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Chapter 794: Lankulos' Final End (Part 1)
Chapter 794: Lankulos' Final End (Part 1)
"Lankulos, have you gone mad?"
Ever since Lashi'er learned of Lankulos' betrayal by his own people and his erratic behavior in the Honing Empire a couple of days ago, he felt that Lankulos' mind had been all but corrupted by the "Mind-Splitting Scar".
But at this moment, no matter how Lashi'er looked at it, he felt that Lankulos' gaze remained clear, so clear that it made him uneasy.
The never-before-seen black scorpion brand on Lankulos' left cheek also seemed eerie, and Lashi'er couldn't quite analyze its principle.
"Not at all."
Lanki casually hung the silver-white mask on his waist and remained calm.
"I'm just stating the facts."
He raised his head slightly, his gaze meeting that of the four ancestors, without the slightest hint of treating them as opponents.
"To be honest, I don't quite understand your reckless move to venture alone into St. Trick City, nor do I comprehend where your confidence comes from. I can clearly sense that the strength of your magic power has dropped below mine."
The Ninth Ancestor, Marquess Bernhard, strolled with a purposeful stride as he analyzed the situation gravely.
"So, do you think it's still useful to bluff now, Lankulos?"
As a vampire scholar, he seemed the most interested in having a heart-to-heart talk with the Pope.
"You're always the most enthusiastic about me."
Lanki didn't mind listening to the Ninth Ancestor, Marquess Bernhard's words.
Because he still hadn't figured out what Bernhard's suggestion was all about.
"In my opinion, you can either launch a full-scale war and plunge the people of the Honing Empire back into the depths of war, or continue to act with caution and end up dying of old age in this peaceful era. These two paths each have their pros and cons, but they're still better than what you're doing now..."
He spoke eloquently, like a clever strategist, explaining Lanki's dilemma.
"So, what is your suggestion?"
Lanki asked with great interest.
"Hmm hmm hmm."
Marquess Bernhard, the Ninth Ancestor, shook his head and laughed lightly, a hint of playfulness flashing in his eyes.
"As for my suggestion, I think it's better for you to just stay here! Your Holiness!"
Before the words had even left his mouth, Marquess Bernhard's body was enveloped in a strange red light, his magic power boiling and surging out of control in an instant.
Countless scarlet eyes appeared from under his skin, covering his entire body, staring greedily and ferociously at the Pope before him.
Those pitiful souls with unique talents had their abilities stripped away by the Ninth Ancestor, Marquess Bernhard, and transformed into terrifying weapons, further enhancing Bernhard's strength.
Marquess Bernhard's originally handsome face gradually twisted and deformed, his features entirely covered by the dense eyes, as he charged towards the Pope with a crazed expression.
Those eyes shone with a hungry red light, as if they would devour everything in their path.
The other ancestors were well aware of the Ninth Ancestor, Marquess Bernhard's, long-standing desire for the Pope.
It was also a good opportunity to see just how weakened the Pope had become.
However.
Much to the surprise of all the ancestors, the Pope in his white robe remained impassive and unmoving.
There was a hint of disappointment in the Pope's eyes, as if Marquess Bernhard's suggestion had failed to satisfy him.
At this moment, Marquess Bernhard's tall stature also made it difficult for the Pope to see his face without looking up.
But he wouldn't raise his head.
"Your head is held too high."
The Pope's finger, which had been pointing at the ancestors, shifted slightly to the right.
The surroundings fell into a deathly silence, with only the sound of the wind blowing through the Blood King's Palace Square.
In an instant, the dust in the entire square seemed to be divided, creating a sense of unevenness! In front of the Blood King's Palace, the ground was stained red by a clear line of blood.
The pupils of the three distant ancestors contracted, and their eyes reflected their disbelief.
They witnessed Marquess Bernhard's body being torn into four pieces in mid-air.
The Seventh Ancestor, Heritier Marquess, instinctively sensed the crisis and crouched down, only her hair being cut by the attack.
The Third Ancestor, Marquess Lashier, was also among the first to react and dodge the attack.
The Eighth Ancestor, Marquess Somerset, who was the farthest away, was cut in half at the waist, and blood flowed relentlessly from the severed torso.
"Lan, Lankulos..."
The head of the Ninth Ancestor, Marquess Bernhard, which had fallen to the ground, trembled weakly, and his expression hadn't even processed what had happened.
Before his body could re-coalesce, stone chains shot out and firmly bound the shattered pieces, sealing them into a combined stone pillar.
The Ninth Ancestor was the first to fall.
Talia had guessed that this ancestor, who was the most coercive, would be the first to be sealed.
Although Lankulos didn't know how to 'build friendly relations' or 'basic etiquette'.
In Lanki's hands, all spells could be turned into 'friendly exchanges' and 'basic etiquette'.
That was why Talia felt that there was something odd about the way Lanki used Lankulos' spells!
"Knowing that I am His Majesty, why don't you bow?"
Lanki asked, looking at the three kneeling ancestors in front of the Blood King's Palace.
"..."
The remaining three ancestors couldn't hide their shock.
According to the intelligence from the Honing Empire and Marquess Heritier's divination, the Pope before them should have been weakened to the point of being at their mercy.
But at this moment, the strength Lanki displayed only filled them with fear.
He was even more powerful than four years ago when he had sealed the injured Second Ancestor, Prince Salvatore, and the Fifth Ancestor, Marquess Modigai! An eighth-tier Pope in his twilight years had come alone to Blood Moon City, which was undoubtedly akin to seeking death.
Lankulos should have been filled with despair, fighting them to the death, and then being tortured and humiliated, realizing the futility of the sacrifices made by that group of insect companions, and ending his incompetent life in despair.
The faces of the three ancestors froze, as if they had been frozen.
"Why...?"
The Seventh Ancestor, Heritier's heart raced, and her chest rose and fell erratically.
The entire star chart she saw had lost its color.
Or rather, Lankulos' state made her begin to doubt the star chart she had seen.
"Heritier, why can't you see that the moment I stepped into Blood Moon City, your Blood King's Palace had already started smoking?"
Lanki stood before them, a smile of pity on his face, sharp as a blade, piercing into the heart of Marquess Heritier.
Behind him, the dark palace, the white chalk stone floor of the square was stained with the Ninth Ancestor's blood, and the ninth towering stone pillar flickered with a light that was about to go out.
This was completely different from the future that Marquess Heritier had seen!
"But rest assured, I'm not interested in torturing the weak."
Lanki's voice was casual, as if chatting with an old friend.
"You..."
Talia was about to refute Lanki's words, but then she realized that he was right. He only tortured the strong.
"Alright, Lao Sang has no objections."
Talia didn't even want to imagine how ruthless Lanki had been when he dealt with Ask Sang back then.
"Your Holiness, I think there might be some misunderstanding between us?"
The Third Ancestor, Marquess Lashier, turned his gaze towards the distant Pope, his youthful voice carrying a sense of gravity.
He knew that the Pope's posture of a strong man showing mercy to the weak was a humiliation to them.
But at this moment, he was also clear-headed enough to know that there was no need to clash head-on with such a desperate opponent.
"Really?"
The Pope in the white robe asked the Third Ancestor, Marquess Lashier.
"Yes."
Lashier confirmed sincerely.
The Pope's tone, as if humoring a child, made Lashier's blood pressure soar, but at this moment, he could only endure it and maintain his act, communicating with the Pope.
"Will you repent?"
Lanki asked again.
"Of course, I will reflect on any mistakes I have made."
"Lashi'er suspected he was bluffing.
"Then why, after tens of thousands of years, did you repeat the same mistake in the Kriyx Empire?"
Lanki asked, as if it were the most natural question in the world.
"Tens of thousands of years... the Kriyx Empire?"
A hint of confusion flitted across the eyes of the Seventh Ancestor, Heritier Marquess, as she heard a name she had never heard before, as if the Pope were a traveler from another time, having already witnessed a future far beyond their own.
"Just what have you seen, Lankulos?"
Heritier had discovered a terrifying fact, and she questioned the Pope with a sense of dread.
"Is this reality... or the future that I observed... But if I'm from the past, how could I possibly know the future tens of thousands of years from now..."
Lanki began to murmur to himself.
At first, Lashi'er didn't understand what the Pope meant.
Until he realized.
The words spoken by Lanki were ever so slightly ahead of the mutterings escaping Heritier's lips, synchronizing perfectly, causing Heritier to stiffen and tremble all over.
This was clearly not mind-reading.
Because Lanki's words came just a fraction of a second before Heritier's!
"Pope, have you used the Immortal Eternal Punishment on yourself?"
The Third Ancestor, Lashi'er, finally understood the worst possible answer, his blood-colored irises filled with rage.
Demons.
Demons, again!
Sure enough, it was that damn unknown demonic treasure left behind by Kaliyela that allowed Lankulos to predict the future!
"Don't worry, it'll be your turn soon enough."
Lanki said with certainty.
"Lankulos... This isn't fair, it's not fair!!!"
The Third Ancestor finally dropped all pretense, his eyes twisting with rage, his voice sharp and distorted, echoing through the empty Blood King's Palace Square.
Despite a lingering hope deep within, he was unwilling to accept the possibility of his own defeat.
But he knew that today he would have to fight the Saint Soul Lant Pope to the death, his blood-red magic power surging higher and higher.
"Lankulos, you despicable little man!"
The Eighth Ancestor, Marquess Somerset, managed to barely hold his upper and lower body together, his fists clenched tight, knuckles turning white, his body trembling with both anger and fear.
"I guess you're planning to ambush me again."
Lightning crackled around Lanki's feet, spreading out in circles and rippling across the stone slabs until the entire Blood Moon City was illuminated by the everlasting glow.
His eyes, piercing through the lightning's glare, fixed on his opponent.
The thundering waterfall of lightning devoured everything in its path, a white-hot tempest covering all of Blood Moon City.
Before the Eighth Ancestor, Somerset, could even attempt his ambush, he found himself unable to move.
"Using lightning magic, which you're not good at. Don't look down on us too much!"
Of the three ancestors, only Lashi'er could barely move within the range of this combined light and lightning spell, resisting the effects of electrocution and paralysis.
Blood-red magic power surged around him, his eyes turning pitch-black, like two bottomless pits.
Countless tendrils of dark red spiritual power extended from Lashi'er, rushing out like a bramble thicket to envelop the entire battlefield.
"Lankulos, if you are still the Lankulos I know, you cannot possibly ignore the mental rift I left within you!"
Lashi'er coldly smiled, controlling those tendrils to rush towards Lanki.
"Do you know that the power of your spell attack is so weak that I can't be bothered to waste my magic power to block it."
As the tendrils made contact with Lanki, they met an invisible wall, instantly shattering into countless blood-red fragments of light that dissipated into the air.
According to Talia's and his previous analysis, this spell had no substantial damage, mainly imposing negative status effects.
With Lanki's spell resistance, he could easily take it head-on.
And he did, feeling nothing at all.
Indeed, it was a good habit for the two of them to always analyze and review their battles, ever since they started cooperating to create those cards. Every time they reviewed their battles, they discovered new insights.
"......?"
Lashi'er couldn't believe that his proud spiritual magic had absolutely no effect.
He was a hundred percent certain that this person was Lankulos, his body still bearing the mental rift that he had inflicted, which would cause unbearable pain if triggered.
Why was he able to ignore it?
Was there not a single scar left in his mind?
"Are you really Lankulos?!"
Lashi'er finally arrived at a terrifying conclusion that overturned all his previous inferences.
"Lashi'er, you're even easier to beat than Talia."
Lanki's expression remained calm, as if nothing had happened.
He raised his right hand, and a lightning bolt as bright as day burst forth from his palm, carrying the might of ten thousand thunderbolts and striking straight at Lashi'er.
Lashi'er quickly summoned a blood-red magic barrier, trying to block this deadly blow, but as the lightning passed through, the barrier shattered like paper, the lightning striking Lashi'er's chest and sending his entire slender figure flying, smashing a huge hole in the wall of the Blood King's Palace.
"Talia... who is she!!!!"
Lashi'er struggled to climb out of the rubble, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
He never expected the Saint Soul Lant Pope to be so terrifyingly powerful, and his mentality seemed to have changed completely.
The Pope's enigmatic words were almost an indirect admission that he was not Lankulos!
What Lashi'er found even more unacceptable was that the person called "Talia" seemed to be very weak, and the Pope had just said that he was even inferior to her!
"The only being capable of influencing me with spiritual magic."
The White-Robed Pope answered.
At this, the restlessness in his heart regarding Talia finally settled.
"I don't accept this! I don't accept this! You're not allowed to humiliate me like this!"
Lashi'er roared, once again summoning countless blood-red tendrils that swarmed like devil's arms, twisting and coiling as they sought to entangle Lanki's limbs. At the same time, countless dark red spiritual attacks rained down.
But Lanki didn't even try to dodge.
He simply walked straight towards Lashi'er.
This step was unstoppable.
As the tendrils touched the White-Robed Pope, they sizzled and burned, meeting their end.
"Don't come any closer!"
Lashi'er's eyes turned red, unable to believe that his magic was completely ineffective.
The White-Robed Pope approached Lashi'er, each step causing his brain to tremble with fear.
Lashi'er's magic power was as fragile as a paper castle in front of him, crumbling in an instant.
Until the White-Robed man reached out and placed his fingertip on Lashi'er's forehead.
White-hot light surged from his palm, like a scorching sun.
"Ahhhh......!!!!"
Lashi'er let out piercing screams, feeling as if countless needles were piercing his brain, his soul burning in agony.
The Eighth Ancestor, Somerset, seized this opportunity to rush forward, his body in ruins.
His muscles bulged, becoming as hard as steel.
At this moment, Somerset was the only one in the Blood King's Palace capable of harming the Pope!
"You're even less than one ten-thousandth of Talia."
Lanki casually waved his hand, sharp blades of air appearing out of thin air and slicing through the square in all directions.
Wherever they passed, the ground cracked and split, crisscrossing fissures spreading like a spider web.
Even though Lashi'er Duke helped Somerset Marquess to condense layer upon layer of barriers, the sharpness of those blades was truly terrifying, cutting Somerset's body to pieces once again. As they grazed past Lashi'er Duke's side, they sliced through his sleeve, blood dripping down.
The alarmed Heritier Marquess knew that she couldn't let Somerset Marquess fall, so she exerted all her strength to help him reassemble his body, as if trying to turn back time and restore him.
The next moment, invisible magic power suddenly froze the space around them.
"!"
She realized that she had made a wrong move.
Heritier felt as if she had fallen into an icy cave, her entire body enveloped by unprecedented fear.
Seeing Somerset Marquess lose his mind like an undead puppet, he quietly flashed behind Heritier and Lashier at some point, his hands firmly clenching their slender necks.
Somerset Marquess pinched Heritier and Lashier's necks as if he were picking up two little chicks.
"Pope... you evil man..."
Heritier squeezed out a few words from between her teeth, her hands scratching at Somerset's wrists in vain, unable to budge him at all.
This time, the Pope had predicted that she would use all her strength to heal the weak Somerset Marquess, and instead of stopping her, he took the opportunity to control Somerset Marquess.
The Pope always seemed to be one step ahead, clearly guessing Heritier's moves and using spells beyond her predictions.
This suffocating sense of oppression made Heritier burn with magic power as she frantically searched for a critical point in the timeline that could reverse the situation, but every line led to the same outcome—termination.
Kneeling down in despair, the stars shattered before her eyes, no longer able to guide any path.
"I'm dealing with a mind-reading old lady in my heart 24 hours a day. It would be strange if your divination could be of any use against me."
Lanki pressed on, a dazzling white light gathering in his palm as he slashed towards the direction of the ancestors.
"You're going to repeat that sentence again, aren't you?"
Talia finally lost her temper and swore.
"Why... how can he be so strong..."
Heritier murmured, trembling.
This was far beyond the level of a ninth-tier limit.
One had to express her feelings.
That was that she had encountered a "god."
An all-knowing, all-powerful—god.
"This is the evil ghost that you have created in this bloody moon-ruined era."
Lanki raised his hand, and pitch-black translucent rock pillars rose from the ground, enclosing three impenetrable tombs.
"Of course, this may not be his power alone. He's just been lucky enough to survive until the end every time... inheriting everything left behind by his companions..."
The three ancestors struggled to escape, but their bodies were immobilized by an invisible force.
The rock pillars slowly sank into the ground, taking the seventh ancestor, Heritier Marquess, and the eighth ancestor, Somerset Marquess, with them as they descended into the endless abyss.
Only the strongest, the third ancestor, Lashier Duke, remained to continue the fight.
"Lankulos, do you really think you've won?! Do you think we didn't prepare anything?!"
Lashier shouted, his voice hoarse and strained.
"Do you think it's all over once you seal us?!'
His words were followed by a chilling, bone-chilling laughter.
The laughter echoed through the ruins of the Blood King's Palace, as if it would tear the very space of Blood Moon City apart.
(End of Chapter)
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