Chapter 802: Not the Black Sun, But the Madly-in-Love Lord (Part 1)

Chapter 802: Not the Black Sun, But the Madly-in-Love Lord (Part 1)



Four days later...

In the northern region of the Holy Spirit Randel Teaching Country, the capital city of Helsham finally regained peace after a period of turmoil.

Soon after, the city of Helsham began bustling with preparations for a grand coronation ceremony.

This nation, which had endured much, was about to welcome a new leader.

At the pinnacle of the land, beneath the Papal Hall, the city's architecture predominantly featured a deep gray or white classical style. The air was filled with the scent of flowers and solemn music, and the neat and spacious streets were bustling with merchants, knights, and priests in elaborate robes.

In the streets and alleys, groups of citizens gathered, whispering about the news from the Southern Honing Empire.

"I heard that the situation in the Honing Empire is terrible right now, with chaos and slaughter everywhere," one citizen said.

"It's said that a man in a black robe, commanding several incredibly powerful black-robed demons, is like a heavenly demon lord. It's truly a calamity," added another, awe-struck.

A cautious citizen interjected, "Be careful what you say. The source of Honing's turmoil was the evil side of our previous Pope, Lanculos..."

Before he could finish, another person rebuked him, "Mind your words! Our current Pope is Her Majesty, Sigrid St. Anastasia!"

If it weren't for Sigrid defeating and exiling the mad Lanculos, the citizens of Helsham might have suffered indiscriminate slaughter themselves.

At the very least, the residents of Helsham were grateful for this.

A catastrophe had just brushed past them, and the entire city was immersed in a festive atmosphere.

Flowers and ribbons adorned every street and windowsill, and both indoors and out, people discussed the upcoming event.

Even though the news of the recent upheaval in the Honing Empire made them realize that the fourth anniversary celebration of the peace and revival of the Seville continent probably wouldn't happen, they remained hopeful. No matter if the world plunged into war again, they wouldn't despair as they had over a decade ago.

Success was not the end, nor was failure the absolute conclusion; only the courage to forge ahead endured.

The spark within them had been ignited long ago, and now, in the face of adversity, it blazed fiercely once more.

And so, the Holy Spirit Randel Empire was not without its pillars of support.

This was their belief—

The grandest and most important building in the Holy Spirit Randel Teaching Country, the Helsham Papal Hall, was the venue for today's coronation ceremony.

After days of diligent cleaning and restoration, the scars of battle had been completely erased, and the Papal Hall once again displayed its former splendor.

Outside the hall, priests in white capes with blue trim stood in neat rows, their presence awe-inspiring.

At the forefront, a holy knight held high the flag of the Holy Spirit Randel country, embroidered with a unicorn crest, fluttering in the wind.

Before the ceremony officially began, from the square in front of the Papal Hall to the streets several kilometers away, a vast crowd had already gathered, jostling for a view.

Tens of thousands of people flocked from all directions, filling the square to capacity, all eager to witness this historic moment.

In the center of the square stood a circular platform, covered in a crimson carpet. Three rows of white marble columns surrounded it, wrapped in purple and green ribbons, and at the center stood a statue of the Moon Goddess, staff in hand and draped in sheer fabric. On either side of the steps leading to the platform, knights stood tall and vigilant.

They wore silver-white armor, their helmets adorned with fluttering azure feathers, and their lances gleamed with a cold light, forming an impenetrable wall of steel. Below the platform, the church's orchestra was poised to play celebratory melodies.

As the clock in Helsham's bell tower struck noon...

The bells chimed, and cheerful music suddenly filled the air.

Accompanied by the melodious tunes, a procession of bishops emerged from the Papal Hall, escorting Sigrid, who was clad in exquisite robes, as she strode towards the platform amidst the crowd's gaze.

Her stature was tall and slender, with light-colored hair cascading down her back, and her eyes shone like stars in the night sky or violets blooming in spring. The aura of ambition she exuded was akin to that of a queen ruling over this land—

In that instant, many ordinary citizens were awestruck.

"Her aura is completely different from that of the previous Pope," someone whispered.

Anyone could see that she wasn't content with merely controlling what was in front of her; she sought to conquer everything within her sight.

"She's far more formidable than the conservative former Pope," someone else remarked. "She truly seems intent on conquering the world as she heads south. On a biological level, one would feel a sense of fear towards her."

"I've heard that Saint Sigrid is a powerful yet gentle woman. How come she gives off a more papal aura than the Pope himself?"

"What else would you expect from someone who could dethrone the previous Pope?" came the reply.

However, what the citizens couldn't see was the hint of melancholy in Sigrid's eyes.

"Such a beautiful scene, yet you're not here to share it with me," Sigrid murmured, her words carrying a silent yearning.

She remembered the first time she had brought the Holy Son to her museum, when Lanchi had wanted to take her along as he infiltrated the Extinction Branch. He had asked her what she desired, standing at the pinnacle, feeling lonely and isolated, with no one to share her thoughts with, shivering in the harsh winter of solitude. What was the point of her lofty position if she had no one to confide in?

She hadn't admitted it then, but after tending to her duties, she could only wander her museum alone, celebrating her achievements in solitude.

That boy, Lanchi, had inadvertently sparked her playful side, and before she knew it, she had fallen headlong, understanding the reason for seeking such heights.

"Sigh."

While it was indeed a magnificent experience to undergo the ceremony of ascending to the top, without Lanchi by her side, she wondered if it held any true meaning.

She loved the empire, but she loved Lanchi even more.

First, she had to make Lanchi hers.

And that meant planning to visit the Willfort family in the mortal world and meeting the parents.

But there was no rush. First, she would surprise Lanchi with a reunion in the mortal world.

Lanchi would never have imagined that soon after bidding farewell to Bishop Sigrid in the Shadow World, he would encounter her again in the mortal realm.

"I heard that the Dimensional Branch possesses spells that can directly teleport one over vast distances, but the greater the distance and the higher the rank of the target, the more magical power is consumed... I can't wait to return to the mortal realm and see the Holy Son again."

Sigrid heaved a sigh in her heart.

If only the Holy Son could emerge from the Shadow World, return home, and suddenly hear a knock on his door.

And when he opened it, he would see her leaning against the luggage.

What a romantic scene that would be.

The Dimensional Branch had provided her with a one-stop service for her travel documents and passport for this trip to the Southern Continent.

As for the highest-level spatial teleportation, she knew better than to even think about it.

It wasn't a matter of money.

Ultra-long-distance teleportation consumed an enormous amount of magical power, and even the only space mage capable of such feats, the Dimensional Bishop, would be rendered combat-ineffective after casting such a large-scale teleportation spell. The cunning Torriado wouldn't be foolish enough to deplete his magic power to the dregs in front of another Cardinal.

As her daydreaming came to an end, the bells of Helsham rang out, snapping Sigrid back to reality.

Behind her, the twin giant doors of the Papal Hall swung open, and the noonday sun shone through the rose windows, casting a mottled pattern of light and shadow on the red carpet that lay on the floor, resembling a path to heaven.

The bells chimed in unison, and the crowd erupted in cheers, as the people wholeheartedly welcomed their new Pope.

Sigrid smiled and waved to the crowd, expressing her gratitude for their support.

In this era, the world was fleeting, she thought.

"Glory to the Goddess! Hail our Pope!"

The Shrine Knights quickly formed a tight human wall around the platform, ensuring the smooth progression of the coronation ceremony.

Bishops clad in white robes followed closely behind, bowing respectfully to Sigrid before lining up neatly on the right side of the steps, signifying the unity of the Saint Phanlante Church in assisting the new Pope in governing the nation.

Accompanied by Sigrid's footsteps, hymns echoed throughout the square.

Sigrid ascended the platform with measured steps, her presence commanding the attention of the crowd.

Upon reaching the platform, Sigrid raised her right hand slightly, signaling for the crowd to quiet down.

The square gradually fell silent, as all eyes were fixed on the new Pope, awaiting her coronation speech.

"Beloved people of Saint Phanlante, today, in the name of the Goddess of Fate and all the people, I swear that I will do my utmost, with sincerity and a burning soul, to carry on the will of the first Pope and lead our nation towards a brighter future."

Sigrid's voice was clear and powerful as she began her speech.

"After enduring countless trials, we have finally welcomed the dawn of a new beginning. But the true test may have only just begun. Let us join hands and carry forward the legacy of our ancestors, creating a glorious tomorrow for Saint Phanlante!"

As she spoke these words, her thoughts turned to how Lanchi should have been the one delivering this speech.

He was much better at public speaking than her.

During their time in the Northern Continent, she often preferred to let him take the lead while she supported him from behind the scenes.

Even now that they were married, they remained the perfect pair, complementing each other in their endeavors.

As she concluded her oath, thunderous applause and cheers filled the air.

"Long live Sigrid St. Anastasia!"

"Long live Saint Phanlante!"

The shouts of the crowd swelled into a tidal wave, as countless flowers and ribbons filled the sky, fluttering like dancing butterflies. The bells rang out, the hymns soared, and the beams of light shining through the stained-glass windows added a fantastical hue to the solemn hall.

"Diligent and responsible, ruling with virtue and justice! May Saint Phanlante reclaim its former glory!"

Sigrid's voice rang out, clear and resolute, "The great calamity is passing, and the dawn of a new era is upon us. This nation, which has endured countless trials, shall rise again and shine even brighter tomorrow."

In the midst of the deafening cheers, thousands of white doves took to the sky, forming a cloud of pure white that soared in the golden afternoon sun.

Time flew by during the grand ceremony.

As the sun set, the festivities drew to a close, and the new Pope of Saint Phanlante, Sigrid, returned to her throne room.

Beyond the heavy oak doors lay a dazzling sight, with the newly restored mural of the Saint Phanlante Church adorning the high-domed ceiling, and the walls adorned with emeralds and amethysts chosen by the new Pope herself.

"I've done all the work that needed to be done. It's a good thing I have a Holy Son who knows how to put the bishops to work."

At the end of the steps stood the unchanging throne of the Pope of Saint Phanlante.

Sigrid sat on the throne, her eyes closed lightly, as she whispered a silent prayer in her heart.

"Good luck, the rest is up to you now."

Perhaps from this day forward, she would no longer have nightmares about this era.

Lanchi must have put an end to it.

...

Hours passed, and in another part of the world...

Southern Honing Empire.

The capital.

Saint Tric.

On a foggy night, the city was bathed in the crimson light of a blood moon, illuminating the ancient and beautiful holy city.

The outlines of the buildings were faintly visible in the night, and the shadows of the Moonlit Tower and the spiral stone tower stretched long in the moonlight.

A carriage with closed curtains traveled along the cobblestone streets, its occupants hidden within. The closed shops and shuttered windows along the street lent an air of quietness and unease to the atmosphere.

From a height of a thousand meters, the golden lights of the city resembled sparkling reflections on a mirror.

And this vantage point, overlooking the night sky of Saint Tric, was akin to the eye of a typhoon.

Their shadows streaked across the night sky of Saint Tric, like shooting stars.

The surrounding clouds were like silk, brushing past them as they descended. With each layer of clouds they penetrated, the city lights below seemed to transform into countless stars reflected on the ground, creating a shimmering path for their descent.

They fell from the sky, and as they drew closer to the ground, the city became clearer, surrounded by endless night views, with sparkling stars turning into pearls scattered on black silk, and the blood moon casting its crimson light upon them.

After what seemed like an eternity...

Boom!!

In the dead of night, as the shadows landed one after another, the sudden commotion reverberated through the bustling streets.

The broad street was left with deep imprints from the impact of their landing, and the dust that flew up filled the surrounding air with a slight tremor.

This sudden noise quickly attracted the attention of the people of Saint Tric.

This area was quite prosperous, being adjacent to the South Shore.

Normally, descending from such a height would be a dangerous act, but this group of mysterious figures seemed to have ill intentions from the start.

The street was sparsely populated.

"What is that...?"

A sense of impending danger arose instinctively within the citizens as they witnessed the figures descending from the sky.

"It's the Demon Race! The Demon Race has come to Saint Tric!"

People ran in fear, shouting for the Saint Tric guards, sensing that something was amiss.

This group of uninvited guests was shrouded in black cloaks, their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods, revealing only their eyes that shone with a chilling light.

The man in the lead silently gazed upon this city-state.

Even though it was his first arrival at this decisive battleground of the Blood Moon Calamity, it felt as if he had seen it many times before.

Mission Objective 1: Read old friend Caliella's letter; Go to the Demon World's Purgatory City, Pasquale, & protect the little spark that Caliella left behind; Understand the Mirror of Thaberius; Write the ending for the Blood Moon Calamity era. (Completed)



Mission Objective 2: Understand the state of mind of Black Sun Lancross: 49.32%. (Completed)



Mission Objective 3: All challengers survive until the 21-day time limit ends, remaining time: 0 days 00 hours 41 minutes.

According to the task information from the Shadow World, they had less than an hour left.

Because Lanchi's departure time from the Shadow World was later than the three simulations, and even half a day later than the last simulation, so he rushed here with the help of several great demons who helped him annihilate the provinces along the way, which was also coming to an end.

But this time was enough.

Having experienced the three simulations, Lanchi was already familiar with the route and time management, and everything was within his expected range.

"Are we going to destroy this castle?"

On the pitch-black street of the city-state, several companions in black cloaks stood alongside Lanchi, exuding rampant demonic power like debt-collecting devils.

"No need, we'll be invited in soon."

Lanchi replied, his indifferent eyes gazing into the distance as if seeing something far away.

"To be honest, I'm a little scared after killing so many people from Honing along the way."

The scorpion-tailed witch, Merogasis, who was at the forefront, chuckled and said self-deprecatingly.

Her figure was curvaceous, and the tight-fitting leather outfit underneath her black cloak accentuated her body like a tightly drawn bowstring, her tail always ready to shoot deadly poison arrows.

Even during the war, the Blasphemy Lord Merogasis had never killed so many Honing citizens.

The slaughter of hundreds of millions had indeed broadened her horizons.

"I assure you, all of you are now my minions, and all the merits will be credited to the instigator. You don't need to bear any psychological burden."

Lanchi promised the great demons,

"The outside world is corrupt, and what they call 'plunder' and 'cruelty' are all lies they weave. Only we possess the true revelation because we know the truth of love."

He explained to them with a benevolent expression.

"It's a pity, Black Sun, that you couldn't continue to work with us in the Demon World. You are the true embodiment of cruelty and ruthlessness, our role model."

The figures sneered and praised him.

"...?"

Only Merogasis felt that something was amiss after hearing Lanchi's words.

She observed Lanchi, her scorpion-like eyes seeming to pierce through his heart. Her lips, painted with smoky purple lipstick, stood out alluringly in the darkness, and her movements exuded both charm and an underlying ferocity.

What Merogasis never expected was that the Pope didn't consider this as deducting merits but rather as adding them?

Indeed, this madman was unique. Even Merogasis felt like a normal demon compared to the Pope.

"Hey, Pope."

She flicked her scorpion tail lightly, tapping the Pope.

"Merogasis, what is it?"

Lanchi turned to look at her.

"I was saying, after we're done killing people in the capital of Honing, since you can't go back to the Holy Spirit Randel Teaching Country anyway, why don't you consider coming to Neka with me..."

Just then, a sudden red light enveloped them, the dazzling scarlet color illuminating their faces in the darkness.

Before Merogasis could finish her sentence, a spatial gravity field appeared out of thin air on the ground, erupting with dazzling light and deafening rumbling, swallowing them all.

Lanchi and the great demons had no time to react before they felt a gravitational force pulling them down, causing them to plummet!

The space twisted and deformed, sometimes extending and sometimes compressing, with howling winds in their ears as if thousands of evil spirits were howling and roaring.

The surroundings rushed upward, and countless colors suddenly appeared in the pitch-black void, rotating and changing like a kaleidoscope.

Buildings, like magic cubes, constantly flashed by, some upside down and some tilted, completely ignoring the laws of gravity.

Gorgeous wooden houses and castle-like stone walls intertwined, shimmering with dazzling and scarlet light, forming a twisted and fantastical world.

"Pope!"

Merogasis' voice was particularly sharp in the wind as she reached out to the Pope.

She was the closest to the Pope when they were pulled into the barrier, and the other great demons had disappeared without a trace.

"Merogasis, don't worry."

Lanchi responded.

There was no absolute powerful barrier separating the Blood Moon City, it was just that when they fell, they passed through different space barriers and were scattered. If there were no other blood races blocking the great demons, they would regroup soon.

And so, because of this large influx of intruders, the Blood Moon City had transformed into a siege-style battle against the enemy, rather than the previous encirclement and annihilation strategy.

By dispersing the enemies, the vampire ancestors could fully utilize the home-field advantage of Blood Moon City, sending them to more suitable opponents' home fields and defeating them one by one.

Unless there was only one enemy who rashly broke in, they would gather together and surround the enemy.

The planner was undoubtedly the seventh ancestor, Heritier.

As the astrologer of the blood race, she would match the invading great demons to different subdivisions of Blood Moon City, where they would be fought by vampire marquises.

The entrance to Blood Moon City was on the west side, with the Blood King's Palace at its center, and the subdivisions ruled by vampire marquises in the east, south, and north directions.

And the weakened Saint Pope Lanchi would be sent to the most dangerous Blood King's Palace to face the third ancestor, Lacharel, in a one-on-one battle.

"You must win! Only I can take your head!"

Merogasis shouted, offering a clumsy victory blessing to Lanchi.

Her scorpion tail instinctively wanted to hook onto Lanchi's clothes, but the gravity in the barrier was chaotic, and the space that could distort everything separated the two of them in an instant, like two fallen leaves blown apart by the wind.

They disappeared from each other's sight.

"Thank you, Merogasis."

Lanchi continued his descent alone.

The surrounding buildings became denser, and inverted castles loomed over him.

"Your Holiness, what brings you here?"

A mocking voice echoed around him, like a god's proclamation.

This voice was all too familiar to Lanchi; he had heard it countless times in the Mirror of Thaberius, and he even felt a sense of nostalgia.

"What, am I not welcome?"

The Black-Robed Pope hung upside down, pressing the silver-white mask to his face, and free-falling towards the Blood King's Palace.

He had already removed his disguise and was ready for battle.

Let this be a rehearsal for the Krexe Empire's Blood Moon City siege.

Even though he wouldn't be able to find such a luxurious team of great demon generals in the mortal world, and since the Krexe Empire was at its peak in the mortal realm, perhaps it was the mortal world that presented the true difficult mode for Blood Moon City.

But for this decaying Blood Moon City in the late stages of the Blood Moon Bad World, Lanchi already knew it like the back of his hand.

"Hehe, of course, you're welcome. I'm just curious if Your Holiness will still be as assertive as you are now."

The ancestor's voice echoed like a shadow in the darkness.

Suddenly, a golden and luxurious door opened before him.

Without hesitation, Lanchi stepped through, and his descent began to slow.

This was it.

The final destination in the Blood Moon Bad World, the Blood King's Palace.

He looked around, and when his feet finally touched the ground, he found himself slowly descending onto a circular plaza.

The plaza was paved with black and white marble, with thirteen towering stone pillars over a hundred meters tall.

The mocking voice echoed around the plaza—

"Welcome to Blood Moon City, Saint Pope Lanchi."

The voice came from the depths of the mist at the edge of the plaza.

A figure emerged, clad in pure black velvet robes, with a golden emblem of the Honing nobility embroidered on the collar.

He looked to be only twelve or thirteen years old, with porcelain-like skin and smooth brown hair that fell to his shoulders.

"I never expected you to come here. I've been living quietly in the Honing Empire for so many years."

The third ancestor, Duke Lacharel, flashed a playful smile, his tone casual as if chatting with an old friend.

But his eyes were filled with scorn and disdain, mocking Lanchi's foolishness and ignorance.

"However, since you're here, let's have a proper chat, Your Holiness, the Saint Pope of Saint Phanlante."

Lacharel performed an elegant ancient noble's greeting, placing his right hand on his chest, taking a step back with his left foot, and inclining his body slightly forward, as if greeting a noble guest.

"Lacharel, are you in the mood to chat with me?"

Lanchi stood alone in the center of the plaza, addressing the third ancestor, Lacharel.

He knew that Lacharel was mocking him by using the etiquette of the Honing Empire to welcome Lanchi, a native of Honing who had been stripped of his homeland.

"Otherwise? Do you want me to personally obliterate you when you're already so weak that you barely have... six tiers left, or do you want to just wait here for the final moments of your life to tick away, and then feel your own powerlessness?"

Lacharel's tone remained gentle,

"To be honest, I don't even have the heart to lay a finger on you."

Lacharel narrowed his smiling eyes and spread his hands.

But his movements exuded arrogance and wildness.

It was the proclamation of an absolute victor.

With the three vampire marquises and their respective subdivisions functioning normally, he would also receive the super-high damage reduction buff from the Blood King's Palace. Even if the Pope had some tricks up his sleeve for a brief desperate struggle, he wouldn't pose any threat.

"Lacharel, why did your true king abandon you?"

Lanchi looked at the third ancestor, Lacharel, with concern, ignoring whatever Lacharel was saying and asking his own question.

"......?"

In an instant, the veins on Lacharel's temples began to twitch.

The veins on his forehead bulged.

"...What... did you... say?"

Lacharel's crimson eyes gradually turned fierce, then almost manic, as he asked, word by word.

"Aren't you failed products that were discarded?"

Lanchi stared at the third ancestor, Lacharel, with confusion, genuinely asking a question.

"Lanchi, you're asking for death!!!"

Lacharel screamed hoarsely.

He raised his hand, controlling the blood mist, and countless crimson tendrils shot out like poisonous snakes from the mist, ready to drag the Saint Pope Lanchi, this bag of bones from a tomb, into an abyss of blood from which there was no escape!

...

Dozens of kilometers away, on the south side of Blood Moon City.

The Extinction Hall, ruled by the eighth ancestor, Somerset.

The battle between the vampire marquises and the great demons had already erupted.

This hall resembled an endless colosseum, surrounded by black rocks, with red gems embedded in the walls, shining with an eerie light in the dim illumination.

The blood gems were engraved with the blood and bones of those who had fallen to the eighth ancestor, Somerset, and the air was heavy with the suffocating stench of blood.

The expansive battlefield in the center of the hall was covered in winding cracks, from which fresh red lava oozed, flowing across the trembling ground.

Two powerful demons stood back-to-back, engaging in a fierce encounter battle with the strongest warrior of the blood race, the Eighth Progenitor, Marquess Somerset.

"Be careful. The terrain of the Extinction Hall can make him invisible," Mercury Lord Mishio warned. Her entire body was silver, like liquid metal, yet she possessed the typical physique of a female demon. As an expert in alchemy and healing, she stood guard in front of the Skeleton Lord, Damon Gate, ever vigilant for Somerset's surprise attack from any direction.

Behind her, the Skeleton Lord, Damon Gate, had a slender build and wore a black robe with silver cracks embroidered on its hem. His black hair was smooth as satin, gently swaying in the wind that blew through the hall. Goat horns adorned his head, and a skeletal mask-like structure clung to his cheeks.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end