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Chapter 786: The Black Sun Tyrant's Moment of Blessing (Part 2)
Chapter 786: The Black Sun Tyrant's Moment of Blessing (Part 2)
Thus, he sent a delegate to assist the Inferno Corridor Academy.
However, no one could have anticipated that this delegate would be intercepted by Rankloos, a fake demon, a fake delegate, and a fake principal.
Despite his false identities, Rankloos possessed genuine skills and successfully guided the Inferno Corridor Academy through the crisis.
Thus began the legend of the Black Sun Tyrant.
"So, Talia, think about it. How are humans turned into demons? Is there any hope for their salvation? Where is the demon modification technology now?" Lanchi asked calmly.
Under the starlit sky, the valley echoed with silence, and the forest loomed darkly.
Betrayal born of trust and righteousness fueled the flames of fury.
Their sins, their unrepentant nature, and their atrocities.
We are the witnesses.
The truth shall forever endure.
Pass judgment, for it is the final verdict.
As the demonic script appeared on the trees, the sky above fluctuated between light and darkness.
Once again, Ranch felt the surroundings shift drastically, and he flew southward for a long time.
Finally, after two days and nights, he arrived at the southernmost tip of the Honing Empire: Saint Trick, the capital city.
The city of Saint Trick shone brightly like a dazzling jewel in the night, illuminated by countless lights.
From above, one could see the winding Rhine River like a shimmering ribbon, dividing the city into two halves.
Along the riverbank stood the grand Saint Trick Cathedral, which Ranch had seen in his dreams. Nearby, in the center of the Honing Empire Square, a statue of an ancient hero attracted tourists even at night, while street performers captivated audiences with their shows.
On the southern bank of the river, the iconic Moonlight Tower reached for the sky, its observation deck glittering in the night.
This was the boundary.
The human realm to the north and the territory allocated to the vampires to the south.
[Upon arriving in Saint Trick, you first entered the northern shore, the domain of humans.]
[Here, you learned about the current state of Saint Trick.]
[Despite occasional demon intrusions, the citizens didn't seem overly afraid.]
[You took to the streets to interview the residents of Saint Trick.]
"Because the vampires have always protected us."
A passerby on the street replied.
[Whenever the topic of demons came up, the citizens eagerly and kindly answered your questions.]
"The vampires are good folks. It's a shame that those folks from the Northern Saint Poke Lancis always like to bad-mouth them. If it weren't for them, the vampires might have wiped out the demons already."
"Demons must be related to the demon tribe, right? If it weren't for the demons, how could such deformed creatures exist? The demons should have eradicated them long ago."
[Listening to the words of these former Honing Empire compatriots.]
[You realized.]
[The times have truly changed.]
Talia watched as Ranch asked one resident of Saint Trick after another on the street.
She observed his smile.
She couldn't tell if it was Cardinal Lanchi's smile or Ranch's, but either way, it filled her with worry.
At this moment, Talia couldn't access any information about the outer world of the Tebiriuss Mirror, nor could she check Ranch's understanding of Cardinal Lanchi.
She found it absurd.
Not a single resident seemed to consider the vampires a potential threat.
In the eyes of the people of Honing, the stability and development of Saint Trick were largely attributed to the coexistence and assistance provided by the vampires.
Even the younger generation and children admired the vampires.
[“What are vampires, truly?”]
[Standing on the street, you asked this question, your voice trembling with laughter.]
The passersby on the street, the customers in front of the shops, suddenly stopped whatever they were doing.
They stood up straight, turned around, and marched towards Ranch, their footsteps heavy.
"Vampires are our friends!"
The residents of Saint Trick responded in unison, their faces filled with blissful smiles.
[“Hahahaha!”]
[You burst into laughter.]
[Your condition, "Heartbreak," expanded at this moment.]
[When faced with emotional fluctuations, you will recall the most painful memories, causing you great pain and hallucinations. All you can do is force yourself to laugh or cry through these few seconds.]
As the demonic script appeared on the trees, the sky above fluctuated between light and darkness.
Once again, Ranch felt his surroundings shift drastically, and he flew southward for a long time.
Finally, after two days and nights, he arrived at the southernmost tip of the Honing Empire: Saint Trick, the capital city.
The city of Saint Trick shone brightly like a dazzling jewel in the night, illuminated by countless lights. From above, one could make out the winding Rhine River like a shimmering ribbon, dividing the city into two halves.
Along the riverbank stood the grand Saint Trick Cathedral, which Ranch had seen in his dreams. Nearby, in the center of the Honing Empire Square, a statue of an ancient hero attracted tourists even at night, while street performers captivated audiences with their shows.
On the southern bank of the river, the iconic Moonlight Tower reached for the sky, its observation deck glittering in the moonlight.
This was the boundary—the human realm to the north and the territory allocated to the vampires to the south.
[Upon arriving in Saint Trick, you first entered the northern shore, the domain of humans.]
[Here, you learned about the current state of Saint Trick.]
[Despite occasional demon intrusions, the citizens didn't seem overly afraid.]
[You took to the streets to interview the residents of Saint Trick.]
"Because the vampires have always protected us," replied a passerby.
[Whenever the topic of demons came up, the citizens eagerly and kindly answered your questions.]
"The vampires are good folks. It's a shame that those folks from the Northern Saint Poke Lancis always like to bad-mouth them. If it weren't for them, the vampires might have wiped out the demons already."
"Demons must be related to the demon tribe, right? If it weren't for the demons, how could such deformed creatures exist? The demons should have eradicated them long ago."
[Listening to the words of these former Honing Empire compatriots.]
[You realized.]
[The times have truly changed.]
Talia watched as Ranch questioned one resident of Saint Trick after another on the street. She observed his smile, unable to tell if it was Cardinal Lanchi's smile or Ranch's, but either way, it filled her with worry.
At this moment, Talia couldn't access any information about the world outside the Tebiriuss Mirror, nor could she check Ranch's understanding of Cardinal Lanchi. She found this absurd.
Not a single resident seemed to consider the vampires a potential threat. In the eyes of the people of Honing, the stability and development of Saint Trick were largely attributed to the coexistence and assistance provided by the vampires. Even the younger generation and children admired them.
[“What are vampires, truly?”]
[Standing on the street, you asked this question, your voice trembling with laughter.]
The passersby on the street and the customers in front of the shops suddenly stopped whatever they were doing. They stood up straight, turned around, and marched towards Ranch, their footsteps heavy.
"Vampires are our friends!" The residents of Saint Trick responded in unison, their faces filled with blissful smiles.
[“Hahahaha!”]
[You burst into laughter.]
[Your condition, "Heartbreak," expanded at this moment.]
[When faced with emotional fluctuations, you will recall the most painful memories, causing you great pain and hallucinations. All you can do is force yourself to laugh or cry through these few seconds.]
And across from him, the Third Progenitor, Lasharl, looked rather relaxed.
"Tired?"
The Third Progenitor, Lasharl, clasped his palms together and asked with a casual smile.
The innate magic of the Black Sun Tyrant, specifically created to counter vampires, could indeed bridge the gap of one level and allow him to fight against vampires of a higher cultivation. At the same time, it could instantly kill vampires of the same level.
But the problem now was—
The Third Progenitor, Lasharl, seemed to see right through the current state of Pope Saint Pecorant.
He didn't mind fulfilling the Pope's wish and engaging in a battle with him.
However, in his home ground of the Blood King's Palace, they would play by his rules.
A sea of scorching flames, a blinding crimson that resembled liquid, engulfed the entire plaza of the Blood King's Palace, turning the pitch-black square into a deep abyss of scarlet.
These flames also began to scorch Pope Saint Pecorant.
"You guys shouldn't just stand there. Come and join me in entertaining our guest."
The Third Progenitor, Lasharl, turned his head and gazed into the sky with a meaningful look, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as he addressed the few figures lurking in the blood mist at the edge of the Blood King's Palace square.
"Then let's settle our grudges and grievances today."
In this moment, before Pope Saint Pecorant could even react.
A figure had already appeared in front of him, as if out of thin air.
This figure had knitted brows and a challenging smile on his lips. He wore a military uniform, which had already been torn apart by the eruption of power.
His right hand shot forward, striking the Pope's cheek, and in the next second, everything would be set off.
As the roar of the explosion reverberated through the Blood King's Palace, dust scattered, and Pope Saint Pecorant was sent flying.
The violent force caused the walls of the Blood King's Palace, into which the Pope had crashed, to collapse like surging tidal waves, colliding with even greater speed than the thunderous roar! The impact stirred up fierce winds, causing the hem of Third Progenitor Lasharl's coat to flutter in the distance.
"Somerset, you truly hate our Pope, don't you?"
The Third Progenitor, Lasharl, commented as he watched the blood clan's figure with unrestrained power.
"I really can't figure out why I lost to this guy back then."
The Eighth Progenitor, Somerset, marched up to the Third Progenitor, Lasharl, his wrists creaking as he flexed his hands.
Now that Lasharl had confirmed the Pope's condition, he dared to take the lead in attacking as well.
In the distance, amidst the ruins of the Blood King's Palace, the Pope struggled to his feet. The magic power around him seemed to have transformed into pure electric light, continuously triggering electric cocoon explosions.
The Pope's profile was half-covered in shadows and firelight, and a portion of his silver mask had shattered, revealing a face streaked with blood flowing down his cheek.
The Eighth Progenitor, Somerset, shuddered as he found himself locked onto by the emerald green eyes beneath the mask.
Before the Pope could even catch his breath, the Third Progenitor, Lasharl, struck again without warning.
Countless purple-red tongues of fire erupted from the ground, instantly binding the Pope.
The pure electric light and magic power around the Pope grew stronger, but those evil flames clung to his body like blood-colored leeches, crazily absorbing his power.
In the blink of an eye, the Eighth Progenitor, Somerset, laughed as if to bolster his courage, and punched out again.
The fist, carrying the force of a thousand jun, whistled through the air, the bloodlight soaring to the heavens.
The Pope saw the Eighth Progenitor's fist about to connect with his face and knew that defensive magic would only be disrupted again by the Third Progenitor, Lasharl.
His magic power surged wildly once more as he chose to collide head-on with the Eighth Progenitor, Somerset.
"All bluff and bluster! Pope!"
The Eighth Progenitor, Somerset, laughed loudly, his fist glowing with scorching bloodlight as he slammed it towards the Pope's face.
Just as the fist was about to make contact with the Pope's face, the Pope's body erupted with radiant light, and his magic power condensed into gleaming white light ridges all around him.
The light ridges continued to expand until they shattered, turning the world into a blinding white.
A deafening roar echoed throughout the Blood King's Palace.
The dazzling white light swallowed up the Eighth Progenitor, Somerset, causing him to vanish without a trace.
After the explosion.
Silence reigned for a long while.
"Damn it..."
The Eighth Progenitor, Somerset, stood up from the blood mist, his body almost entirely charred, his face exposing his teeth, gums, and jawbone.
"Somerset, you were too careless. Even if he's weak now, it doesn't mean you can afford to be reckless," the Third Progenitor, Lasharl, commented with a smile.
"Again."
The Eighth Progenitor, Somerset, looked at his bloodstained muscles and actually laughed.
Seeing the Pope's condition, he was quite sure that he could now inflict damage on the Pope.
"..."
The Pope's face was deathly pale, and another piece of his silver mask fell off, as he struggled to stand upright.
That previous attack wasn't the right move.
If the Eighth Progenitor, Somerset, had acted as a meat shield and exchanged injuries with the Pope, while Lasharl interfered from behind, he would have had a hard time dealing with them.
Just as the Pope cast aside all extraneous thoughts and prepared for this life-and-death battle.
A faint, alluring feminine fragrance wafted from an unknown direction.
"This farce should come to an end."
A cold, youthful female voice rang out from within the blood mist, and a figure appeared in the Blood King's Palace. She wore a deep purple thin silk skirt and had her eyes tightly shut. Her lips were pursed, and her eyelashes cast shadows in the firelight, making the tear mole under her eye even more noticeable.
The Pope had no choice but to turn his attention to this newly appeared Progenitor.
"Originally, we just wanted to wait for you to die naturally, but who would have thought that you would take the initiative to come to us, Pope Saint Pecorant."
The vampire astrologer, the Seventh Progenitor, Heritier, spoke up.
She could not only predict the future but also provide healing and amplification.
With her presence, the Eighth Progenitor's wounds, which had been scorched by the light, began to recover at an accelerated rate.
At the same time, the magic power of the Third Progenitor, Lasharl, and the power aura of the Eighth Progenitor, Somerset, began to climb.
"..."
The Pope's expression beneath the gap in his silver mask remained unchanged as he gazed at the three vampire Progenitors surrounding him in this crimson Blood King's Palace.
"How could I miss out on such an occasion? I also want to try if I can devour your power, Pope."
Before the battle even began, another voice piped up.
The blood mist condensed into the Ninth Progenitor, Bernhard, who wore a cream-colored silk shirt with a black velvet waistcoat and a dark green ascot at his neck.
His golden brown curly hair fell loosely over his forehead, partially obscuring his reddish eyes.
He smiled and nodded at Pope Saint Pecorant, revealing a set of neat white teeth, as polite as a gentleman inviting a guest to be seated.
Of course, he had only one thing to do.
And that was.
To send the Pope on his way.
In the Blood King's Palace, the divine fire roared, the dome loomed darkly, and the blood moon hung high.
The vampire Progenitors watched the Pope.
The Pope stood alone, bathed in the pale red moonlight, silent.
In the darkness, there was no light, no color, only the sound of heavy footsteps.
When his vision cleared, he found himself at the pinnacle of the Saint Trick Cathedral.
He opened his weak eyes, gazing into the distance at what was once a prosperous city now reduced to ruins, with dried limbs and severed arms scattered among the collapsed buildings.
Whether old or young, man or woman, their blood had long been sucked dry or evaporated, and even from a distance, the thick scent of blood filled the air.
It seemed that their battle in Blood Moon City had impacted the ground, causing a shockwave that affected the residents of Saint Trick, the capital of Honing Empire.
These residents, as high-quality food sources, provided immediate replenishment for the vampires.
After the great battle, the southern bank had become a place of wild revelry for the four vampires.
They quickly replenished their losses from the previous battle.
Under the blood-red moonlight, an oppressive sense of absurdity and surrealism enveloped the entire city.
"Well now, Pope Saint Pecorant, what do you think of this beautiful sight?"
The Third Progenitor, Lasharl, held the neck of Saint Pecorant, the Pope, and turned him towards the desolate land, asking in his ear.
At this moment, Pope Saint Pecorant was only left with half his body, mutilated and gutted, barely clinging to life as he was held by the victorious Lasharl.
"... "
The Pope's dull eyes had lost their luster.
His lips quivered, but no sound escaped.
"We actually left some survivors on purpose."
Marquis Mersatet wiped the corner of his mouth and said to the Pope with a smile.
"Think about it, after your all-out battle, when they see your true demonic form, what effect will it have on the people?"
The Seventh Progenitor, Heritier, also questioned him.
"People of the Honing Empire, look over here!"
The Third Progenitor, Lasharl, lifted the Pope higher, as if presenting him to the crowd beneath the Moon Temple.
"Who is the culprit behind today's calamity, or rather, the calamity of the past few decades?"
As Lasharl's words fell, each syllable carried the weight of a command.
Under the blood moon, he was the ruler of the night, and the will of humans seemed insignificant.
"... "
The Pope, reduced to half his body, kept his dull eyes lowered, enduring Lasharl's humiliation without being able to refute anything.
[You have lost.]
[You are like a king who has lost everything.]
[In Blood Moon City, you were besieged by the Third Progenitor, Lasharl, the Seventh Progenitor, Heritier, the Eighth Progenitor, Somerset, and the Ninth Progenitor, Bernhard. Despite your ability to counter the vampires, you were powerless to turn the tide in the Blood King's Palace.]
[The people have seen your true demonic form.]
[Among the ruins, some surviving citizens crawled out, their eyes filled with horror as they looked at the defeated Radiant Devil.]
"Saint Pecorant, the Pope?"
"So, all the peace was just an illusion."
"The majestic and noble Saint Pecorant, the Pope, is actually a devil!"
"He deserves to die a thousand deaths!!!"
[You hear the outraged voices of the people of the Honing Empire, their eyes filled with hatred as they glare at you.]
[Are you the real culprit? ]
[You failed those who sacrificed themselves for you.]
[You couldn't save the Holy Nation or the Demon World.]
[Everything you did was in vain.]
"Hehehe, Rankloos, you've lost again."
The Third Progenitor, Lasharl, looked at the Pope in his hand with pity, his face bearing the smile of a victor.
Next, the Honing Empire and the vampires seized the moral high ground in their counterattack against the Saint Pecorant Holy Nation.
As the backbone of the Holy Nation shattered, a trust crisis emerged, and the outcome of the war was clear even before it began.
"Alright, it's time to send you on your way."
Lasharl seemed to have had enough fun and crushed the Pope's body into a cloud of blood mist, tossing him down from the Moon Temple.
"Thank you for putting on this brief farce during the Blood Moon era."
Lasharl's laughter echoed with satisfaction, as if telling Lanclos that humans, a weak race, had always been nothing more than his plaything.
The Pope, too, was shattered, his remaining silver-white mask beginning to dissipate.
In the fleeting moment, the world he left behind began to fall apart.
He seemed to hear voices.
Telling him.
If the wings can still flutter, remember.
Those wings that were burned by countless birds—
Scattering ashes, never to rest in peace.
Bones turning to sand.
All sacrifices were in vain.
It was all for nothing.
The voices of those consumed by the darkness whispered sadly.
Sadness flickered in the darkness.
The blood moon illuminated the pillars of the other shore, bringing fuzzy memories to light.
And in this turbulent flow, the shadow of the Black Sun slowly sank, finding rest.
[Can you rest in peace?]
These four large characters, the voices of countless aggrieved souls, echoed in his ears, knocking on the Black Sun's heart and its cold blood.
But they couldn't wake the Pope, who slept like a corpse.
......
......
......
After an unknown amount of time had passed.
Just as he seemed to have truly found peace—
The Tyrant.
Opened his eyes.
Those violent green eyes, a sanction of wrath, or perhaps a blessing of liberation.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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