https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-846-The-Empire-s-Strongest-Man-Part-1-/12937133/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-846-The-Empire-s-Strongest-Man-Part-3-/12937135/
Chapter 846: The Empire's Strongest Man (Part 2)
Chapter 846: The Empire's Strongest Man (Part 2)
Julius, Simonroe, and Bianca constantly changed their formation, launching attacks in an attempt to find Conzer and Ryan's weaknesses.
Conzer and Ryan seemed unaffected by their efforts, still advancing towards the Saint Asteria Palace with inhuman speed and strength.
"Damn it, why aren't Hestinos and Violet here at this moment!"
Bianca shouted in frustration amidst the battle.
If Hestinos were here, they could quickly suppress these crazed individuals.
Or if Violet also mastered many sacred arts of the Holy Domain, perhaps she could resolve the abnormal state of the War Gods.
Simonroe's purification magic alone was completely ineffective against them.
But of course, it was expected that the mental malefic that controlled the front-line War Gods would be even more challenging for Simonroe, the last in line, to dispel.
"Conzer, Ryan, snap out of it!"
Simonroe's emerald staff slammed heavily on the ground, and a Holy Light Shield instantly unfolded, blocking Conzer's mountain-like assault.
If the fight continued, it would likely lead to a disaster today, reminiscent of the Blood Bath Day twenty years ago.
Once the barrier collapsed, the situation would spiral out of control.
Even though Brillada was the largest city-state in the empire, with a built-up area far exceeding several dozen times that of the small border city-states, the life-and-death battle among the ten War Gods could easily destroy a city-state. It was only a matter of time!
"Kill! Decapitate Emperor Saint Baldor!"
The crazed War Gods clashed with the remaining rational War Gods, filling the air with a strong scent of blood and gunpowder.
At the far end of this chaos, Emperor Saint Baldor stood behind the protective barrier on the terrace, tightly gripping the Seros Spirit Sword.
His face was grim, and as he heard the voices of the War Gods, anger continued to rise in his eyes.
Despite maintaining the dignity and composure befitting an emperor, his heart was already in turmoil.
"Gyaet, Jasper, Lugayed, Conzer, and Ryan! How dare you go mad and attempt regicide on such a day! Are you rebelling?!"
Saint Baldor's voice was cold and harsh, each word filled with anger and pressure.
"I once trusted you, considering you as my confidants and right-hand men. But now, have you ever considered the disaster your actions will bring to the empire and the wounds they will leave in the hearts of our people?"
Saint Baldor slowly raised the Seros Spirit Sword, its tip pointing at the crazed War Gods.
The sacred light on the sword was like heavenly punishment, illuminating his stern face.
This legendary divine sword seemed to have sensed its master's will, trembling slightly and emitting a buzzing sound.
"If you insist on walking down this path of no return, I can only uphold justice in the name of the empire and our people!"
Saint Baldor's words thundered in the night sky.
He stared directly into the bloodshot eyes of the crazed War Gods, as if trying to destroy them with his willpower.
The light on the Seros Spirit Sword grew brighter, and a pillar of light descended from the sky, with heavenly punishment briefly repelling the Eighth War God Conzer and the Ninth War God Ryan, leaving them momentarily paralyzed. However, this attack had almost no effect on the Third War God Gyaet and the Fourth War God Jasper.
Yet, the crazed War Gods remained unresponsive to Saint Baldor's questioning and pressure.
They just roared incessantly, determined to break through their comrades' blockade and kill Emperor Saint Baldor, fulfilling their goal for the night.
Amidst this near-chaotic battle, crimson starlight suddenly flickered in the western night sky of Brillada.
It was a red comet, trailing a long blood-red tail, carving a path through the clouds in the night sky.
The energy it emitted was so powerful that even the War Gods fighting in the square could sense it clearly.
"!"
The sane War Gods paled instantly.
They realized that an even more terrifying presence had emerged.
An unprecedented sense of crisis enveloped their hearts.
The ones who felt this most keenly were undoubtedly the strongest War Gods present.
Based on the magical power fluctuations, the source of the other War Gods' madness was clearly this mysterious and abnormally powerful entity! The terrifying mental pressure and ninth-tier magical power seemed like divine force, causing all the fleeing residents below to feel their souls collapsing and losing control, like a disconnected puppet.
The red moonlight behind it foretold destruction and catastrophe, all etched in the prophecies of the magic tome.
"Ninth tier?"
The Twelfth War God Bianca stared wide-eyed, her pupils dilated as she gazed in that direction.
The strength of that blood-red figure surpassed her understanding, and the only thing she could think of was the ninth-tier realm.
Even the Second War God Salone tightened his grip on his sword this time.
Before they could fully react, the red comet had already flown straight towards Emperor Saint Baldor on the palace terrace, moving at an unbelievable speed. In the blink of an eye, it smashed into the terrace.
"Get back! Evil spirit!"
Salone commanded.
He realized the severity of the situation and wanted to immediately head towards the Saint Asteria Palace to intercept this highly unconventional threat.
However, Gyaet and Jasper in front of him seemed to be summoned by the comet, disregarding their lives as they desperately rushed towards him, blocking his path.
At the same time, a heavy mental pressure descended upon them, slowing down all their actions!
The other crazed War Gods were unaffected.
They turned from breaking through the defense line to hindering the other War Gods, determined to stop them from protecting their emperor.
"Damn it, what the hell is that?!" Simonroe clenched his teeth, using the storm to desperately resist Conzer's attacks.
On the terrace, Emperor Saint Baldor also felt that terrifying pressure.
He tightly gripped the Seros Spirit Sword, his graying brown hair blowing in the gale, his gaze fixed on the blood-red figure.
The Red Comet stood before the terrace's pillar, its glow fading, revealing its true appearance.
It was a boy who looked only twelve or thirteen years old.
He had a delicate and beautiful face, like an angel descended, his short hair blowing in the night wind, as pure as moonlight.
But what drew the most attention were his eyes.
They were blood-red orbs, as if carrying an eternity of years, witnessing countless cycles of life and death.
Laxel slowly descended onto the terrace, as if appreciating an interesting play.
When his gaze fell upon Saint Baldor, a smile curved on his lips.
"The Emperor of the Crethia Empire."
Laxel spoke, his voice crisp and chilling,
"Please, step aside."
His words were like a curse, instantly enveloping the entire Crethia Memorial Square, causing the conscious War Gods still fighting to slow down uncontrollably.
They had never encountered such an enemy, one who could effortlessly suppress them all with psychic power!
Saint Baldor only felt an unprecedented pressure rushing towards him, as if the weight of the world had fallen upon his shoulders.
The Seros Spirit Sword in his hand emitted bursts of light, resisting Laxel's vampire power.
He resolutely held onto the Seros Spirit Sword.
If not for the protection of the divine sword, he would have already knelt on the ground.
"This sword is quite impressive."
The Third Ancestor Laxel's gaze shifted to the sword in the Emperor's hand, his raised hand paused, and he stared at it with great interest.
"You, how dare you challenge the centuries-old foundation of my Crethia Empire."
Emperor Saint Baldor saw that the other party was wary of the sword in his hand, and a sense of relief surged in his heart, and he shouted sternly.
"..."
Laxel's hesitant expression gradually turned into a smile, which then transformed into a sinister grin, and he abruptly intensified his psychic suppression.
The next moment.
Saint Baldor involuntarily knelt on the ground, his left hand trembling as he covered his neck, suffocating him.
Even with the protection of the divine sword, he couldn't resist this level of power.
"I was just complimenting this sword, but you, a mere mortal, picked up a divine sword and dared to resist me?"
Laxel looked at Emperor Saint Baldor with a mocking expression and asked.
"No..."
Saint Baldor's eyes widened, his face contorted in pain,
"Quickly, come and save me..."
Emperor Saint Baldor's gaze shifted to the War Gods still fighting on the side of the square.
He felt his consciousness gradually blurring, his psychic power rapidly depleting.
And Laxel just stood there, smiling, enjoying Saint Baldor's miserable state.
A layer of dark red energy surrounded him, like a living force swirling around him, sometimes transforming into blades, sometimes into demonic claws, threatening all life daring to approach.
Emperor Saint Baldor clenched his teeth, enduring the excruciating pain, trying to stand up with the help of the divine sword.
The Seros Spirit Sword in his hand glowed once more, as if responding to his will, granting him strength.
"I am... the Emperor of the Crethia Empire..."
Saint Baldor raised the Seros Spirit Sword, and the sacred light on the sword instantly filled the entire terrace.
There was no hope for the War Gods.
At this moment, he could only rely on himself. This divine sword had a significant special attack against evil beings that threatened the royal family. The more it fought against evil spirits, the more it could be pushed to its limits!
The light was so bright, like dawn dispelling darkness, illuminating Saint Baldor's face and the fighting spirit in the Emperor's eyes.
The people outside the square, witnessing this scene, were greatly inspired.
They saw their Emperor, even facing such a powerful enemy, with the War Gods under the opponent's control, still fighting without yielding, and even summoning a group of spirits to grant him strength and sword skills.
"Long live Emperor Saint Baldor! Defeat this enemy!"
An exhilarating cheer erupted from the crowd, cheering for their Emperor and praying for their country.
At that moment, everyone's hearts seemed to beat as one, in unison.
Saint Baldor's courage made them realize that as long as they had an Emperor like him, the tragedy of Blood Bath Day would never happen again.
However.
In the next moment, everything turned into an illusion.
Laxel watched Saint Baldor's resistance, his smile at the corner of his eyes filled with disdain.
He waved his hand dismissively, and the blood-red claws suddenly lunged towards Saint Baldor.
Plop.
The Seros Spirit Sword fell to the ground, and the sacred light instantly extinguished.
Saint Baldor's eyes widened, and his right arm also turned into blood mist under this terrifying power, his flesh torn apart, and blood gushed out like a fountain.
"Ahhhhhh!"
Saint Baldor let out a miserable scream and collapsed on the ground.
The Seros Spirit Sword fell beside him, and he instinctively tried to grab the divine sword, but his dominant hand was gone.
He covered his severed arm, and blood flowed from the stump, pooling on the ground.
Emperor Saint Baldor's face turned as white as paper, sweat dripping from his forehead, and his eyes gradually lost their sparkle due to pain and fear.
All this happened in the blink of an eye.
Outside the square, the fleeing residents instantly fell silent.
Everyone stared in disbelief at this scene, as if witnessing the end of the world.
Their Emperor was defeated so easily, and now lay miserably on the ground? The once seemingly invincible Emperor was so fragile and vulnerable.
On the terrace, Saint Baldor, now without the divine sword, seemed to have aged ten years in an instant.
He was no longer the wise and mighty Emperor, but a mere mortal filled with fear.
He covered his severed arm, his eyes full of timidity and terror.
In Brillada, someone started crying and screaming, and fear swept through the entire city like a tidal wave.
The residents realized that if no one could stop this Eighth-Rank evil spirit, and it killed their Emperor without resistance, the Crethia Empire would be doomed.
If even the Emperor could be killed so easily, who else was safe?
Sharp wails tore through the night sky, and people on the streets of Brillada began to flee desperately.
They pushed and trampled, trying to escape this nightmare scene, even attempting to flee Brillada.
The instinct for survival dominated everything, and fear consumed all rationality.
On the terrace of Saint Asteria Palace, Lachel gazed at the Archons in the square, their five duplicates exhausted, yet their minds clear and filled with rage. Despite their clarity, they remained beyond his reach.
Lachel's gaze once again fell upon Saint Baldor, who knelt on the ground.
He approached slowly, each step causing Saint Baldor's heart to tremble.
"Look at yourself now, Emperor of Crete," Lachel said.
Lachel leaned down, his blood-red eyes staring directly into Saint Baldor's.
He extended a pale, slender hand and gently pointed to the reflection of Saint Baldor's face in the pool of blood on the ground.
The coldness of his finger was like death itself, forcing Saint Baldor to glance in the direction Lachel indicated.
Finally, he saw his own pitiful state.
"What...what do you want...?" Saint Baldor's voice trembled as he struggled against the intense pain and humiliation, attempting to communicate with Lachel.
But those blood-red eyes seemed to possess a magical power, causing Saint Baldor to feel his will crumbling and his soul sinking.
Lachel nonchalantly walked over to the divine sword embedded in the ground, intending to pull it out.
However, when his hand touched the sword's hilt, it felt as if he had grasped a million-degree heat. His skin began to burn, forcing him to quickly release his grip and throw away the Seros Empire's divine sword.
"Tsk, seems like I can't take this sword after all."
Lachel chuckled lightly, not bothering to exert himself further over this masterless divine sword.
"You asked what I want?" Lachel turned his head, looking down at Saint Baldor.
"What I want is the destruction of the Crete Empire and the return of the Blood Moon Disaster within its borders."
Lachel spread his arms, and the black-red energy once again surrounded him.
"And you, Saint Baldor, will be my first step. Your death will mark my declaration to the Crete Empire."
Lachel's voice turned into a death knell, echoing in Saint Baldor's mind.
"All citizens of the Crete Empire..."
The next moment, Lachel's voice reverberated in the night sky, clearly reaching the ears of every Brillada resident through spiritual magic.
"From this moment on, this world will belong to us, the blood clan. Your Emperor Saint Baldor will be the first pig to be beheaded and put on public display."
As soon as he finished speaking, blood-red mana erupted from his body, instantly enveloping the entire city of Brillada and even sweeping across the entire Crete Empire.
It was a complete dark wave, devouring all light, changing the color of the sky and earth, and shrouding the city in an eerie red.
Lachel's voice thundered, causing the residents of Brillada to tremble and cover their heads, trying to block out his mental intrusion.
Even the Archons were under his control, and the emperor was about to be killed. Who could stand against this blood clan progenitor from the realm of the gods? The fall of the Crete Empire was just the beginning.
More nations and lives would be devoured in the feast of madness unleashed by the blood clan.
And the unmatched ninth-rank blood clan progenitor would become the master of this feast, the new god of this world.
"Well, Saint Baldor."
Lachel stood before Emperor Saint Baldor, holding him up as a warning to all Crete citizens, intending to leave an indelible mark of fear in the hearts of the empire's people.
He prepared to slowly torture and execute the former leader of the empire.
The awakened Archons, in their despair, roared for the emperor they had failed to protect. Grief, anger, and resentment intertwined, but they couldn't break free from the suicidal frenzy of the Archons and Lachel's mental suppression to attack the blood clan progenitor, Lachel.
At this critical moment, everyone felt time slowing down.
A dazzling divine sword light slashed through the sky several kilometers away.
In an instant, the entire palace terrace was severed.
The divine silver radiance was so powerful and sharp that it seemed capable of slicing through heaven and earth, severing all.
Lachel's arm snapped under this sudden attack, flying away in his shocked gaze.
Blood gushed from the wound, tracing a strange red line in the night sky.
Lachel let out an angry roar, and blood flowed like silk threads, reconnecting his severed arm. However, the seam still glowed with the same intense silver radiance as the sword light.
This unexpected turn of events disrupted Lachel's plans, and Emperor Saint Baldor temporarily escaped his fate. The sword energy's formation protected him.
Before Lachel could recover, a dim blue light appeared in the western night sky.
A weak blue meteor was falling at an incredible speed, its trajectory so straight it was like an arrow aimed at Lachel.
Electric light surrounded the comet, illuminating half the sky with each flash.
The atmosphere, compressed by its high-speed movement, roared like thunder.
"It's Hestinos, he's back."
The Archons in combat immediately turned their attention to the blue figure, their eyes sparking with hope.
From the moment they saw the dazzling divine silver light of the strike, they knew it was Hestinos. It was the divine radiance of the Primordial Tablet's Strike.
"Hestinos!"
"Archon Hestinos, slay this blood clan heretic!"
The people of Brillada witnessed this scene, shouting Hestinos's name, their voices rising like a tidal wave.
The calls echoed throughout the city of Brillada, even drowning out the distant battle's roar. Countless hearts called out to the Archon, their faith converging into a torrent, flowing towards Hestinos, invisibly empowering him. The first Archon, Hestinos, who already held the faith of the Crete Empire, seemed on the verge of breaking free from his shackles.
To the people of Crete, it was like a ray of hope in the darkness.
The strongest first Archon had finally arrived at this most critical moment.
But when Hestinos landed on the terrace of Saint Asteria Palace, the people saw his condition and gasped in shock.
The first Archon was covered in wounds, his blue robe stained purple-black with blood, clearly having just survived a fierce battle, as if returning from hell.
A shocking wound on his chest exposed his bones, as if a sharp weapon had almost torn out his heart.
Blood continued to flow from the wound, dripping down his robe and forming a small pool on the ground.
Only this ninth-rank blood clan progenitor could have inflicted such injuries on the first Archon Hestinos. It was impossible for anyone else to harm themselves so severely, shattering their own breastbone and nearly damaging their heart.
Hestinos's face was ashen, his breathing rapid, and every movement of his wounds caused his body to tremble slightly.
His blue eyes, like two unyielding flames, stood before Emperor Saint Baldor.
The onlookers quickly understood the situation.
Before rushing to the palace, Hestinos had likely engaged in a life-and-death battle with the Vampire Progenitor! Judging from Hestinos's injuries, the outcome of this battle was undoubtedly a defeat for him.
In an instant, the people understood many things.
For example, they realized why Violet and Hestinos had both left earlier as if they had sensed something, why the other Archons who were going berserk had briefly shown signs of lucidity, and why they had fallen back into their frenzy.
Earlier, Violet and Hestinos had likely been fighting a desperate battle with the Vampire Progenitor in a place unknown to others.
They were the heroes trying to save the Crete Empire.
The injuries on the Vampire Progenitor were likely inflicted by Violet and Hestinos's desperate efforts.
The brief moments of lucidity the Archons had experienced in the square were probably due to High Priestess Violet's full-power intervention, and judging from the current outcome, Violet was likely in grave danger.
Only Hestinos was barely holding on, disregarding his life to catch up with the Vampire Progenitor.
The people of Crete were already on the brink of despair, facing the terrifying Vampire Progenitor and the vulnerable Emperor Saint Baldor. Their will had reached the point of collapse.
But Hestinos's appearance was like a ray of hope in the darkness, reigniting the fighting spirit in their hearts.
They roared and shouted for Hestinos.
Even though Hestinos was at the peak of the eighth rank, no one doubted his strength at this moment.
If anyone could defeat the ninth-rank Vampire Progenitor, it could only be Hestinos.
"Poor Hestinos, you're just a defeated opponent," said Lachar, gazing at the disheveled Archon before him with a composed smile, reciting the words he needed to say.
"You've already been defeated by me once. Why are you here to die? You could have just lain down and waited for death like Violet, ending your suffering."
Upon hearing Violet's name, the hearts of all the Archons present sank.
Their suspicions were confirmed.
It was entirely due to the Vampire Progenitor's influence.
The brief moments of lucidity the frenzied Archons had experienced earlier were because Violet had temporarily broken the Vampire Progenitor's mental control over the other Archons with her Moon Goddess's Immaculate Land Barrier.
She was the first to discover the threat of the vampires and used her divine arts to buy time for the empire.
But as night fell, Violet's power gradually weakened, and in the end, she and Hestinos were unable to defeat the Vampire Progenitor.
Now, Violet's life likely hung by a thread.
"Hestinos, defeat him!"
Bianca felt a wrenching pain and shouted towards Saint Asteria Palace.
"I know," Hestinos replied, his eyes filled with sadness as he held back a smile, standing before Emperor Saint Baldor.
"I will avenge Violet. It's my fault for not protecting her."
His voice was weak, but every word struck the people's hearts like a hammer.
He was like a sorrowful hero, fighting a desperate final battle.
His words were like a trumpet, shaking the empire's citizens who were witnessing the battle through the journalists' live broadcast.
Many residents slowed their steps, no longer fleeing in panic. They stood firm on the road, turning towards Saint Asteria Palace and shouting.
(End of Chapter)
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