Anello’s fingers gripped the receiver of the magic apparatus, uncertain whether to let go or clench tighter, his knuckles whitening under the strain.
His chest felt as though weighed down by a heavy stone, each breath coming with difficulty.
This brightly lit space, this office that should have brought him peace of mind, instantly transformed into an inescapable cage, sealing him in with terrifying clarity.
This communication was supposed to connect to the Imperial Capital.
Why had such a voice—both familiar and alien—come through from the other end?
Thoughts raced through Anello’s mind.
How could the dedicated line between Snowfield Province and the Imperial Capital of Herrom be hijacked by someone else?
Could the entire Imperial Capital—the entire front line—have already fallen into enemy hands?
Impossible! Absolutely impossible!
It had to be an illusion!
A trapped beast's terror flickered in Anello’s eyes as he sought to discern the truth.
With panic spreading through his heart, he finally spoke, his voice trembling slightly while striving to maintain his composure. "May I ask which officer from the Imperial Defense Department I am speaking with?"
"We just met, didn't we? Have you forgotten my voice so quickly?"
The other side remained effortless and relaxed, laden with a gentle, smiling warmth.
This confirming voice struck Anello's heart like a heavy hammer.
Anello's reactions were swift, yet clearly still a step too slow.
He wanted to pull back from this enclosed room and flee Bourne City and the eerie atmosphere that hung over it, but the instant he moved to release the receiver, an intense numbness struck him like a bolt of lightning, spreading through his entire body in a flash.
There was a trap in the governor's office as well?!
In his panic, when Anello tried to channel his mana, an indescribable heaviness and sluggishness engulfed him—as if a bird just about to flap its wings had watched the sky collapse, crushing down upon it like a mountain!
He attempted to struggle, but his body was pinned in place; even taking a single small step proved extraordinarily difficult.
Across the walls of the entire office, a deep blue glow began to emanate—the hallmark of a military-grade magic-suppression barrier, carrying with it the city-defense barrier's suppressive effect meant for violent criminals within the city-state.
At the same time, poison gas began billowing from the room's ventilation ducts.
Even though the Holy Son of Extinction held his breath instantly, he still felt his strength draining away and his vision turning hazy.
The space seemed to contract and collapse, the air thinning out as though to wring the very life from his body.
At this moment, Anello understood that he had walked into a massive trap.
Under normal circumstances, the strongest fighters in a local province were merely a handful of tier-6 combatants, while even tier-5s were exceedingly rare—hardly worth his notice. But now, caught in such a cage, he was in grave peril!
His face was pale, his eyes brimming with dread, beads of cold sweat trickling down his forehead.
Anello fought to keep his wits about him, yet every cell in his body screamed that this might be an inescapable death trap.
As the dual barriers fully stabilized, the doors to the governor's office were shoved violently open. The Extinction Branch's Great Cleric was nowhere to be seen; only Viscount Chinston entered, leading a squad of provincial elites.
The heavy thud of boot soles on the plush carpet echoed through the grand governor's office like the footsteps of Death itself, exerting an oppressive weight on Anello far more chilling than the magic-suppression barrier.
Bursting in were several fully armed provincial elites, prepared well in advance. Their eyes were hollow and cold, completely devoid of emotion, like demon warriors from an ancient battlefield.
Previously, to combat the Spectre Party, the province's finest had been gathered for a short, intensive training regimen under Lanqi's instruction, followed by Xiaya serving as instructor to impart the governor's tactics and combat doctrine. Now, they were a seasoned extermination force.
Those summoned by Viscount Chinston were all squad-leader-tier, tier-5 combatants.
Masked and merciless, they gave Anello no opportunity to offer an explanation. Without a word, they launched their assault. A light combatant lunged forward, fists driving straight for Anello’s jaw, while several heavy combatants swiftly drew icicle-like spikes and encircled him, not a single movement wasted.
The sharp ice spikes gripped in their hands pulsed with dark cursed runes. They were not natural ice, but military-grade magic apparatuses imbued with potent silencing and freezing effects.
Although Anello had just dispelled the numbness with his purification magic, the suppression of the barrier slowed his mana flow and casting speed severalfold. With the room continually filling with toxic gas, he relied on pure combat instinct to dodge the light combatant's sudden strike, trying to cast whatever spell he could muster in retaliation. Yet against these fully prepared heavy combatants, he was like a mollusc-beast cornered by elite hunters—pathetically fragile!
A heavy combatant was the first to charge Anello, wielding an ice spike aimed at his limbs. Refusing to yield, Anello channeled the most fundamental mana he could muster despite his restricted movement, driving it swiftly to his wrists. Just as the ice spike was about to make contact, a violent blast erupted, instantly blowing back the surrounding circle of heavy combatants.
In that instant, Anello attempted to summon his magic. Dark gray flames surged from beneath his feet, seeking to incinerate the enemy's blockade.
Yet this strained, agonizing casting appeared conspicuously sluggish to his foes. Devoid of fear or hesitation, one warrior swiftly raised a shield in his left hand and a club in his right, charging straight at Anello to pin and subdue him to the ground.
Meanwhile, two more heavy warriors flanked him from either side, heedless of pain or injury, thrusting their ice spikes forward like venomous serpents!
Hemmed in on both sides, Anello attempted to blast the warriors back once more with his mana, but suddenly, his already heavy footing was violently yanked. Another warrior had slipped in unnoticed and hurled a chained anchor, firmly snagging his leg.
The light combatant closed in again, not rushing to strike, but utilizing his allies' containment to seek an opening, poised to deliver a fatal blow or maintain relentless disruption.
"You bastards!!"
Roaring in fury, Anello whipped the gray flames around him into a fiery vortex, forming a shield to ward off the enemies' menacing mana-sealing ice spikes.
Yet the guard unit had planned every step with rigid discipline.
One of the light combatants suddenly burst forward with blistering speed, clutching an ice spike with both hands as if indifferent to death, thrusting violently toward Anello's eyes.
This thrust forced Anello to dodge to protect his sight.
Yet before he could focus his blurred vision, a heavy combatant had materialized behind him.
The tall, ruthless figure expertly and swiftly brought a blunt weapon crashing down against the back of Anello’s skull, sending his world spinning. Immediately after, another heavy combatant wearing knuckledusters lunged from the flank, eyes glinting with a bloodthirsty scarlet light, and drove a savage hook into Anello's gut with a deafening roar—leaving him feeling as though his entire midsection had been ruptured by the blow!
Chapter 349