Azure Scepter

Page 55

cut!

The Holy Slash cleaved through the darkness, and in the instant the darkness crumbled, every detail opened up to Trier's mind, only to be instantly absorbed and understood by his brain. He saw the holy flame burning in the darkness, its core not pure white, but a deep, jewel-like blue; he saw the sparks and fringes of light scattering as the sword pierced his body, trembling rapidly like hummingbirds before being swallowed by the darkness; Trier could perceive and understand the rhythm of every spark and every change in the darkness in that fleeting moment.

"Bang!" The lightning bolt, reduced to ashes, passed through the wrecked body of the Lurking Night Demon and exploded at the top of the corridor.

—At this moment, less than half a second had passed since the Night Demon's sneak attack.

The heavily wounded goblin Yole only then realized that someone had ambushed him.

The paladin's figure was pitifully small compared to the enormous attacker, and the pure white light flickered like a small boat struggling in a black ocean; the paladin's face was cold under the flashing light, as if he was fearless.

If you ignore the terrifying undead creatures surrounding them, this scene would be a classic image of a brave and fearless knight slaying demons...

In a daze, the earth spirit Yole realized that the powerful attacker was already dead.

If the Paladin's slash when killing the Muscle Demon was a powerful and explosive strike, and the slash when eliminating the Stitched Monster was a bloody and brutal cleavage, then this slash now contains a strange harmony and rhythm, even a certain beauty.

"It's practically magic." The goblin was quite frightened; what he was seeing was beyond his comprehension.

The darkness completely dissipated, and its massive form transformed into a hidden shadow within a few breaths, vanishing entirely in an instant. Only then did the horde of undead beside Trill slowly begin their charge towards the now-dead Lurker.

[XP+6000!]

A massive golden light surged into Trier's body. He was about to check the information panel when he suddenly felt dizzy. The salty, metallic taste of blood rushed into his nostrils and onto his tongue, and everything began to spin.

[Warning: You have suffered a severe psychological shock; your injuries have progressed from minor to serious.]

[Warning: Please treat your injuries as soon as possible; you have suffered a concussion.]

[Warning: Please treat your injuries as soon as possible; you are experiencing internal bleeding.]

“I’ve controlled too many undead, and the mental shock is quite severe. My brain has been overloaded for too long. It will be relieved as long as I release the control. After the control is released, these undead won’t be able to attack me and Noy, but it’s unlikely that they will attack.” Trier didn’t care. He wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, and then used Holy Heal to replenish his blood. “I’m a little dizzy and feverish now, but I can still hold on. At least I have to wait until I eliminate that damned armed shadowy man who has taken over my laboratory.”

He realized that his thoughts were somewhat illogical due to the concussion, but he did not intend to deal with it.

"This huge amount of experience points is enough for me to control the undead directly in another way after the battle, instead of relying on rituals to control them. Now all I need to do is capture the white-bearded old man and kill the shadowless man, and everything will be over."

"However, why hasn't that shadowy figure come out yet? Logically speaking, such a commotion and such a long time should be enough for it to react."

Trier's bloodshot eyes swept coldly across the battlefield, and suddenly, a smile appeared on his lips.

He saw the white-bearded mage, whose face was blackened and who was now running around like a headless fly. The old man was even leading several Death Knights in a panicked rush towards him...

"Capture him, alive." Trier pointed at the white-bearded mage.

The undead carried out the order quietly and efficiently.

A few minutes later, the two witchfires roughly dragged the white-bearded mage to Trier.

To Trier's surprise, the white-bearded wizard remained unusually calm.

Chapter 104 Mages, Mages and Priests

At the edge of the spiral staircase, several undead silently formed a circle. Outside the circle were the temple guards, who had suffered heavy casualties and were almost all wounded, while inside the circle were Trir, Noy, and the white-bearded mage who was completely unable to resist.

After the escorted undead were released, the white-bearded mage did not panic or become fearful as Trier had expected; on the contrary, he seemed quite calm.

The old mage turned his head and struggled to force a smile on his moss-covered, burned face. Although he was completely blind, he still aimed his cloudy eyes in the direction of Trier.

"May I have a cigarette, sir?" the mage suddenly asked. "Please don't worry, I wouldn't be foolish enough to try anything in front of someone as skilled as you."

Trill remained silent, trying to feel the tiny movement of air in his nasal cavity. The knife-like pain from the severe internal bleeding made it difficult for him to concentrate.

Although the old mage claimed he would not play tricks, only someone arrogant to the point of being foolish would allow a spellcaster to act as he pleased.

"You don't seem nervous?" Noe's voice came from the side.

The white-bearded mage chuckled briefly: "If this paladin wanted me dead, I would have been dead long ago, so I guess I can live for at least a few more minutes. This gentleman probably wants to ask me some questions—obviously, they should be about my mentor."

“I can say that, but I need a commitment.”

This promise is nothing more than exchanging information for life, such as revealing information about the Shadowless Man in exchange for a promise of immortality.

Upon hearing the word "promise," Trier couldn't help but raise his head and carefully examine the white-bearded mage's disfigured face—between the exposed pink flesh and the charred burns, Trier sensed a sense of certainty.

Whether before or after his time travel, he maintained an almost pathological insistence on promises, a fact he himself was aware of. However, it's quite remarkable that someone who only met him for less than ten seconds could pinpoint this so accurately.

The old mage has amazing observational skills. The other party must have deduced the conclusion from the clues he left in the laboratory, Trier thought to himself.

“Promises are unreliable, and your proposal is meaningless,” Trier said slowly. “First, I can easily break my promise. For example, I can promise you that if I reveal your mentor’s weakness, I won’t kill you, but I can also not stop the heavily wounded temple guards from seeking revenge on you. Second, the information you give me may not be accurate either. From a cost-benefit perspective, it’s clearly a better option for you to give your mentor an advantage in the upcoming battle by providing me with false information, and then have your mentor come to your rescue.”

"In other words, your proposal is not reliable for either of us."

Trier didn't want to ask about the Shadow Man's weakness. The Drought Lich's weakness didn't need to be asked; it was obviously the five internal organs in the Life Box. He didn't believe any lich would be crazy enough to carry its Life Box around, so asking where it was would be useless.

The question he really wanted to ask was about the origin of Feudia's sister's body.

However, the next moment, the white-bearded mage said directly, "My mentor is known as the Shadowless Man. He transformed himself into a drought lich a long time ago, so it is meaningless for you to ask me about my weaknesses. However, I have an important piece of information that I can use as leverage."

“I don’t care,” Trier said with a smile. “You don’t need to seek my promises either. Whether you live or die depends solely on whether your answer satisfies me. You have no room for negotiation now.”

“No, sir, you are mistaken. I do not seek to live.” The white-bearded mage’s next words startled Trier. “I just want to ask how you were able to see the winds of death directly—if you tell me the answer to this question, I will answer everything I know, and even if you kill me afterward, I will have no regrets.”

Noy blinked in shock, wondering if she had misheard. She instinctively looked at Trier, only to find that even the usually calm Trier was silent. After a long pause, Trier nodded silently.

"The winds of death, the principles of death, the forms of constraint, and negative energy are several closely related yet distinct concepts in necromancy, and you should understand these. In layman's terms, the first two are invisible, while the latter two are visible; however, the first two are also functions of the latter two—this is still a hypothesis, but in my experience, there have been no phenomena that do not conform to this hypothesis yet."

"The specific correspondences vary at different times, in different regions, and with different spells. But as long as you grasp the similar fitting, you can use your imagination to construct a subjective death wind. If the death wind you imagine in your mind can, in turn, confirm your spell, then you can roughly conclude that the specific hypothesis is correct."

Noi seemed to understand but not quite, feeling rather bewildered, while the white-bearded wizard appeared to be deep in thought.

After a moment of contemplation, the old master said, "Generally speaking, the first two, as formal and final causes, should be the reasons for the generation of the spell, while negative energy, as the thing being driven, should be the result. However, looking at this issue from the opposite perspective does not guarantee a one-to-one correspondence. In other words, according to your line of thinking, this reverses cause and effect."

“Well said.” Trier nodded approvingly, wiping the blood from the corner of his eye with the back of his hand. “This line of thinking looks for correlation, not causation. How much do you know about the dream world?”

The old monk was stunned for a moment, then his eyes widened suddenly, every muscle in his face contorted, and he exclaimed as if in sudden realization, "I understand! So that's how it is, so that's how it is!"

"What do you understand?!" Noi could no longer tolerate the riddle-like conversation between the two. She didn't consider herself completely ignorant of the spellcasting methods of mages, but when faced with the conversation between Trier and the white-bearded mage, although she could understand each word, the words together sounded like the ravings of a madman.

“Time and space are chaotic in the dream world,” the white-bearded monk replied succinctly. “There is another unique mechanism at play, in which causal relationships, which are not strictly defined, are distorted.”

"What does this have to do with your question?" Noe's tone grew increasingly irritated.

The old monk chuckled dismissively, then turned away without replying.

Trier coughed lightly: "Do you remember that you and your teacher once sold the corpse of an elven woman to the Church of Radiance? That elven corpse was very distinctive, blind, and dressed as a monk."

Chapter 105 Stun

Elves are not common in the Kingdom of Orko, so the white-bearded mage did not hesitate much. He stroked his singed beard, then pursed his lips and said, "Of course I remember. What do you want to know?"

"Does her immortal essence still exist in the Prime Material Plane?" Trier didn't ask about the cause of Fythea's sister's death, but jumped directly to the more crucial part.

“Three possibilities,” the old mage grinned. “Either she is already in the abyss, or her soul has been captured by the devil, or her soul has been enslaved by a wandering vampire.”

“She was not killed by me and my mentor. In fact, we found the elf’s body in the ruins beneath Mirror Lake.”

At this point, the old mage paused, then glanced at Trier with his cloudy eyes: "Uh, Your Excellency, the Mirror Lake region underwent extremely drastic geological changes for unknown reasons. Perhaps, when you were still alive, that place wasn't called Mirror Lake, but in any case, it was located north of your laboratory. I dare to speculate that, during your time, it must have been a prosperous city-state..."

But I'm not dead yet... Trier thought to himself.

He knew that the other party probably mistook him for an ancient lich who lived around 500 years ago.

The white-bearded mage pondered for a moment, then said in a low voice, "That night was very special. The crimson three stars appeared in the north for the first time since my mentor and I returned to the Prime Material Plane. I think you should be very clear about what this celestial phenomenon represents."

"The elven stargazers of Evergrande Island have always believed that the Three Stars are connected to the Abyss and powerful demons of Hell. Perhaps that night, a particularly powerful demon or devil entered the Material Plane?" Noi eagerly pressed on...

The old monk chuckled, "It seems you're not entirely ignorant after all."

The nun's anger, like volcanic lava about to erupt, traveled through the mental connection into Trier's heart. To prevent Noy from killing the mage directly, he said coldly, "She is very knowledgeable. Stop talking nonsense and get to the point."

“Yes, Your Excellency.” The mage nodded. “In short, on this night of great mystical significance, my mentor and I found the elf’s corpse on the throne in the main hall of the ruins. The elf’s death was quite distinctive; she was completely dehydrated, with not a trace of moisture on her remains, as if she had died from a withering spell.”

"Out of curiosity, I removed the black ribbon that was tied to her eyes. Where her eyeballs should have been, there were only two black holes, and there wasn't a single bit of bone marrow left in her bone marrow cavity. Interestingly, the elf's withered face still had a strange smile on it. Obviously, this is the typical death appearance of a succubus or succubus victim, but from a rigorous point of view, I think we cannot rule out the possibility that she died from a vampire attack."

“However, I believe it is more likely that she died from the succubus’s absorption for the following two reasons. First, there was a well-worn book of human skin at the feet of the elven monk, which recorded the ritual for summoning the succubus and the precautions; second, she died sitting on a throne, a symbolic posture usually associated with the succubus.” The white-bearded mage spread his hands.

"In conclusion, if you want to find her soul, you'll probably have to go to the bottomless abyss, but in my opinion, that's probably a waste of effort, because her soul has likely fallen and been reborn as a demon."

“Fodia must be heartbroken to hear this news,” Noi whispered in Trier’s mind. “Master, as far as I know her, she certainly won’t believe it—after all, a conservative and proud elf like Fodia could never accept that her sister summoned a succubus in pursuit of pleasure and then died at the hands of the succubus.”

Trier ignored Noy's provocation and, after a moment's thought, said, "Alright, thank you—do you have anything to say about your mentor, the Shadowless One?"

“He may have gone mad.” The old mage gave a bitter smile. “He has locked himself in the deepest part of this laboratory. The last time I saw him, he was reading a black notebook. Your Excellency, although I think the possibility is very small, I still want to beg you to spare my life.”

"Why?" Trier asked in a deep voice.

The mage lowered his head, took a deep breath, and then said, "I want to see the wind of death by my own power. I want to see it again, just once."

Trier nodded silently, and the next moment, he suddenly raised his hand, and a sword hilt struck the old mage's upper lip—the upper lip is where the nasal cartilage and hard bone connect, and the nerves here are close to the cerebral cortex, so it is a good choice to knock someone unconscious.

While a direct attack on the carotid sinus and the back of the brainstem can cause unconsciousness, the risk of death is also very high.

As a former master of magic, Trier understood the other man's mentality and even felt a sense of respect for him. Therefore, he abandoned his past decision to extract all the information from the other man and then kill him for experience; he now planned to knock the old mage unconscious first, and then make a decision after eliminating the Shadow Man.

“Master, this guy is arrogant and dangerous. He has killed so many devout temple guards. Are you really going to let him go?” Noy whispered in Trier’s ear. “By the light above, let me kill him for you. Please do not hesitate.”

The cool air carried the fresh scent of citrus, and Trier felt a slight itch on her earlobe.

He couldn't help but think to himself: Noy's real reason for wanting to kill was probably his anger and embarrassment at being looked down upon for his intelligence...

“At least until we’ve taken down the Shadowless Man.” Trier put his arm around Noe’s soft waist. “Now, please go down and see what that Drought Lich is up to.”

Noy affectionately nuzzled Trier's cheek, then reached out and gently cupped Trier's cheeks with her long, slender, white fingers. Then, she blinked her ruby-like eyes and said, "Okay."

This wasn't the first time Jiaerbei had encountered the dead for an extended period. In her hometown, deceased relatives would often return home on the night of their burial in a terrifying way unimaginable to those outside the Great Swamp. Her father, for example, dragged his head, split in two, back to the tribe, ate his last meal of roasted two-headed swamp sheep, and was then taken away by the necromancers of the City That Never Sleeps.

But at this moment, the gaunt, resilient, skeletal white corpses still made her somewhat uneasy. These powerful monsters lurked quietly in the shadows, their feet paved with the corpses of weak, desiccated bodies.

She looked at the paladin surrounded by the undead with considerable fear, deeply regretting her rude remarks from just hours earlier. Even disregarding his ability to control these terrifying, nightmarish undead, his powerful and lethal slashes alone reminded her of the tribe's formidable warrior chieftain.

"What is he doing?" The simple-minded Galber turned her head and looked at the solemn judge and the expressionless earth gnome Yole beside her.

The goblin Yorle slightly turned his brown eyes, then said in a deep voice, "Flirting."

“This doesn’t comply with the church’s precepts…” Jia Erbei frowned in confusion. “Shouldn’t one be more powerful the more devout they are?”

The bald judge stood up abruptly, then patted Jia Erbei heavily on the shoulder, causing the still-healing female barbarian's shoulder blade to crack loudly: "What do you know? This is called strengthening connections and increasing trust!"

Chapter 106 Portrait

The spiral staircase leading to the deepest part of the laboratory was not the usual symmetrical design along the central axis. Instead, as Noe descended the steps, she noticed that the curvature of the staircase was constantly increasing.

Unconscious and mindless undead cannot perceive the rhythmic changes in the architectural space. The four tomb knights and the hanging corpses bound with chains and hooks move slowly forward mechanically. Noy ​​closes his eyes, gently grasps the handrail covered in soft dark blue velvet, and patiently experiences the space rotating like a blooming flower with each step.

"It's an equiangular spiral; this staircase is very cleverly designed," she chuckled to herself. "Does it have any magical significance?"

She waited expectantly for a moment, and then Trier's steady voice resonated in her mind: "In order to have enough space to accommodate the dark room, the increased curvature means that the space enclosed by the staircase is also increasing."

Suddenly, Noi stopped in her tracks. She looked up at the old, rusty door at the end of the stairs, where the ghoul and the Death Knight stood silently.

“Smash it open,” she said succinctly.

Although the metal was thick and heavy, its cold, hard surface was no match for the magically enhanced blade. The lead hanging corpse simply chopped at the door with its hook, and the long-neglected door sighed and fell inward.

"Bang!" A dull sound echoed like the endless groans of the dead. Only then did Noi realize that as they went deeper, the once spacious space had turned into a narrow and cramped passageway.

Through the crumbling iron gate, Noe saw a deep, dark corridor, its sides lined with iron bars used to imprison prisoners. The corridor resembled the cell in the church's crypt above her, but it was much larger and more elaborate.

She could hear furtive rustling sounds coming from the darkness; the echo of the door collapsing had not yet faded. Inside, there were whispers like a broken violin string; if one listened intently, one could even hear maniacal, bloodthirsty laughter, and the bizarre sounds of humans deliberately imitating dog barks...

Noi reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then a smile appeared on her lips. She grasped the Holy Symbol and quickly cast a series of divine spells to enhance herself, including "Water Curtain," "Mind Barrier," "Protective Spell," "Appearance of a High Angel," "Soul of the Golden Eagle," and "Divine Weapon."

After a dozen or so breaths, the nun casually flicked the flail in her hand, and the spiked iron ball exploded with a piercing roar. She nodded in satisfaction, then shoved aside the leading hanged corpse and walked into the seemingly dangerous corridor.

Thanks to the dark vision granted by being transformed into a bound spirit, Noi could clearly see the bloodstained teeth marks and scratches on the smooth metal floor. Some of these marks and scratches were ancient but powerful, while others were clearly newly formed.

She turned her head to look at the empty cell beside her, which was also filled with bite marks, claw marks, and cracks in the metal caused by the hysterical force of the attack.

This is what a lich's lair should look like, Noy thought. Evil, terrifying, bizarre. A place like the clean, tidy, and well-organized one above, like a large library, doesn't seem like a lich's lair at all.

Noy walked forward, scanning her surroundings with interest. As someone who had undergone complete training in inquisition interrogation, she was no stranger to this eerie environment. With just a quick glance, she recognized that at least three types of trolls and five forms of demons had once been imprisoned here.

All the cells were empty, and the dried bloodstains of various colors inside hinted at the prisoners' final fate.

As they went deeper, the darkness grew thicker. This darkness did not stem from a lack of light; on the contrary, it was a darkness in a supernatural sense. Even with his dark vision, Noi felt that everything in front of him was becoming increasingly dim.

The bloodstains on the ground gradually increased, and the claw marks and teeth marks left by the prisoners' last struggles became more messy and denser. The sound of chains being dragged in the darkness was gradually drowned out by the increasingly noisy whispers, but the drought lich was still nowhere to be seen.

“Stop, turn left, grab the right edge of the portrait in front of you, and pull it down.” Suddenly, Trier’s voice rang in his mind, “We’ve arrived at the secret chamber—if we can’t find the drought lich, then we’ll just take what’s in the secret chamber.”

Noy turned around and looked at the cell beside him. Unlike the other cells, this one wasn't made of haphazardly welded iron blocks, but rather of clean, spotless white metal arranged in flowing curves. A brightly colored oil painting hung on the curved wall of the cell.

The oil painting depicts a girl of about fifteen or sixteen years old. The girl is barefoot among the warm yellow leaves of autumn, like a fairy who dances among the leaves and flowers at dusk in autumn. She wears exquisite white silk gloves and lifts her long skirt slightly with both hands, as if she is giving a ladylike bow to the person outside the painting.

Noi moved a little closer.

The painter's brushstrokes are incredibly delicate. The bright morning sunlight filters through the mist, illuminating the girl's cheeks with a rosy glow, making her flawless skin appear even more tender and fair. The girl wears a black hunting hat, and her silver hair, slightly curled, falls to the bodice of her pale blue dress, which is adorned with intricate yet delicate lace—a blooming golden iris is set on the bodice of the pale blue dress.