Also blocked at one end by the blood-red ice wall were the miners in the mine. This charge, facing death unflinchingly, was stopped by the suddenly frozen barrier.
In the eyes of Ethan, a peculiar light flickered.
The aura of the ice element had changed, becoming somewhat familiar to him.
Although stationary, it reminded him of the Giant Divine Soldier and the flesh creations of Bazatous. As the miners were panic-stricken by the sight before them, he sensed a deeper secret hidden in this blood-colored ice—it was not merely to block the miners’ path, nor truly at rest.
From deep within the ice came a heart-palpitating wave of Magic Power. To Ethan, it resembled an egg about to hatch, with something on the verge of breaking out.
Even though he hadn’t heard Ethan’s voice, he could discern from the fluctuations of Magic Power the intention of the other party.
He curled his lips in a smile, anticipating what was about to happen, he couldn’t help but feel excited.
It had been a long time since something this thrilling happened.
The discussions in the mine abruptly ceased. Although everyone was in heated debate, they all fell silent as if time had skipped.
Hagrid was the first to exclaim, followed by the sound of a sword being drawn, bringing people to belatedly realize the silhouette that had appeared behind them without their notice.
The face obscured by a whirlpool mask, blood-red pupils fixed upon them.
When the gaze swept over them, the miners lost even the courage to draw their guns and aim at the figure.
It was unbearably cold, as if their consciousness itself was about to be frozen in place.
Hagrid’s hands trembled as he slowly moved to the front of the miner’s line, shielding everyone behind him. He held his breath, knowing if he exhaled, he could never muster the courage to raise his sword in confrontation again.
"Do you want to fight me?"
A cold voice came from beneath the mask, glancing slightly to the right, an ice spike emerged, piercing a hole in the mine, tearing a path beside her within moments.
An ominous, unmentionable name surfaced in their minds.
Many folk tales claimed that the corrupted Saint had not died; she had come to Ximu Town and left the Empire.
Yet, the uninvited guest before them seemed to have never regarded them at all. The ice spikes shattered, and the winter’s cold wind blew into the mine, sweeping away the oppressive atmosphere.
"Dawn is coming, disappear quietly."
Meanwhile, after a brief moment of panic, Talon shouted angrily, "What’s going on? You, and you, find a way to get rid of this damn thing!"
This time, no one obeyed his order.
The adjutant mentioned by Talon froze in place as if in a shock response, opening his mouth, trying to say something, until Talon glared fiercely and roared at him, prompting the adjutant to stammer out a complete sentence with a trembling voice, "Pres-President, your-your legs...have-have—"
He could say no more because, almost at the moment Talon lowered his head, a scream erupted.
That red ice had somehow frozen his legs, but what terrified him more was seeing his legs melt, or more accurately, everything encased within the ice was melting. The toxic gas barrels now bore no resemblance to their original contours, turning into writhing cocoons, membranes expanding and contracting as if something was about to emerge.
Talon’s legs were the same, and the bizarre thing was that before the adjutant reminded him, he hadn’t felt a hint of pain.
They had no knowledge of the scene within the mine, but the bizarre spectacle almost made everyone think of a term proposed by the Reception Bureau.
After a large-scale sacrificial rite, holes were torn by the souls of victims, places where even the radiance of the true deity couldn’t shine, filled only with pain and death.
They had only heard of the Contamination Zone in earlier years, with no one daring to investigate it.
The first to flee were the gunners brought by the magician, disregarding the curses and screams from behind, running desperately into the distance, seizing horses in a frenzy, a shot fired amidst the scramble, someone purposefully opening the corral gates to release the hope of others’ survival.
Someone must stay behind to become the Evil God’s sacrificial offering!
They heard that only when enough souls were harvested would the Evil God cease its interference in the plane of reality.
Though Talon cursed and swore, he was left behind by everyone. At the advent of the Evil God, the adjutant abandoned him without a moment’s hesitation.
He heard the commotion within the mine drawing closer, now, he had to desperately fight for his own survival!
Talon began to run, surprisingly, his legs melted by the red ice weren’t affected in the least, allowing him to run, even feeling unprecedented lightness. He ran faster than anyone else, even catching up to the speed of horses; what puzzled him was that as he approached, the gunners and mercenaries all showed expressions of terror, some even falling to the ground, rolling and crawling.
Gradually, his vision too became somewhat strange, sometimes blurred, sometimes clear, everything he saw seemed to be tinged with a layer of blood.
However, he paid no heed to these; he couldn’t help laughing—it’s them who would become the Evil God’s offerings, every one left behind by him must become offerings!
Talon felt increasingly good, as if his body had returned to a peak state—no, it had never been as good as it was now!
He sprinted towards Gear City.
Everyone who betrayed him would face retribution, starting with his adjutant. It was he who personally promoted this unknown mercenary, yet at the critical moment, the bastard abandoned him, fleeing alone!
And this troop, he had every person’s name; no traitors would escape punishment!
Talon’s consciousness wavered between faintness and clarity. Lost in his thoughts, he felt an unprecedented joy.
He could hardly remember how he ran back to Gear City. Upon seeing the familiar city outline, his inner joy soared to its peak. He wanted to return to his mansion, enjoy a sumptuous feast, then take a soak in a bath.
Never had he been this hungry.
The bloodstained vision grew more severe; perhaps this is what extreme hunger felt like, Talon thought.
Talon did not stop; guided by instinct, he continued to run, vaguely seeing the Kingdom Army thrown into chaos.
They ascended the city walls in panic.
They raised muskets and crossbow arrows.
Talon couldn’t fathom their actions at all, as hunger muddled his thoughts further.
"I’m Talon, the guild president, you fools!"
He cursed at the Kingdom Army.
The first gunman fired a signal for the others, gunshots rang out in unison, yet they didn’t stop, followed by a barrage of arrows.
These Kingdom Army soldiers were mad!
It was as if they wouldn’t cease until all ammunition was spent and all arrows shot.
"Idiots, a bunch of idiots, I am Talon! I know you, you’re traitors too!"
Talon kept screaming.
Before reaching the city, he fell to the ground; though absent of pain, his body could no longer advance.
The blood mist lingering before his eyes seemed to disperse for a moment.
For that instant, it felt like he could see clearly.
He saw a tentacle riddled with arrows, the budding flesh still twitching slightly.