Inside Franklin Hall on the highest floor of the Parliament Building, the deep-purple magical light of the Death Arena sliced through every inch of the air.
The eyes of the assembly members, nobles, and powerful ministers were all locked onto the center of the Protos parliament, where a lethal duel was about to unfold.
Characters from the Age of the Gods constantly rearranged themselves across the surface of the midair barrier. Even though no one could translate them, the soul-piercing radiance conveyed their meaning clearly—numbers in a countdown.
All sound between the inside of the arena and the outside world was completely blocked off. Once the final preparation time of roughly ten-odd seconds ended, the death battle would begin.
On the right side of the barrier, the tall figure beneath the dark gray trench coat exuded a sinister, aberrant aura, as though he belonged to an entirely different world from ordinary people.
When Askesan stood there in battle stance, the invisible mana emanating from him was enough to make any ordinary person feel puny and helpless; any sense of security would tremble in his presence.
"With a mere month of preparation, did you really think you could defy fate and turn the tables? Sigrid, if you're so capable, have your Holy Son conquer the Protos Empire for you."
Askesan laughed and looked down at his own palms, wondering which method he should use to kill Sigrid.
Had Sigrid and the Holy Son of Domination been granted ten or twenty years to lie low and bide their time, perhaps they might have had a chance to turn the tables.
But the time had simply been too short.
There was a limit to the speed of growth and evolution—a universal law that could not be defied.
Just as a student could not become a headmaster overnight, it was impossible for anyone to hollow out a behemoth like the Protos Empire in a matter of days!
"To be honest, Askesan, this is the one and only time I'll ever feel grateful to you. Because if you hadn't played matchmaker, I truly never would have found such an incomparable man."
Clad in silver-white skirt armor, Sigrid stood on this vast battlefield, facing this final showdown and her mortal enemy Askesan without the slightest flinch.
Her figure was tall and slender, her pale hair cascading like a waterfall over the steel plate armor, pure as the silver moon.
Ten-odd seconds slipped by in the blink of an eye.
Finally, as the characters from the Age of the Gods blazed with ever-intensifying brilliance, the circular space spanning hundreds of square meters was paved with translucent rock-like magical matter, rendered as hard as steel under the influence of the ancient divine artifact, the Proof of Bishop.
Between the two of them, the air crackling with arcs of lightning was taut enough to hum.
With each breath from everyone present, every heartbeat around the perimeter of the arena grew increasingly heavy.
Within this enclosed space, the decisive clash between the two Cardinals erupted at once!
Askesan's form beneath his dark gray coat dissolved almost entirely into shadow. His knuckles shifted slightly as he chanted an ancient, arcane incantation, and the entire Death Arena was instantly engulfed in an ominous wave of mana.
Dark gray vines and foliage blossomed silently from his palm and spread outward with blinding speed, weaving a massive sealing barrier around Sigrid. Not only did it trap her, but more crucially, it began contracting incessantly, as if isolating her in an inescapable void to strangle her!
This caused Great Sage Isis outside the arena to furrow her brow slightly.
According to past intelligence, whenever Bishop of Extinction Askesan engaged Bishop of Domination Sigrid in an encounter, he would invariably find a way to create distance first, securing an absolutely safe zone for himself while constantly setting traps to restrict her mobility and prevent her from launching sudden rushes and explosive assaults.
Yet now, Askesan's tactics could be called aggressively measured. Using sustained damage combined with crowd control, he sought to bind Sigrid right away while simultaneously probing her moves.
On the battlefield, as Askesan's sealing barrier shrank at rapid speed, Sigrid's situation appeared increasingly precarious.
Given the Bishop of Domination's original strength, whether charging straight through to tear the vines apart or dodging out of reach before the barrier formed, both would have been well within her capabilities. Yet right now, Sigrid's aura was visibly feeble. One could feel none of the oppressive majesty befitting a Valkyrie; instead, she looked like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.
Many spectators in the stands leaned forward, caught up in the tension of the scene.
It seemed Askesan was speaking the truth after all: if Sigrid had indeed lost her strength, the duel between these two Cardinals would likely be decided in an instant.
If Sigrid still possessed any trump card, she had to play it right now.
Sure enough, Sigrid did not raise her invincible fists to smash through everything as she usually would.
Instead, she held several golden-orange magic cards in her hand, mysterious totems swirling across their patterns, as if she had already anticipated Askesan's opening move.
"Sigrid, I knew you'd turn to summon cards! Go on, use them!"
Seeing this, Askesan finally burst into wild laughter. He had been waiting for Sigrid to use the wolf in a bid to take them both down and force out their life-saving cards.
That wolf required devouring as many summons as possible to unleash its maximum power.
If she didn't use the wolf, she would die. But if she did—these dark gray vines carried damage reflection and immunity effects. Even if the wolf detonated right on Sigrid, no matter how many protective spells and equipment she had, the multi-hit damage would kill her.
He had already anticipated her anticipation!
No matter how miraculously defiant of heaven that Holy Son of Domination was, there was no way he could have given Sigrid anything more absurd than that wolf!
Even at the brink of defeat right at the opening bell, Sigrid still showed no trace of a martial god's might.
Her aura remained subdued, with nothing of a Valkyrie to be seen. The barrier squeezed inward at terrifying speed, and her defeat seemed absolute.
Yet at that exact instant, the magic cards cast from Sigrid's hand finally dissolved into the wind.
The three orange cards, like the brightest stars in the night sky, gradually converged into points of light and totemic patterns.
Then, within the Death Arena, thunder roared and gales whipped up!
The dazzling orange radiance blazed like the first light of dawn. Ancient pacts were awakened, and incomparable power surged from the darkness.
Heavy drumbeats reverberated through the Death Arena, pounding against the chest of everyone present.
Amidst that storm of black mist and lightning, three figures descended.
In the black mist, they seemed both living beings and phantoms. Their figures loomed towering and terrifying, and only their eyes, fixed on Askesan, were piercingly clear—brimming with scorn and amusement.
Both sides were evil.
Yet these three stemmed from an even purer, primordial evil.
"Heheheh, so our opponent is this human?"
"How many pieces should we slice him into?"
"I hear you're cold-blooded, cruel, and evil?"
Under the power of the demons, the dark gray vines began to crack, finally collapsing and crumbling into nothing.
Askesan's tier-eight spell, before the might of these three demons, was like thin ice—broken effortlessly.
Everyone present stared in stunned silence, looking into the Death Arena in utter disbelief.
Including Askesan.
As a fellow spellcaster, he could acutely feel the magical power of those three epic demons.
If he were still at his peak, he might have been able to put up a fight.
Yet right now, the magic cards he carried were entirely a counter-deck designed specifically against the physical-oriented Sigrid, and his body was still nursing unhealed wounds.
Reflected in his eyes, the terrifying silhouettes of those three demons became downright chilling.
Earlier on the northern snowy plains, running into that absurd wolf had already made Askesan want to curse up a storm.
Now that guy wasn't even bothering to pretend anymore—he had shoved three tier-eight epic demons straight into Sigrid's hands! This was utterly, outrageously insane!
"Holy Son of Domination, I'll f*cking *** you—!!!"
Bishop of Extinction Askesan, who had never expressed his feelings and knew nothing of love, had finally learned what it felt like to miss someone to death.
Chapter 473