Chapter 1 The Southern Continent

The Southern Continent, home to the behemoth known as the Kerithi Empire, nestled south of the Nox Mountains.

Brielda, the imperial capital located in the empire's southern heartland, was no less prosperous or beautiful than any of the empire's coastal or mountainous cities. Majestic classical-style buildings stood on every corner of Brielda. The central memorial square was surrounded by white monuments and dark gray statues of heroes in varying styles, creating a deeply artistic atmosphere.

Every year in March and April, when the warm spring arrived, the weather turned mild and bright, and the air filled with the scent of flowers and profound music.

Now and then, a sliver of twilight shone on the broad streets, a wisp of rose fragrance wafted from the flowerbeds, or a passage of gentle music played by a wandering poet drifted by, like the chirping of birds in a greenhouse. Even at sunset, the city looked like a pure paradise.

As night approached, the city hall was lit up, the music masking the dry sound of the gold-ornamented side door opening.

Pass through the luxurious interior, down corridors, and downstairs to an office on the innermost side of the basement. Open another door and walk further in.

The narrow passage was not friendly to tall or stout people. After several turns and about three or four hundred steps, the noise finally disappeared completely, revealing a new space.

Deep beneath the Kerithi Empire lay hidden a palace forgotten by time, a center of power buried beneath the ground. Only magic subtly sprinkled a hazy starlight over this misty space.

On both sides of the stone street, buildings were constructed from rocks steeped in history, and at the end stood a castle with obsidian walls that shimmered with a cold light.

A figure passed through the ancient city, isolated from the outside world, approached the castle gate, walked through the elaborately carved corridors, and slowly pushed open the black iron door, entering the magnificent council chamber.

The hall was dim and chilly, with candlelight on the dome replacing sunlight.

In the center of this grand hall stood a banquet table, flanked by thirteen high-backed chairs, their scarlet gem emblems symbolizing their owners.

Marquise Heritier sat in the seventh chair, her fingers resting flat on her lap, her eyes closed, as silent as stone. A single candle was not enough to illuminate her, but instead turned her image black, leaving only the beauty mark beneath her eye clearly visible.

"Still not awake today?"

The newcomer removed his incense-scented military uniform and, looking at Marquise Heritier's face, asked the question.

"An unfortunate battle took place north of the Protos Empire."

Marquise Heritier murmured, as if still peering through a hazy mist, trying to discern something.

"General Van Reich and the Bishop of Annihilation?"

The strapping young man who had entered the hall leaned against the eighth high-backed chair across from Marquise Heritier, a trace of arrogance and wildness of an absolute powerhouse on his upturned lips.

He had heard Marquise Heritier say that the short-term turmoil in the Northern Continent would reach a critical juncture:

If, after General Van Reich of the Protos Empire was killed by Bishop Askersan of Annihilation, no one in the empire noticed the change, and the truth was buried, it was likely to be the beginning of the Protos Empire's gradual demise.

However, in his view, the changes in such a low-level race's kingdom were nothing new.

Even the so-called Cardinal Bishops of the Church of Resurgence in the world today, despite their strength, were merely pathetic creatures who would turn to dust in a mere century, far from beings on their level.

The only thing worth paying attention to was the group behind the scenes that guided the Bishop of Annihilation to kill General Van Reich.

Marquis Somerset had awakened, only to find that the world ten thousand years later had been divided into the North and South Continents.

After they reintroduce the Blood Moon to the Southern Continent, sooner or later, the next step would be to confront the truly troublesome things on the Northern Continent.

However, both sides were well aware that, at this point in time, there was no need to expend too much effort interfering in the distant other continent, but rather to focus their strength on the present.

"General Van Reich should already have been killed by Askersan. This battle involved Bishop Askersan of Annihilation... High Priestess Sigrid of the Batei Church... The Apostles should also have been involved... In the end, everything ended in flames."

Marquise Heritier corrected in a clear, cold voice.

"..."

Marquis Somerset, sitting opposite her, fell silent.

"Like the eighth-order epic spell [Great Destruction] of Bishop Ivanos of the Destruction of the Southern Continent..."

The last words of Marquise Heritier were also filled with uncertainty.

Because there was no reason for Ivanos to appear on the Northern Continent at this time.

If Bishop Ivanos of Destruction no longer watched over High Priestess Loren of the Church of the Goddess of Destiny, Loren might go to the central Southern Continent, sneak into the Kingdom of Yalloran to help the Undead Sword Emperor Juliana to wipe out Bishop Farmer of Decay, and new imbalances would arise.

"In your previous divination, you couldn't see this situation at all?"

Marquis Somerset asked again.

Divination magic can be biased from what actually happens in the real world due to various complex interferences.

Heritier's prediction of the situation in the Southern Continent would be far more accurate than her prediction of the Northern Continent. Besides the geographical distance, which increased the consumption of magic and restricted the content, there would also be deviations due to the interference of seers on the Northern Continent. However, there was an order. If Heritier saw it before the seers took action, it might be severely inaccurate because of the actual actions of the seers. If Heritier saw it after the seers took action, it would probably be more accurate in the short term.

This battle should be considered a major event on the Northern Continent, but until it happened, Heritier had not seen a trace of it in her predictions.

Marquis Somerset could not help but wonder if the Seer had become stronger again, even to the point of deceiving Heritier.

Marquise Heritier pondered for a long time, then slowly raised her head, her deep red eyes flickering slightly in the darkness.

"It doesn't matter, no matter how the Northern Continent changes, it won't affect Duke Raxiel."

Neither her divination nor the Seer's was effective against the ninth order, and all ninth-order beings were unique factors outside of divination magic.

With the Third Progenitor Duke Raxiel present, the Blood Clan did not need to worry about the Seer on the Northern Continent reaching out to the Southern Continent first.

"Soon we will be able to reclaim what is rightfully ours, and this is just the first step."

Heritier's voice echoed in every corner, cold and powerful, as if she were announcing to her Progenitor compatriots, who would soon return here in the near future, an irreversible final outcome.

...

Northern Continent, Protos Empire.

Imperial Capital, Herlom, the lowest level of the Empire's Eternal Frozen Prison.

The prisoners confined to this level were dressed in restraining clothes, their hands, feet, and even heads fixed within a sealing barrier. Even below the eyes, they were tightly clamped by a mask, unable to open their chins even slightly, with only a few gaps left for them to breathe.

An eye of a demon opened.

Even the barrier could not hide his demonic magical fluctuations, which would instinctively frighten ordinary humans. His slender, clear eyes contained indescribable mist.

"..."

The direction he looked at was north of the Empire.

Then he closed his eyes again.

...

At this time, thousands of kilometers north of Herlom, the Imperial Capital of the Protos Empire, in the snowy plains.

The once silver-white snowfield had turned black, and the ice layer had turned into steam in the instant of the explosion. The clear lake had evaporated due to the high temperature of the explosion, leaving only a dry riverbed and a deathly silence. The snow on the mountain peaks had melted, forming silver-white waterfalls that constantly scoured the scorched earth.

The once glorious city of Bandera, located on this border snowy plain, had now disappeared.

The towering spires, bustling markets, and magnificent temples had all been reduced to ashes. Even though the extraordinary and destructive explosion had ended long ago, the sky was still filled with dust and smoke, obscuring the light and leaving only a dim yellow.

On the ground, lava-like flames spread everywhere, and the heat wave swept around, making the air unbearably hot. Near the original city gate, a huge, unnatural pit was of immeasurable depth, and a pungent smoky smell permeated the area.

Only the wind sang, as if mourning all this, or as if the suffering souls trapped in this dead city were finally freed and rushed to the land of paradise.

At the center of the explosion, the soil at the edge was still red, emitting a faint red light. A column of black smoke suddenly rose from the center of the pit, intertwining with the surrounding dust, like a black hand, trying to grab the last trace of life from this dead land, and crawled out from it.

The black-robed figure's originally somber robe was now tattered, revealing the wounds on his body. The robe, which was originally as black as lacquer, was now the color of dust and smoke. Only the complex magic crests on the robe were still flickering slightly, and even under the mist that covered his face, his eyes, which were flickering with a faint glow, were exposed.

The Bishop of Annihilation's originally tall and dignified figure now appeared somewhat weak, and his deep eyes were now filled with bloodshot.

Beside them, the hot fluctuations had not stopped. In the instant of the explosion, they had tried their best to cast the most powerful shield spells, plus their life-saving trump cards, to resist the devastating blow at close range.

Despite this, both of them suffered irreparable and grievous injuries.

The black-robed man coughed a few times, trying to steady his breath, while the Bishop of Annihilation clasped his hands together and chanted some uncommon incantations in a low voice, and a faint halo began to flicker on his body, relieving his injuries.

The two were tens of meters apart, as if by tacit agreement.

Perhaps after so long, the Batei Saint Son could still be caught up with, but now, in their state, who knew if they would be counter-killed if they continued to chase him.

What the two feared was that the Batei Saint Son had a seventh-order large-scale wind magic that could safely withstand the explosion.

There were more secrets about this mysterious Batei Saint Son than they had imagined, and there might be a seventh-order mysterious existence hidden on him.

At this time, a seventh-order existence was enough to take their lives.

"Askersan, I'm leaving first."

The black-robed man's voice was much hoarser.

Now he was no longer willing to travel with Askersan.

Although he and Askersan may still not be able to determine a winner at this moment, after all, this was the territory of the Protos Empire, and the [Abyssal Black Worm] had also fallen into a state of damage. Even if he wanted to repair it, he would probably have to find a top card maker and spend a lot of time to repair it. There was no need for him to stay here any longer, as there were more important things to do.

The wolf-type summon was too evil. It could not only seal other summons, but also blow up other magic cards in a sealed state.

"Remember to fulfill your first promise in a month."

Askersan actually still smiled grimly, looking at the back of the black-robed man as he left.

"Don't worry, everything is still within the trajectory set by the Seer, harmless, as long as you can successfully complete the finishing work."

The black-robed man responded.

However, he thought about it and turned his head temporarily.

"Do you know the real identity of the Batei Saint Son? I can confirm that he is not from the Duke Bernhard family."

The black-robed man looked at Askersan. He had never heard of such a sealer in the Protos Empire.

Logically speaking, his disguised identity in society should not be too high-profile, because as early as a few months ago, the Church of Resurgence was still an evil organization that was severely cracked down upon by the Protos Empire.

But a person with the ability to seal magic like this should not completely fail to show his combat skills.

The unfortunate thing was not only that he had allowed High Priestess Sigrid of the Batei Church to escape with him, but he had not even seen his true face.

"It doesn't matter who he is. Sigrid is no longer a threat, and it is impossible for her Saint Son to use this power in the large cities near the central territory of the Protos Empire."

Askersan shook his head. Compared to the Apostle, he wanted to know who the Batei Saint Son was even more.

"Don't worry, I won't let him run out of the blockade area in the northern part of the Empire."

Askersan said to the black-robed man with a cold expression.

The entire northern part of the Empire was still the home of his Annihilation branch.

Although it was unlikely that the Batei Saint Son had other prominent identities or relationships in the Protos Empire, after all, their Church of Resurgence had always had such rules.

But all the variables were based on the premise that he could bring Sigrid back to the Imperial Capital!

(End of this chapter)