Loren: I Grant You the Chance to Challenge Me

The center of Posen Sector 10. On this night of crashing thunder and torrential rain, the northernmost reaches of the Posen Demon Realm seemed transformed into an arena of divine wrath. Facing Perlman, Etio drew a deep breath, channeling every ounce of her magic. In an instant, a bone-chilling gale swept across the ground. Midsummer turned abruptly to bitter winter as the torrential downpour crystallized into hail. Everywhere her magic surged, the ground instantly froze beneath a thick crust of frost. Pillars of ice jutted from the earth, interlocking with crackling arcs of lightning in an attempt to cage Perlman within. Perlman made no move to dodge. With a casual wave of one hand, an invisible barrier of telekinesis met the rising pillars. The two torrents of energy collided abruptly in midair, erupting into a deafening roar. Ice crystals scattered, telekinetic force dispersed, and Perlman remained utterly motionless. "Not bad. You've improved considerably." A faint smile touched the corner of Perlman's mouth, and his figure vanished from where he stood. "But if you wish to stand against me, you had better call your teacher." The next second, he materialized directly behind Etio, swinging his cane lightly toward her heart from behind. Etio reacted with blinding speed, barely twisting aside to evade the lethal blow. Yet the next assault was already upon her. Perlman's telekinesis came like a violent tempest from all directions, fracturing the stone tiles and gouging deep craters into the earth. Remaining vigilant, Etio strained with all her might to fend him off. She knew that suffering a direct hit from that earlier strike would have been disastrous. Against an adversary of Perlman's caliber, perhaps only her mentor, Duke Mikhail, stood a real chance. Yet with her teacher missing, she alone had to defend the Posen Demon Realm and the reputation of Iphatia. Etio channeled her magic. Translucent ice blossoms blossomed around her, coalescing into an unyielding shield of crystalline ice that barred Perlman's telekinesis. Simultaneously, shadows crept along the ground, coiling around Perlman's boots to hamper his movements. Yet the shield could not endure for long. Cracks spiderwebbed across the frost blossoms, which teetered precariously under the relentless barrage of telekinetic force. Etio was clearly pushed to her absolute limit. Without a change in expression, Perlman multiplied his telekinetic output severalfold. The ice crystal shield shattered with a resounding crash. Etio stumbled, nearly falling to her knees, yet she forced herself to remain standing. "I never imagined that I would be the one to give you your final lesson in Mikhail's stead." Perlman struck once more. This time, his telekinesis formed an invisible blade aimed straight at Etio's throat. "Perlman, I once respected you, but you are no longer worthy of claiming the title of teacher!" Etio had no choice but to clash with him head-on. All her magic converged before her chest. In an instant, an icy-blue brilliance flared like bursting fireworks. Countless razor-sharp lightning blades materialized around her, sweeping toward Perlman in a torrential barrage. Telekinetic force condensed into an invisible wall of shields around him, halting the strike once again. Seizing that brief opening, a figure plummeted like a black meteor between them with a thunderous crash, smashing the pavement into a spiderweb of deep craters. Nigel had already drawn his blade, cleaving toward Perlman as a streak of shadow! "You're a lifesaver!" Etio took the opportunity to fall back, adjust her footing, and begin gathering mana anew. Nigel's attributes were secondary; his build was rooted in fundamental mastery and reinforced basic attacks. Such warriors typically carried utility magic cards, selecting properties such as [Regeneration] or [Enhancement] based on circumstance, occasionally swapping elemental affinities as the situation required. In a contest against mages, he made for the finest frontline. "Nigel, have you not rushed back to the south bank to assist Duke Tiffany?" Perlman raised a hand in mild surprise to parry Nigel's blade, using the momentum to drift backward by half a step. By all rights, Nigel should have raced to Duke Tiffany's side with all haste to delay Beelzebub from seizing the three key crystals and taking control of the city's defensive barrier. Granted, even if Nigel returned to the south bank, he could hardly match the Tier 8 demon Beelzebub while the city barrier was overloaded. Yet lingering here to aid Etio merely delayed her inevitable defeat by a few moments. "..." Nigel did not reply, only tightening his grip on the hilt. Facing Etio and Nigel, who were straining with all their might, Perlman stood utterly immaculate, resting his cane behind his back once again. He stood before an outdoor screen in a shattered plaza. The display behind him still broadcast the inferno consuming Palieu's south bank. The battle in the Demon Realm of the north bank had reached a heart-stopping pitch, and the situation on the south bank was no better. Scattered across the cityscape, towering screens faithfully operated, broadcasting in real time as buildings on the south bank collapsed like houses of cards amid fleeing crowds and desperate cries. Yet Perlman showed no hint of pity. He looked upon the humans as if they were merely reaping what they had sown. "Behold—the end of the old era, karmic retribution, the cycle of destiny." Perlman spoke in a frigid tone. "And I, Perlman, shall lead the City of Flowers, Palieu, and the Kingdom of Posen into a new age." His voice reverberated over the Posen Demon Realm like an incantation. Many demons taking refuge in the distance gazed up with reverence, gradually falling sway to Perlman's sheer might. The shockwaves of the clash rippled outward. From time to time, the screens across the Posen Demon Realm warped and shook under the kinetic tremors, static hissing through their audio feeds. Finally, the massive display behind Perlman disintegrated into dust beneath a clap of thunder. Immediately after, another screen shattered and severed under a stray blade of force. Within seconds, audio and visual feeds across multiple sectors went dead, veiling the horrors of the south bank behind a blanket of static and silent, flickering sparks. *** Sector 4, North Bank of Palieu. The Baptiste Manor. Lights had been turned on throughout the decades-old estate amid the rainy night, accompanied by the persistent din of splintering doors, frantic shrieks, and shattering glassware. Not long ago, every demon servant within the manor had succumbed to violent frenzy. Just as the family was about to be plunged into peril, a series of heavy thuds rang out. Every mad maid was knocked unconscious and pinned to the floor by a crimson blur. "Brilliant work, Inoan!" Christina leapt up in her nightgown, cheering. Had their household not possessed the formidable human maid Inoan, and had Inoan not sensed the danger at the very first moment, even the ancestral barrier protecting the manor might not have saved them from the rampage of a Tier 6 berserk demon maid. Before long, Inoan had shackled the maids in anti-magic steel and sealed them away in a warded basement. She wiped away a bead of sweat as she stepped out of the cellar. "I told you you were stronger than Rocky! He could never knock them out one punch at a time like you!" The moment she emerged, Christina threw her arms around her in a bear hug. "Milady, now is not the time to celebrate." Trapped in Christina's soft embrace, Inoan looked visibly uncomfortable. Yet, unable to bring herself to push Christina away, she merely looked aside and spoke softly. She had fought strictly according to what Rocky had taught her— She seemed to be a magic warrior specializing in mental magic. Furthermore, when dealing with Tier 0 and Tier 1 berserk demon commoners who wandered near the Baptiste estate, she could use a certain mental spell to compel them to turn away. Merely by channeling it, she felt an instinctive certainty that the spell was her own creation, known as [Grand Marionette Theater]. Yet she could not recall under what circumstances she had invented such magic, nor what purpose it had once served. Though she felt a quiet satisfaction at discovering she possessed the strength to protect Christina, she could not bring herself to relax in the slightest. At last, she spoke. "I will stand guard by the front doors." Inoan gently disengaged herself from Christina and walked off with steady strides. "Sister Christina!" The three young siblings of the Baptiste family gathered around their elder sister, trembling in tears. "It's all right. Everything will be fine once morning comes." Christina knelt to embrace and soothe them, telling them not to disturb their father and brother, who were attempting to establish contact with the outside world. The entire family had assembled in the drawing room, still visibly shaken. They had no idea why this sudden catastrophe had struck the City of Flowers, causing every contracted demon to succumb to madness. Outside, grim news of cursed demons running amok across both the north and south banks of Palieu spread like wildfire. Church bells tolled across the city's skyline, heralding an emergency state of martial defense. In the drawing room. "Where is Rocky?" Count Baptiste sat on the sofa, looking anxiously toward Kyle. "I can't reach him either." Kyle shook his head grimly, gripping his communication device. In moments like this, the person who made them feel safest was their butler. It was not necessarily because of his raw power, but because his very presence brought profound peace of mind. Fortunately, even in the butler's absence, they had Inoan. When Butler Rocky and Christina had brought the maid home out of the blue the other day, no one in the household had realized how capable she was. Only today did they realize she might truly be a Tier 7 powerhouse. With practically no refined martial technique—relying entirely on sheer physical prowess and unfamiliar mental magic—she had subdued several berserk maids, including one at Tier 6. An ordinary Tier 6 combatant would have been utterly helpless against a berserk demon of equivalent rank. "Whatever the case, I pray that Rocky remains safe wherever he is," Count Baptiste murmured, looking out the window in prayer. Outside the Baptiste estate, the situation was far more dire. While the north bank was merely caught in the fringes of the disaster, the south bank was on the brink of total collapse. A tide of darkness surged as grotesque demons flooded the streets. The heavy rain washed over blood-soaked cobblestones, and flashes of lightning illuminated twisted, snarling visages. Members of the Templar Knights deployed in force, clad in silver-white armor. Brandishing silver longswords and kite shields, they sprinted through the deluge to evacuate the wounded. White-robed clergymen gathered before churches, singing solemn hymns at the top of their lungs, using divine arts to dispel the corrupt miasma, straining to erect barriers against the rushing horde of berserk demons while tending to injured civilians. Units of Executioners in tailored black uniforms emerged from the city's shadowy alleys. Their blades gleamed coldly in the rain, darting like specters to dispatch berserk demons with consummate skill. The Palieu Police Headquarters had mobilized all its forces, establishing emergency checkpoints across every sector to evacuate innocent citizens. Uniformed officers armed with riot shields and batons held the front line, fighting desperately to contain the berserk aberrations that slipped past the Executioners. Under their guidance, frantic crowds surged toward churches, police stations, and other relatively secure shelters. Cries, pleas, and prayers mingled into a cacophony that rose toward the stormy sky. In the torrential rain, sound carried with extraordinary clarity. Even voices from kilometers away echoed in the ear. At present, citizens on the south bank received almost no official updates; most broadcast channels had collapsed. Only the feeds covering Sectors 7 through 10 on the north bank continued to function. Through the magitech projections they could still view, a decisive Tier 8 showdown seemed to be unfolding in Sector 10 of the northern Posen Demon Realm. And within the Posen Demon Realm itself, even as the ground shook incessantly, a few reckless demon journalists continued filming from the front lines. Using cutting-edge equipment, they peered through layers of debris to capture hazy footage of this apocalyptic clash. The cameras shook violently, humming with distortion and freezing intermittently, at times tumbling into total darkness. To draw too close to the epicenter was to risk being swept away by two walking natural disasters at any moment. From the farthest safe distance, they could capture only fragmented, blurry images. "The battle in the northern Demon Realm continues to escalate!" A soot-stained demon reporter spoke in a trembling, hurried cadence. "This is the Palieu Broadcasting Corporation. We will bring you the latest reports until our very last breath..." Before she could finish, a tremendous crash erupted behind her. The recording equipment shuddered violently, and the transmission cut out amid the faint sound of shattering glass. Several seconds later, the picture stabilized. To everyone's astonishment, the demon reporter was still alive. "Apologies for the interruption. The battle's perimeter has expanded to my position, and I must pull back further!" She began sprinting across the screen. "Yet no matter what transpires, we will stand our ground to the very end to bring you the most timely and authentic coverage..." And so, on the razor's edge between life and death, fewer and fewer channels remained to broadcast the live battle. Yet some footage from the north bank endured, and relay channels continued to air fractured snippets. Across the distant south bank, countless eyes watched through projection devices. People held their breath, moved by the valor of Sector 9 Demon Lord Etio and Executioner Nigel, outraged by the rebellion instigated by Sector 10 Lord Perlman, and, above all, consumed by terror. Waiting for the assassin general in the South Aquitaine territory to rush back would take far too long. Their only hope was that those two could work a miracle and defeat Perlman. *** South of Palieu. Amid the storm lashing the south bank. A grey-cloaked figure stepped upon the blood-drenched pavement before vanishing into thin air. He had first visited Duke Tiffany's manor in the Executioner's absence. Yet, after dispelling the divination-scrambling wards, he did not waste a single second attempting to breach the deep Tier 8 protective barrier within, departing immediately for the next duke's estate. "Perlman, Duke Tiffany's crystal key is not within the manor's wards. That woman looks thoroughly prepared to die, and my tracking magic cannot locate the key," he said, contacting Perlman in Sector 10 at the northernmost tip of Palieu through encrypted communication magic. Beelzebub severed the connection the moment he finished speaking. He trusted that Perlman would understand his meaning without further explanation. If Duke Tiffany had not hidden such a key within a Tier 8 barrier, she would certainly have entrusted it to an expert she trusted implicitly. And the only person who commanded her absolute trust was the Executioner to whom she had entrusted her life. *** Meanwhile, on the other side. Sector 10, Posen Demon Realm. The sky hung low and dark, roiling clouds split occasionally by dazzling arcs of icy-blue lightning. Perlman touched his ear, seemingly receiving a transmission. Etio's unique magic was indistinguishable from the natural thunder of this stormy night. The moment it struck a target, it froze everything around it, weaving a cocoon of lightning that detonated into thousands of ice shards. Pitted against this was Perlman's invisible telekinesis. It formed fist-sized vacuum pockets amid the rain, screaming forward faster than the eye could follow. Wherever it passed, rebar melted and stone evaporated, twisted into spinning vortexes. *Rumble! Boom!* Another telekinetic burst struck the Posen Demon Realm Memorial Tower. In an instant, the landmark melted and warped like a candle before collapsing with a thunderous roar. The deafening blast echoed across the skies of the Demon Realm, shaking the very foundations of the earth. Etio realized that unless she unleashed her most powerful spell with everything she had, she would not even force Perlman to take her seriously. Her resolve hardened. Etio took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The temperature across the Posen Demon Realm plunged precipitously. First came howling winds laced with hail, and then the downpour falling from the pitch-black sky turned into drifting snowflakes. Before long, heavy flakes converged into a blizzard, sweeping the entirety of Sector 10 into an unprecedented cold wave. Etio possessed a dual affinity, primary lightning and secondary ice. This dual nature made it easy to counter elemental adversaries, but it was ill-suited against a pure control specialist like Lord Perlman. Now, her only recourse was to pour out raw damage and wear down his mana. Etio snapped her eyes open. Her pupils had turned entirely icy blue, resembling two frigid stars. Tens of thousands of ice crystals crystallized behind her, hurtling toward Perlman like a tempest of steel needles. Each crystal possessed the destructive force of an explosive shell. Yet facing this terrifying storm of ice, Perlman showed no hint of panic. Etio slowly raised her hands. In the next breath, every raindrop and snowflake froze in midair. As though placed under a stasis spell, the howling wind ceased abruptly, and countless beams of icy-blue light pierced the sky, plunging unerringly around Perlman's body. Perlman smiled casually. The telekinetic force enveloping him expanded instantly into an invisible sphere of energy, encasing him completely. The moment the storm of ice crystals struck the barrier, it was as if they had hit an invisible rampart. They shattered into a dazzling spray of lightning, dissolving into nothingness. "Etio, though you are indeed a genuine Tier 8, you remain far too weak." Perlman's voice resonated through the energy barrier like the whisper of a deity. Before his words faded, Perlman raised his cane. The barrier around him contracted sharply, then surged toward Etio at a speed beyond perception. Etio immediately began weaving an ice crystal shield, but her casting speed fell far short of Perlman's counterattack. At the critical juncture, a dark figure flashed before Etio. Nigel crossed his twin blades, a dusky crimson radiance flaring along the steel. With his own flesh and blood, he braced against the lethal strike. His resistance to telekinesis was exceptionally high, allowing him to use sword techniques to neutralize control effects. Alas, not even Nigel could entirely disperse that dreadful force. With a ringing metallic crash, Nigel was hurled backward by the telekinetic shockwave, slamming violently into a wall a hundred meters away. A trickle of blood spilled from the corner of his lips. In a heartbeat. Perlman seized the opening, transforming into an azure streak that appeared before Nigel in an instant. He reached out with his right hand, his fingers hooked like talons, and seized Nigel by the throat amid the rubble, hoisting him into the air. "Nigel, seeing your steadfast resolve brings me genuine comfort." Perlman smiled with a touch of melancholy, gradually tightening his grip. "Unfortunately, steadfastness can sometimes be another word for folly." "Nigel!" Etio tried to rush forward to his rescue, only to find her feet seemingly nailed to the earth, her pace slowing to a crawl. It was a combined assault of Perlman's telekinesis and spiritual force. This demon, who had lived for centuries, could simultaneously wield two entirely distinct attributes of power, interweaving them in seamless harmony. Perlman glanced at Etio, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, as though politely asking her to wait while he settled family business within the Quelston household. He methodically tightened his fingers, observing Nigel's expression as it twisted under asphyxiation. Though his innate physical strength did not rival that of a demon warrior, telekinesis—also known as force magic—could be wielded with titanic power. "Nigel, hand over Duke Tiffany's secret key," Perlman said, looking at Nigel with a sigh. He had not anticipated that Duke Tiffany would place such sincere trust in Nigel. Yet Perlman could deduce the reason. Nigel might not remember, but when the current Duke Tiffany was merely a young girl, a youthful Nigel had saved her once. Perhaps from that day forth, the duchess had never forgotten him. "Do you think... I would carry it into battle against you?" Nigel let out a faint, raspy laugh, his gaze entirely devoid of fear. "Oh?" Perlman's brow furrowed slightly. *** In Sector 10 of Posen, inside a vehicle parked far behind a high-rise, Lanqi rested his hands on the steering wheel, listening to the sounds at the center of the battlefield through the partially opened window. Using the auditory enhancement magic granted by Talia's possession, Lanqi roughly understood what the crystal key pendant Nigel had given him before entering the Demon Realm actually was. He produced the pendant and examined it in his palm. So Duke Tiffany's final key was currently in his hands. And Nigel's reason for entrusting this key to him was clear: if the worst should happen, Lanqi was to take it and flee, disregarding Nigel's survival, ensuring the key never fell into enemy hands. "Tata, what do you think?" Lanqi asked Talia. According to the thoughts he picked up from Talia, the safest course of action was to flee Palieu with the key—whether heading south to find the Tier 8 assassin general of the Kingdom of Posen, or making a full retreat to the Hutton Kingdom for reinforcements. Yet if the Creti Empire launched an offensive in the interim, everything might be lost. Moreover, if the unrest was not quelled tonight, the casualties in the City of Flowers would be beyond imagining. "I don't know..." Talia's thoughts were turbulent, marked by clear inner conflict. In the past, she would have opted for retreat without hesitation. Yet now, she could neither allow the enemy to besmirch her sister's reputation, nor watch a rare friend like Countess Rosalinda fall into peril. Her thought patterns were growing increasingly human, and her weaknesses were multiplying. "Lanqi, can you help me?" Talia could only turn to Lanqi. Whenever she felt at a loss, this fellow was always synonymous with miracles. Treat it as a wish: she hoped Lanqi could help protect her sister's honor and shield her friends in the City of Flowers. *If you were to fight Perlman, could you win?* Lanqi conveyed the thought. *I could, but there is no way I could finish him within three minutes,* Talia replied with certainty. In her normal state, as a great demon, she possessed an innate advantage against ordinary demons. In her Demon King state, that advantage was even greater. Therefore, even if she was slightly weaker than Perlman in base stats, factoring in the Demon King advantage once Lanqi resonated with her to the Ninth Seal, she would definitely defeat Perlman. Yet the issue was energy supply. Her combat style was centered around control and counterattacks. Unlike Sinora, who could swiftly decide an engagement through frontal assault, Talia was better suited to grinding an enemy down. *And that is assuming he has no other hidden tricks. Looking at Etio's all-out efforts, she hasn't even forced Perlman to show his true capabilities,* Talia added. That was what troubled her most. Having developed smoothly in the Kingdom of Posen for a century, even Talia could not guess what trump cards the leader of such an independent demon branch might hold. "Tata, if I bait out his ultimate move first, would you dare fight him?" Lanqi asked earnestly. "How do you plan to bait out his ultimate? How much mana will it cost?" Talia pondered, baffled. "Zero mana," Lanqi replied. "?" Talia had no idea how Lanqi planned to bait an ultimate move out of thin air. "Though it will still be difficult to defeat him within three minutes, it is worth trying. Do you have any other trump cards?" she replied. Lanqi nodded and proactively summoned Talia. Talia sat beside him, staring at him in bewilderment. She could not comprehend why Lanqi would summon her before the fight, wasting mana for nothing. "First, unbind all your magic cards and replace them with the ones I give you," Lanqi instructed, handing Talia a stack of cards. "..." Talia took the cards, utterly at a loss as to why Lanqi suddenly wanted her to swap her deck, or where he had acquired these high-tier purple and pink cards—presumably from the Northern Continent. Among them were several Tier 8 cards. Yet swapping to an unfamiliar deck right before battle struck her as an ill-advised move. "From here on, you must be of one mind and soul with me. Only then can we win. Do you understand?" Lanqi looked into Talia's eyes as he spoke. In the card-making workshop, they could fail ten thousand times, but tonight they could not afford a single mistake. Even though he believed that staking everything on Talia was the riskiest possible choice, he chose her without hesitation. Because to achieve a perfect outcome, this was the only solution. Perlman had to be defeated tonight. "Yeah." Talia looked slightly dazed. She didn't know what to make of this absolute trust from Lanqi; it almost made her doubt herself. Yet facing those burning emerald eyes, her focus sharpened. That sincere heart, entirely without deceit, resonated into the depths of her soul. For the first time, she felt that linking her soul to this man might not be a bad thing. She nodded solemnly. "We will definitely win," she promised. *** Center of the Sector 10 battlefield. Just as Etio broke free from her restraints and rushed forward with all her might to save Nigel, the captive warrior used the last vestige of his strength to draw a dagger from his side and thrust it toward Perlman. His strike was fierce and forceful, the blade cleaving the air with scorching heat! A diagonal slice parted the curtain of rain! Perlman's mana-reinforced cane was knocked aside. "What a pity, Nigel." Perlman caught the blade between his fingertips. Facing such an assault, Perlman remained utterly unfazed, without even blinking. With a flick of his wrist, Nigel's final weapon clattered to the ground. "It seems that after losing a daughter, I must now lose a son." Perlman spoke as though this life-and-death struggle were merely a game. No matter how hard Nigel strained, Perlman remained as he had years ago when playing with him. Even now, they seemed like father and son—only a father and son parting forever. A gleam of final farewell flashed in Perlman's eyes as he reached into his breast pocket and drew out a fingernail-sized fragment of pitch-black crystal. The jagged black shard emitted an eerie luminescence, its surface roiling with cursed miasma. Nigel's eyes widened; he recognized the crystal immediately. It shared the same origin as the curse [Palroni's Resentment], bearing clear marks of artificial modification! It was likely a fragment from [Palroni's Record of Resentment], seized by Perlman and the curse spreader from researchers at the facility, enabling them to decipher the curse and apply it directly to other demons. And the reason the curse spreader had been able to infiltrate the research institute under a researcher's identity tonight was that they had long investigated and captured a key researcher, torturing him for intelligence before replacing him entirely. By the time Nigel recovered his senses, a searing agony erupted from his chest. Looking down, he saw that Perlman had not slain the hardy warrior, but had driven the black crystal straight into his chest! "Perlman, you... how could you..." Etio, arriving just short of rescuing Nigel, froze in place, staring in disbelief at Perlman's cruelty. "Aaargh!" Nigel howled in agony, his entire body convulsing violently. A torrent of black vapor erupted from the puncture site, spreading across his skin like venomous vipers coiling around his frame. The whites of his eyes turned an ashen grey, his pupils losing all vitality, turning hollow and bloodshot. His fingernails and toenails elongated into vicious talons. In the blink of an eye, Nigel lost all human semblance, transforming into an ashen-skinned, savage berserk demon. Directly affected by the shard of [Palroni's Record of Resentment], Nigel's frenzied state was far more severe than that of ordinary cursed demons, pushing his aura to the most lethal tier of Tier 7. Worst of all, within the eyes of this berserk demon, not a trace of his gentle warmth remained—only a bloodthirsty crimson light. The berserk Nigel unleashed a thunderous roar, the sonic shockwave carrying a foul stench that sent a chill through Etio's heart. Perlman nodded in satisfaction. "Go, my proud child. Nigel, avenge your sister upon the humans." He looked upon the berserk Nigel with a soft tone, as though addressing an obedient hound. "Go. Tear apart that demon who seeks to protect mankind. Show me your love for your sister." The berserk Nigel did not speak, but the crimson glare in his eyes grew ever more ferocious. "Kill... kill..." Locking his gaze onto Etio nearby, his body lowered into the posture of a predator about to pounce. "No, Nigel! Wake up! You are more resolute than anyone! You cannot fall now!" Etio cried out to him, unable to accept that the vicious fiend before her was the cherished comrade who had fought by her side moments ago. Since the berserk Nigel could be commanded by Perlman, it indicated that his frenzy was distinct from that of common cursed demons—perhaps a specialized state developed through research on the shard of [Palroni's Record of Resentment]! "No... stop me..." The berserk Nigel clutched his head as if racked by excruciating pain, struggling for a couple of seconds before unleashing a grief-stricken howl. He lunged toward Etio like a cannonball, his razor-sharp claws aimed straight for her throat. Forced into a two-on-one fight, Etio felt a despair unlike anything she had known. She had exerted every ounce of her strength, yet she could not budge Perlman in the slightest. Earlier, she had felt capable of holding her ground with Nigel's aid. Now, merely fending off the berserk Nigel would demand nearly all her remaining power. With even Nigel turned against her, the situation had spiraled beyond salvation. In this moment of hopelessness, all Etio could do was pray. She prayed to the gods, to the ancestors of the demons, prayed that someone might appear to halt this overwhelming foe! Arcs of icy-blue lightning erupted around her, weaving into a cage to bind the berserk Nigel. Yet Perlman did not stand idly by. He had intended to finish Etio quickly from the start. Since Duke Tiffany's defense key was not on Nigel, it had surely been entrusted to someone else. Perlman could make an educated guess as to who that was. None other than Rocky McCarthy, whom Nigel had brought along to the banquet. According to what Beelzebub had mentioned earlier while baiting targets with the curse in the Posen Demon Realm, Rocky McCarthy was capable of lifting the curse. Or rather, the trap Beelzebub had laid in Sector 7 had been meant to flush out the mysterious entity aiding Nigel. In the end, uncertain whether he could eliminate both without allowing either to escape back to Palieu, Beelzebub had played it safe and stayed his hand. Nigel must have trusted Rocky immensely to bring him along, and would naturally have entrusted the key to him. Perlman directed his invisible telekinesis, fatally constraining Etio's movements at every turn. Under this dual pressure, Etio felt that a mortal blow and defeat were imminent. Suddenly, an agonizing pang struck her mind. Her face paled further, her breath coming in ragged, labored gasps. Before Etio could guard against Perlman's mental assault, the lightning cage she had erected around the berserk Nigel was dispersed by Perlman's telekinesis. She had barely managed to block Nigel's talons when— "It is over," Perlman said softly. He raised his cane. Where it pointed, invisible telekinetic force condensed like a massive broadsword, poised to run Etio through. On the south bank, suffering citizens praying for dawn listened to the terrifying wails echoing around them, their eyes fixed on the distant footage captured by demon reporters. The sudden downturn in the battle made them tremble even harder. If Etio fell, all hope would be extinguished! They could not imagine the slaughter that would unfold once Perlman, like a demon god, descended upon the south bank! Even with the shaky, blurred camera zoomed in to its absolute limit, Etio was merely a tiny speck amidst the storm. Just as Etio felt powerless to parry Perlman's terrifying magic— An invisible arrow suddenly fell from the heavens. Parting the rain, it drifted down beside Etio like an emerald breeze. A radiant, ancient divine aura erupted from the arrow, illuminating the gloomy battlefield like the first ray of dawn! A surging gale erupted from the arrow's point of impact, roaring across the battlefield like an awakened beast. This was no ordinary air current, but a divine gale imbued with primordial power! Wherever it swept, the air turned crisp and brimming with vitality. Even more wondrous was the light, which shone like the rising sun at daybreak, bathing the rain-swept night in crystalline radiance. Pure, brilliant, and untainted, it inspired an involuntary urge to kneel and worship in any mortal creature who beheld it! As the arrow settled, wind and light wove together into an impenetrable barrier, shielding Etio securely within. The barrier seemed fashioned of crystal, ethereal and shimmering with constant light. Miraculously, as the downpour battered the barrier, not a single drop could touch Etio. Even Perlman's finishing blow struck as though hitting an invisible mountain, splashing rainwater outward in rippling waves across the barrier's surface, unable to shake the defense in the slightest. Before this barrier of wind and light, all force seemed utterly insignificant. It did not even stir a ripple, standing immovable as a celestial cliff. Such a defense could only evoke one concept in the minds of Perlman and Etio: absolute immunity. Perlman's expression darkened instantly. Even without looking toward the origin of the gale arrow, as a seasoned Tier 8 powerhouse, he knew what that divine brilliance represented and who held it. He slowly raised his head toward the distant horizon. Atop a skyscraper a kilometer away, a figure stood tall. The sheet of rain around him seemed to seal heaven and earth, while the moon behind him appeared cleaved by the clouds. The figure wore a pitch-black clerical robe adorned with meandering golden patterns like rivers. His light-brown hair stirred gently in the wind, without diminishing his poise in the slightest. His eyes, two deep and limpid pools of blue, shimmered with compassionate light, sending a tremor through every onlooker, no matter the distance. The fierce rain and booming thunder were held at bay by an unseen force; within a three-meter radius around him, all was serene and tranquil. Without need for inquiry, every demon who laid eyes upon him knew that this was the powerhouse who had just intervened! In his eyes, this earth-shaking Tier 8 battle seemed nothing more than a trivial farce of the mortal world. Yet without question, it was the power of the Wind God in his hands that had saved Etio at the eleventh hour. "High Priest Loren..." Facing a human who could truly be called supreme, Perlman felt apprehension for the very first time. He realized that this battle would not conclude as easily as he had envisioned. Sheltered by the barrier of wind and light, Etio finally found a moment to catch her breath. She looked up, gazing blankly at the enigmatic figure. The fate of the City of Flowers, Palieu, now hung entirely upon that man's single whim. Neither Sector 10 Lord Perlman nor the mysterious demon spreading the curse on the south bank was a match for Loren! The scales of victory trembled subtly amidst the light and wind... "Why are you here...?" Perlman stared at the distant figure atop the high-rise, his previously calm gaze turning intensely grave. That most revered, noble priest of the Hutton Kingdom had grown immensely renowned in recent times, his momentum unstoppable. Some even whispered of an imperial aura about him. *** At that moment, several kilometers away. The demon journalists concealed in the shadows could scarcely believe their eyes. When they clearly discerned that figure, the recording devices nearly slipped from their hands. "Loren!" Though the distance was great on this stormy night, the divine brilliance of the Wind Slate was unmistakable! The revelation exploded like a thunderclap among the viewers on the south bank who could still watch the broadcast. They could not see the distant details of what had transpired, but the sudden halt in combat, the direction where Etio and Perlman stood frozen, and the soul-piercing radiance of the Wind Slate all pointed to a single conclusion— Loren had intervened! "It's High Priest Loren! He has come to help us!" "The legends from the Northern Continent were true—call upon his name with a sincere heart, and he will surely come to save you!" "He is the Holy Emperor reborn!" The sparks of hope were instantly kindled on the south bank. Trembling citizens debated and speculated with fervent excitement, straining to watch the remaining footage, some even weeping tears of relief. Many displaced civilians cried out in awe and exhilaration. High Priest Loren's arrival was undeniably a potent shot in the arm for those despairing souls trapped in Palieu's tempestuous night. At the center of Sector 10, Etio continued to gaze into the distance with disbelief. Shock, awe, gratitude, and an inexplicable thread of bewilderment tangled in her mind. Theoretically, it made sense that Loren, worried for his personal disciple Lanqi, had slipped into Palieu under a veil of secrecy to escort him home; after all, even the commanders of the Creti Empire would not expect Loren to take such a gamble. The problem was that according to Mikhail, Loren possessed an extraordinarily cautious temperament. It was exceedingly unlikely that he would leave the royal capital of Hutton—which relied on his protection—to venture into a foreign land at such a perilous juncture. Even so, with High Priest Loren's intervention, the tide of battle had shifted completely. She could keep fighting! Perlman's attention was now entirely consumed by High Priest Loren, locking him in a one-on-one standoff. This gave her an opening to subdue the berserk Nigel first, before flanking Perlman alongside High Priest Loren. Perhaps she would not even need to lift a finger; High Priest Loren might resolve Perlman on his own! With that thought, Etio inhaled deeply, gathering what little mana she had left, her bright, starlike eyes locking onto Nigel. Facing the berserk Nigel, Etio no longer merely defended or evaded. She took the offensive, sending arcs of icy-blue lightning dancing like serpents to pierce Nigel's frame. At the same time, sharp icicles erupted from the earth, converging into a frozen deluge in midair, sealing Nigel firmly within. On the other side. "Goddess of Fate, what a jest you play." Perlman had believed victory was firmly in his grasp, never anticipating that an unforeseen variable would emerge at the final moment. The only plausible explanation was that the High Priest had traveled to the City of Flowers on behalf of the Hutton Kingdom's Platinum-rank card maker, inadvertently blundering into their operation and throwing it into chaos. By now, Perlman had no attention to spare for Etio. His entire focus was pinned upon the black-robed figure. "What is your purpose, High Priest Loren? Do you realize that your appearance signals to the Creti Empire that they may launch their assault on the Hutton Kingdom ahead of schedule?" Perlman's voice was low and perilous, like the stillness before a tempest. "You should not have interfered in this battle. Even had you witnessed it, you should not have shown yourself." "..." Yet Loren remained standing atop the distant tower, uttering not a word, as though waiting patiently for something. After several seconds, he finally spoke. "What more is there to say? Did you truly believe I could stand idly by and watch such catastrophe unfold?" His voice pierced the downpour of the Posen Demon Realm, lingering around Perlman. Whether falling rain or falling blossoms, all seemed bathed in compassion through the High Priest's eyes. "I shall grant you an opportunity." He raised his palm slightly, as though caressing the curtain of rain, or cradling the moonlight. "An opportunity to challenge me." His gaze fell squarely upon Perlman. Inside Lanqi's soul space, Talia was at a complete loss for words. This shameless fellow truly had the audacity to put on such an act. Furthermore, in her memory, Loren had never been quite this dramatic. Yet Lanqi was intimately familiar with Loren, mimicking his demeanor and expressions to uncanny perfection. Even a student from Ikerite Academy would fail to tell the difference. As for the absolute immunity field imbued with divine luster, not even Loren likely knew how to cast it; it came from Boss Cat's wind-attribute epic equipment. [Dawn Storm] [Type: Equipment Card] [Rarity: Orange Epic] [Tier: 8] [Effect: Can be triggered when casting wind magic. Consumes mana to generate an additional absolute immunity field. Can be triggered up to three times per 24 hours.] [Description: The howling gale of dawn conceals helpless reason across the pitch-black snowfield, sweeping the faith named light toward every witness.] It required merely any wind-attribute spell to trigger, and could still be used twice more today. From this day forward, in enemy intelligence reports, Loren might well be credited with three extra lives. The rain continued to pour. The atmosphere across the Sector 10 battlefield grew increasingly taut. "Perlman," Loren spoke, his voice carrying like heavenly gospel through the storm. "Your deep-seated conviction that 'humans and demons can coexist'—after you nurtured it, saw it bear fruit, drew within reach of success, only to be utterly betrayed by humanity at an irreparable cost—all of this, I can understand. The more steadfast and devoted you were, the more extreme you became once betrayed by that conviction upon seeing reality. Today, you are no longer the person you once were; hatred has blinded your reason, driving you to commit irreversible errors." These words sounded like a final judgment passed upon Perlman. Hearing them, Perlman actually chuckled. It was as though he had never imagined a human could understand him so thoroughly. "If I am not mistaken, you too are a man of profound conviction, High Priest Loren. Were you in my position, what choice would you have made?" He asked with genuine curiosity, yet also as a challenge. Looking up at the black-robed figure on the skyscraper, flames of indignation and wrath burned within his eyes. "I do not believe I possess the right to stand safely on the riverbank and tell a drowning soul what choices I would have made in their place," Loren replied impassively, answering like an eternal beacon guiding those lost in the dark. "Yet I can understand you." When he spoke again, his voice remained gentle as spring rain. "Splendid. Such an answer suffices." Perlman smiled once more, though he quickly donned his mask of cold arrogance, a razor-sharp smirk curling his lips. The High Priest's meaning was unmistakable. Understanding was understanding, but a battle remained inevitable. They were enemies destined to fight to the death. "It seems that to face an uninvited guest such as yourself, I must employ something I had not intended to use today." Perlman's voice was deep and resonant, like a whisper from the abyss. He reached into his garments and drew out a crystalline orb as black as midnight. The orb's surface was polished mirror-smooth, yet it emanated an aura far surpassing that of the fragment of [Palroni's Record of Resentment] previously forced into Nigel. Perlman took a deep breath, pressing the orb slowly against his heart. In the blink of an eye, the black orb began to liquefy, melting into a viscous dark sludge that seeped into Perlman's flesh. His physique began an alarming transformation. The skin of his limbs turned an ashen, deathly grey, riddled with writhing crimson veins resembling maggots, churning like magma from the depths of purgatory. His eyes became bottomless black voids. Even though Perlman's appearance had fully transformed into that of a berserk demon, his demeanor retained an uncanny refinement, as though he were no mindless monster. Rather, he looked like a hellish gentleman embodying both savagery and grace. "Now, we may decide life and death." Perlman raised a single hand. Telekinetic force, now turned pitch-black as ink, coalesced at his fingertips, swirling and dancing in midair. Although using [Palroni's Record of Resentment] consumed his life force and granted only a limited duration of rational enhancement, leaving him potentially still inferior to High Priest Loren, in this state of rational frenzy, the crushing weight of his telekinesis had reached a level capable of contending with a cardinal. High Priest Loren remained completely unmoved, even as the transformed Perlman pointed at him. He watched Perlman's metamorphosis with utter tranquility, without a flicker of surprise or dread. "Impressive," Lanqi mused softly. "Yet even so, I wonder how long you can delay me?" he asked with unhurried composure. "The High Priest seems remarkably confident, still willing to spare words with me at this juncture." Perlman faced him from across the expanse. The noble High Priest could not unleash his full power here without harming innocents in the Posen Demon Realm. In an urban engagement, his hands were bound. And so long as Perlman held the High Priest here, once the south bank was secured, not even the High Priest could reverse the outcome. "A clash between us would inevitably bring harm to the innocent. Rather than battle you in this state, it is better to pass the time in conversation until your enhancement expires, whereupon I shall subdue you." Lanqi shook his head decisively, signaling a ceasefire. "..." Perlman sensed a subtle inconsistency, and the condensation of black telekinesis slowed. By rights, the High Priest's willingness to waste time aligned perfectly with his own objectives. Yet when an enemy's actions suited one's desires, and one's own suited the enemy's, it was rarely a fortunate coincidence. More often than not, one party had walked into a snare. "Wait... High Priest, could it be that you are entirely incapable of fighting at full strength?" Perlman grew increasingly suspicious, abandoning his plan for a ranged engagement and closing the distance toward Loren. Though that earlier absolute immunity field possessed the wind attribute, was at least Tier 8, and bore the distinct effects of the Original Slate of Wind, he had felt that the initial wind mana used to trigger it was strangely weak. Loren, who had carried himself like an untouchable grandmaster who would never budge an inch, moved without hesitation the moment he saw Perlman prepare to strike. *"Nigerundayo!"* Lanqi turned tail and bolted on the spot. Even Perlman froze for two solid seconds. "..." The High Priest... ran? "As I thought..." The veins on Perlman's forehead began to throb. He had been played. The other party had baited out his greatest trump card at virtually no cost, and had even stalled him for nearly a full minute. This person was almost certainly not Loren, but an impostor. Suddenly, Perlman realized who he was. Nigel had a mysterious associate named Rocky McCarthy, a man who seemed to have materialized out of thin air in the Kingdom of Posen recently. Even Perlman had been unable to uncover his background, knowing only that he was a scholar from the Northern Continent employed by the Baptiste family. The only person who would suddenly appear here to aid Nigel under these circumstances was Rocky McCarthy. And judging by the trust between them, the secret key that should have been on Nigel was very likely in Rocky McCarthy's hands! Perlman watched the direction where Loren had fled, his expression shifting from initial shock to incandescent rage. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles popped like breaking iron. An unprecedented fury boiled within his chest like magma. "Rocky McCarthy... I was looking for you anyway. I had planned to deal with you after Etio..." His voice faded, and Perlman transformed into a streak of black lightning, hurtling in pursuit of the counterfeit Loren. Perlman wove through the rain and lightning like the Grim Reaper. His speed mounted, the surrounding skyscrapers blurring into streaks of grey in his vision. *** Lanqi's figure bounded through the steel forest of high-rises like an agile feline. Soaring between buildings propelled by Boss Cat's telekinesis, Lanqi felt the oppressive aura at his back drawing closer. "Meow, meow, meow! You actually dared to impersonate High Priest Loren?!" From the shadows, Boss Cat felt Lanqi was crossing every line. In the past, he had merely imitated the High Priest's slates; now he was copying his very face. "Don't talk nonsense. This is called cosplay," Lanqi replied earnestly. "Coss-play?" Boss Cat echoed. "Cosplay my whiskers! Go ask High Priest Loren if he agrees with that, meow!" Ever since Lanqi had transformed into Anello, the Holy Son of Annihilation, in the Snowfield Province of the Protos Empire, Boss Cat had suspected that Lanqi possessed a magic card to turn into Loren. Turns out he actually did. Just how many copies of [Polymorph: Human] had this bastard crafted?! "He seems a little angry," Lanqi murmured with a furrowed brow. He could feel Perlman plowing straight through walls, hurtling directly toward him. "How could he not be angry, meow?!" Boss Cat was terrified out of its wits. Were it not for Talia, it would never have dared play the role of 'Cat-ren' for Lanqi again! This fellow seemed completely oblivious to how much aggro he generated. Perlman had certainly realized that this Loren was an impostor who had used some bizarre method to mimic the Original Slate of Wind and masquerade as the High Priest. He had baited out his ultimate move at practically no cost! Who wouldn't be furious?! *** Back at the original battlefield, Etio watched Perlman vanish into the distance. She ought to have felt relief, yet that sense of security felt like a teetering tower, liable to collapse at any second. Having exhausted every shred of her strength and every spell to finally seal the partially lucid Nigel—who had fought to stop attacking her—within an iceberg, she had thought victory was secured and dawn was near. Unfortunately, her ominous premonition came true. When she saw Loren flee, she felt as though struck by lightning, her world crashing down. There was indeed something wrong with this Loren. Even if Perlman had grown stronger through temporary frenzy, Loren possessed the power to suppress him. There was no need for him to flee so ignobly and mess with Perlman's head—it looked more like the dirty tactics of a cardinal from the Resurrection Church. And Perlman giving chase was bizarre in itself. "What on earth is happening? If that wasn't Loren, who was he...?" Etio's gaze was lost, like a child adrift in a storm, her mana nearly spent. Her thoughts were in utter disarray, impossible to untangle. Questions sprouted like thorns in her mind, churning her thoughts into chaos. She had no time to ponder; Perlman's current state was simply too terrifying. The entire Sector 10 groaned and trembled under Perlman's magic. Black arcs of telekinetic lightning lashed the buildings like demonic scourges, leaving scorched scars in their wake. Scorching shockwaves swept the streets, toppling skyscrapers into ruined rubble beneath the chaotic kinetic surges. The northern Sector 10 had become a living hell. Before this dreadful upheaval, even the journalists risking their lives felt an icy terror seize their hearts. Trembling, they tried to keep their recording equipment trained on the unfolding cataclysm, but the footage shook wildly—not merely from their trembling hands, but because the earth itself bucked like an earthquake. "Was that not High Priest Loren?" "Who else could stop Perlman like this? Etio had no chance from the start!" "Run! Let me out! If we don't leave now, it'll be too late! The City of Flowers is finished!" Far away on the south bank, citizens watching the battle via projection screens were plunged into unprecedented panic. The figure that had brought such inspiration moments ago had now become the greatest enigma. To begin with, they had never clearly seen that the dark speck atop the high-rise was Loren. They had only seen the brilliance resembling Loren's slate. It was entirely possible that Loren had merely provided extremely limited ultra-long-range support from thousands of kilometers away in the Hutton Kingdom. Yet seeing Perlman charge so aggressively suggested that the newcomer was very likely not Loren at all! Regardless of the truth, one fact was clear: the figure who had dared to confront Perlman had vanished. The spark of hope that had just flared was ruthlessly snuffed out, leaving only devastation and ash. People watched in despair as the north bank fell into ruin, helpless before Perlman's rampage. "Please... someone stop this..." "Goddess, please protect us!" "Even if it's a dark hero, please save us!" Plaintive cries echoed through the shelters of the south bank. Tears streamed down the faces of Palieu's citizens as they pinned their meager hopes upon the unknown. *** Before long, Perlman descended upon the summit of a skyscraper piercing the clouds. The terrace garden was divided by stone walls, rain falling relentlessly upon the flagstones. He steadied himself, landing on the terrace with a splash of water. His hawklike gaze cut through the rain, using mana perception to sweep for Rocky McCarthy's presence. Perlman could clearly sense that the impostor was hiding just behind the wall before him. The other party's mana was so faint that it only solidified Perlman's conviction: this person could not possibly be a powerhouse on Loren's level. A true master had no need for such petty deception. Perlman was in no hurry. His boots clicked against the stone in a heavy, rhythmic cadence, tolling like an eternal funeral knell. "Take off that mask and let me see who you are," Perlman demanded in a bone-chilling voice. Perlman knew that Rocky—a man who seemed not to belong to this world—was merely another disguise. His true identity was neither Loren nor Rocky, but someone far more enigmatic. The instant he rounded the corner. The figure standing in the dark rain seemed to sense Perlman's approach and halted his steps. Lead-grey clouds churned in the sky, cloaking the Posen Demon Realm in profound silence. Summer lightning flashed occasionally between the clouds, illuminating the towering spires in stark, pale relief. It cast its light over the faces of the High Priest and Perlman before fading away. When darkness reclaimed the sky. Perlman felt the figure of the High Priest shift. Standing upon the observation deck of the cloud-piercing spire was now a tall man in a dark-grey coat. His skin was pale as snow, completely devoid of color. With merely a casual lift of his hand, he sealed Perlman's movements. Beyond the suffocating mana radiating effortlessly from his frame, as he sealed the space around Perlman, the very atmosphere seemed to freeze. A profound brilliance radiated outward, thousands upon thousands of black stars dancing within it, resembling a living entity of magical energy that did not belong to physical space yet struck directly into the mind. Had an ordinary demon lacking spiritual resilience faced this soul-piercing halo for the first time, they might have felt an ineffable connection to the world, enduring a long journey transcending flesh and time in an instant, ultimately falling into a daze, sinking to their knees in tears. The swirling glyphs belonged to no known era; only demons who had witnessed divine ruins could fathom their significance. This was the majesty emitted solely when an Original Slate bestowed its empowerment. And the slate capable of empowering sealing magic revealed its own name— [Original Slate - Sealing]. As though sensing Perlman's gaze, the man turned to look at him. Those dark-grey eyes were like abysses capable of drowning the soul, drawing it into oblivion. As he stood there, the invisible dread he radiated made all living things feel small and helpless. And when he moved, all sense of stability was destined to crumble before him. His faint smile seemed to ask Perlman: *Did you truly believe I was weak?* And to Perlman's earlier question, he finally offered an answer. "I am the legendary sealer, Asksan." The grey-coated man's voice was calm, like the sands of time trickling from his lips, every word carrying irresistible magic. "Children, I have returned."