Chapter 260: Reverberations

  He will surely return, to break open this iceberg. I will have a chance to kill him, ambushing him from behind. The greatest opportunity for my ambush is that he will never expect it from me. I must kill him.

  Tempering this ice-cold logic with a boiling killing intent. Talise stepped forward and, with a single sword strike, severed the head of the unconscious Templar, dragged the corpse far away, then returned to carefully lay in wait for Knight Tamika.

  Whether it was concealment or assassination, she not only knew the principles but had also been trained by Lancelot. It was just that these were techniques she had previously not even allowed herself to think of, as they contradicted her beliefs. But now, within her, there were no more beliefs, no more faith. There was only that one, singular killing intent.

  Just as she had anticipated, everything unfolded as she expected, even better. Knight Tamika didn't even bother to search for her and the Templar's bodies, but charged straight at the iceberg and struck it with all his might. Sensing that his body and Battle Qi were about to completely slacken after the full-power strike, she acted almost reflexively. And then, as expected, she succeeded.

  However, Knight Tamika's final words before his death gave this woman, whose heart was already cold and hard as a rock, another impulse. Ethan was actually not dead. This made her entire body's emotions and will relax, and she also realized that in doing this, she had actually betrayed Celeste. Whatever Knight Tamika had done, he was, after all, a trusted confidant of His Majesty the Pope. And Talise also vaguely knew that these bloody methods were not something Knight Tamika was using for the first time, which meant they were also tacitly approved and endorsed by His Majesty the Pope. Her so-called "judgment" was nothing more than a self-righteous pretext.

  A strange, chaotic rumbling sound was heard. Talise looked up to see a huge, twisted object pushing aside the trees in front of it as it moved. It was a massive trunk made of chaotically assembled insect limbs. Several giant green scythes waved, cutting down the trees in front like they were harvesting straw. Three strange heads merged with one another. Over a dozen long, slender legs moved densely and rapidly beneath it.

  If it weren't for the fact that Ethan was standing on this nightmare-like monster, Talise would have turned and run immediately. Although she knew Ethan wasn't dead, and judging from Knight Tamika's hasty departure, he might have had the upper hand, she never expected him to be riding such a massive monster to catch up.

  Ethan was also stunned. The corpse made from the three combined mantises was truly inconvenient to move. The chaotically assembled limbs were very unwieldy. It took Ethan a great deal of effort to control the chaotically joined legs freely, and on top of that, the creature's body was too massive; it could only move forward by constantly cutting down the trees in its path. Just when he was almost certain he wouldn't make it in time, he rushed over to see Talise standing beside Knight Tamika's corpse, her blood-stained sword in hand.

  Talise was not dead. He breathed a sigh of relief. And for that opponent, who was so difficult to deal with he was almost a match for Lancelot, to have been killed by her, who had always seemed so unremarkable, this gave him another great shock.

  Ethan froze for a moment, then, without even greeting Talise, he jumped off the combined mantis zombie and ran into the forest. The direction was precisely where that immense, dark aura was emanating from. He knew this thing could not be exposed for too long; he had to retrieve it and put it back into the pouch, which had been soaked in the Sunwell's water.

  But it was already a bit too late. Unlike its brief, flash-in-the-pan appearance yesterday, this black, heavy aura had been present for too long. The aura not only filled the entire Whispering Woods but also continued to spread outward. Only with distance did the aura slowly become less noticeable. For example, in Aery City, only those with more sensitive perceptions vaguely noticed that something was amiss in the direction of the Whispering Woods.

  But for certain peculiar senses, distance didn't seem to be a problem.

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  The Royal Capital of Ainfast. In the library of the Magic Academy.

  Early in the morning, magic apprentices and apprentice priests coming to borrow books saw Old Priest Tom pacing anxiously like an ant on a hot pan. He was muttering and cursing under his breath, constantly glancing out the window toward the south, completely ignoring anyone who spoke to him. A few apprentice priests thought the old man was sick with something and went up to offer a healing spell with white magic, only to be punched away.

  A good while later, the old priest suddenly froze again, looked to the south, and sighed in relief. He muttered a few words no one else could hear and sat back down, as if nothing had happened. This made the others in the library look at each other, and someone suggested they should find a high-ranking cleric to see if he was suffering from senile dementia.

  At the southernmost part of the continent, in the Diya Valley of the The Shadowspire Peaks. Three Necromancers had already gathered, listening to the humming sound transmitted from the highest peak of the The Shadowspire Peaks.

  The immense The Shadowspire Peaks suddenly rose not far from the Diya Valley, soaring into the clouds. The mountain peak, with a strange arc, was sharp for dozens of miles, directly to the summit, which looked like a single point from below. From below, that peak looked like the tip of a needle. The humming sound transmitted from that needle-like peak was faint, almost nonexistent, but it could drill directly into the souls of the three Necromancers. At the same time, they could all feel the aura coming from the distant northeast, an aura that was also intimately connected to them.

  The faces of the three Necromancers were very grim. This sound and this aura resonated with the mark imprinted deep in their souls. It seemed to be proclaiming the fate that they, as Necromancers, could not escape.

  "So this day has finally come... I hid in the Eastern Continent for over a decade, only to run into it as soon as I returned," Stephen said with a bitter smile.

  "You don't need to worry too much. This current situation doesn't explain anything yet. Perhaps it was just the respected Sandro being careless..." one Necromancer said in a dry voice.

  "I wasn't worried to begin with. What must come, will come. Accepting fate is the noble and elegant calling of us Necromancers. We will not do anything," Stephen shrugged. "The ones to worry about are those with ill intentions."

  It wasn't long before the humming sound from the peak disappeared. The three Necromancers looked at each other in confusion. At the same time, they also felt the fluctuation from afar disappear.

  "Could it really have been just Sandro being careless?" Stephen muttered. He lowered his head to take a sip of tea, only to find that the work-of-art wooden cup in his hand had long been crushed to a pulp by himself, and the tea inside had evaporated from the unconscious release of his magical power.

  A sound like ghosts weeping came from a nearby cave. The cave was originally a meditation chamber in the Diya Valley, now temporarily converted into a prison. Usually, no sound came from within, causing almost everyone to forget its existence, but now it suddenly emitted this sound to remind everyone of its presence.

  The sound was already unpleasant to hear, and after resonating through several hundred meters of the cave, it became even more bizarre, as if all the resentful souls of the The Shadowspire Peaks were gathering within for a frenzied feast. But the three Necromancers all knew this was laughter, and they knew who was emitting it.

  "That crazy woman. It's all the trouble she's caused," a Necromancer frowned, spitting on the ground with a lack of elegance.

  Celeste, in The Radiant Citadel, in the Pope's study.

  His Majesty the Pope stood at the window, gazing toward the east, his expression grim. Archbishop Adela was also there, his expression no better, with a hint of fear within it.

  Lancelot's face, behind the Pope, was a little better than the other two's. He also glanced out the window, then looked back at the Pope and the Cardinal, sighing secretly to himself.

  Erathia, outside the room of the new Cardinal, Inham. A messenger-in-waiting bowed and reported: "Your Eminence, Her Majesty Queen Katherine has been waiting for you at the palace for some time."

  "I know. You may go back first. I will be there shortly," the Cardinal's voice came from the room, seeming like a casual reply, somewhat absent-minded.

  The messenger-in-waiting glared angrily at the door in front of him, as if he wanted to use his eyes to stab the absent-minded cardinal through the door. Even the previous stern and dignified Archbishop Eschol had never shown such disregard for the Queen's invitation. But no matter how great his anger, he could only obediently withdraw.

  Why has Her Majesty the Queen's attitude toward the Church improved recently? This Cardinal has only just arrived... That demeanor is a bit too handsome for a man of the cloth... Could Her Majesty the Queen be doing it for this reason...?

  Smack. The messenger-in-waiting who had withdrawn couldn't help but fiercely slap himself across the face, dispelling the disrespectful thought, and most importantly, the one disrespectful to Her Majesty the Queen. Two or three priests nearby looked at this guy with his red and swollen cheeks with strange expressions. He quickly lowered his head and scurried away.

  At this moment, the Cardinal knew nothing of these anecdotes about him. He hadn't even thought of going to the palace. He was currently standing at the window, gazing toward the east, his expression flickering, now worried, now joyful.

  It took an entire morning, but finally all the devastation in the Whispering Woods was cleared away. The iceberg, the magic traps, the massive pool of blood, and the elven corpses were all gone. Apart from the layer of gloom and sorrow on the elves' faces, it was as if nothing had happened in the forest.

  The one with the gloomiest expression was Luya. Sustained by the life force of the Leaves of the World Tree, although she had been frozen in the massive iceberg for quite a while, she had not suffered any harm. But as the leader, for the Whispering Woods to have narrowly faced two apocalyptic disasters in a single day, her mood could not help but be extremely grim.