.
"The future He sees will be executed by His great will; everything we are experiencing now is but a test He has given.”
Her voice was incredibly devout and powerful, an unwavering faith at its core.
"Great Lord of the Lost, Your will is the destiny we must follow. I hope You can hear my most humble prayer. My soul, body, past, and future, I am willing to offer up everything that rightfully belongs to You!”
"Please forgive my greed, but I only ask that You save the desperate Fischer family, those who are about to suffer. Repay brutality with the blade of brutality, and cleanse the enemies before us with destruction!”
As the raging flames were about to engulf them and death seemed imminent, Byrne and the others were inexplicably drawn to this scene.
Irene calmly uncovered the transparent bottle in her arms, wrapped in cloth, and lifted it high.
Karl’s invisible will soared high into the air, seeing the myriad of colors that emerged from within the girl’s body—life span, emotions, memories, sensations, wisdom.
He could distinctly feel that the black armored knight possessed enough power to withstand a strong curse; simply the lowest tier of the “weapon” was not enough to kill the foe.
And even if he exhausted all the spiritual power he had accumulated, it wouldn’t be enough to kill all the enemies.
Fortunately, it was only the consumption of spiritual power and not the capacity of the soul itself, avoiding any impact on the progress of breaking the seal.
Karl focused his attention, using up all his spiritual power to draw out more white light until half of Irene’s black hair turned pure white.
The next moment, Irene, Byrne, Chris, Narda, they all looked up at the sky in astonishment, their hearts stirred with tumultuous excitement and reverence. A boundless white light exploded in the sky, almost like a third sun in broad daylight!
It lined up with the Blazing Sun and the Radiant Sun in the sky, intensifying all colors!
It was as if there were three suns hanging in the sky!
It resembled a miracle!
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