In the black mist that shrouded the royal city, Yisela’s scream pierced through the cage, through the square, through the sky enveloped by the black mist.
The sound was sharp and thin, as if something was shattering inside her body.
Everyone in the square covered their ears. Some fell to their knees.
Then Victor released all his dark magic at once.
There was no warning, no incantation. It happened suddenly. A ring of black mist exploded beneath his feet and spread rapidly in all directions.
The black mist surged across the square. The believers screamed and scattered, their bodies growing more transparent in the fog, as if something was hollowing them out from the inside.
The statue of the Holy Light God began to deform. Black veins crawled across the pristine white stone, bulging like blood vessels. Six twisted black wings sprouted from its back, their joints cracking outward as stone fragments clattered to the ground.
Victor stood in the shadow of the evil god statue, turned around, and faced the screaming, fleeing crowd in the square.
“From today onward, the Holy Kingdom shall have no more holy light.”
His voice was not loud, but it cut clearly through every wisp of black mist, drilling into everyone’s ears.
Some were still shouting that the Temple Master had gone mad. Others knelt and begged for mercy, but Victor didn’t even glance at them.
Then he raised his right hand and spread his five fingers.
Four streams of eerie light fell from the void behind him, crashing into four directions of the Holy Kingdom.
Each direction exploded with a burst of light, shaking the ground.
A cold-blue pillar of light descended over the Temple Square.
Shirley spread her six black wings and hovered above the Temple. Beneath her feet were the elders who hadn’t had time to stand.
“It really is her… the Former Saint!”
The First Elder’s voice trembled with fear. His whole body was shaking.
“Temple Master! You’ve turned the Former Saint into a puppet—you’ve betrayed the holy light!”
Victor did not answer. He didn’t even turn his head.
Shirley raised one hand. Her black wings swept forward as several cold-blue streaks of light slashed down like blades.
The First Elder’s body was severed at the waist. His upper half fell into a pool of blood, his eyes still blinking.
The Second Elder turned to run, but the eerie light pierced through the back of his neck and exited through his chest. He was pinned to the ground, twitching twice.
The Third Elder crawled two steps before being nailed to the stone slabs, still shouting for mercy.
The remaining elders hadn’t even reacted before they all fell.
No one dared to question anymore. No one dared to look up at those cold-blue eyes.
Shirley slowly descended behind Victor, her wings gently folding. Her shadow covered the fallen elders.
Her gaze swept across the collapsed crowd, then withdrew, landing on her own dust-stained fingertips. She rubbed them lightly.
The crimson pillar of light crashed into the southern border of the Holy Kingdom.
A massive scorched crater was gouged into the earth. Dark red magma surged from the fissures, and waves of heat rolled in, instantly withering the trees within fifty meters.
A tall figure wreathed in dark red flames slowly emerged from the crater.
His name was Baluokesi Fenyuan.
Once the most dazzling genius of the Flame Family.
Before the border garrison could even form ranks, Baluokesi was already standing before them, leaving charred footprints in the ground with each step.
He swung his greatsword of flames horizontally. The frontmost knights, along with their horses, were cleaved in two before they could even scream. Blood splattered everywhere.
He grabbed a young knight’s helmet with one hand and clenched his fingers.
The helmet, along with the head inside, crumpled and ignited like paper in the flames. The sound of bones breaking was swallowed by the crackling fire.
Baluokesi casually tossed the corpse into the magma fissure behind him.
He planted his greatsword on the ground, and a ring of fire surged from the blade, engulfing the surrounding ruins and the wounded soldiers who hadn’t escaped. Even their screams were burned to ash.
The dark green pillar of light fell on the border of the Elven Forest.
A slender figure leaped down from a tree trunk, moving lightly, landing as silently as a cat.
His name was Fu.
He preferred being called the Elf Devourer.
An elven scout team was patrolling the forest edge.
A young elf suddenly stopped.
He heard a subtle, wet, chewing sound—like someone was eating raw meat.
Before he could give an alarm, the vines on the ground tightened violently, hoisting him upside down into the air.
Fu crouched in front of him, tilting his head as he watched for a moment. Then he extended a fingertip and traced from the elf’s collarbone down to his chest, as if choosing a piece of meat.
Where his fingernail had passed, beads of blood oozed out.
The other elves had no time to react before they were engulfed by corrosive sacs that burst from underground.
Their shields melted like paper in the stomach acid, followed by their flesh and skin.
Some were still alive as their bodies began to dissolve, their screams swallowed by the gurgling acid.
One elf crawled toward the depths of the forest even in death, the lower half of her body already half-digested, her bones gleaming white.
Fu crouched beside her until she stopped moving. Then he finished chewing the vine and swallowed.
He reached out and touched her still-dimming eyes, his thumb gently brushing over her closed eyelids.
Then he stood up, his gaze crossing the dried-up fountain at the periphery and landing on the lifeless figure in the distance. The corners of his mouth stretched into an exaggerated grin.
“Such a pity.”
“The real show is about to begin… Hahaha… My feast.”
The four undying demon crystals stood tall, carving the Holy Kingdom into four isolated death zones.
Civilians trapped within the walls fled in all directions. The streets were flooded with panicked crowds.
Those who were trampled never got up again.
A baker pushed his cart, trying to rush home to his wife and child.
Just as he turned a corner, he saw the black mist from the south engulfing the city guards.
Their armor melted like ice in the fog.
He abandoned his cart, turned back, and threw himself over his wife and child, using the cart to block them.
He faced the city gate with his back to them, mouth open, but no words came out. His whole body shook like a leaf.
A woman held her crying infant in the ruins, gently covering the baby’s ears with her hand, but she couldn’t stop her own tears.
In the Temple Square, the elders sat in pools of blood.
Some had lost feeling in their lower bodies but still crawled, dragging long streaks of blood behind them.
Those who were still alive stopped struggling.
They knelt in place, looking up at the massive Temple that had turned into an incubation chamber.
A translucent membrane pulsed slowly. Something inside wriggled, like an unformed fetus turning in amniotic fluid.
Victor stood before the giant egg, his back to Shirley and the paralyzed believers in the square.
“Incubation will take a month.”
“Hold your respective directions.”
“I don’t want to hear any bad news within a month.”
The believers in the square were still screaming. The civilians in the streets were still fleeing.
The light of the four demon crystals dyed the entire Holy Kingdom into a hell of red, green, blue, and gold.
Every color was devouring people’s souls.
Three massive silver dragon shadows tore through the night sky, taking off from the Dragon’s Nest and flying toward the plumes of black energy that shot into the heavens.
The wind pressure from their wings carved deep furrows into the ground.
In the wilderness night wind, a crimson Battle Qi light wing followed close behind, streaking across the sky like a meteor.
Deep within Ashstone Town, on the Adventurers’ Guild’s communication platform, plea after plea for help was being transmitted along ancient magic circuits to every country.
The mages’ fingers never stopped tapping on the rune stones, passing information to the next relay point.
Sweat dripped from their foreheads onto the tabletop.
Some struggled to keep the communication runes glowing.
The undercurrents of the continent began to converge at this moment.
Victor raised his head, looking at the stars being swallowed by the black mist in the night sky, and revealed a faint, almost satisfied smile.