Chapter 1106 Artistic Representation <TOC> Chapter 1108 Unpredictable Outcome
Translator: SumTLMan
His attire was an ode to tradition, steeped in old-world charm befitting a noble gentleman. Every facet was meticulously detailed — from his hat to his boots, his waistcoat to his walking stick.
However, there was a stark departure from the norm, Sanders’ complexion was paler than usual.
Could he be injured? Angel pondered inwardly.
Regardless, the sight of Sanders atop the iceberg relieved a boulder-sized weight from his heart.
“Who do you despise? The moon and stars post passionate kiss, the black night following a farewell, or the night watchman who betrayed you?”
A bizarre cadence echoed in every corner, an absurd melody that filled the air.
While on his quest for Sanders, Angel paid no heed to the stage. Now, drawn by the peculiar tune, his gaze was cast upon the puppet show.
His expression froze.
The odd white puppet apparitions, the subtle puppet strings, the illusionary stage, and the spectacle happening on it.
All were strange, bordering on the absurd.
As Angel delved deeper into this mystery, the performers on the stage were brought into focus, and he began to grasp the meaning behind Fafnir’s previous words — ‘Three have already fallen’.
Upon the stage, three massive demons were locked in a savage brawl. Two of them bore significant wounds. The third demon, shimmering in a golden aura, had curled horns — referred by Giallar as Eudecernos. Although it bore fewer wounds, they were visibly proliferating with each passing moment in the battle.
Angel had speculated that the battle upon the iceberg would be fierce.
Reflecting on Hai, who nearly capsized Sineva even before turning into a Great Demon, and considering that the siege of the iceberg was orchestrated by Great Demons, it had seemed plausible.
He had even anticipated that the human camp would suffer immense losses due to the demons alone, without the need for a void shock.
What he had not foreseen, however, was the human camp still standing firm while the three Great Demons that came to besiege were trapped in this farcical and eerie stage play.
“Where are the recordings you spoke of?”
As Angel was mulling over the events, Fafnir’s cold voice brought him back to the moment.
He hastily retracted his consciousness, which had been one with the wind, back to the courtyard, “As you wish, my lady.”
With an ethereal hush, the surroundings of the courtyard transmogrified into a celestial theatre. A trio of vast demons, their wills commandeered by gossamer threads, graced the stage with a chilling spectacle.
The orb of crystal pulsed with a radiance, meticulously cataloging the surrounding Phantasmagoria.
Angel and Fafnir exhibited no emotional response to the spectacle within the illusion; however, Canaan, who was recovering nearby, gasped in astonishment, “Minotaur, Baphomet, and Eudecernos? How did they all end up in this condition?”
Angel faithfully replicated the celestial tableau: Minotaur’s skeleton was almost entirely dislocated. Controlled by the threads, he looked much like the parasitized mutants that Angel had seen in the Shadow Demon Castle.
Baphomet’s condition was not much better; he was missing an eye, and several wounds on his body had pulverized his viscera. Like Minotaur, he had surrendered completely, allowing the threads to manipulate him as if he was some sort of aberration.
Eudecernos alone was still struggling, evidently unaccustomed to the shift from “spectator” to “performer.”
“Is this the power of human wizards? Even La Sutherland’s strongest demons have fallen to this state?” Canaan gazed at the illusion with a hint of incredulity.
Fafnir shot Canaan a glance, remarking indifferently, “Their current condition only appears dire. Their vital parts have not been damaged, and their current state merely reflects their unwillingness to waste energy on healing. Should the threads break or the puppeteer face any issues, they can recover instantly.”
As Fafnir spoke, Angel deftly moved the illusion’s focus to the puppeteer.
This was his first time splitting his consciousness in two, with one part in the sky and the other on the ground, while also controlling the transformation of the illusion’s imagery. If this had occurred before his entrance to the Purification Garden, even if Angel could manage it, he would probably feel a sense of mental tearing. However, now he handled it with ease, demonstrating his substantial growth over the past year.
Canaan wasn’t surprised by the puppeteer, but Angel raised an eyebrow.
The mastermind behind this spectacle was unexpectedly Mumin from the Torch Institute?
In the past, Mumin persistently pursued Angel, hoping he would leave the Savage Grottoes and join the Torch Institute. Left with no choice, Angel even hid in Bruen’s alchemical workshop.
Angel remembered Madeline once introducing Mumin as a first level wizard who had yet to reach true knowledge. Yet here he was, having taken out the three most powerful combatants from the Void Obelisks, single-handedly.
What on earth was happening?
In the face of Angel’s bewilderment, Fafnir provided some clarity.
“This puppeteer is merely utilizing tools of other wizards to unleash this peculiar and powerful spell. The real architect of this spectacle is him.” With those words, Fafnir manipulated the wisp of wind in the sky, focusing their attention on Sanders.
“Introducing a formidable wizard…” Fafnir was elucidating the prior circumstances.
As Angel listened, his gaze was locked onto Sanders. He was in a swirl of emotions at the moment, filled with sentiments of admiration as well as a sense of proud accomplishment. However, dominating his thoughts was how he could impart the plan of eradicating humanity to Sanders.
Perhaps it was the intensity of his thoughts that sparked an unusual sensation in Sanders.
Sanders looked up, his deep-set eyes straying towards a certain direction, a flicker of doubt dancing in his gaze.
“Lord Phantom Master, is something wrong?” Maher, who had been gathering a restorative potion for Sanders from behind an ice block, asked.
“Nothing much, it just feels like someone is peering at us.” Sanders admitted, his voice filled with curiosity, but no trace of malice, which seemed peculiar.
Maher handed Sanders the potion, “Perhaps it’s just an illusion.”
“No illusion, as soon as we arrived at La Sutherland, numerous eyes had been tailing us. I thought you, Lord Phantom Master, would be accustomed to such scrutiny. Perhaps the wounds have weakened your mental defenses?” The sarcastic commentary came from behind Maher. The voice was pleasing, but laden with overt mockery.
Maher turned around to face the source of the voice, his expression noticeably more rigid: “Lord Nereus.”
The newcomer was none other than the near flawless Nereus. He was the stark contrast of Sanders. While Sanders exuded an air of detached indifference, Nereus was like a blazing sun, drawing in the attention of everyone present.
Sanders met Nereus’s gaze, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, “So, you enjoy the attention. How about Mumin arranges a supporting role for you on stage? For instance——”
“——A disgrace wallowing in desires?”
Sanders’ words took the wizards around them by surprise. They were reminded of a scandalous rumour that was rife in the Wizarding World. It was a gossip circulated within the circles of the Endless Ocean, reportedly leaked by the individuals from the Song of the Deep Sea: The most prominent student of the Sea God, apparently had an unusual penchant. He would frequent regions teeming with dolphins, specifically those with dolphins in heat.
Initially, this news circulated within a small group until one day, a witch, who was spurned by Nereus in her pursuit of love, shared the scandal out of spite and it soon spread to the main continent.
In the Wizarding World, aside from authoritative magazines, most of the journals chase after sensational topics and sales. So, when they got their hands on this piece of news, they treated it as a prized possession.
In the New Year of the Southern Region, 7100, almost all the gossip news for the year revolved around this topic. Some self-proclaimed “insiders” claimed that they had witnessed Nereus engaged in some activities with female and male dolphins in certain areas of the sea.
This pushed Nereus to the peak of public opinion.
One day, however, several magazines that had reported on Nereus saw their offices flattened overnight. Scores of their editors and writers vanished without a trace or received stern warnings, eventually causing the storm around the news to gradually dissipate.
Sanders now mentioning the “disgrace wallowing in desires” was clearly a veiled dig at Nereus, using that incident from yesteryears to mock him.
Regardless of the truthfulness of the rumor, it had undeniably become a taboo for Nereus.
A glint of resentment flashed through Nereus’ eyes as he chuckled coldly, taking deliberate strides towards Sanders. Meanwhile, upon the floating iceberg, several wizards in green robes with bark-like skin exchanged glances and began to inconspicuously shuffle in Sanders’ direction.
Sanders kept his gaze lowered, seemingly aware of the odd occurrences around him. However, he merely offered a frigid smile, seemingly undeterred by the undercurrents rippling around him.
Suddenly, a figure swathed in robes with a mask appeared between Sanders and Nereus.
“Lord Mengke,” Maher’s eyes brightened, and he promptly acknowledged the new arrival.
“I do not wish to see anything that might jeopardize my plan in La Sutherland,” Mengke’s gaze slowly swept across Nereus before landing on the wizards who had started to lower their heads amidst the crowd.
Mengke didn’t utter any threats, but the warning gaze peering through his mask was enough to silence everyone.
Lastly, Mengke turned his gaze back to Nereus, “This new Great Demon, it’s yours to deal with.”
Nereus glanced outside the iceberg, where now stood a towering demon with bone wings and black bone armor. With a nonchalant nod, he turned around and took flight over the frozen waters.
Once Nereus was gone, Mengke’s gaze turned abruptly towards Angel, or more accurately, towards the direction of the breeze where Fafnir resided.
Angel was caught off guard by the sudden attention.
However, Mengke merely cast a glance, retracting his gaze without saying a word or making any extra move.
“Lady Fafnir, did he discover us?” Angel asked.
Fafnir pondered for a moment, “He is a powerful wizard and had noticed me earlier, though he made no indication… However, his deliberate turning of the head now bears some implications. If not a warning, then he’s probing.”
As Fafnir spoke, she arched an eyebrow, “Could it be, he recognizes you?”
Angel quickly shook his head, “I know who he is, but I doubt he knows me… Even if he did, my consciousness merely Merged with the Gentle Wind. He couldn’t possibly see who I am, could he?”
Chapter 1106 Artistic Representation <TOC> Chapter 1108 Unpredictable Outcome