Chapter 354: The Variable (Part 18)

  Gru didn't move, nor did Ethan. The Pope, Lancelot, and Talise naturally didn't move either. While maintaining this delicate balance among themselves, they were merely wary of the strange, inexplicable figure and did not subconsciously move to stop him at the first moment. After all, the direction of his spellcasting was clearly not towards them.

  "One of you had better stop him," Adela said, his face pale. He still couldn't tell what kind of magic this was. In his eyes, this person's control over his magic wasn't particularly high, but to be able to complete such a complex magic array at such speed... even with his previous body, it would have taken at least twice the time.

  Gru let out a cold snort. He still didn't move from his spot, but the light in his eyes suddenly intensified, and everyone near him felt a burst of inexplicable terror.

  The gray-robed man continued to prepare his spell, oblivious to everything else. However, two spots on the back of his neck began to seep blood, and more and more of it flowed constantly down his neck, as if the flesh there had suddenly become two blood-soaked, rotten sponges.

  Although Gru hadn't made a move, his gaze, his hostility, and his killing intent had already reached the man's back. This was not magic, but purely and simply a gaze and killing intent so intense that, under its enveloping pressure and focus, the human body could not endure it. It was comparable to two tangible, physical swords piercing into flesh and twisting around.

  In the preparation of a grand spell, the slightest mistake in an incantation or gesture would lead to a backlash, an injury from which a mage would be as good as dead. But this person did not stop his gestures or chanting. His voice did not tremble in the slightest, and his movements showed no deviation, as if the rotting flesh on his neck had nothing to do with him. His movements only grew faster, his hands tracing an extremely complex magic array in the air at a speed almost too fast for the naked eye to follow, resonating in harmony with the incantations from his mouth. The magical fluctuations in the void were now fully surging and flowing.

  "It's that guy." Ethan suddenly snorted and shot forward towards the man.

  He had finally identified who this was. Although the profundity of the gestures and incantations was far beyond his knowledge, the aura emanating from this person was undoubtedly Necromancy. Furthermore, this gray robe had seemed somewhat familiar to him from the beginning. As the fluctuations of the Necromancy gradually became more apparent, the robe also began to ripple and resonate slightly, and he finally recalled what it was.

  The only person who could be here, at this time, wearing Sandro's stolen Robe of the Lich Lord and casting Necromancy in such a strange manner, was Inham.

  Although Ethan wasn't clear what he was trying to do now, he knew very well that if this person wanted to do something, it was best to stop him and not let him succeed. Especially for someone like him, who was accustomed to hiding safely in the shadows, to now risk exposing himself meant that what he was plotting and preparing was definitely not just a single spell.

  However, Ethan's realization came a little too late. Just as he charged forward, Inham's spell was already complete.

  An astonishing amount of magical power, like a mountain torrent long held back by a dam, burst forth from Inham's body all at once. It continuously resonated, changed, amplified, and transmuted according to the program constructed by his gestures and incantations, then surged forward, blotting out the sky and covering the earth.

  The swordsmen and priests facing him only now felt the Cardinal's terrifying magical power, but it was too late for them to react. Once a grand spell begins its preparation, its posture, form, the chanting of incantations, and the gestures are all integrated into one. It can no longer be changed. This spell was indeed being cast in his current posture, with his back to the Grand Hall of Light, aimed at the large number of swordsmen and priests in the square.

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  Pffft. It was like the sound of a person spitting out a mouthful of water mixed with air in one go, but this sound was tens of thousands of times louder. It was the collective sound of over a thousand swordsmen and priests on the square. Even individually, their volume far exceeded that of spitting water. They were not spitting saliva, but blood. Within a huge, arc-shaped radiation area centered on Inham, all the swordsmen, priests, and orcs facing him were spewing blood.

  It wasn't just from their mouths. Their eyes, noses, and ears all became fountains of gushing blood. These humans and orcs were suddenly like water-filled dolls being violently squeezed. Countless streams of blood shot from their facial orifices like countless arrows of blood. Some even had their flesh and organs rot and fly out. The bodies of these humans and orcs shriveled rapidly. Many became mummified corpses after spewing out large amounts of blood, while others were left with nothing but a lonely skeleton after their flesh and blood flew out.

  With just that one sound, over a thousand people instantly fell in this bizarre and tragic manner. A sky full of blood columns and blood mist formed a floating sea of blood in mid-air. In this moment, the space before the Grand Hall of Light in The Radiant Citadel became like a legendary hellish pool of blood. Just after the sound of a thousand people losing blood at once came the sound of a thousand corpses hitting the ground simultaneously. Everyone else was completely stunned by this scene into a dead silence. The sound was dull and eerie, making one's flesh crawl.

  Guided by the power of the magic, the blood spewing from these thousands of people connected into a massive net and all converged towards Inham. Despite such a bloody and terrifying scene, there was not a single trace of blood in the air.

  Only at this moment did Inham turn around.

  Not all the humans and orcs within the range of his magic suffered the same fate. Among the humans, a dozen or so were still standing, though some were bleeding from their orifices and tottering on the verge of collapse. Two others, though their faces were covered in blood, still stood ramrod straight. All those who did not fall in this wave of magic were Templars. Among the orcs who were affected, only a small portion fell, while most were merely injured.

  Perhaps the destructive power of this spell was not as great as a Forbidden Spell, but no Forbidden Spell could have an effect as terrifying and shocking as this. At this moment, everyone's attention on the square was focused on Inham. Even the swordsmen who still thought he was the Pope's most trusted Cardinal now had eyes filled with shock, anger, and terror.

  "Soul Devour?" Ethan, who was charging forward, immediately flew back. This was one of the highest-level spells in Necromancy. He had only seen a general record of it in Sandro's notes. It was a spell that even Sandro probably couldn't cast. He didn't dare to get close at this moment.

  As he turned around, Inham paid no attention to the thousands of pairs of eyes behind him that could kill him. He only stared at the few people before the Grand Hall of Light: Adela, Lancelot, Gru, and Ethan, who had been charging towards him and now hastily stopped. In fact, from the very beginning, his attention and his target had always been these few people. Everyone else was merely a tool, a prop.

  The surviving priests, High Priests, and mages behind him finally seemed to understand. Countless spells flew towards him simultaneously. Amidst the dense explosions and flames, he stood firm. No matter how fierce the magical flames and fluctuations, they could not break through the Robe of the Lich Lord he wore. The grand Necromantic fluctuations still billowed in the cloak, and all spells were automatically repelled before they could even get close.

  As he turned, the few people before the Grand Hall of Light could finally see his appearance. His facial orifices were also covered in threads of blood, and blood was still flowing continuously from his mouth. It was unclear whether this was a backlash from the spell or from Gru's gaze, which had condensed supreme killing intent. Veins bulged on his face, and a dark, red current surged beneath his skin. His originally refined and handsome face now looked ferocious and bizarre. What was even more bizarre was that he looked at the few people and smiled.

  Although the smile was eerie, anyone could see it was clearly a smile of victory. He had won. He had won his bet.

  He had bet on the situation at the time, on everyone's reactions, and he had guessed correctly. To prepare such a grand spell under the watchful eyes of so many, and he had actually succeeded. A massive, blood-red crystal floated before him, the condensed life essence of over a thousand swordsmen and priests.

  With a cracking sound, the red crystal shattered. It seemed to have broken into countless tiny, dust-like particles, or perhaps it had reverted to blood, transforming into a colossal, blood-red rainbow that shot towards the few people before the Grand Hall of Light.

  The blood-red rainbow carried no sound of wind, not because it wasn't fast enough—the red ribbon of light was as fast as a beam of light, arriving in an instant—but because the very air around the red torrent had been completely shattered, disintegrated, and rotted away. This was the combined life force of a thousand people, condensed and then released through the power of Necromancy. The overwhelming red instantly enveloped an area dozens of zhang in radius before the Grand Hall of Light. Gru, Adela, Lancelot, and the others were now completely within the scope of this single strike.

  As long as these three were eliminated, Inham would have no more worries. And on this continent, no living being could withstand such a strike. So he couldn't help but smile. He had made a big gamble, and now, at long last, all his greatest threats were about to be completely eliminated. It seemed everything was going according to his plan.

  However, something he had not predicted happened at this moment. Gru seemed to not even glance at the red frenzy that was about to devour him, but instead threw a punch towards Inham.

  The distance between them was nearly a hundred meters, with the massive blood-red rainbow in between. The punch was a phantom strike. Then, with a dull thud, Inham's body suddenly flew backward as if he were a cannonball.