Chapter 142 Chapter 142: Sarkaz Death Spirit
Chapter 142: Sarkaz Death Spirit
After the Sarkaz army outside the city began its march, the Rhodes Island members inside Londinium naturally did not remain idle either.
Tap!
A light tapping sound echoed behind a Sarkaz warrior, but before he could turn his head, a cold blade tip pierced through the back of his neck.
Almost simultaneously, his teammates also fell one after another.
"You have a talent for assassination. Interested in joining S.W.E.E.P?"
Ascalon paid no mind to the few lives that had vanished under her blade, instead looking at FrostNova with interest.
"No need. Things are fine as they are now."
She declined Ascalon's invitation. Compared to her half-baked assassination skills, her swordsmanship and Arts were where she should focus her efforts.
"If this 'Grey Hat' gentleman hasn't led us astray, then this should be the place."
"Please do not question our professionalism on such basic matters, Miss Ines."
The Grey Hat's tone was not particularly polite. Currently, they held the initiative as they had tracked down the whereabouts of the other Rhodes Island members.
Moreover, since the Sarkaz had not devoted much force to guarding the airship dock, long before the Rhodes Island operators arrived, the "Grey Hats" had already infiltrated this place thoroughly.
Unfortunately, no matter how many people went in, that dock swallowed them all like a giant abyss.
The infiltration plan had completely failed.
His companions couldn't even send back a single piece of information. That's why they sought out Amiya, the "Demon King," hoping she could resolve the anomaly at the dock and obtain the airship blueprints.
"Demon King, you should know how to break these witchcraft spells."
Under the Grey Hat's gaze, Amiya stepped forward step by step. Finally, just as she was a short distance away from the airship—
Her footsteps halted.
A heavy pressure, thick and stagnant like accumulated fluid, suddenly descended upon everyone present, making their every movement feel as slow as wading through mud.
Sarkaz technology has never been associated with advancement. No matter the step, their style always exudes savagery.
For example, this airship before them. Apart from its simple, almost plain appearance, when the Sarkaz built it, there were never any blueprints. The true mystery of the airship lies within—
"Death Spirit!"
Ascalon finally understood what they were facing. It was part of the Sarkaz's long-sealed history, one of those despairing cycles.
It recorded three thousand four hundred and twenty-one instances of destruction!
The mournful songs of each Demon King at their moment of death resounded. At this moment, everyone present suffered mental impacts of varying intensities.
"...Look at this. Today, we encounter such a ridiculous thing. The crown of the Sarkaz King has fallen onto the head of an outsider."
The Death Spirit seemed to mock itself, seemed sorrowful. How could a twisted chimera become their king?
Just because of the pitifully small force standing behind this Amiya?
The Death Spirit watched them, watched everything standing behind Amiya. Just as it was about to withdraw its gaze, a woman standing tall and proud like a cedar remained in place, her gaze clear.
A fellow Amiya of that counterfeit Demon King?
It was surprised because the other party showed no signs of being affected at all. This shouldn't be happening.
"What's... wrong with them?"
Even if FrostNova's reactions were slow, she now realized how out of place she seemed compared to everyone else staggering under the pressure.
"Detected suggestive-type mental impact. Confirmed during this process that the mental will of the Stigmata bearer may be at risk of tampering. Interception has been performed. Requesting confirmation: initiate counterattack?"
[Adam]'s emotionless voice sounded. Clearly, FrostNova's current unaffected state was entirely thanks to it.
According to the "Reference Opinions on the Underlying Logic of Stigmata Space Operation"... Well, never mind that.
Inside the airship dock, air currents now surged and swirled. The Death Spirit roared and raged at Amiya. This outsider Demon King had not gained its recognition. On the contrary, the divergence between them had become an unbridgeable chasm.
An intangible gaze gathered. A sudden chill ran down FrostNova's spine as she looked at the massive airship docked at the pier!
She felt it—the source of that gaze was that colossal thing!
This was absurd!
"Counterattack."
FrostNova hated this gaze. She parted her lips slightly.
"Get out of our race...!"
Before the Death Spirit's roar could finish, a will far vaster than that of any single Sarkaz tribe rose up.
It was FrostNova!
To be precise, it was Adam behind her!
[Adam]'s entire body now appeared in a purple state of pure energy, its features and face indistinct.
The crown atop Amiya's head manifested uncontrollably, flashing with black light, resonating with the will emanating from [Adam]!
If the Death Spirit represents "the Sarkaz past and hatred," and the Black Crown represents "the continuation of civilization."
Then what [Adam] now displayed was named "the history of the planet, the evolution of life!"
What kind of catastrophic scene was that?
Entire ecosystems and tectonic plates overturned under falling stars. Countless powerful species that had undergone hundreds of millions of years of selection and elimination remained utterly powerless before this unprecedented mass extinction.
This grand spectacle of epochs remained only within the perspective of spiritual entities. For others, it was illusory.
But for the Death Spirit itself, which existed as a spiritual entity, it faced the most real destruction, the most thorough annihilation.
Even when the perspective shifted, in just an instant, it found itself on that flooded and sinking land. Half-evaporated sticky blood flowed; theferocious head of an unknown dragon beast was crushed by a meteorite; gymnosperms burned fiercely under extraterrestrial flames.
Every sensation was so real, yet so cruel.
When the "Death Spirit" refocused its attention on itself, it discovered that its hands—always filled with chaotic blood energy and without concrete form—were now somehow covered in armor.
It recognized it; that large hole in its chest was formed when a Steam Knight pierced clean through it.
It looked back and saw that this burning plain was now filled with people. Most of them had horns on their heads—ordinary Sarkaz.
Massive Wendigos, Banshees entwined with curses, Gargoyles towering like mountains...
Those were members of the Ten Royal Courts.
It looked again and saw a figure that stirred its emotions profoundly.
A crimson cloak, a black crown upon its head, the edges of pale hair burning with flames, a massive sword in hand radiating overwhelming heat.
Ifrit!
"My King."
It bowed its head in submission, for that was the monarch it had once served.
And how many dozens of such former Sarkaz Kings wearing crowns now stood upon this plain?
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