Chapter Sixty-Seven: Flickering Wildfires (Part Five)
Lafael’s body swayed unsteadily, his legs nearly buckling, putting him on the brink of a dramatic kneel.
But then, Valar yanked him by the hair.
“Haha, feels good!”
His mask fell away, revealing a grotesque face lurking beneath.
The black robe fluttered in the flames, dark red fire spreading along the bl**d that flowed, crawling up to his shoulders and face, inching towards Lafael’s head…
Suddenly, words from a book flashed through my mind.
[They sacrifice their own flesh and bl**d to the demon, igniting the Sin Fire and exchanging it for power that rivals divine miracles, known as…]
“Truth—Gate—!”
The mud and snow underfoot erupted.
In that moment, for Valar, the distant cry of a beautiful maiden, her pearly teeth glinting, sounded relatively far when the first word slipped from her lips; but by the time she shouted “Gate!”, it exploded right in his ear.
He couldn’t react, even though speed was his specialty.
The moment the girl blew in like a whirlwind, Valar didn’t even have time to retract his sinister grin—he only saw a flash of light before his hand that held Lafael’s arm was amputated below the elbow, just like that!
No bl**d gushed, and of course, there was no pain. The moment the Sin Fire ignited, all his suffering was accepted by the deity of truth, replaced instead by an endless surge of power.
This understanding was etched deep in his heart.
With this power, he’d be invincible, a force to be reckoned with—no one would dare underestimate him again.
What Skarlij, what Pope Knight… once he entered this state, they were all a joke.
But right now, Valar was a bit dazed.
His mind was still stuck on the thought, “What’s with this little girl? What did she do?” The next second, the scenery around him spun wildly, and his body flew into the air, as if gravity had taken a holiday.
He could hear his commander yelling from below, “Valar! What are you doing—”
What am I doing… I’m killing Lafael…
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but instantly a cold wind rushed into his mouth, and then everything went black. He heard a “crack” at his neck, and Valar let out a muffled grunt as his body uncontrollably rolled in the snow, eventually smashing against a protruding rock.
His butcher kn*fe had already flown who-knows-where, his head buzzing from the impact, while his neck… well, it seemed a bit broken.
Breathing was becoming a struggle; without the sense of pain, Valar couldn’t gauge how serious his injuries were. But judging by his drooping, powerless head, there was at least one fatal wound. However…
He kissed his fist engulfed in infernal flames.
“O great god of truth, please… relieve my suffering… cough cough…”
Glug… glug…
The snow beneath him turned to mist, and the bl**d within him began to boil.
His skin hardened, cracking open, wave upon wave of bl**d-tinged ripples spreading all over, glimmering and flickering as sparks flew out, lighting up the dim skies.
Valar exhaled hot smoke.
“Hehe…”
Boom—!
In a sea of raging flames, he stood up.
On a patch of ground several yards away, I held Lafael, feeling the warm gusts of wind on my face, gripping the handle of my short scythe with my hanging right hand.
Then I turned my gaze towards his sharp yet slightly pale profile.
“How are you doing?”
Lafael shook his head weakly.
“I’m fine…”
I was a little worried: “You inhaled toxic smoke.”
Lafael turned his head, cracking a slight smile, with starlight flashing in his pitch-black eyes.
“I’m fine. It’s just Lotus Seed Grass smoke; it won’t k*ll me.”
“Lotus Seed Grass smoke?”
I furrowed my brow.
I thought that black ball had some dangerous poison that would k*ll on contact… Lotus Seed Grass smoke, huh?
“Does it cause addiction?”
“No, I only inhaled a little; I’m okay… Pepé, let go, the enemy is back on its feet.”
“Okay.”
I released my hand supporting him. Lafael stumbled a couple of steps, finding it hard to stand. Behind him, his guards began sheathing their swords, vacating the battlefield, calling out to him from afar.
“Lord Count—”
Lafael waved his hand.
“Organize! Prepare for the next charge!”
Further away, only about half of the city guard remained, now regrouping around Edward. They clanked their armor together, a cacophony of noise, among which faint whispers of Edward could be heard.
“Don’t be afraid! There’s nothing to fear; you are the finest warriors of the Valen Empire, while they’re just a little girl who has only seen bl**d!”
“Look behind you! The ones lying in the snow are your brothers! They may have fallen, but none of them backed down…”
“Your commander is also down there! So what are we going to do now!”
“The glory of the city guard will not be desecrated!”
“…Whoever brings me Lafael’s head, I’ll reward you with a thousand coins! And make you a baron—”
He stood up, limping on one leg, his right fist crashing against his chest.
“Frost Moon—”
“Roar!”
“Let’s go k*ll some enemies!”
The tide of people surged again.
Meanwhile, the fog surrounding the Rotted Face Man thickened, flames rolling off his body, melting the surrounding snow. Even from several meters away, one could feel the intense heat radiating from him.
“Ha ha ha ha—!”
A slightly hoarse laugh echoed through the mist, and the next moment, a figure emerged.
Raging infernos blazed from the Rotted Face Man’s chest, flames licking upward and quickly engulfing half of his body.
His severed arm visibly regenerated with bone, muscle, and skin… it was as if nothing had ever happened.
In the next instant, Valar zipped past him, charging ahead.
Lafael and I locked eyes.
No extra words were exchanged; the only thought in my mind was to prevent him from coming in contact with those terrifying flames.
Then, I leaned forward and stepped out, just as Lafael’s shout rang out: “Hunters of Shanter Castle, follow me… let’s devour these city guards!”
“Ha ha—”
Whoosh—
The sounds behind us faded as the petite figure dashed ahead, the gust raising a long path through the snow and reaching Valar in an instant.
Bang—!!!
Countless massive icicles shot up from the ground, ice crystals swirling about, as if they could freeze the sky itself.
This strike covered nearly a hundred meters in front; the ten or so assassins nearby couldn’t even muster a moment’s resistance before being thrown upwards by the icy tide, and when they came crashing down, their bodies were frozen stiff.
Valar barely held out for a moment before his feet left the ground, like a tattered cloth fluttering in the snowstorm, the overwhelming cold nearly extinguishing the flames on him.
“Ah!!”
He screamed desperately, only to be pierced by numerous erupting icicles. Frost began to form on his face, only to evaporate in high temperatures, then freeze again—the direct clash between ice and fire produced a piercing sizzling sound.
“Little biaozi—”
Valar’s eyes turned as red as if they might bleed, but no matter how he struggled, he couldn’t halt the spread of frost on his body.
“What a dirty mouth.”
I stepped quickly toward him.
Swish—
A flash of cold gleamed, and the icy short scythe sliced Valar’s throat open, revealing a vivid crimson cut. Through the thin layer of ice over it, one could see his windpipe clearly.
No bl**d poured out.
“Heh heh…”
The next moment, flames ignited at the wound, rapidly healing it up.
…So even if his throat was sliced, he couldn’t d*e?
“This is impossible…” Valar exclaimed in disbelief, “My infernal fire has already reached the ‘Rebirth’ stage, why… am I still weaker than you…”
I wonder if a direct strike to the brain would… k*ll him?
Let’s find out.
I took a deep breath and raised the scythe again.
